Travel Magazine: Personal Project

China
Trip
Spring 2019
+ Take a walk
back in time
+ Fall in love
with Zhouzhuang
Beijing, Kunming, Dali, Shangri-La, Shanghai, Suzhou,
Zhouzhuang, Hangzhou; People’s Republic of China
1700 Miles | 17 Days | Spring 2019

China Trip Magazine
Beijing, Kunming, Dali, Shangri-La, Shanghai, Suzhou, Zhouzhuang, Hangzhou
Emma Reed, Jordan Reed | Spring 2019

A quiet corner of Beijing, a city of over 21.5 million people.

Mutianyu
13,000 Miles of History
Beneath Your Feet
With its beginnings over 2,000 years ago, the Great
Wall of China was a spectacular and humbling experience
for us to behold. An ancient relic and world
wonder, this magnificent wall stands the test of
time with its storied, cobbled walls winding through
the mountains as you twist and turn through history.
14
pg

60
pg
Beyond the Bund
One can read the history of China’s shining port city by simplying
following its skyline. A stroll through its neighborhoods will reveal
a storied history rooted in Chinese tradition, later influenced by the
Europeans after their victory in the Opium Wars of 1850, then
revitalized by Communist China’s efforts to move the
country into the future. Starkly fighting the her country’s
national traditionalism, Shanghai stands as China’s
gateway to modernity and globalism.

Emperors
In the footsteps of
18
pg
Beijing’s Forbidden City Imperial Palace housed the royal families
of Chinese emperors for over 500 years beginning in 1420 with the
Ming Dynasty. Today, doors are open to welcome you as its guest.

C hina Trip
Our magnificent journey
through the history and
culture of the great East
begins, naturally, in China’s
famed imperial city,
Beijing. Here we explore
the capital at t-
he grounds of Tiananmen
Square and pay hommage
to the dynasties of old at
the Forbidden City; a palace
dating back hundreds of
years.
07
We spend a day walking
the back of
China’s famed Great Wall at
Mutianyu. While we can’t
speak for outer space, we
can at least verify this World
Wonder visible from
a plane. From here, we
hop on a fast train and
jet out at over 300mph acr-
14
18
oss the land to Dali’s
ancient neighborhood
where we stroll t-
he streets and wander the
shops sampling the food
and admiring the scenery.
25
Our journey continues when
we board a chartered car
and head into the mountains
towards Shangri-La.
Named for the city of legends,
this high-altitude
gateway to the Himalays
boasts breathtaking views
serving as a home to rural
farmers and a place of rest
to hikers. We backback along
the winding trails,
savoring the
hospitality of our
Naxi-Tibetan hosts.
34
We stop to visit Kunming’s
natural Stone Forest wonder
before carrying
on East to the shining
city of Shanghai.
In this unique Chinese
city, past meets future colliding
with a colorful
blend of culture and
influence. A quick train
ride away, we make
several day trips from Shanghai
to visit the temples
and West Lake of Marco Polo’s
beloved Hangzhou
and get lost in
the idyllic glory of t-
he Zhouzhuang ancient
water town village.
44
46
60
52
Summer Palace, Beijing

Imperial Gardens
Spring in the Imperial East smells of sweet cherry blossoms drifiting in the breeze.
A staple of the frequent, tranquil gardens dotted throughout each and every city,
this courtyard in the Forbidden City offered a place of rest and rejunvination for
both the emperors of generations past and guests of the present.

Northern Capital
Bearing a 5,000 year history, Beijing is rich in
ancient imperalism and modern history with each
turn of the corner carrying a story.

Beijing
The Northern
Capital
Nestled under the tall
shadow of a long and
heavy imperial history lies
a winding network of
streets and alleyways.
These “hutongs” are home
to a section of Beijing,
Chinas’s vast population.
Despite its nearly 22 million
residents, the city
doesn’t feel so big down
here. Small cars are flanked
by a flow of bikes
and scooters carefully navigating
the crowd of pedestrians
at each intersection.
Men sit outside
storefronts smoking cigarettes
while couriers go
about their daily business.
Thousands of years in the
making, this society holds
tight to its roots, traditions,
and past in high
honor and deep respect.
We stop in what appears
to be a bakery. A kind
face behind the counter
greets us. “Nĭ hăo!” we
respond in our best Mandarin.
Our journey begins.

I’m struck by the stillness of
the city. It’s evening, just
before dusk, in a neighborhood
near Tiananmen
Square. Just a block away is
the Forbidden City and further
out, the Great Wall.
History surrounds us and
we’re walking right in the
middle of it.
After 24 hours of travel,
we’ve landed in this marvelous
city from Los Angeles.
Our English-tuned ears
flicker at the foreign sounds
of the Mandarin Chinese
langaue spoken all around
us. There’s no question we
aren’t from around here. Our
pale, Caucasian faces stand
out in the nearly homogeneous
population of Han
Chinese. We don’t feel unwelcome
though. Passersby
offer shy smiles or curious
stares as we stroll along.
Some even take photos. I
was told to expect this. It isnt
isn’t meant to be rude.
Some of these people have
never seen a Westerner outside
of a Hollywood movie.
For all they know, we’re all
stars. And beautiful. You
ever need a self-esteem
boost? Visit China.
As the sun begins to go
down, we collect the mystery
pastries we chose at
random from the bakery and
head back towards our hotel.
There’s a crossing guard at
“
every intersection but hardly
anyone seems to pay attention
to the attendant in
Despite its nearly 22 million
residents, the city doesn’t feel so
big down here.
the neon vest.
Our hotel window faces a
charming street. The city is
quiet for being as big as it is.
I’m 6,500 miles from home
but feel completely at peace
and overwhelmingly thrilled.
The Chinese Yuan featuring
Chairman Mao Zedong

An evening stroll down a Beijing hutong.

