Alive with Color and Flavor
Chongqing, China's youngest municipality, is a blend of metropolitan bustle and the leisurely charm of a Bashu mountain city, enriched with a profound historical legacy and stunning natural beauty. Hillside dwellings, subways that tunnel through buildings, the brilliantly lit banks of the two rivers, the one-of-a-kind Hongya Cave, ice jelly, nine-grid hotpot, Chongqing noodles, Jiefangbei, Food Street, the Mountain City trails, China’s "fog capital," a magical 8D city—how many come here chasing dreams, and how many linger entranced, drawn in by her pace of development, immersed in her warm embrace. Above all, the aroma of hotpot that fills the alleys from morning till night is perhaps the most iconic flavor of Chongqing.
This is my fourth visit to Chongqing, reminiscing about the past, looking to the future, and experiencing this vibrant, enchanting mountain city.
So, right out of the airport, I grabbed a taxi straight to a hotpot restaurant. Along the way, I saw Chongqing’s dense forest of high-rises, orderly and unhurried despite the density. The neon lights in the CBD and along the two rivers shone as brilliantly as those in New York, Tokyo, or Shanghai. Mahjong tables in old alleyways exuded a Chengdu-like "ba shi" (cozy ease). It seemed everyone could find their own rhythm and live for themselves. Tip: As soon as your flight lands, grab a queue number!
Cutting straight to the chase: Black Pearl Zhou Shixiong Hotpot (Hongya Cave branch). Tripe, duck intestines, fresh duck blood, large knife-cut kidney slices, beef, small gizzards. We ordered the "Mercedes pot," but everyone only had eyes for the spicy compartment. The flavor was decent but not stunning.
After eating, the Chongqing Art Museum right outside left a much stronger impression.
We stayed at the Hyatt near Jiefangbei, which is ideal for shopping. After dropping off our bags, we strolled around Jiefangbei, which was still bustling with crowds. My companion exclaimed, “Chongqing is the city that never sleeps!”
We found the entrance to Hao Chi Jie (Food Street, note: fourth tone) and were instantly transported into a world of culinary delights. The golden rule: whichever stall has the longest line, that’s the one to pick. Starting modestly with Huai Liang pan-fried buns... then hitting our stride with crunchy bone cups, fire ribs, and crispy "five flowers," we let ourselves go... Finally, the perfect ending with rose glutinous rice ice jelly, completely forgetting the feelings of Zhou Shixiong in our stomachs. Yet some long-queue favorites missed their chance to be patronized. The secret to conquering Snack Street is to bring a big-eater friend.
Chongqing people are passionate about building their food scene, from humble street snacks and noodles to hotpot joints on every corner, and on to Chongqing cuisine, which belongs to the Xiahebang school of Sichuan cooking. Food is the backbone of life in Chongqing, the very essence of its vitality.
What color represents Chongqing? Undoubtedly red. From the moment you open your eyes until you close them, red is a constant—a bowl of noodles, a pot of maoxuewang (spicy blood curd), a hotpot meal. Every ordinary dish is inseparable from fiery chili peppers. Chongqing’s enthusiasm for eating runs high, like a raging fire, and it’s doubly redolent with the revolutionary red of the sacred revolutionary sites—a spark that can start a prairie fire, unstoppable.
Taking the subway to Ciqikou is easy, but Ciqikou is no longer the pure Sichuan town in my memory. Large-scale renovation, expansion, and commercialization have filled it with a strong commercial vibe. The dilapidated archway where I once gnawed on fried dough twists is gone, but I could sense the rapid revival of tourism in the post-pandemic era.
The alleys were thick with spicy aromas. When tired, we rested at a roadside teahouse, watched a performance, and experienced close-up the art of lidded-bowl tea and Sichuan opera face-changing.
Finally, at the end of the trip, I found a touch of old-time warmth: beef guokui (flatbread), crispy and fragrant. Though the stall had moved, the flavor was still familiar. This Zhou Guokui is actually an authentic Chengdu product, but deliciousness is what matters.
Taking the subway back downtown, I was slightly let down by the Huashi Wanza Noodles. I found the long-cherished old shop but couldn't recapture the original taste—the noodles were overcooked. Whether it was a one-off slip by the cook or a decline in quality, I’m not sure. The beef was tender but lacked the irresistible spicy kick of old.
The Yangtze River Cableway is no longer an ordinary means of transport. New grand bridges span the two rivers, and the subway network is extensive. Besides, a 3-minute ride and a 100-minute wait are utterly impractical, making it a spot only for out-of-town visitors to check off their Chongqing list.
The cable car first passed through towering buildings. A group of people kept photographing us, probably from a so-called internet-famous check-in spot. It was kind of fun, everyone looking back and forth.
The glass wasn't clean enough, adding a layer of inexplicable, faint melancholy.
Chongqing taxi drivers rival those in Xi’an—the ride is like a roller coaster. They’re equally warm-hearted and gave us invaluable advice: “Any place outside the Jiefangbei area that’s crowded with locals will be delicious!” Truly a wake-up call.
Nanshan Yikeshu (South Mountain Single Tree) is essentially the observation deck of mountain city Chongqing. You can come at night for the night view. For those with a tight schedule like us, it’s best to come before dinner, as traffic jams are worse later.
Chongqing's nightscape is wonderful, but because it’s a fog city, clear skies are rare. Most of the time it’s overcast, dimming the night view. Looking down at the mountain city was still spectacular; any random snapshot felt like a blockbuster.
