Somewhere near the Beginning...

Four hours from Pullman to Seattle, four-hour flight to Houston, followed by a 15-hour flight to Beijing. The international flight was followed by yet another three-hour flight, sending me into the heart of Southwest China. Add on a three-hour bus ride then a 45-minute taxi ride totals around 31 hours of just traveling minus layovers. Oye...

 

You really don’t understand that long of a flight until you step off the aircraft. I settled into my coach seat in row 42 of the Boeing 777-3 plane; the only blonde in a sea of dark hair. The announcements were first made in Chinese, followed by an at best rough English translation.

My gate to Chengdu in the Beijing International Airport. 

Landing in Beijing around 5am local time meant the airport was next to empty. The glimmer and expansive modern layout was lost on my tired eyes as I found the gate for my final flight to Chengdu. Stopping at baggage claim to make sure my bag did not try to spend the week in Beijing, I came across the most practical idea we do not use here in the US.

As bags came tumbling off the conveyor, the belt would stop if bags were on the rotating caravan below it as to protect the luggage and allow passengers to hull theirs off more easily. I snapped a video for those of you who think it is a novel idea that should be implemented here (hint hint airlines).

Once I landed at the next checkpoint in Chengdu, I realized my bag had managed to deceive me and was still in Beijing. After what seemed like hours trying to communicate with Air China staff who spoke a few phrases of broken English, a group of young Chinese students fresh from the States approached and helped negotiate the shipment of my bag. No warm clothes and heading into the mountains where there is no central heating? I knew this would be an adventure for sure.

 

Architecture outside Chengdu International Airport. 

A young girl holding my name on a crumpled piece of paper outside the terminal brought me to McDonald's to grab some much-needed grub. Sadly, everything was in Chinese and I ended up with fries and chicken that smelled like fish. Eating in a rush, we made our way to the bus station where I was handed a ticket with more gibberish I didn’t understand on it, hurried to the bus, and we were on our way to Ya’an.

One moment I will truly never forget is our taxi ride through Ya’an to the town center. So many different sights and sounds. My guide Sunni said the weather was very bizarre and the sunshine usually never shows it face this time of year. Lucky for me I got to see the city with clear eyes.

The bus station where we purchased our tickets to Ya'an. As you can see, no English signs. 

An alley in Ya'an, as you can see it is a BEAUTIFUL day outside. Odd weather for a rainy city.

The twisting road up the mountain was a bit scary. Drivers in China don’t rely on marked streets or signs. They simply honk while turning a corner or passing with no visibility. Not sure I would call it safe, but we did arrive in one piece.

 

Most apartments in China don't have dryers, so hanging clothes is a common sight in cities and rural areas.

The view from the entrance of the CCRCGP park. 

The driver who is about to get us into a head-on accident.

A small argument with the center security guard that yes I belonged here, yes I had paperwork, yes I was blonde and no one else here was eventually got me to my hostel. A warm smiling woman greeted me with a hug and I followed her to my room. I tried to ask what time dinner was, but I was left only with a smile and wave.

After hours of travel, I have arrived at the Center! 

No English though, no one seems to speak English here. Next up, the China Conservation and Research Centre for Giant Pandas.