Visst kan man längta ut i världen för att se nya saker – men Kinas nya turistattraktion är kanske inget för den som är rädd för höjder eller tvivlar på karusellers säkerhet. Då njuter man nog inte!
Guangxi (广西, Guǎngxī) conjures up visions of cycling and bamboo-rafting upon shimmering river waters beneath the sublime karst peaks of Yangshuo and hiking between villages in the lofty Longji Rice Terraces. That's not all though: you can take selfies in front of the dramatic Danxia landscape (a type of landform) at Tianmen Mountain and Bajiaozhai National Geopark, and get sprayed by the mighty waterfall of Detian or splashed by live seafood in Beihai's Vietnamese quarter.
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.
The road between Jishou and Zhangjiajie runs through hills, terraced fields and minority villages, and past rivers and lush, verdant scenery via the Tujia settlement of Furong (芙蓉镇; Fúróng Zhèn), an old town elevated to fame in the 1986 film Hibiscus Town. Until around 10 years ago, the town was simply called Wang Village (王村; Wáng Cūn), before being renamed in honour of the movie. Wandering down the steps of the old riverside town is charming, but the main draw is the gushing waterfall alongside the hamlet, splendidly illuminated come nightfall.
Once a frontier town, Fenghuang (凤凰; Fènghuáng) marked the boundary between the Han civilisations of the central plains and the Miao (苗), Tujia (土家) and Dong (侗) minorities of the southwest mountains. Protective walls went up in the Ming dynasty, but despite the implications Fenghuang prospered as a centre of trade and cultural exchange. Its diverse residents built a breathtaking riverside settlement of winding alleys, temples and rickety stilt houses, which these days attract tourists by the bucketload. Do try to stay overnight – the town is bursting with accommodation options, and the sight of an illuminated Fenghuang at night is quite awesome.
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.
Datong (大同, Dàtóng) today is fascinating, and charming to boot. Come nighttime, the old-town sensations – with red lanterns swinging in the breeze and wind chimes tinkling on the illuminated city walls – evoke Datong's past glories as an ancient capital. No matter that most of this has been recreated from scratch: an estimated ¥50 billion has been ploughed into a colossal renovation of the old quarter. The city wall has been rebuilt in its entirety, enclosing a retinue of renovated (or newly built) sights. But it's beyond the wall where Datong really comes into its own. The town is the gateway to the awe-inspiring Yungang Caves, one of China’s most outstanding Buddhist treasures, as well as a launchpad to the photogenic Hanging Monastery, the world’s oldest wooden pagoda, crumbling earthen sections of the Great Wall and onward trips to sacred Wutai Shan.
When its granite peaks and twisted pines are wreathed in spectral folds of mist the idyllic views of Huangshan (黄山, Huángshān; literally 'Yellow Mountain') easily nudge it into the select company of China’s top 10, nay, top five, sights. Legions of poets and painters have drawn inspiration from Huangshan’s iconic beauty. Yesterday’s artists seeking an escape from the hustle and bustle of the temporal world have been replaced by crowds of tourists, who bring the hustle and bustle with them: the mountain is inundated with tourist traffic at choke points, so the magic can rapidly evaporate, especially during holiday periods and weekends. But Huangshan still rewards visitors with moments of tranquillity, and the unearthly views are simply breathtaking.
Yellow Mountain, Kina – så vackert att varje försök att fotografera blir lite av ett fiasko.
145 meter högt och 125 meter i diameter. Megakonstruktionen i den kinesiska staden Weifang är tänkt att öppna för allmänheten inom kort och är det högsta ekerlösa pariserhjulet i världen.