The Ultimate List: 20 Unmissable Things to Do in Chengdu This Year!

The Unfiltered Chengdu: 20 Ways to Dissolve Into the City

I’ve been waking up in Chengdu for seven months now, and I still don’t feel like I’ve scratched the surface. That’s the thing about this place—it’s a swamp. Not in a literal sense, but in the way it pulls you down into its slow, humid, spicy rhythm until you realize you haven’t checked your email in three days and you’ve spent four hours arguing about the nuances of peppercorn quality with a man named Lao Wang who doesn’t even know your last name. This isn’t a list for the weekend warrior. This is for the person who wants to move here, disappear, and let the city swallow them whole.

1. Master the “Ba Shi” (The Slow Life)

In most Chinese megacities, “time is money.” In Chengdu, “time is for wasting.” If you see a group of people sitting on plastic stools by a river for five hours, they aren’t waiting for something; they are doing the activity. To live here is to embrace Ba Shi—the local concept of ultimate comfort. It means not rushing your noodles, even if there’s a line. It means saying “tomorrow” and actually meaning “maybe next week.”

2. The Unwritten Rule of the Tea House

Go to People’s Park, but don’t sit in the front. Walk until the sound of the tour groups fades. When you find a bamboo chair, just sit. A server will eventually appear. Order “Gaiwan Cha.” Here is the rule: if you lean your lid against the bowl, it means you need more water. If you put the lid on top of the cup, it means you’re done. If you put the lid on the chair, you’re just going to the bathroom and want to keep your seat. Never, ever tip. Tipping is considered confusing at best and an insult to the owner’s pricing at worst.

3. Get Your Ears Cleaned (Properly)

You’ll see men with long metal picks and headlamps. This is Cai Er. It’s terrifying the first time—the sound of the vibrating fork against the metal probe inside your ear canal is like an alien broadcast. But once you survive it, your hearing becomes superhuman. I swear I could hear a dumpling boiling three blocks away after my first session. It costs about 30-50 RMB. Don’t do it in the tourist alleys of Jinli; find the guys in the backstreets of Wangjiaba.