Chinese Tea Culture
is a tradition with long roots and vast respect. A
traditional tea ceremony involves sampling
various delicate, loose leaf teas. We sipped out of
our small mugs as our host explained the blend
and origin of each tea we sampled. Our senses
ignited with the fresh, flavorful beads of flowers
and leaves set before us.
Tea culture in China faces threat from the growing
popularity and spread of American coffee chains.
The foreign “dirty water” is resisted in some older,
traditional communities. An enduring and strong
spirited people, the Chinese are not yet likely lose
hold of their timeless tradition of tea making and
preparing.

A quiet view as the city begins to close
up for the evening.

Beijing
Street Food
Wiggling scorpions, leggy
bugs, and slimy tenticles
draw fame and crowds to
China’s street food markets
but those exotic selections
are just as gimicky to the
locals as a deep fried
Oreo or bacon-wrapped
cinnamon roll is at a county
fair in the United States —
and likely far less sweet! Most
street vendors offer steamed
buns, pork dumplings, or
spring rolls. Fresh scents of
meat and fish fill the air as
people buzz about trying to
catch a glimpse of the wilder
options in between.
A selection of more exotic
options at the market.

Mutianyu Great Wall

China’s Enduring Symbol
The first stones of the Great Wall can be traced
back as far as 500 BC. However, much of the
Wall as we know it today was built in the 14th
century during the Ming Dynasty. Though the
invasion it was made to protect against never
came as anticipated, the Wall has stood as a
symbol of Chinas’s enduring strength.
The Wall was famously constructed with a
blend using sticky rice as the sealing cement
holding the bricks together. During it’s timely
expansion, some 400,000 men died in the
process and were burried within the wall itself.
The Great Wall winds through the hills to the
sea and can be visibly seen from a plane.

Mutianyu

The Great Wall of China
I would have paid better attention in my ancient world
history classes had I known I would one day be walking
along the top of this wall.

Forbidden City
China’s Imperial Palace
Construction on this massive palace began in 1406 during the Ming
Dynasty and continued until 1420. The complex housed 24 different
emperors over its history and now stands as a UNESCO World
Heritage site and museum. The city was exclusively for the royal
family and it was “forbidden” for all else to enter.

A Chinese lion stands guard outside
the palace entrance.
30 foot high wall stretching
two miles in length
and a moat over 150 feet
wide. 14 million people
travel to visit the Forbidden
City each year to
marvel at its size, architecture,
and art held within.
We found ourselves lost
within the city’s walls as
the outer court fed into
the inner and the space
before us expanded seemingly
forever. No detail
nor expense was spared
as each building, room,
and courtyard boasted a
stunning array of color
and design.
The Imperial Palace
China’s Forbidden City served as the political center for Imperial China for
over 500 years. The palace housed 24 emperors and boasts an alleged 9,999
rooms — the number 9, being a symbol of power and strength. The “city”
covers a staggering 1,700,000 sq. feet (or 180 acres) and is surrounded by a
Massive doors led us in,
layer by layer, eventually
to the Hall of Supreme
Harmony where the Dragon
Throne still stands —
the sacred chair of China’s
emperors. We join the
heard of eager tourists
vying for a glimpse of this
most sacred relic. It’s here,
smashed like a sardine
against the security railing
I flipped my camera and
took my favorite photo of
me and Jordan (and about
200 other tourists) ever.
Nothing in this palace is
random or accidental. Each
brick and tile is placed
with such purpose keeping
the balance of harmony
and sacrality throughout
the entire complex.

Ornate and intricate detailing adorns every palace door.

So you can have a
friend in C hina
The best insight we got into the life and
culture of modern day Beijing was named
Jane. That was her English name, of
course. She chose it, first, as a mercy to
the tongues of her English-speaking
friends and, secondly, after the first name
of her favorite English author, Jane
Austen.
Jane picked us up early one morning in
front of our Beijing hotel. We’d hired her
to guide us through the Summer Palace
and along the Great Wall. Jane was as
curious about our culture as we were hers.
We’d hired a tour guide but who picked us
up was a companion and a friend.
When we told Jane we were visiting from
California and that Jordan worked in
“music,” she whirled around in her seat to
ask if she may have heard any of his work.
She boasted her knowledge in American
music. The Chinese believe we’re all
talented and beautiful. It’s sweet in the
kind of way puppies think the best of you.
Jane really did like American music. She
played us Bennie and the Jets when I told
her I loved Elton John. We chatted about
music and pop culture and she asked us to
teach her some new American slang. I
truly hope she did indeed tell her next
group their tour was, “finna be lit.”
Jane talked with an openness and
candidness I found boldly refreshing.
She shared about herself and her life in
China and asked endlessly about ours.
Before we parted at the end of the day,
she offered her cell phone number and
promised she’d answer personally so that
we could “have a friend in China.” This
wasn’t a business transaction, she meant
it. We took her up on it too. She met us
the next evening to help translate our way
through a theater show and dinner reservation.
Jane singularly shaped my perception of
the entire Chinese people. Her inspiring
friendliness offered an optimistic
expectation of every interaction that
followed throughout the rest of our trip.
The foreign barriers began to fall and all
differences aside, I knew that for the rest
of our stay, we had a friend in Jane.

