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.

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.

Took a French couple to a food market in Chengdu last month. They wanted to try everything but had no idea where to start. I told them: pick whatever vegetable or meat catches your eye, hand it to any stall owner, ask them to cook it. No menu. No prices. Just point, nod, and wait. The wife grabbed a green leafy thing she had never seen. Turned out to be water spinach (空心菜). The owner stir-fried it with garlic in two minutes. Cost: 8 yuan. She stared at the plate like it was magic. She told me later that was the best meal of their trip. She still does not know what she ate. Some of the best meals in China do not happen in restaurants. They happen on plastic stools in a market alley, eating something cooked by someone whose grandmother taught them.