How to Travel Solo in Chengdu and is it Safe?

Chengdu is a city with a rich cultural heritage. It has long been known as the “Land of Abundance”, thanks to its pleasant climate and fertile land, which have contributed to the prosperity of the Sichuan people. This has also fostered a thriving cultural scene. Let’s explore the question of whether solo travel in Chengdu is safe.

Is it safe to travel alone in Chengdu?

Absolutely safe! Chengdu boasts a very secure environment, and the locals are incredibly friendly.

I’d been looking forward to visiting Chengdu for a long time. Perhaps it was the song “Chengdu”, or maybe it was my previous trip to Chongqing.

I already had a good feeling about Chengdu before I arrived, but a small incident upon arrival cemented my positive impression.

After leaving the train station, we checked in our luggage and took the subway to Chunxi Road to find some food.

While walking towards the subway station after checking in our luggage, a street vendor calling out to tourists saw me looking back and said I dropped some money. When I turned around to look, he claimed it was the girl next to me who had dropped it.

The girl checked her bag and then repeatedly thanked the vendor. That moment, the kindness of the people of Chengdu made my fondness for the city grow even stronger.

It was a quick ride on the subway from the train station to Chunxi Road, with a transfer at Tianfu Square.

We found a small eatery on Chunxi Road and I ordered a bowl of wontons and an egg. Wontons are similar to dumplings; the meat was very fresh. I put down my chopsticks with just a mouthful of soup left in the bowl.

The eggs were taken from a large pot that appeared to be filled with a broth. What surprised me was the amount of chili peppers in the broth, as if covered with a layer of oil. The taste was truly excellent.

Wontons

After eating our fill, we sat at the eatery for a while before taking the subway to Kuanzhai Alley. It had started to drizzle before we got on the subway, and the girl and I shared an umbrella. The rain stopped when we got off the subway.

We got off the subway at People’s Park Station, and Kuanzhai Alley was just a hundred meters away. It had a very vintage feel, even with the inescapable commercial atmosphere.

But I still loved the cobblestone streets, the shops lining both sides with interesting names on their signboards, and the red lanterns or the flags advertising “Gaiwan Tea” hanging at the entrance of each shop.

There were several places showcasing Peking Opera and facial makeup in Kuanzhai Alley. When we reached Kuan Alley, a master craftsman was applying makeup to a young man, and tourists were taking photos non-stop. I stepped closer to take a look, and suddenly I remembered the Peking Opera song about Guan Yu, the red-faced general who stole the emperor’s horse.

What’s this cat doing first?

A very cute cat I met.

We strolled along, stopping at interesting shops, and when we reached a postcard store, I invited everyone to browse.

While looking at the various postcards, I suddenly remembered a passage from a novel I read: the protagonist sold postcards by the Qinhuai River, offering free signatures and mailing them to different places. The author said that it wasn’t postcards they were selling but sentiment.

I suppose I was there to experience that sentiment.

There was a mailbox at the entrance of the store, where postcards could be mailed. I hesitated for a long time before finally choosing a postcard, paying for it, and taking a stamp from the shopkeeper. I carefully filled in the postal code, address, and his name and wrote down what I wanted to say – just fourteen characters.

May our lives be filled with peace and tranquility for years to come.

I took a photo of the postcard before dropping it in the mailbox and sent him a message saying I had mailed a postcard to him.

We wandered around Kuanzhai Alley for over an hour, stopping every now and then, before deciding it was time for lunch, which was the hotpot I’d been craving for a long time.

We unanimously decided to have lunch on Chunxi Road because the food at tourist spots was too expensive and not necessarily delicious.

A very elegant courtyard.

My companions told me the dragon would spray water when it’s time to eat.

On the subway back to People’s Park, another girl in our group said that People’s Park was most beautiful at night. It made you want to slow down.

Hearing this, I suddenly felt that People’s Park had become gentler, it softened my heart. Unfortunately, we couldn’t stay until evening to appreciate it, although we were excited to go for a walk.

And then I realized I’d left my umbrella at the postcard shop. The sky was a bit cloudy and it looked like it might rain, but I didn’t go back to get my umbrella. And I regretted it deeply ten minutes later.

We took the subway back to Chunxi Road, and the rain started pouring. The four of us only had one umbrella, so we had to take shelter in a nearby shopping mall. Then I saw something that made me feel conflicted.

I had heard that you should bring an umbrella to Chengdu because you never know when it might rain. Perhaps it was the fickle weather that gave some vendors an opportunity, and they were selling umbrellas on the street in the rain, pushing their carts.

I saw a uniformed urban management officer holding an umbrella and talking to a vendor, who smiled and bowed to him.

But only ten minutes later, the rain was still coming down, and everyone who had taken shelter in the shopping mall went to the entrance to watch. One of the umbrella vendors was lying on the wet street, arguing with another.

The urban management officer confiscated the umbrellas and threw them on the side of the road, next to the trash. Then another vendor appeared and punched the officer who had taken the umbrellas, and then he was tackled to the ground by six or seven urban management officers, who beat him up, tearing a hole in his clothes.

Seeing that the rain had eased a bit, I urged my companions to leave and joked with them that this would have been a hot topic if it had happened in Kunming.

We walked along Chunxi Road, looking for the hotpot restaurant that my companions had found online – “Bashuda Jiang”. When we finally sat down at a table in Bashuda Jiang, I was practically drooling.

After ordering, we chatted and waited. When the food finally arrived, we couldn’t stop eating. The soup base was their choice, medium spicy. The guy from Zhaotong smiled and said he didn’t dare order it too spicy.

Really delicious. My friend from Zhaotong said it was the best hotpot he’d ever had.

I kept sticking out my tongue and puffing out my cheeks. This is what hotpot is all about!

Outside the window, the rain was pouring down, and a mist hung in the distance. Inside, the hotpot was bubbling, and I was sitting at the table, sticking out my tongue and puffing out my cheeks.

It was then that I realized just how spicy Sichuan hotpot could be.

That hotpot, that bottle of Sprite, those four pairs of chopsticks, and that downpour of rain – that’s my memory of Chengdu.

The most delightful surprise in Chengdu was that I could communicate with the locals in dialect, easily and pleasantly.

It’s a shame that I didn’t get to try a lot of the delicious food in Chengdu, like rabbit heads and “Open Water White Cabbage”, a dish I’ve been craving for years. I’ll make sure I try them next time.