Daily Life
Vendors line a neighborhood street to offer locals fresh fruits, flowers, and crafted goods.
Kunming, Yunnan

Dali
Old Town

Old Town
OLD-WORLD CHARM
Our bus comes to a stop along
side a faded roadside marker.
I’m sitting towards the back and
stretch out my legs, preparing to
disembark. A young man across
the aisle is wearing a black pair of
sneakers adorned on each side
with the white, silhouette profile
of a bunny — the Playboy logo.
I’ve seen several young men and
women wearing shirts, hoodies,
and backpacks with this familiar
icon. In China, pornography is
banned and censored so here, it’s
just a bunny.
I sit up to peer out the window
and see what looks like famrlands
a small creek. The sign out front
is in Chinese script and I can’t
read a word of it. The only
symbols I’ve learned to recognize
so far are those for “hello,”
“women’s room,” and the symbol
for currancy, the yuan. No
surprise none of these are on the
road marker.
We’re traveling with our family —
my in-laws who live locally. I pick
up my bag and follow them
trustingly out the bus and onto
the road. We only walk a short
way before I see the town ahead
of us. It’s like walking into a mo-

Dali
vie set in ancient China. Traditional
wooden buildings and red lanterns line
the narrow pedestrian streets. Girls in
traditional Chinese dress stroll past us
armed with long selfie-sticks and I’m
pulled back into the present. Even the
locals find a piece of old-timey magic i-
n the preserved slice of history in this
town.
It takes some navigating but we find our
accomodations. A small, unmarked
boutique hotel, hidden in a narrow
street, managed by two young women.

The balcony views outside our
room open along the building’s
rooftop overlooking the winding
streets of the town below.
The narrow roads carry us
through gates and over bridges,
by eateries and shops, each with
its own unique charm. We stop
to try a rose petal tea and pause
for photos every few steps. Yet
even this idyllic town can’t
escape the long reach of
American capitalism as we
stroll past a familiar, green
Starbucks sign. It’s frustrating
to have the bubble popped and
be pulled from my living,
ancient movie but at the same
nagging time, it’s comforting to
see something so reminiscent
of home. Far away isn’t all that
far after all.
Life feels so simple here but
wired subtly between each
ancient brick building is a
tangle of electric wires and of
course, a security camera.
The modern world is never far
away but for a moment, it feels
good to forget.

Stopping for lunch at a streetside noodle house like this one will serve
you a hot lunch for the equivalent of $0.36 USD.

Rose petals piled in baskets at a local market. These flowers will
be used in a variety of market treats such a pastries and teas.

Power lines criss-cross over a narrow street down a Dali alleyway. Bikes and scooters pass
through while a local take a break on low-seated stools. Vendors and shopkeepers live and
work in this city, tightly slotted beside one another.
The ancient town section of Dali, Yunnan is protected as a heritage site. Government sanctions
forbid the construction of any new, modern architecture. Locals and foreigners alike converge
in this neighborhood to marvel at the quaint stylization of the historical quarter. It’s common
for Chinese women and girls to dress in traditional garments and makeup and gather for
photoshoots and group pictures.

Shangri-La
Tiger Leaping
Gorge
Perched on the edge of an
almost other-worldly mountainside,
Tina’s Guest
House exists as a welcoming
beacon to travelers from all
over arriving after a likely
long and arduous journey.
Cozy, wooden rooms, homebrewed
maca and green
plum liquor, hot food, and
of course — tea, awaits hikers
and overnight guests. The
mystique of the Himalayas is
just beginning to break
through the thick fog revealing
her jagged peaks. It’s
easy here to forget the
crowds and chaos of China’s
big cities and noisy streets.

“A couple years ago, when we
were backpacking in the Himalayas…”
is to this day one of
my favorite ways to start a
story. That, and “One night,
when we were lost in Shanghai...”
but I’ll get to that one
later. I love a good story, especially
when it starts out with
a banger of a headline.
I felt like Laura Croft sitting
on a wooden stool in a common
space of the wooden
guest house perched atop a
steep hillside, my backpack
leaning against my leg and my
hands wrapped around a hot
mug of tea. It had just started
raining and the clouds were
the creaky wooden door beside
me. From Los Angeles,
we’d flown to Beijing. That
was a week ago. From there,
we’d traveled to Kunming where
we caught a train to Lijiang
before hiring a driver to
trek us into the mountains,
where we were now.
We’d met up with family along
the way otherwise Jordan and
I would have been pretty
confined to more on-thebeaten-path
experiences. Everything
changes when you
have a group member who can
speak the local language — let
alone three who know the area
after a decade of residency.
A couple years ago, when we
were backpacking in the Himalayas…
“swirling around the jagged ti-
ps of the mountaintops before
me, out the window. We were
at the edge of the Himalayas
on the Chinese side of the
famed mountain range. I
always believed the peak of
Mount Everest was in Nepal
but according to those on this
side of the debate, it’s here in
China.
Voices behind me were chattering
in Mandarin, sorting
out our lodging. I took another
sip of my tea. The hot
liquid burned my tongue but I
welcomed it against the cold
wind brushing against my skin
each time someone opened
After navigating ourselves
around for a few days, we
were thrilled to let our family
take the lead and follow along
like the eager travelers we
were. With that, we ended up
here, in Shangri-La.
Dinner was served familystyle.
Nearly a dozen plates
and bowls of various rice,
vegetable, and meat dishes
were placed on the large
turntable in the center of the
wide, circular dining table the
six of us sat around. We could
have all eaten two or three
meals with all the food before
us. More tea followed dinner
along with several rounds of a
card game huddled in the
community dining area of the
guest house. Several other
small groups of backpackers
sat gathered around the room.
After some time, we retreated
up to our separate rooms,
powered up the provided
electric blanket, and left the
curtains open to admire the
jagged mountain views from
bed.
With our bags strapped to our
backs, we set out the next
morning to hike our way
down to the next town, some
eight or so miles ahead. The
chilled morning gave way to a
warm, sun-drenched afternoon
and we shed our coats
and hats.
I felt like we were in the
middle of nowhere but with
perfect cell reception (courtesy
of the Chinese State) I
was able to send a video
message to my family nearly
8,000 miles away and receive
a reply in seconds.
As we turned the corners of
the winding path before us,
the mountain opened up
revealing that, as isolated as I
felt, we were not alone.
Clinging to the edges of the
mountainside were farmers,
tilling their fields with oxen
and loading crops onto the
backs of donkeys to carry up
the hillsides. Like images
from an old book, these
workers toiled about their
business with a simplicity that
struck me.

