We’ve sat on this one for a little while. And honestly, we’ve put off writing this post until we could properly reflect on our time in China.

Not because we didn’t have anything to say - quite the opposite. China gave us a lot to think about. It challenged us more than anywhere else on our travels so far and perhaps more than anywhere else we’ll visit on our Fuji To Fiji journey. It was beautiful, vast, and deeply historic. But it was also difficult, confronting, and exhausting.

China was a place we were so excited about. If you have been following us for a while, you’ll remember that months before we arrived, we’d celebrated getting our visa approved in London like it was a golden ticket. We spent hours pouring over train routes and city maps, watching travel videos, and dreaming of dumplings, dynasties, and dragons.

And yet, a week into our time there, we found ourselves quietly asking: what are we doing here? Should we leave early?

But China made us think deeper than that: What are we doing this year, full stop?

So finding the right words to write about our time in China hasn’t been the easiest of tasks, not because we didn’t do enough (we did so much), or because there’s a lack of incredible sights to share (there definitely isn’t), but because it was the first time on this journey where we truly, deeply questioned what we were doing.

But we’ll start with the good. The really good. We travelled from Beijing to Xi’an, onto Chengdu, and ended in Shanghai. It’s the kind of route that reads like a highlight reel and visually, it absolutely was. But something lingered that took time for us to really understand.

Beijing: Beauty, Snowflakes, and Something Heavy in the Air

We began our Chinese adventure in the country’s capital, Beijing, with the same excitement you might expect from two people who’d spent months dreaming of this trip. It’s a city that feels like it contains multiple lifetimes of history packed into a single sprawling map. Beijing is big in every sense. It’s grand, it’s dense, and at times, completely overwhelming. We knew this was going to be one of the big ones. One of the places we’d remember forever.

And we will remember it - for many reasons.

Beijing, on the surface, was spectacular. The Forbidden City lived up to every dramatic photograph we’d ever seen, golden roofs, red walls, symmetry on a grand scale. We spent hours walking from courtyard to courtyard, trying to imagine what life had looked like within these gates hundreds of years ago. The sheer scale of it was hard to comprehend. Even if after a while, it became repetitive, there was something imposing about it. Something awe-inspiring, yes, but also… distant.

The Summer Palace gave us a softer side of the city. It was spring now so no real chill in the air, but the breeze was still crisp, and the willows had just begun to bud. Boats drifted across the lake, and for a moment we could forget the city behind us. We walked for hours, hardly noticing the time. There was a peacefulness here we’d been missing.

It wasn’t just the famous landmarks that made Beijing memorable. The Hutongs - Beijing’s old neighbourhood alleyways gave us a glimpse into a different rhythm of life. As we walked through these historic alleyways, we saw a different side of the city and for the first time in days we got to have a conversation in English. We met some incredible people that day - we sipped tea, shared stories, and for a moment, the city felt more at ease.

But our real Beijing moment came on the Great Wall.

The Great Wall was the first moment that took our breath away. Winding across the mountains like a stone dragon, it’s the kind of place you think you’ve imagined until you’re standing on it, slightly out of breath from the climb, staring at it stretching far beyond the horizon. There was a moment where we stood still, barely speaking, just watching the light shift across the distant hills. It was one of those “we’re really here” moments. But then came sunset. Watching the mountains fall into shadow was utterly surreal. We sat together, letting the wind whip around us, both moved in a way we hadn’t felt since perhaps we saw Mt Fuji, a few months prior. It was exactly the kind of experience we left home for.

And then - just as we left Beijing - it snowed. A final flurry, completely unexpected. The final little bit of snow for the rest of our adventure. It reminded us just how much could change in a matter of weeks. I guess there is something poetic in that.

But something wasn’t sitting right. It was hard to name. There was a presence, an atmosphere, that made it difficult to feel at ease. It’s hard to explain without sounding overly vague or dramatic, but it felt as though we couldn’t quite relax, couldn’t quite be ourselves. We’d find ourselves lowering our voices in cafés or on trains, not because we were saying anything controversial, but because it felt like we needed to. We didn’t feel unsafe - not exactly - but we did feel watched, like we just couldn’t speak freely. Even with each other, we hesitated. Conversations felt quieter. There was a pressure, a tension that followed us - invisible but constant. It was like something heavy lingered in the air.

We missed feeling free to be ourselves.

Xi’an: Warriors, Wonder and the Weight We Were Carrying

Next, we took the high-speed train to Xi’an – the city where everything came to a head.

Up until this point, we’d felt the tension building - the unease, the disconnection, the fatigue. But it was here, in the heart of China’s ancient capital, that it truly hit us. And it hit us hard.

