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I get this question at least twice a week: "Peng, how many days do I need in Beijing?" The honest answer: 4 days minimum. 5 if you want to breathe. Day 1: Forbidden City + Jingshan Park (book tickets a week ahead) Day 2: Great Wall — leave by 6:30am, Mutianyu is closest Day 3: Temple of Heaven in the morning, Summer Palace after lunch Day 4: Hutong walking tour + 798 Art District Day 5 (optional): Xi'an — take the 4.5hr high-speed train, see the Terracotta Warriors This isn't a rushed itinerary. It's what I've refined over 15 years of bringing clients here. You could do it in 3 days but you'd hate yourself by day 2. Want a full day-by-day plan? That's what I do. Just ask.

Client tip I give everyone: book the Great Wall for a Tuesday or Wednesday morning. Arrive before 8am. Why? I took a family from Melbourne to Mutianyu last Thursday. We got there at 7:45. Had the entire section to ourselves for a full hour. No crowds, no noise, just the wall stretching into the mist. By 9:30 the tour buses started arriving. By 10 it was shoulder-to-shoulder. We were already heading down on the toboggan run laughing our heads off. Timing is everything in China travel. I've been doing this 15 years — I know which spots to hit early and which to skip entirely. If you want my honest itinerary tips, just ask. I don't gatekeep.

Someone in my DMs just asked: "Is Chongqing worth visiting?" Let me tell you about the last time I took a client there. We arrived at night. Stepped out of the airport, and she stopped dead. The entire city was glowing — skyscrapers built into mountains, lights reflecting off the river, bridges crisscrossing in every direction. She said: "This looks like a movie set." Next morning we ate noodles at a tiny shop my friend runs. Bowl of chongqing xiaomian — 8 yuan, and she said it was the best thing she'd eaten in China. That afternoon we took the Yangtze River cable car across the city. She was pressed against the window taking videos the whole way. At dinner she asked me: "Why don't more tourists come here?" Good question. I don't know either. But my clients do.

A client from Texas asked me last week: "Do I really need WeChat Pay and Alipay, or can I just use cash?" Short answer: bring cash as backup, but you'll struggle without the apps. Here's the reality: even street vendors in Chengdu now have QR codes. I watched a French tourist try to buy an egg crepe (jianbing) with a 100 yuan note last month. The vendor couldn't make change. The guy behind him in line scanned a QR code and paid for it. The Frenchman looked so confused I stepped in and helped him set up Alipay on the spot. My advice: set up Alipay before you leave home. Link your international card. It takes 10 minutes and saves you a hundred awkward moments. Need help? I wrote a step-by-step guide. Link in bio.

I took a British family to a night market in Kunming last week. The dad stopped at a stall selling fried insects and his 10-year-old daughter said: "Daddy if you eat one I'll never be embarrassed by you again." He ate three. She high-fived him. The mom filmed the whole thing. This is what I tell my clients: China's street food isn't just about eating. It's about the stories you take home. And some of those stories come on a stick.

Monday tomorrow. Both kids have school, I have three trip proposals to finish, and somewhere in between I need to buy groceries and figure out what a 7-year-old means by "I need yellow socks for the school play." Some weeks feel like a juggling act. But I wouldn't trade this life for anything. Here's to a good week ahead — for all of us juggling our own versions of yellow socks.

I took a British family to a night market in Kunming last week. The dad stopped in front of a stall selling fried insects and just stared. "The scorpion. Is it... is it good?" he asked. I told him the truth: they taste like prawn crackers with extra crunch. The grubs are nuttier. The scorpion is mostly just a vehicle for the seasoning powder they toss on it. He bought one scorpion stick (¥15), closed his eyes, and bit. His wife filmed. His kids screamed with laughter. He opened his eyes, chewed, and said: "...it's actually not bad." That's the night market experience in a nutshell. You try things you'd never order in a restaurant. You eat while walking. You discover that some of China's best food comes on a stick from a cart with a single lightbulb. Every Chinese city has a great night market. The biggest are famous — Wangfujing in Beijing, Yuyuan in Shanghai. But the real ones are the local night markets three blocks from your hotel. Ask your front desk. They'll point you to the right street.

Food tip for this week: if you see a restaurant with a plastic curtain at the door, plastic stools, and a crowd of locals eating with their heads down — go in. That's where the good stuff is. Not the place with English menus and laminated photos. I've eaten at ¥800-a-person banquets that I forgot the next day, and I've had ¥12 bowls of noodles from a street stall that I still think about years later. Trust the plastic stools.

A client once asked me: "Why do you do this? Isn't planning other people's trips exhausting?" I laughed because... yes, sometimes it is. But then I get a photo of a family on the Great Wall at sunrise, or a message that says "my kids still talk about the hotpot night," and I remember why. I don't sell tickets. I help people make memories they'll carry home. That's the part no booking platform can do.

I'm working on a Shanghai guide this week. Been visiting that city for 15 years and it still surprises me — a new alley cafe, a hidden rooftop bar, a tiny noodle shop that's been there since the 1930s tucked between two skyscrapers. The Bund is beautiful. But the real Shanghai is in those side streets. I'll share my full guide soon. Meanwhile, what's the one thing you want to know about visiting Shanghai?

My daughter told me last night: "Mama, when I grow up I want to be a travel planner like you. But I'll plan trips for grandmas." I asked why grandmas. "Because they're the ones who actually have time to enjoy things." Out of the mouths of six-year-olds. She's not wrong though. I've spent 15 years watching travellers pack too much into too little time. The 6-city, 10-day itineraries. The "we can sleep when we get home" approach. The frantic rush from one attraction to the next. And then I watch the ones who do it differently. The retired couple who stayed in one Chengdu neighbourhood for a week and got invited to a local family's home for dinner. The solo traveller who spent three afternoons in the same tea house and ended up learning calligraphy from an elderly regular. The best China trips aren't the ones that cover the most ground. They're the ones where you let the country happen to you. Not bad advice from a six-year-old.

Sunday evening. The girls are finally asleep. I reheat my tea for the third time and sit down to plan next week’s schedule. A family from Germany emailed today — they want a 14-day trip covering Shanghai, Guilin, and Chengdu. I’ve done this route a dozen times but every family is different. This one has two kids aged 7 and 10, so I’m thinking: fewer temples, more food markets, and at least one panda encounter they’ll talk about for years. Sunday evenings at home are my reset button.