These small mountainside
communities are entirely selfsustaining.
They grow, produce,
or generate all they
need as shipping and freight
delivery is hardly possible
(likely due to the narrow,
winding mountain roads.)
What deliveries that do make
it to this remote corner of the
world are infrequent at best.
I wondered if people such as
these farmers chose to live
this removed from the modern
world in favor of such a
primitive and rural lifestyle as
an escape or if perhaps this
lifestyle was all they knew? In
our curiosity, we stopped and
watched them as they dutifully
cared for their crops on the
steeply sloped hillside. The
farmers stared back for a
moment but were hardly as
interested in us as we were
them. I wish I could have
spoken the local dialect. I’d
have loved to speak with them
if they would break from their
labor for a moment to indulge
me. I had so many
questions and curiosities about
their way of life.
The farmers stayed in my
thoughts as we trekked on.
The area this close to the
border of Burma and Nepal
was inhabited by several
minority ethnicities including
a number of Tibetan descendants.
Carved into the
sides of the granite cliffs were
altars with prayer flags strung
across. The local residents c-
ome up here to meditate and
pray. Eagles screeched overhead
and I felt like Laura
Croft again. I could have
stayed there longer to linger
and observe more of daily life
on the mountain but we had a
schedule to keep.
It’s interesting to be a traveler
on a carefully researched and
scheduled trip through someone
else’s normal. What’s
novel and curious to you is
perfectly regular to them. I
came across the world to see
what they do everyday. I’m on
an adventure and they’re just
at work. There’s so much
between those two realities.
I thrill to, even for a moment,
exist in the space between.

The Quiet Side
of China
Named for the famed,
mythical city of Tibetan
legend, Shangri-La embodies
the spirit of the
storied “lost paradise”
hidden from the rest of
the world, containing a
perfect harmony and
sense of enlightenment.
While only the stuff of
legends, the namesake
Himalayan city here
comes a close second to
the fables of history.

Tea-Horse Trade
Guest House
Esacpe to the Himalayas

Itis
no small feat to
reach the Tea-Horse Trade
Guest House. Seated atop a
steep mountainside, the
guest house is accessible by
either a strenuous hike or
by car. The strenuous hike
is likely the safer, less nerve-wracking
way to go as
the access road is exceedingly
steep, narrow, and f-
ollows a tight series of switch-backs
not minding to
bother with such frivolities
as guardrails or leveled,
up-to-code pavement. Our
hired driver chauffeured us
from Lijiang, the nearest
large city, towards the rural
mountainside. As the urban
development faded
away and the road graded
upwards, we peered nervously
out the car windows
spotting several overturned
vehicles lying fallen on the
valley floor below. Yikes.
Teeth gritted, our arrival at
the guest house was met w-
ith soft rain and heavy sighs
of relief. Grateful we
didn’t join the graveyard of
vehicles behind us, we
stepped out onto solid
ground and steadied our
pulse as we thanked our
unshaken driver in our
best, broken Chinese.
The breathtaking views of
the jagged mountain peaks
splayed out before us welcomed
our party, rewarding
our journey to the top.

Cooked to Order
A rare, quiet moment in the kitchen

Weather varies as the clouds
roll in and out of the gorge
over the Yangt-ze River. The
guest house in Yacha Village,
atop the steep, 28 Bends,
offers small, cozy rooms.
Thin walls and heated
blankets provide a thin yet
sufficient barrier of protection
from the evening
windchill. Hot tea and fresh
meals await each day, served
alongside breathtaking views
of the Himalayan mountains.

As the clouds clear, jagged mountain peaks peer through to greet us.

Stone Forrest
Kunming, Yunnan

Formed by water, somewhow, this
appropriately named “stone forest”
gives the illusion these rocky walls
grew up from the ground like granite
trees. A network of narrow pathways
leads through forested walk the
average sized American wouldn’t fit
through. Narrow caves, low
clearance, and tiny, steep stairways
make for an exotic adventure.

Hangzhou
Marco Polo’s Paradise

West Lake
Hangzhou’s body of water has been
described by none other than Marco
Polo as an earthly paradise or haven.
The famed traveler’s favorite spot sits
dotted with pagodas and ornate boats.
To one side, the sprawling, gray city;
the other, a lush, mountainous forest
hiding temples and monks within.

