In June 2024, I traded London’s grey skies for three cities that felt like entire worlds of their own—Shanghai, Beijing, and Guilin. Three destinations, three moods, three chapters in a trip that surprised me again and again.
China had always been on my list, but nothing prepared me for how deeply I’d fall for its layers: ancient stories woven into futuristic skylines, quiet traditions living beside loud modernity, and people whose kindness filled the spaces between every adventure.
Shanghai: The City of Bright Beginnings (3 Days)
Stepping out of the plane in Shanghai felt like stepping into a cinematic intro—humidity, neon, and movement everywhere. The skyline glittered like it knew I’d be impressed, and the city had no intention of proving me wrong.
I had only three days, but Shanghai is the kind of place that makes every hour feel full.
The highlight? My friend’s wedding.
It was the reason for the trip, but somehow also the trip’s most magical surprise. A whirlwind of traditions, laughter, elegant attire, and joyful chaos. Custom after custom unfolded before me—tea ceremonies, symbolic gifts, blessings that traveled between generations. I felt like I wasn’t just watching a celebration; I was being woven into one.
Between wedding moments, I drifted through Yu Garden, watched the Bund light up at night, and ate dumplings so perfect they deserve their own blog post. Shanghai was big, bold, and a bit theatrical—just how I love my opening chapters.
Beijing: History Told in Stone and Sky (3 Days)
From Shanghai’s shimmer, I flew north to Beijing, where everything felt heavier, older, and incredibly grounding.
Beijing is where time stretches.
Even the air feels like it’s carrying stories.
I wandered through the Forbidden City, imagining emperors and empresses living lives far more dramatic than any TV series could handle. The architecture was breathtaking—golden roofs, painted dragons, and courtyards that seemed to repeat endlessly.
But nothing compared to standing on the Great Wall.
Photos never capture it. The scale, the silence, the mountains rolling out like waves—it was one of those rare travel moments where my brain whispered, Remember this. Remember this exactly as it feels right now.
My evenings were for street food and people-watching—two of my favorite travel hobbies. And Beijing delivered both in abundance. I chatted with locals who were hilariously amused by my attempts at Mandarin, and their stories added something warm to the days—connection, even in translation.
Guilin: Mountains That Belong in Paintings (2 Nights)
Just when I thought the trip couldn’t get any more beautiful, Guilin happened.
A quick flight brought me into a dreamscape: limestone peaks rising like mythical creatures, mist floating between them, rivers that looked brushed into reality by an artist. Everything felt softer, slower, gentler.
I spent my time drifting along the Li River, watching fishermen on bamboo rafts and mountains reflecting like ink strokes on silk. Guilin is the kind of place that quiets your mind whether you want it to or not.
The nights were calm—dim lanterns, peaceful streets, and the kind of silence that makes your thoughts stretch out comfortably instead of rushing.
It was the perfect ending to an already unforgettable journey.
Leaving China (But Not Really)
After eight days, three cities, and countless dumplings, I boarded my flight back to London—sun-tired, memory-full, and already planning my next trip.
China gave me contrasts, stories, and moments that stitched themselves into my heart.
It reminded me that travel is never just about places.
It’s about people, emotions, cultural rhythms, tiny surprises, and the ways you grow between one flight and the next.
And although the stamps in my passports don’t tell the full story, the pages in my blog—and in my heart—certainly do.
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