The Chengdu World Games was supposedly a peek at the borders of human excellence in sports, an exhibit of pure grit and brawn, all in one gathering with much pride and honor at stake.

It was where 110 nations converged to fight for medals in 36 non-Olympic disciplines, with China — the 12th host of the quadrennial event — putting together a work built on millions of dollars in budget, a grand display of its structural might, and an exceedingly modern application of sensible technology from security, transportation, to robotic dogs.

But the hosting marked by extravagance and adorned by stories of victories and camaraderie could only serve as a backdrop to the rather interesting spectacle of Chinese kindness and hospitality, one that could overshadow the grandeur of the arenas and the polishing of every detail the visitors surely envied and envisioned in their own countries.

It was a showcase of the people behind the scenes.

After 16 days of coverage in the World Games I experienced first-hand the Chinese brand of warmth and compassion — something that is unfiltered, natural, and quintessential in all of Chengdu. It runs firm and steady in their blood, regardless if I was a foreigner in their own land, or when I was wearing credentials or in plainclothes roaming around.

Everyone was willing to help; everyone was just as caring as we Filipinos would always do.

The language barrier posed an extreme challenge, with very minimal locals speaking only basic English. Heck, some could only understand a "yes" or "no," or for the few, "thank you."

A translator became handy, and the Chinese would always love to interact even if the sentences got tougher and harder to comprehend.

The candid connections created laughter, and most of the time a ton of confusion. I was lost several times on the streets of Chungxi, the city center known for expensive merchandise and bargain finds, as locals can't even recognize "left" or "right" without proper hand gestures.

While patience is a must, and when conversions could only return a nod or a thumbs up, the lack of adaptability did not bring hindrance to their willingness to do something good.

The volunteers, thousands of them dispersed in many locations, offered assistance in every step.

The bus drivers of the shuttle service — one of the most efficient I have seen — were always smiling and courteous despite working for countless hours.

The taxi drivers, one of them who shared I was only his third Filipino passenger ever in Chengdu, worked with dignity and were always respectful.

A cab driver was so remorseful as we were disoriented from the map and were running out of time going to a remote venue. Instead of panicking, he asked locals for directions and a watchman gladly extended a hand and took us out to the proper road even if it meant walking back to his post for a good four to five kilometers.

I insisted on giving the driver 100 yuan, even if the bill only stated 85. He was so close to crying because of the trouble, and said he would remember my name. Kindness, I think, should go both ways.

There are plenty of other stories that could be worthy of writing and reminiscing after an eventful stay in Chengdu. I learned Chinese people flow with compassion and must be recognized for such traits that we Filipino could see as portrayals of ourselves.

Tireless, resilient, happy, and considerate.

For all the good memories, thank you, China. Xie xie!