China, Part Two: The China I Discovered
A Journey Through China in Three Parts
At the end of August 2026, I departed for China, beginning a journey that would challenge many of my assumptions about a country I thought I knew.
I have organized my experiences, observations, and reflections into three essays:
Part One: The Country I Thought I Knew
Understanding a Civilization Beyond 1949
Part Two: The China I Discovered
From Imperial Beijing to the Mountains of Huangshan
Part Three: The China I Had Not Imagined
Modern China and the Perspective I Brought Home
Together, these three essays explore China's extraordinary history, the places and people I encountered, and the contemporary country that challenged my expectations.
From Imperial Beijing to the Mountains of Huangshan
I arrived in China carrying decades of assumptions, questions, and curiosity about a country whose political system had profoundly influenced the communist Romania in which I was born and raised.
For much of my life, my understanding of China had been shaped by that history.
Over the previous decade, however, I had become increasingly interested in the country's extraordinary transformation. The more I read about its economic development, infrastructure, technology, and society, the more I realized that some of my long-held perceptions were becoming difficult to reconcile with the information I was encountering.
Eventually, curiosity became stronger than certainty and I decided to see China for myself.
My journey would take me from Beijing to Lhasa in Tibet, then to Chengdu, Hangzhou, Huangshan, Hongcun, and Shanghai, exploring these destinations and their surrounding areas.
Seven places, each revealing a different dimension of a civilization thousands of years old.
I expected to learn. What I experienced was far more profound.
Throughout those few weeks, I found myself repeatedly saying, "This is mind blowing."
As the journey unfolded, I began to realize that what fascinated me most was the distance between the China I had imagined and the China I was experiencing.
Preparing for China: A Different Digital World
Traveling to China requires some preparation, particularly when it comes to technology and everyday transactions.
Many of the social media platforms and digital services commonly used in the United States and Europe are restricted in mainland China, including Facebook, Instagram, and Google services.
Before leaving the United States, I downloaded ExpressVPN and installed Alipay, two applications I considered essential for my journey.
Alipay became particularly useful because China operates through an extensively developed system of electronic payments. From small purchases to transportation and admission tickets, paying with my phone was remarkably convenient.
Through Alipay, I could also access DiDi, China's equivalent of Uber.
I traveled independently on numerous occasions, ordering a car directly from my phone, just as I would at home. A driver would pick me up at my hotel and take me wherever I wanted to go.
The process was simple, efficient, and effortless.
Another pleasant discovery was that many historical and cultural attractions offered complimentary admission to visitors over sixty, with a passport serving as identification and, in some cases, as the admission ticket.
These details made independent travel surprisingly easy.
Beijing: Where the Past and Present Meet
I arrived in Beijing at the end of August, after a long journey from the United States.
The following morning, I woke up early and looked out from my hotel room on the twenty-seventh floor.
There is something so beautiful about waking up in a new city, especially before sunrise, looking through the window and watching the city itself wake up.
I have experienced that feeling in many places around the world, but there is always something special about the first morning in a country I have never visited.
Everything is unfamiliar, and everything invites curiosity.
Beijing is a city of more than twenty million people, the political capital of China, and one of the world's great historical centers.
Its urban landscape brings together monumental imperial architecture, broad avenues, modern buildings, extensive transportation networks, and neighborhoods where traditional forms of everyday life continue.
My first destination was the Summer Palace, a magnificent complex of imperial gardens, pavilions, temples, bridges, and lakes.
Built and expanded over several centuries, the Summer Palace became particularly associated with the Qing Dynasty (1644-1912 CE) and Empress Dowager Cixi, one of the most influential figures in China's late imperial history.
The palace complex suffered extensive destruction during the nineteenth century, particularly during the Anglo-French invasion of 1860, and was subsequently rebuilt and restored.
What fascinated me most was the relationship between architecture and nature.
Kunming Lake stretched across the landscape, surrounded by wooded hills, elegant pavilions, traditional bridges, and carefully designed gardens.
The buildings seemed to belong to the landscape rather than dominate it.
I was struck by the sense of harmony, the generous spaces, the trees, and the peaceful atmosphere.
After traveling thousands of miles, I was still adjusting to the feeling of being in China.
My body had arrived, but my spirit was still landing. Walking through the Summer Palace gave me an opportunity to slow down, observe, and begin absorbing the country around me.
