Things to Do in China

About China

China greays you with the hiss of a wok and the clang of a Beijing bicycle bell at the same time. Step off the plane in Shanghai and the air tastes of soy steam and diesel. By the time you've swapped cash for a lime-green Metro card, the Maglev has already hit 430 km/h, cradling you above Pudong's glass forests like a low-budget space launch. In Chengdu, the morning starts with chili haze that settles in your throat while you queue for dumplings whose skins are so thin the light shines through, street-side stalls charge a handful of coins for a bamboo steamer. Wander the hutong alleys north of the Forbidden City and you'll pass mahogany courtyard doors, mahogany window frames, mah-jong tiles clacking behind them. Grab a bike-share and pedal through the electric-scooter swarm until you're lost, because the hutongs were drawn by a drunk cartographer in 1271. Down south, Guilin's limestone teeth poke through rice-fog so thick the buffalo disappear; a bamboo raft down the Li River costs less than a café latte abroad and gives you a lungful of diesel from the outboard. But the moment the engine dies you'll hear bamboo creaking like old stairs and see cormorant fishermen who still whistle like their grandfathers. Yes, the firewall blocks Instagram and the taxi driver in Xi'an may suddenly discover his meter is 'broken.' Bring cash, WeChat Pay is king. But your foreign card is still a court jester. Still, nothing resets your sense of scale like standing on a 2,300-year-old wall that once kept out Mongol hordes while bullet trains whistle underneath. China doesn't just stamp your passport. It rewires your appetite, your sense of distance, your suddenly very specific craving for cumin lamb at 2 a.m.

Travel Tips

Transportation: Download the Trip.com app before you land; it's one of the few places foreigners can book high-speed rail tickets in English. Second-class seats on the Beijing, Shanghai bullet run mid-range by global standards and sell out first, so reserve three days ahead. City metros are budget-friendly per ride, buy a rechargeable card at any station kiosk to skip the ticket queue. Black taxis are the color of deep bruise: insist on the meter or walk fifty metres to a licensed cab rank. Skip the airport Maglev into town unless you're a train nerd. The metro line 2 is cheaper and only ten minutes slower.

Money: Cash is still welcome but mobile pay rules. Swap a small note at your hotel front desk for street snacks, vendors rarely break large bills. ATMs spit out big denominations. Break them at FamilyMart when you buy bottled water. Tipping is non-existent; leaving coins on the table can confuse staff. Credit cards work only in international hotels and Starbucks, everywhere else you'll need WeChat Pay or Alipay. If your bank card won't link, buy a prepaid tour-card at the airport kiosk desk. Load a modest amount and you're set for a week of dumplings.

Cultural Respect: Temples are free to enter but selfies with monks are a hard-crease no. Cover shoulders & knee at active monasteries, carry a light scarf. Security will hand you a hospital-blue shawl for pocket change if you forget. Queue jumping for trains is polite warfare: stand left, move forward chest-to-back, no apology needed. Spitting happens, loudly. Don't stare; you'll hear it before you see it. If invited to someone's flat, bring fruit (eight mandarins, not four, four means death) and remove shoes at the door. A simple 'ni hao' earns wider smiles than perfect Mandarin. Attempt tones, laugh when you fail.

Food Safety: Hot, fast, busy, that's your safety checklist. Pick stalls with a line of locals holding tissues instead of tourists holding guides. Turnover means fresh oil. Tea-poached eggs at street carts cost pocket change and arrive shell-on, peel yourself, skip pre-peeled bowls sitting in sun. Tap water is chlorinated but pipes vary. Hotel kettles boil away the doubt. Carry loperamide but use it only if fever-free; locals swear by hot Sprite with ginger to settle stomachs. Morning hotel breakfast may look safe. But the jianbing cooked in front of you outside the metro gate is safer, and ten times tastier.

When to Visit

April and October are the sweet spots: daytime highs 18, 25 °C (64, 77 °F), plum-rain showers short enough to photograph puddles reflecting neon. Beijing hotel rates dip noticeably from peak May, while Xi'an's terra-cotta warriors see half the summer crowds. June, August turns the Yangtze basin into a 32, 38 °C (90, 100 °F) steamer; trans-Pacific airfares can drop by a third, but you'll pay with sweat and occasional typhoon delays along China's southeast coast. September harvest season paints Guilin's karsts gold and trims cruise prices on the Li River. Winter, never tourists' first choice, gifts Harbin's ice festival at, 18 °C (0 °F) and Beijing hotel rooms at budget-friendly rates, plus empty shots of the Great Wall's Jinshanling section where wind whistles through watchtowers. Chinese New Year (late Jan / early Feb) spikes everything and books trains months early. Unless you crave firecrackers at 3 a.m., avoid it. Tibet opens overland routes April 1; altitude-sickness cover is worth the's printed on. Bottom line: April for blossoms, October for kites, December if you're budget-tough, February only if you've mastered the art of standing in line.