L
ingyin Temple
hides within the
hills and trees of
Hangzhou. Also
called The Temple
of Soul’s Retreat,
this space is true to
its name offering a
peaceful and serene
space of mystic
meditation.
This temple’s history
can be traced
nearly 2,000 years
to 317 AD during
the Eastern Jin
Dynasty. The onsite
Feilai Feng Grotto
contains some 300
Buddhist carvings
into the sides of
rocks and mountainsides.
The work is awe
inspiring and the
presence of practicing
monks gives
an overall atmosphere
of meditative
serenity.
Hangzhou
Lingyin Temple & Feilai Feng

The craggy mountain
peak of Feilai Feng, or,
as translated, The Flying
Peak, doesn’t quite
fit in with its neighboring
peaks. This is
explained by legend
claiming the peak flew
from India to Hangzhou
overnight as a demonstration
of the omnipotence
of Buddhist
law (so earning its name,
The Flying Peak.)
Various versions of this
story are told as is true
of many of the peaks,
formations, and carvings
in the network of
caves at the site.
For nearly 2,000 years,
this site has drawn pilgrims
and tourists alike
to marvel at the relief
carvings within the mountain’s
walls.

Fei-Lai Feng
Grottoes of Serenity
We happened upon the rock carvings almost by
accident. We arrived in Hangzhou to tour the city
and relax by the lake. We were rounding the two
week corner of our 17-day trip here in China and
hitting a wall of exhaustion. We’d been on our
feet every day as we made our way around the
vast country.
Our train from Shanghai dropped us off in
Hangzhou as planned but our energy level was
far lower than our itinerary required. We cut
corners through the city and halfway around the
lake (and one ice cream treat later) we decided
to head into the hills for a shady spot to rest.
Lingyin Temple was the destination we communicated
to our Didi taxi driver but what met us
there was a pleasant surprise. Hidden within the
tall, lush trees we found the network of trails and
caves of Fei-lai Feng. Yellow and red robed
monks shared the pathways with quiet tourists
spending the afternoon admiring the shared stillness
in the space.
We felt like something out of an Indiana Jones
movie scene winding our way through the tight
caves and passage ways, our phone flashlights lit,
ducking and peeking around each corner to
marvel at the endless array of relief carvings.
Most astonishing, (and unlike American exhibits)
the grottoes were left untouched and untarnished
by neon yellow safety tape and redundant
signage, despite the crowds the attraction drew.
This left the caves feeling authentic and our
experience all the more adventurous.
The peaceful afternoon was a fortuitous precursor
to the trip home ahead of us. A stumble
with the language barrier lead to a kerfuffle at
the train station adding a few extra hours to our
journey home. Luckily, with our minds and souls
relaxed, we settled into the station and took
refuge in the comfort of some American food at a
terminal KFC before finally boarding a train and
speeding our way along the tracks to our home
away from home.

An alleyway of shops in Zhouzhuang

Zhauzhuang
Ancient Water Town

It took more than a small effort to both
pronounce and transport ourselves to the
town of Zhouzhuang but its idyllic nature
and serene ambiance was abundantly
worth the journey.
Zhouzhuang, located in Suzhou, is
something of a tourist attraction here in
China so it's not like we stepped back in
time and stumbled upon it but for something
featured in as many travel guides
as it is, it's decently far out of the way.
There’s no shortage of these idyllic,
ancient water towns in this region of
China but Zhouzhuang stands out from
among the rest. Its picturesque canals
wind through the cobbled passageways
like something out of a movie.
Nestled just beyond Shanghai, a quick
train ride plus a taxi will zip you out into
the quiet neighborhoods where dozens
of these perfectly preserved historical
towns are located. From the rail station,
it’s just a matter of communicating a
drop-off point to your taxi driver. (I
assume this task is easier for the locals.)
on to be at the mercy of a stranger like
this in a foreign land when you don’t
speak nary a word of your driver’s
language nor he yours. Numerous times
during our adventure in the East, I’d
catch myself in moments like this, feeling
really far from home, suddenly snap out
of the “vacation bubble” and in bewilderment
think, how in the world did I
get here?
We’d been in the car traveling nearly 40
minutes heading into a town I couldn’t
pronounce and hadn’t seen outside of
the travel book I held clutched in my
hands. Of course, we had passed several
road signs but I was powerless to
comprehend the strange markings of the
language adorning them.
I peered out the window thoughtfully
towards the autos passing us by, considering
curiously the people within
them. I may have been out on a great
adventure but this was just an ordinary
day for them, carrying on about their
everyday lives. The truest part of a trip
like this comes at the moment your
starry-eyed vacation bubble bursts and
you realize the world isn’t merely your
playground but as much a home full of
risks and opportunities to those around
you as your own neighborhood is to you.
Our driver chattered away into his phone
carrying on a conversation with a friend,
colleague, or maybe family member
(there’s no way to know) on the universally
popular WeChat Chinese application.
Every now and then he’d open a
new audio message, play it, and laugh
out loud. I wondered what he was
talking about.
Our Didi pulled up to a curb and stopped.
Assuming we’d arrived, I handed a
folded stack of bills to our driver, we thanked
him with a polite “xiè xie!” and
stepped out of the vehicle. A series of
signs led us to the town gate and once
we passed through, time rewound and
Zhouzhuang transported us back hundreds
of years into the past.
I for a long time didn’t even want to talk
about my day in Zhouzhuang because I
knew no words would do my experience
there justice and it frustrated me to
know no one back home would understand
how moved I had been by the
town. Boats moved slowly through the
canals and under low bridges connecting
the narrow pathways linked with
tiled buildings adorned with red and
yellow paper lanterns. Trees shaded the
walkways and dripped their flower
petals onto the paths and into the water.
Quaint shops and vendors stood near
their stalls carrying about their work.
Fishermen, chefs, artists, and craftsmen
called this village home. Curious eyes
paused their work and wondered about
our pales faces as much as we did their
busied hands. One studio caught our
eyes as the artist painted delicately with
a single-hair brush on parchment paper.
He wrapped our purchases carefully and
with both hands, placed his work in our
arms, bowing and thanking us.
As the afternoon wore on, we paused to
sit on the edge of the canal and sip fresh
tea marveling at the tranquility of this
simple world we’d stumbled into. It was
like a perfect time capsule of the past
persisting in defiance of an ever hastening
world.
Our paintings hang on the wall of our
American home today offering a piece
of the Zhouzhuang tranquility we carried
back with us. The beautiful thing
about traveling is it allows the world to
feel smaller — cozy and neighborly,
while showing you just how vast and
diverse it really is.
We were in the backseat of a Didi
(China’s version of Uber) winding down
a back road through rural towns in the
outskirts of Suzhou. It’s an odd sensati-