This was supposed to be one of the great highlights. The Terracotta Warriors, one of the most extraordinary archaeological discoveries in the world, and it was. Standing in front of thousands of life-sized soldiers, frozen in formation for over two thousand years, was surreal. The craftsmanship, the history, the sheer scale of it was overwhelming in the best sense. That moment reminded us why we travel.

But everything surrounding that moment… was difficult.

Something shifted in Xi’an. We stopped feeling like travellers having a hard day and started feeling like we just didn’t belong. We weren’t seeing other travellers, and while that can be a gift in some places, in China it felt isolating. Most days, we felt entirely alone. And while the food looked incredible, we struggled. Menus without translation, staff who seemed frustrated rather than welcoming, no one to help bridge the gap. We didn’t want handholding, but we did want some kind of warmth.

We were on edge constantly. The smallest tasks felt overwhelming - buying water, asking for directions, even crossing the road. The language barrier, which had been manageable in other places, felt impossible here. People stared - a lot. Some interactions were cold. And that ever-present feeling that we couldn’t really be ourselves… it deepened.

The silence between us stretched longer. We stopped trying to make jokes out of the tough stuff. There was nothing funny about it anymore. We sat on the edge of our hotel bed one night and said out loud what we’d both been thinking: Do we leave? Do we give up on China? Do we go home?

And maybe the hardest part? It wasn’t just about China anymore. We started to question the entire journey. Why had we done this? Why had we uprooted everything - our jobs, our home, our routines for this kind of discomfort? Had we made a huge mistake?

These weren’t fleeting thoughts. They stuck around.

But there were brief moments of lightness - a coffee in our favourite Canadian chain - Tim Hortons, joy at watching a robot barge past us in a lift and deliver a takeaway to a guest in their hotel room, a fancy cocktail at a fancy bar or small interactions with the few people that could speak English. We didn’t forget to smile when we could!

But it wasn’t enough to lift the weight. Every time we stepped out we were reminded of the challenges to engage in life in China, especially when it came to the digital society, where even buying a ticket via WeChat to tour the city wall became a challenge and we realised that this weight won’t leave us until we leave China.

Xi’an changed the tone of our year. It forced us to reckon with what we actually want from our Fuji To Fiji journey and what we are willing to put ourselves through. It was hard. It was painful. But it was necessary.

But we didn’t leave. We began to push through. Something had shifted, and we knew the journey ahead had to look different from what we had imagined when we first set out.

Chengdu: Pandas and Brief Joy

By the time we arrived in Chengdu, we were tired.

Not physically - we were moving at the slowest pace of travel we had all year so far - but emotionally and mentally. It was the kind of tired that sits behind your eyes and in your chest.

Enter: the pandas.

The Chengdu Research Base of Giant Panda Breeding was, without question, one of the absolute highlights of our trip. We don’t say this lightly, but those pandas saved us. Watching these clumsy, fluffy creatures munching on bamboo, rolling around in the grass, or sleeping belly-up on tree branches melted every ounce of stress we’d been carrying and gave us a pure, uncomplicated joy. It was a day that reminds you, that can joy can still find you, even when you’re feeling low. We took hundreds of photos, mainly for my Mum, and for the first time in weeks, we didn’t feel heavy. We just felt happy.

We explored the Wide and Narrow Alleys (Khuanzhai) visiting local shops and enjoyed soaking up the atmosphere, I even had a coffee made by a robot, but the brief joy and spark from the pandas didn’t last. We still didn’t feel at ease and we were still on guard.

Then, one night, we saw it - a Cheesecake Factory. Of all places, of all things, it became our lifeline. Not because we needed Western food, but because we needed a space that felt known in a place where so much felt unknowable. We knew the menu. We recognised the music. We didn’t have to point awkwardly or guess what something was. We ordered huge plates of pasta and a cheesecake (obviously!), and it felt like breathing out. We laughed at how ridiculous it was - but in that moment, it felt like rescue.

Shanghai: Lights, Escapism, and a Day of Magic

Our final stop was Shanghai - China’s bustling, brilliant, chaotic, futuristic heart. The skyline at The Bund left us stunned. As night fell and the buildings lit up in neon reds, purples and blues, we stood by the river watching the city shimmer across the water. It felt like we were looking into the future.

We’d walk through busy streets filled with Western brands - Nike, Apple, Starbucks, Zara but felt completely disconnected from everything around us. That heavy presence we felt, contrasted so starkly with the hyper-modern image of the city. It was like the stage was familiar, but we didn’t know the script, and we weren’t sure we were allowed to speak. It was a performance. It looked like places we’d known, but it didn’t feel like them.