It was a beautiful introduction to a civilization in which gardens, architecture, philosophy, and the natural world have been connected for centuries.
My first days introduced me to some of China's most important historical landmarks.
At the Forbidden City, I walked through the former imperial palace complex that served as the political and ceremonial center of the Ming and Qing dynasties for nearly five centuries.
Its enormous courtyards, imposing gates, ceremonial halls, and intricate architectural details offered a glimpse into the scale and organization of imperial government.
The complex was built in the early fifteenth century, during the reign of the Ming emperor Yongle.
For generations, emperors governed from within its walls, surrounded by elaborate systems of court ritual, administration, and political authority.
Walking through those spaces, I thought about the thousands of people whose lives had unfolded there and the extraordinary continuity of the civilization that created them.
At the Temple of Heaven, I encountered another dimension of imperial China.
Here, emperors performed ceremonies associated with the relationship between Heaven, Earth, and the prosperity of the empire.
The architecture reflects sophisticated ideas about cosmology, geometry, symbolism, and political legitimacy.
The circular Hall of Prayer for Good Harvests, with its magnificent blue roof, remains one of the most recognizable examples of traditional Chinese architecture.
The Great Wall offered an entirely different experience.
Stretching across mountains and valleys, its defensive structures represent centuries of construction, adaptation, and military strategy.
Standing on the wall, surrounded by mountains, I was struck by the enormous human effort required to build and maintain such fortifications, but what interested me was more than the historical monuments.
Beijing introduced me to a country in which ancient structures and contemporary development exist within the same urban environment.
The past was visible everywhere, but so was the present.
And I was beginning to understand that the history of China could never be contained within the political narrative through which I had known it.
Lhasa, Tibet: Where Spirituality Becomes Part of Everyday Life
From Beijing, I flew to Lhasa, the capital of the Tibet Autonomous Region of China.
Located at approximately 12,000 feet above sea level, Lhasa sits on the Tibetan Plateau, surrounded by mountains and shaped by an extraordinary geographical environment.
The altitude alone changes the experience of being there.
The air is thinner, physical movement requires greater awareness, and the landscape feels immense.
But what fascinated me most was the spiritual life of the city.
At Barkhor Street, surrounding Jokhang Temple, I encountered hundreds of people walking clockwise around the sacred site. Some carried prayer beads, moving them slowly through their fingers. Others turned small prayer wheels as they walked.
I could hear mantras being repeated quietly around me. Then I noticed people prostrating.
They brought their hands together above their heads, lowered themselves to the ground, stretched their bodies forward, rose again, took a few steps, and repeated the movement.
Again and again.
Jokhang Temple dates to the seventh century and is considered one of the most sacred sites in Tibetan Buddhism.
For centuries, pilgrims have traveled here to perform the kora, the ritual clockwise circuit around the temple.
That afternoon, I walked alongside them.
I had come to explore Barkhor Street and its traditional markets. Instead, I became fascinated by the people.
I was beginning to understand that Tibetan Buddhism could not be experienced only through monasteries and religious texts.
It occupied streets, courtyards, staircases, and public spaces. Spirituality was visible in the movements of everyday life.
At the Potala Palace, the former winter residence of the Dalai Lamas, I encountered another extraordinary expression of Tibetan religious and political history.
Rising above Lhasa, the palace contains chapels, ceremonial halls, sacred objects, and elaborate architectural spaces developed over centuries.
Its scale and setting are remarkable.
At Sera Monastery, I watched monks participating in traditional philosophical debates.
One monk would stand, asking questions and punctuating his arguments with dramatic hand gestures and clapping.
Another would sit, responding and defending his understanding of Buddhist teachings.
The exchanges were energetic, disciplined, and deeply rooted in a tradition of religious scholarship.
I was fascinated by the relationship between intellectual inquiry and spiritual practice.
Tibet also reminded me of the complexity of China's history and cultural geography.
Its language, religious traditions, historical experiences, and cultural identity are distinctive.
The region's relationship with successive Chinese states has a long and contested history, and its contemporary political status remains the subject of differing interpretations and concerns.
My time in Lhasa gave me a glimpse into the lived experiences of people whose traditions have endured through profound historical transformations.
It also reminded me that understanding a country as large and diverse as China requires attention to the many cultures and histories within its borders.