Private
residences like this one
line the canals stacked between
shops, studios, cafes, and restaurants.
While tourism is a large
source of income for Zhouzhuang,
it exists still as a living, breathing
village.
Frequent are the eateries featuring
a tank of live fish, lobster, and
turtles offering guests to select their
meal from the water and wait as
it’s freshly prepared before them.
Dining along the canal is a soul
soothing experience as proper
atmosphere is in hearty supply.
Gondolas ride the watery passageways
as drivers entertain with
folksongs along their route.
Feeling a little too lost in time?
Fret not. If you need a break from
tradition and historic culture, just
outside the city gate is a McDonald’s
hidden under a tiled roof
and line of red paper lanterns.
Zhouzhuang offers something for
everybody in every era.

A quiet canal at dusk

Nicknamed “Venice of the East,” there are those here who prefer to call Italy’s canaled town, “Zhouzhuang of the West.”
Lacking the publicity and magnitude of its European counterpart, this Chinese gem of a town offers a tranquility and
mysticism guaranteed to offer pause to the curious traveler.

Shanghai
The “Magic City” showcases unmatched
splendor where the ancient past lives interconnected
with the far reaching future.

A friendly card game at People’s Square Park

I
We made our way to the Museum
of Natural History (spelled correctly)
where here the Chinese
credit themselves with developing
the first telescope to spy at the
stars (step aside, Galileo!) and
that Everest, the world’s highest
peak, is not in Nepal but rather on
China’s side of the mountainous
border. As we continued through
the six floors of exhibits, we read
carefully for any other bold statet's
difficult to find the words to
give the impact of Shanghai and
all its intricacies proper justice.
My first impression of China’s
“Magic City” was in the opening
scene of Indiana Jones and the
Temple of Doom. After a brawl in
a theater, Indy races through the
narrow streets in a high-speed
vehicle chase; the city lights a
neon blur. Aside from this quick
scene set in 1935, nearly a
hundred years before my own visit
to the city, I knew nothing of
Shanghai, China.
Arriving from Kunming after a
few days with family, Jordan and I
were back on our own. Our
Mandarin was still limited at best
but our confidence and overall
comfortability had compounded
tenfold. A Didi taxi ride from
PVG airport delivered us to our
downtown accommodations. A
large, padded envelope awaited us
at check-in — the train tickets I’d
preordered online and had sent
ahead of us. I accepted with two
hands and my best “xiè xie” and
we made our way to our room. It
was like we’d done it a million
times. I felt on top of my game.
Shanghai was infinitely different
from the other places we’d seen so
far. Heavily protected by China’s
notorious, closed-circuit censorship,
there really isn’t much we see
of everyday city life here from our
side of the great firewall. The city
moves and breathes as they all do.
Streets lined with manicured
landscaping attended to around
the clock by hardy, vested workers
make way for the steady tide of
cars that ebbs and flows with the
change of signal lights. Crowds of
pedestrians file along broad sidewalks
and crosswalks. Buildings
towered over us rising higher than
our necks could crane and parks,
gardens, temples, and museums
break up the distinct neighborho-
ods and districts. It was all so
ordinary yet, not having known
what to expect, striking. I felt as
though I was walking through
another dimension. Like an
entire other world I’d never seen
nor considered, living harmoniously
alongside my own…
Only 15 hours ahead and 6,500
miles away. The world became
larger and smaller all at once.
Shanghai neither feels foreign nor familiar
yet is the epitome of each.
There exists a vibe rooted beneath
the basic senses of one’s sight,
hearing, and smell. I found my
mind to scatter over the obvious
differences and cling longingly to
the found familiar. Buildings and
streets remained as such yet the
souls housed within each was an
energy not unlike my own: alive
and curious.
There’s an element of observation
in a new city that is much like being
at a zoo and watching the
animals carry about in their habitat.
There’s a barrier between yourself
and them but to allow
yourself to step inside the city is to
enter the exhibit; to not just
observe from a platform but to
walk amongst, removing the
barrier and experiencing a moment
in the life. It’s a beautiful
thing to take in the senses and,
even just for a moment, allow
yourself to feel what the world
looks like from an entirely new
perspective. The enlightenment of
such an experience widened my
scope of understanding and perspective
in a way only international
travel can. It’s good to be out in
the world.
I find it curious how a place (be it
a hometown or a city you’ve just
met) can unwittingly move you in
a way so profound and personal.
Such experiences can feel almost
isolating and lonely upon return
yet it’s in the intimacy of such an
impact that makes it so valuable.
Like falling in love, it interconnects
us and makes the world a
more valuable place.
The modernity of the city was the
first thing we noticed to differentiate
Shanghai from the
other cities we’d visited. Eager to
explore, we set out through the
tight alleyways and broad streets
behind our hotel towards the
center of the city. Shanghai moves
with an automation making it easy
to forget you are a mere one amongst
a staggering population of
26.3 million residents.
We quickly acclimated and found
our bearings in the city, orienting
ourselves with landmarks and major
roads. We pulled cash from a
bank, picked up teas and pastries,
and strolled the streets like proper
city-slickers. Cherry blossoms
were in full bloom and colored the
metropolis with their pink confetti.
Our pale faces attracted
attention from street salesmen and
pan-handlers but “No, thank you.
I don’t want any.” was one of our
better phrases in Mandarin.
After comically correcting to
ourselves most of the Englishtranslation
signage in the city,
we’d decided to submit our applications
as national copywriters.
I think the “Firemen Station
Hoise” and “Slip Carefully!” sign
printers would find us valuable.