And then came our visit to Shanghai Disneyland. A real performance. The day we needed most and the one we’ll likely remember the longest.

We didn’t expect it to be emotional, but it was. For one perfect day, we forgot about everything else. We sprinted to rides, sang along on Pirates of the Caribbean (still one of the best rides we’ve ever been on), devoured ice creams and popcorn, and bought some merch for my Sister. Most importantly, we laughed, freely, joyfully, and together. It felt like a reset.

We weren’t just visitors or backpackers or foreigners. We were us again. For a few sweet hours, we could forget all the weight we were carrying, the presence in the air, the confusion, frustration and fatigue. We just had fun. It reminded us why we love doing this together.

And then we went back to another Cheesecake Factory. Because of course we did.

The Hard Truths

As our final day arrived and we boarded our flight to Macau, we felt a measure of the weight we had been carrying for weeks lift and we began the long road to reflect on how these past few weeks had changed us. When we think back to the excitement of getting our visa approved, months ago in London, we remember the buzz of anticipation. We were genuinely excited. We poured time and care into planning this chapter of our journey. And maybe that’s why it’s been so hard to admit how we actually felt when we got there.

So here’s the truth: the special moments and incredible sights, as magical as they were, weren’t enough.

From early on, that tension, that presence in the air never really left us. It’s hard to describe, but there was a constant sense that we couldn’t fully relax. Like we were being watched. Like we couldn’t say exactly what we were thinking, not even to each other. It wasn’t about any one incident, just a lingering feeling that made it hard to breathe freely.

We missed the simple freedom of being ourselves.

We didn’t expect to find China easy. We knew the language barrier would be tough, the size of the cities overwhelming. But what we didn’t expect was the emotional weight. The isolation. The exhaustion that came not from moving too fast, but from feeling uncomfortable all the time. We’ve travelled to unfamiliar places before. We’ve struggled with languages and with culture shock. But this was different. This time, it chipped away at us.

Most days were exhausting in ways that had nothing to do with physical effort. Small interactions - ordering food, asking for directions, trying to navigate platforms at crowded train stations all felt far more draining than they had been in Japan or South Korea. We’d come off a simple outing feeling wrung out. It took a toll.

It wasn’t a disaster. It wasn’t a mistake. But it was a wake-up call.

We’ve written about some of the challenges in our ‘5 Things We’ve Learned’ series - the subtle discomfort, the challenges with digital society, and how isolating it felt to go days without a truly relaxed conversation. But beneath all of that was something more personal: the realisation that not every part of this year will be magic. And that’s okay.

China shook our confidence. It made us doubt ourselves and our plans. But it also gave us the space to have the hard conversations, to ask each other what we really want from this year. We learned a lot about each other, about how we travel, about what we need to feel comfortable and connected to a place.

China made us realise that not every place will be for us. That even the most iconic sights can’t always balance out how a place makes you feel. The planning, the anticipation, the moments of awe - they don’t outweigh how we felt while we were there.

But you know what? We’re glad it was hard. Because it taught us what we want from this journey. It reminded us that we travel not just to see, but to feel, to connect, to grow. And when those things are missing, no monument or mountain can make up for it.

We learned that comfort matters to us more than we thought. That being able to talk, laugh, and be ourselves is not just a bonus - it’s essential. We learned that we need connection. That we thrive when we feel safe, welcome, and able to just be. And maybe we needed to feel the opposite to really understand that.

Will we go back to China? Honestly, we don’t think so.

Not because China doesn’t deserve a second chance - it probably does - but because we don’t think it’s the right fit for us. Not every destination has to be for everyone. The highs we had were real and unforgettable. But the low hum of discomfort ran too deep and too often to ignore. So no, we won’t go back to China, at least not now, maybe not ever.

Travel isn’t about ticking boxes or country counting. It’s about experiencing places, deeply and honestly, even when those experiences are difficult. Especially when they are difficult.

Everyone’s China Will Be Different

We know people who loved China. Who found freedom in its chaos, who built real relationships there, who felt energised by its pace. And to them, we say we’re glad. Truly.

We wanted that to be us. We planned for that to be us. It just… wasn’t.

And that’s the honest version.

We’ll always carry the sunset on the Great Wall, the quiet wonder of the Terracotta Army, the clumsy adorable pandas and our magical day at Disney. But we’ll also carry the weight of what we felt. Both are real. Both are part of our story.

This was our China. Full of wonder but weighed down by unease. Travel is supposed to expand you. And China did. Just not in the way we expected.

So now, we move forward - a little wiser, a little stronger, more grounded, more honest, more in tune with what we need from the road ahead on our Fuji To Fiji adventure and each other.

When the Sights Aren’t Enough: Three Weeks Travelling Through China