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.

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.

The best meal I've had this month wasn't in a restaurant. It was a ¥12 bowl of noodles from a lady who sets up her cart at the same street corner in Chongqing every evening at 6pm. She's been doing this for 18 years. Her broth simmers for five hours before she leaves home. The noodles come from a specific shop three streets over. She knows exactly when to scoop them for that perfect chewy texture. I brought an American client there once. He was nervous about street food. One bite later: "This is better than the ¥400 dinner we had last night." Here's what I've learned from 15 years of eating on Chinese streets: the best food is rarely in a guidebook. It's at the cart with the longest queue of locals. It's the lady who's been at the same spot for a decade. It's the place with one item on the menu because that's all they need to make. My advice: skip one fancy restaurant meal on your trip. Find a street cart. Point at what the person ahead of you ordered. Sit on a tiny plastic stool. It'll be the meal you remember.

A friend from Germany visited Chongqing and asked nervously: "Is it safe here at night?" I told him: I let my 6-year-old go downstairs alone to buy soy sauce from the corner shop. My 70-year-old mom square dances in the park at 9 PM. In 15 years of doing this work, violent crime against a tourist? Not one. Pickpocketing at crowded spots? Sure — same as anywhere. Lost my wallet in a Didi three times — got it back every time. He walked back from a night market at 11 PM on his last night. Messaged me: "This city feels alive at night, not dangerous." The real danger in China? Crossing the road in Chongqing during rush hour. That I cannot defend you from.