Kina

Unfurling up to Russia in the north, Heilongjiang (黑龙江, Hēilóngjiāng), meaning 'Black Dragon River', is one of China's most beautifully rugged provinces. Forests, lakes and mountains, and the dormant volcanoes of Wudalian Chi beckon well beyond the capital Harbin (Hā’ěrbīn), an architecturally diverse city with a distinctly cosmopolitan feel.

An off-limits border area for more than 60 years, Sha Tau Kok Village (沙頭角), which lies 11km northeast of Fanling, was sealed off from the rest of Hong Kong in 1951 following the communist takeover of China. While access to the border town itself is still restricted to local residents, the 400 hectares of land – and the patchwork of villages that it contains – to the west and southwest have been partially open since 2012.

China's largest province, Xīnjiāng (新疆) is the homeland of the Muslim Uyghurs and a fast-changing region where ancient and modern clash against each other in surprising ways. High-speed railways cross the Martian landscapes linking cities in hours rather than days, and the regional capital Ürümqi is a forest of high-rise apartments and glass skyscrapers; while in parts of the Silk Road oases of Kashgar, Hotan and Turpan, life goes as it has for centuries, based around the mosque, the tea house and the bazaar.

Guangxi's second-largest city, Guilin (桂林, Guìlín) has the hallmarks of most Chinese megalopolises, but it feels much more relaxed given its spectacular setting among the jagged-peak limestone karsts that surround it. It was China's first city to develop tourism after 1949, and for decades, children's textbooks proclaimed 'Guilin's landscape is the best under heaven' (桂林山水甲天下). It was the darling of Chinese politicians, the star city proudly presented to visiting dignitaries. Today Guilin's natural endowments still amaze, yet, thanks to imperfect urban planning, there is a pervasive feeling that the city is past its prime.

Shenyang (沈阳, Shěnyáng) is a provincial capital on the rise. Its sleek metro hums beneath wide boulevards and contemporary glass monoliths, while an underrated Imperial Palace and tomb complex – sadly overlooked by all bar the history buffs – lies at either end of its park-lined urban centre.

Big, bold and beautifully barren, Qinghai (青海, Qīnghǎi), larger than any country in the EU, occupies a vast swath of the northeastern chunk of the Tibetan Plateau. As far as Tibetans are concerned, this is Amdo, one of old Tibet’s three traditional provinces. Much of what you’ll experience here will feel more Tibetan than Chinese; there are monasteries galore, yaks scattered across the hills by the thousands and nomads camped out across high-altitude grasslands.

Hong Kong welcomes visitors with an iconic skyline, a legendary kitchen, and lush, protected nature where rare birds and colorful traditions thrive.

Sai Kung Peninsula is one of the last havens left in Hong Kong for hikers, swimmers and boaters, and most of it is one beautiful 7500-hectare country park. Small ferries depart from the waterfront for nearby island beaches, a journey to any of which is rewarding. Moored boats sell seafood to customers on the pier. The atmosphere is unbeatable.

Known as the 'Vegas of China', Macau is indeed an epicentre of gambling and glitz. While luxury entertainment here is world-class, the city has much more to offer than that. Macau was a Portuguese colony for 300 years, a history marked by a cultural hybridity that manifests itself in all aspects of life: Chinese temples stand on maritime-themed Portuguese tiles; the sound of Cantonese permeates streets with Portuguese names; and when you're hungry, it could be Chinese dim sum, pastéis de nata (Portuguese egg tarts) or Macanese minchi (ground meat stir-fried with potatoes) that come to the rescue.

Pingyao (平遥, Píngyáo) is China’s best-preserved ancient walled town. If you have any China mileage under your belt you'll appreciate the town’s age-old charms. While some ‘ancient’ cities may rustle together an unconvincing display of old city walls, sporadic temples or the occasional ragged alley thrust beneath apartment blocks, Pingyao has managed to keep its beguiling narrative largely intact: red-lantern–hung lanes set against silhouettes of imposing town walls, ancient towers poking into the north China sky, and an entire brood of creaking temples. In recent years, shops on the main commercial streets have developed a penchant for disco lighting, light-box menus and noise-making costumed jesters. But outside these central areas, the ancient city is little changed.