Kina

I sommar får Sverige för första gången en direktlinje till Shanghai i Kina. Det är flygbolaget China Eastern som kommer att flyga till staden från Arlanda fyra gånger i veckan.

Idag lever Sandy Stadelmann, 29, sin dröm som resevloggare och digital nomad. Men vägen för att hamna där har inte varit spikrak. – Jag har verkligen kämpat stenhårt för att kunna göra det här, säger hon. 

The underrated province of Jiāngxī (江西) offers a bucolic entrée into semirural Chinese life. It's a succulent, green place, connected by waterways of natural and human design, rice paddies teeming with bird life and fields draped in wildflowers. Tea seemingly grows out of every patch of land until dramatic mountain ranges, swirling with mist, rise up at its edges.

Shangri-la (香格里拉, Xiānggélǐlā), formerly known as Zhongdian (中甸, Zhōngdiàn) and sometimes 'Gyalthang' in Tibetan, is where you really start to breathe in the Tibetan world – if you can breathe at all, given the altitude.

Affluent Chinese may roll their eyes at the mention of slow-moving and impoverished Henan (河南, Hénán), but the province’s heritage takes us back to the earliest days of Chinese antiquity. Ancient capitals rose and fell in Henan’s north, where the capricious Yellow River (Huáng Hé) nourished the flowering of a great civilisation.

Yangshuo (阳朔, Yángshuò) is one of China's gold-ticket draws. The once-peaceful settlement is now a collage of Chinese tour groups, wide-eyed Westerners, construction and the glue that binds any tourist hot spot together – touts. Come evening, Xijie is all thumping music and bristling with selfie-sticks, but go up a few flights to a hotel rooftop bar and behold the ethereal beauty of the surrounding karsts, their peaks lit up by searchlights.

Běijīng's breadbasket, Héběi (河北) is a slow-moving panorama of grazing sheep, brown earth and fields of corn and wheat. Cosmopolitan Tiānjīn (天津) may put on a dazzling show, but the true charms of this region are its time-worn, earthy textures and its deep-rooted historical narrative.

History and hedonism run side by side in Liáoníng (辽宁). Walled Ming dynasty cities rub up against booming beach resorts, while imperial palaces sit in the centre of bustling modern cities. Nothing quite captures the fun and distinction, however, as much as seaside Dàlián, with its golden coastline and summer beer festival, and former battlegrounds where Russian and Japanese armies wrestled for control of the region in the early 20th century. In Dāndōng, regional tensions of recent history are causing some spine-tingling at the border with North Korea. The Yālù River here brings you within glimpsing distance of the hermit kingdom from a boat deck or halfway across a bridge.

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.

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.