ments on behalf of the greatness of
the Chinese state. (Were they too
perhaps the first to reach the North
pole?) Eventually, we found our way
to the shopping district at Nanjing
and starred gaping at the bright
neons and video boards reminiscent
of Times Square or Piccadilly
Circus. Another broad avenue split
the dense district in half, each side
of the corridor lined with towering
shopping malls and outlets. Familiar
brand names and logos were surrounded
and paired next to the
unfamiliar characters of Chinese
lettering. Bustling about, a fashionforward
crowd surrounded us and I
immediately wished, despite my exhaustion
from the day’s travel, that
I’d taken the time to style my hair.
We wandered several shiny floors of
several shiny malls, me feeling
grossly underdressed and shy in my
black baseball cap in each of them. I
made a mental note to do better
tomorrow.
Like Beijing, we had no serious
trouble with the language barrier in
Shanghai. Each clerk and passerby
we interacted with was polite and
often eager to practice their English
in conversation with us. In order to
keep up with the current internet
trends, videos, and pop culture scene
of sports and entertainment,
much of China’s young population
is comfortably conversational in
English. Through their thick, charming
accents, I felt a swell of
respect for their ability to communicate
so well in a langue so vastly
different from their own native
tongue. And additionally, immensely
grateful.
I’d booked a bicycle tour of the city
as an introductory first morning in
Shanghai. An easy, urban walk from
our hotel led us to the Okura
Garden Hotel, a posh, classically
elegant establishment home to what
was apparently Mao Zedong’s favorite
garden to wander and ponder
further thoughts of enhancing his c-
ommunist grip on the country. It
was our Dutch guide who told us
this. Adding to our list of fascinating
and enlightening perspectives
on China was our guide this day —
an immigrant from the Netherlands
who moved to Shanghai for work.
He favored the social and professional
climate of the region but, like
most Westerners, was decidedly critical
of the country’s politics.
Our local guide rode us around the
city’s various neighborhoods offering
insights to everyday life. We
peddled along narrow streets where
local residents hung laundry out to
dry on thin lines strung between
buildings older than our own
country. Voices floated from windows
as we observed the city’s energy
around us in shops and markets
along the road.
Present in People’s Square Park, we
were able to witness a prehistoric
sort of dating app, if you will.
Parents of single, eligible children
would gather at the outer wall to
post a flyer “advertising” the skills
and beauty of their unwed offspring.
Here, mothers and fathers
ready for their adolescents to fly the
coop would scope out potential
suitors, gather an address or phone
number, and eagerly arrange potential
matches for their dependents at
home. While good-natured and
well-intentioned, I couldn’t help
but laugh at the audacity of the sheer
existence of this “marriage market.”
Parks in Shanghai are a social space.
Several of which, are dominated by
the advanced generations and full of
gracefully aging citizens. A stroll
through the lush grounds of People’s
Park leads one through the
buzzing, recreational energy of
retired folks. For state-run jobs and
industries (which is most of China’s
employment) retirement is mandatory
between ages 50 and 60
depending on the worker’s sex and
particular employment. At this
point, the retired party is paid a
livable pension and free to spend
their days at leisure. In the city, the
best place to do such is at a park like
People’s Square. Here, the retired
keep busy with chess and card
games, choirs and bands, tai chi and
fencing, kite flying, ribbon twirling,
and a number of other various
sports and games. It’s like walking
around a university campus during
club rush week but shorter and
greyer. We passed men and women
reciting poetry, painting, and
practicing elegant calligraphy with
long brushes. We listened to the
music, the singing, and the debates
over that morning’s newspaper.
While social, it’s also intended a
proper display as each proud man
and woman thrills to show off their
own refined skill and hobby like a
live-action Instagram feed.
Propping up our bikes we turned
the corner and poked into a “pet
store” of sorts. Finches, crickets,
and painted turtles the size of a
fifty-cent piece were displayed out
before us. The crickets were used
for racing or as a white-noise to
tireless sleepers. While the birds