Chengdu: The Art of Living in a Modern City
After several days in Tibet, I flew to Chengdu, the capital of Sichuan Province.
The transition was extraordinary.
From the high altitude and spiritual atmosphere of Lhasa, I arrived in a vast modern city known for its food, tea culture, parks, and relaxed social traditions.
Chengdu's wider administrative area has a population exceeding twenty million people. The city is also known for its particular appreciation of everyday pleasures.
Tea houses are an important part of its cultural identity.
For generations, people have gathered to drink tea, talk, play games, meet friends, and spend time together.
I was fascinated by the place these traditions continue to occupy in contemporary urban life.
Mahjong, a game involving tiles, strategy, memory, and social interaction, remains a familiar part of the city's social culture.
During my visit, I had the opportunity to learn about the game, play it, and observe its role in bringing people together.
Chengdu is also famous for its Sichuan cuisine. The region's culinary traditions are known for complex combinations of flavors, including the distinctive numbing sensation produced by Sichuan peppercorns.
And, of course, Chengdu is internationally associated with giant pandas.
At the Chengdu Research Base of Giant Panda Breeding, I learned about efforts to breed, study, and conserve one of China's most recognizable animals.
The giant panda has become an international symbol of wildlife conservation, and its survival reflects decades of scientific research, habitat protection, and conservation efforts.
What interested me most about Chengdu was the relationship between modern urban life and longstanding social traditions.
In many parts of the world, rapid development is associated with an increasingly hurried pace of life.
Chengdu offered a reminder that modernization and the enjoyment of ordinary human experiences can coexist.
A city can grow, innovate, and develop sophisticated infrastructure while preserving spaces where people gather simply to enjoy one another's company.
Hangzhou: Where Nature, Tea, and Culture Meet
From Chengdu, I traveled to Hangzhou, the capital of Zhejiang Province.
Hangzhou has been celebrated for centuries for its natural beauty, gardens, lakes, and cultural traditions.
It was also the capital of the Southern Song Dynasty, a period during which the city became one of the world's great urban and commercial centers.
At West Lake, I encountered a landscape shaped by centuries of artistic imagination and human intervention.
The lake is surrounded by gardens, bridges, temples, pagodas, and wooded hills.
Its scenery has inspired generations of poets, painters, and scholars.
The relationship between the natural environment and carefully designed landscapes fascinated me.
Chinese gardens often bring together water, rocks, plants, architecture, and open space to create environments that encourage reflection.
Rather than attempting to dominate nature, many traditional garden designs seek to evoke its patterns and rhythms.
Hangzhou is also famous for Longjing, or Dragon Well, green tea. During my visit, I became increasingly interested in Chinese tea culture.
Tea has been cultivated and consumed in China for thousands of years, and its history encompasses agriculture, medicine, trade, philosophy, hospitality, and social traditions.
The preparation and enjoyment of tea can become an experience of attention and appreciation.
I was particularly interested in learning about different varieties, traditional preparation methods, and the cultural knowledge associated with tea.
But Hangzhou also strengthened another observation that had been developing throughout my journey.
I kept noticing trees. Trees along streets, in parks, around buildings, and throughout public spaces.
I was struck by the attention given to landscaping and the integration of greenery into urban environments.
At one point, I found myself thinking:
China is a country that takes care of its trees.
I could see it.
I could feel it.
Of course, the condition of public spaces in the cities I visited cannot establish how every community across such an enormous country is governed or cared for, but the attention to greenery made a powerful impression on me.
It suggested an understanding that the quality of urban life depends on more than buildings, roads, and economic activity. It also depends on the environment in which people live.
Huangshan: Walking Through a Chinese Painting
After Hangzhou, I traveled to Huangshan, the Yellow Mountains.
This was one of the most visually extraordinary experiences of my journey.
Huangshan is famous for its dramatic granite peaks, ancient pine trees, unusual rock formations, and the sea of clouds that frequently fills the valleys between its mountains.
The landscape has inspired Chinese painters and poets for centuries.
I had been learning about traditional Chinese landscape painting, particularly the artistic tradition known as shan shui, meaning mountains and water. In these paintings, nature frequently occupies the central place.
Mountains rise through mist, trees cling to cliffs, rivers wind through valleys, small human figures appear within immense landscapes.
The compositions often contain generous areas of empty space, allowing the viewer's imagination to participate in the scene.