Wearing a down jacket one day and a T-shirt the next—a true picture of this “furnace” city.
For dinner, we checked off the Black Pearl Chen Xiang as planned, but it was a bit disappointing. As an internet-famous Sichuan restaurant, it had no Sichuan chicken in chili sauce, no spicy chicken. The most expensive dry-braised Jituan fish was mediocre. Kung Pao chicken was quite good, and the spicy blood curd and soy sauce meat buns were tasty.
For two days running, I couldn't buy the famous Haiyi Hotel Napoleon pastry—there's only one specialty shop, closing at 7 p.m., but it often sells out before 7 and shuts early. So I could only recall it in memory. I bought a Napoleon from another longtime brand, Gong Qi, across the street, and it was decent.
Next were the night views of Hongya Cave and the Jialing River. A two-river cruise is a great option, but strolling and taking it all in has its own charm. Those with strong legs can start from Raffles City at Chaotianmen and walk all the way to Hongya Cave. Raffles has lots of good food. Along the way, the light show on the opposite riverbank and the colorful facades of the CBD high-rises on this side complement each other brilliantly.
Qiansimen Bridge.
Hongya Cave is an unparalleled representation of the mountain city's stilted buildings. Perhaps due to effective pandemic control and the rise of revenge travel, the crowds have grown compared to two years ago. The strange staggered floors—from the first floor to the ninth, only to emerge at ground level again—are the magic of traditional mountain city architecture.
Across the road on the riverbank, you can see the magnificent panorama of Hongya Cave—a perfect spot for photo check-ins.
In the city of hotpot, one meal is never enough. So, following the logic of the taxi guy, we sought out a local hotpot joint on the edge of Jiefangbei, where crowds waited in long lines but it had no online presence whatsoever. A late-night snack it was.
Remember the name Kàn Xià Èr Ge. The proprietress said, "I never do online marketing. I don’t go looking for customers; I let them come to me." My friend asked, "Do you have ice jelly?" The boss answered simply and bluntly, "No!" Then turned and left. Such assertiveness, that’s the flavor of Chongqing hotpot for sure! The nine-grid’s secret spicy broth and the freshness of the ingredients made us completely forget we’d already eaten dinner—this was late-night eating! We ordered two more rounds of dishes and still wanted more; the incredibly tender beef and paper-thin large knife-cut kidney slices were truly delicious. This little place is by no means unique in the treasure city of Chongqing. I believe every unassuming hotpot shop that survives in this gourmet capital, with long queues, has its own special touch.
To grasp the essence of a city, you must blend in. Today, let’s live like Chongqing locals. Waking up early, the easiest way to fit in is a bowl of the most authentic street noodles, eaten the most down-to-earth way: sitting by the roadside. The lively atmosphere brings the noodles to life, making them even more flavorful. In Chongqing, noodles are simply noodles. The most common toppings are peas, mixed sauce (za jiang), beef, and fatty intestine. The most famous way to eat them is wan za mian (a double topping of peas and mixed sauce). Pay in line, get your noodles in line, then squat or sit on the ground, slurp a few mouthfuls—that’s the start of the day.
The grand slam: wan za mian with beef and fatty intestine. The mixed sauce was thick, the peas tender, the beef and intestine generous, and there were a few lettuce leaves hidden in the noodles. This ordinary street food may no longer satisfy our picky palates, but in retrospect, it might be the taste of home for Chongqing people—a flavor they’d crave even from afar.
The renovation of Shancheng Alley is taking shape, livelier than two years ago and becoming a new internet-famous spot. But with large-scale demolitions, the dilapidated old alleys and small old shops hawking various wares have vanished. Those wanting to experience traditional Chongqing will be disappointed. However, the wheels of history roll forward; fewer slums mean better lives for Chongqing people—something to celebrate.
Today’s Shancheng Alley is lined with cafes, snack shops, and souvenir stores, decorated with flowers and graffiti. Only a few construction sites still hint at its original appearance.
The old city walls are always full of the city’s stories.
Cherishing the past and enjoying the present: the mountain city's transportation extends in all directions. The undulating natural terrain has shaped Chongqing’s unique development. The rail transit goes up and down, even threading directly through residential buildings. This is another internet-famous check-in spot—Liziba Subway Station.
In the mountain city, a day without ice jelly is incomplete. A nearby bowl of Bàwáng (King) Ice Jelly brought this trip to a perfect close.
Chongqing is no longer entirely the city in my memory. Ciqikou has changed, the mountain city trails have changed, I never got to eat the Haiyi Napoleon again, and the noodles are different. But this time, I finally checked off an authentic nine-grid hotpot and the internet-famous Liziba Station, had a great food crawl on Hao Chi Jie, saw the banks of the two rivers looking better, and found Hongya Cave even more crowded. The mountain city is progressing, its first-tier metropolis vibe even stronger. Isn’t this Chongqing delightful?
Travelogue Contents: 1. Mountain City Impressions 2. Day 1: Alive 3. Day 2: Color 4. Day 3: Life 5. Flavor Travel Information Hotel Index Guide Index Flight Index Website Navigation Travel Index Cruise Index Corporate Travel Index Partnership Cooperation Distribution Alliance Friendship Links Corporate Gift Card Purchase Insurance Agency Agency Cooperation Hotel Partnership Destination & Scenic Spot Cooperation More Partnership Cooperation About Ctrip About Ctrip Ctrip Hot Topics Contact Us Careers User Agreement Privacy Policy Business License Safety Center Ctrip Content Center Intellectual Property Trip.com Group Algorithm Disclosure