and bugs chirped gleefully, a sadlooking
puppy crammed in a dark
crate doubling as a chair for the
shopkeeper made my heart sink.
Outside, a man on the curb sold
tiger paws displayed on a faded
blanket.
Walking along, we purchased steamed
bao from a street vendor out
front for the equivalent of $0.50
USD. An orange cat slept on a tree
stump near the curb and I was glad
this animal wasn’t a part of the pet
store’s inventory... Or that of the
man on the blanket.
We tasted more of Shanghai’s daily
life at a Bhuddist temple where we
lit incense and watched a procession
of monks in yellow robes. Nearby
stood the old city gate, a large
structure of traditional Chinese
architecture that felt dwarfed by the
modern (and 800 years younger)
skyline towering behind it. This is
Shanghai, though — pockets of ancient
tradition set right alongside a
contemporary or international quarter;
like invisible lines in time and
space. In looking at a map of the
city, you have Old Town, of course,
where life still looks a thousand years
old. Intricate temples and
gardens proudly display a traditional
Chinese heritage. Then there’s the
French Concession which was
established in the 1800s by the
French after their victory in the
Opium Wars. Similarly, there’s the
British Colonial Bund near the
waterfront. Tucked behind that is
the Jewish Quarter, a refuge for Jews
escaping Nazi Europe. But post-
Soviet takeover, Russian fascist-style
buildings dot the far side of the
Bund waterfront. Finally, in the
1990s, China built the Pudong
skyline as an ultra-modern statement
that China was ready to enter
the modern world, full force.
As an architecture, world history,
and culture nerd, this aptly named
“Magic City” is nothing short of
precisely that; a rightly magical city.
Our final night in Shanghai was
spent on the 33rd floor of the Hyatt
on the Bund where we watched the
lights of the skyline sparkle below.
Ships sailed through the harbor like
little twinking streaks in the dark
river. The marquee of the Shanghai
Tower, the world’s highest skyscraper,
second only to the Burj
Khalifa, scrolled a welcome message
in both Mandarin and English.
We’d spent a week here yet only
scratched the surface of all this
urban metropolis has to offer. I was
afraid I wouldn’t find enough to
keep busy and interested in this far
Eastern city yet as I watched the sun
set on our final day, a list of museums,
gardens, temples, and neighborhoods
I’d hadn’t the chance to
visit ran through my mind. With
each day I’d spent in the city, the
more I’d discovered, intriguing me
and drawing me in further.
The short two weeks I spent traveling
through China allowed me to
feel alive in a way I have so rarely
felt since. It’s my intent for these
memories stand as a reminder for
myself to keep moving, offering
momentum when life stands a little
too still. I’ve said it before and I’ll
say it again — it’s good to be out in
the world.
Shanghai Natural History Museum

SHANGHAI
Nanjing Pedestrian Street

The China of old fades to black in the
shopping district of Nanjing Road’s Pedestrian
Street. Dizzying malls tower over each
side of the road, neon lights and Time’s
Square-esque video displays shout advertisements
at the crowded street below.
Stretching several stories high, every major
brand, designer, and retailer seems to have a
spot in the district on one of the floors of one
of the glistening malls. Restaurants, movie
theaters, and shops galore pack the district
out fulfilling every need for the busy shoppers
within.
We enjoyed dinner at Blue Frog offering
Western-style cuisine. The menu featured a
“how-to” guide showing diners how to pick
up and eat a hamburger. (A concept strictly
foreign to the locale.)
The marquees at Nanjing brought us back to
the modern era after the rural parts of China
we’d seen in the weeks prior allowing for a
fuller, more well-rounded glimpse into the
vastness and diversity of life in this far East
country.
Shanghai, China’s largest and wealthiest city,
catered to a crowd unlike what we’d walked
amongst just days before. Naively hoping to
find a bargain on jeans, we quickly shied away
from the prices up nearly double what we
would pay at home. We’d underestimated the
fashion-forward crowd and high-end merchandise
of the shopping district. We were out of
our league here. I settled for a $7 USD tall,
caramel latte from the street-level Starbucks.
As evening fell and the sun lowered, hungry
shoppers packed the streets as food stalls came
to life offering an array of pastries, beverages,
and small bites to the crowd. Streetside
vendors opened their stalls to reveal the
discounted and knock-off items we expected to
see in this region of the world. Passing on the
(albeit convincing) imitation Fjällräven
Kånken packs and shiny iPhones, I clutched
my overpriced coffee and we wandered on.

CHINA TRIP MAGAZINE
Published May 2021
This project proved far more overwhelming
then I had anticipated when I
jumped in eager and starry-eyed at the
beginning fresh upon returning from this
adventure. I had a thousand photos and
was bursting with bewilderment and
inspiration from everything I’d just
experienced. Even now, I wonder how
many more pages I could fill if only I had
the patience to write it all down.
This trip was fantastic in every sense and I
owe a debt of gratitude to Jordan, my
partner and greatest ally, for being the
driving force behind this expedition.
Once again, he’s encouraged in me a
strength he realized before I could myself.
The memories from this adventure
continue to draw us closer together.
It’s been two years (and a hard hit in the
head later) and I’ve finally sent this work
to publish. It is with great pride and
creative exhaustion I present this magazine
now. It is the sincerest showcase of myself
in both the production of the piece itself
and the journey it took to create. It is my
hope this little passion project of mine
inspires those who hold it, including
myself, to engage with the wonder and
curiosity invigorated by the cultural
exposure of travel.
With all of me,
Emma

Published May 2021
Emma Reed