Standing in Huangshan, I began to understand this artistic tradition through direct experience.
The landscapes surrounding me resembled paintings I had been studying.
The peaks emerged and disappeared through shifting clouds, the mountains seemed to extend endlessly into the distance, and the relationship between solid rock, moving mist, trees, and open space created an extraordinary visual harmony.
I found myself thinking about the difference between looking at a painting and standing within the landscape that inspired it.
The experience gave me a deeper appreciation of how geography can shape artistic imagination.
It also brought me back to the philosophical traditions I had been exploring.
In Daoist thought, nature frequently becomes a source of insight into balance, change, and the relationship between human beings and the larger world. Huangshan made those ideas feel tangible.
The mountains had existed long before the civilizations that celebrated them. They would continue to exist long after the people standing there had disappeared. There was something profoundly humbling about that perspective.
An Ordinary Thursday, an Extraordinary Memory
One evening near Huangshan, I had an experience that reminded me why I love traveling so much.
Approximately thirty minutes outside the city, I visited a small village of around 400 people, where I was invited to have dinner with a local family.
As the sun was setting, I walked through the village. Families were gathered outside their homes, children were playing, and everyday life was unfolding around me.
I was captivated by the arrangement of the homes, many organized around shared courtyards and compounds, and by the sense of community that seemed to characterize the village.
With the help of my guide, who translated our conversations, I began talking with some of the residents.
They were curious about me, just as I was curious about them. We exchanged questions, smiles, and laughter. At one point, there was even applause.
I learned that the oldest resident was 96 years old, and I met an 86 year old woman who was related to the family hosting our dinner.
I was also fascinated to learn how dramatically life in the village had changed over the previous thirty years.
There was something extraordinary about the simplicity of the experience.
I was thousands of miles from home, walking through a small Chinese village at sunset, surrounded by people whose language I did not speak and whose lives were so different from my own. Somehow, through curiosity, gestures, laughter, and the generosity of our hosts, we found ways to connect.
I have visited extraordinary monuments, magnificent cities, and some of the most beautiful landscapes in the world.
Experiences like this remind me that some of the most meaningful discoveries in travel happen through ordinary encounters with people.
People we have never met before and will probably never meet again, people who become part of our memories and our understanding of the world.
Hongcun: Preserving the Beauty of Everyday History
From Huangshan, I visited Hongcun, a historic village in Anhui Province.
Hongcun is known for its traditional architecture, narrow streets, canals, and carefully designed water system. Many of its surviving buildings date to the Ming and Qing dynasties.
The village is part of a UNESCO World Heritage Site recognizing the historical and architectural significance of traditional settlements in southern Anhui.
Whitewashed walls, dark tiled roofs, wooden architectural details, and reflective waterways create a distinctive visual environment. Walking through Hongcun, I was fascinated by the relationship between architecture and daily life.
Unlike the monumental imperial buildings of Beijing, Hongcun offered a more intimate perspective on Chinese history.
Its houses, courtyards, streets, and waterways reflected the lives of families and communities.
The village's water system was designed to serve practical needs while contributing to the organization and appearance of the settlement.
Hongcun also became internationally recognizable as a filming location for Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon.
Its historical importance, however, extends far beyond its appearance in a film.
The village preserves elements of social organization, architectural traditions, and local culture developed over generations. It reminded me that the history of a civilization is preserved through ordinary places as well as extraordinary monuments.
Palaces tell us about emperors and political authority, while villages tell us about families, communities, and everyday life.
Both are essential to understanding the past.
Looking back on this part of my journey, I realized how many different dimensions of China I had encountered.
From the imperial grandeur of Beijing to the spiritual traditions of Tibet, from the tea houses of Chengdu to the gardens of Hangzhou, from the magnificent landscapes of Huangshan to the quiet streets of traditional villages, each place had revealed something different about this extraordinary civilization.
I had traveled through centuries of history, encountered traditions that continue to shape everyday life, and experienced the generosity and warmth of people whose lives were so different from my own.
I was beginning to understand China through its history, its culture, its landscapes, and, most importantly, its people.
My journey, however, was not over.
One destination awaited me: Shanghai.
There, I would encounter another dimension of China, one that would challenge my expectations in ways I had never imagined.
Travel by Design, Not by Default.
Until the next horizon,
Coach • Traveler • Believer in Intentional Living
