Tiananmen Square has been a gathering place since imperial times, but its modern incarnation is largely Mao’s creation. Paved and vast, it’s the largest square in the world. Mao once reviewed parades of up to a million people here, and when he died in 1976, a million gathered to pay their final respects.

Today, many remember the square most vividly for the tragic events of 1989, when PLA tanks and soldiers violently suppressed pro-democracy demonstrators.

Now, it’s surprisingly peaceful. From early morning to late afternoon, kites drift above the crowds. At the centre of the square is the “Maosoleum”—a tomb constructed by Mao before his death. Inside, his body lies on display in an exhibition case. It’s one of the few places in Beijing without an entrance fee, though the plastic flowers sold outside are surprisingly expensive.

In the background of the square stand the historic buildings of the Forbidden City.

The Forbidden City is a vast rectangular complex spanning more than 720,000 square metres. At its centre stands the Imperial Palace, home to 24 emperors from the Ming and Qing dynasties.

In 1421, a year after construction was completed, Emperor Yongle officially moved the capital from Nanjing to Beijing.

For grand ceremonies, civil and military officials gathered in perfect formation in the expansive courtyard in front of the Hall of Supreme Harmony (see photo). Bronze markers identified their ranks, from first to ninth.

This courtyard alone covers 10,000 square metres. It is intentionally treeless—an ancient tradition reflecting the emperor’s divine status as Son of Heaven. Nothing was allowed to overshadow the Hall of Supreme Harmony, the tallest building within the Forbidden City—not even trees.

Tiny figures line the edges of the rooftops—small, fantastical creatures perched like guardians. Every building in the Forbidden City is adorned with these fabulous monsters, part of ancient tradition and symbolism.

Known as roof charms or imperial roof decorations, these figures often include dragons, phoenixes, lions, and mythical beasts. The more figures a roof has, the more important the building—a subtle hierarchy written in ceramic.

These little guardians weren't just ornamental—they were believed to ward off evil spirits and protect the emperor’s domain.

As the symbol of imperial power, the Hall of Supreme Harmony stood as the tallest structure in all of China during the Ming and Qing dynasties—no other building was permitted to surpass its height. The hall rises 35.02 metres, or 37.44 metres when including its ornate rooftop decorations. It measures 63.96 metres in width and 37.2 metres in length. Seventy-two pillars, arranged in six rows, support the vast roof. The gates and windows are intricately embossed with motifs of clouds and dragons.

Inside the hall, the floor is laid with specially fired bricks, later soaked in tung oil and polished to a deep sheen. At the heart of the hall, elevated on a two-metre-high platform, stands the imperial throne—crafted from sandalwood and encircled by six thick, gold-lacquered pillars, all painted with dragons. The golden throne itself is covered in dragon carvings, radiating authority and mysticism.

Flanking the throne are two bronze cranes, a majestic incense burner shaped like an elephant, and tripods styled as mythical beasts. The hall’s interior is dominated by dragons, creating an atmosphere of solemnity and awe.

Suspended from the centre of the ceiling is a design of two dragons playing with pearls. These glass ornaments, painted with mercury, are steeped in legend. One pearl, it was said, could detect usurpers of imperial power—and if someone not descended from Emperor Huang Di claimed the throne, it would drop from the ceiling and strike them dead.

Here I am standing beside one of the bronze jars found throughout the Forbidden City. There are more than sixty of them, strategically placed to store water as a precaution against fires.

During the harsh Beijing winters, small fires were lit beneath the jars to prevent the water from freezing.

The Hall of Heavenly Purity was originally used as the emperor’s bedchamber. That changed when Emperor Yongzheng ascended the throne during the Qing dynasty—he repurposed the hall for handling routine state affairs.

In front of the stairs, you can spot two bronze water jars. These were placed throughout the Forbidden City as fire protection—ready to be filled and heated in winter to prevent freezing.

The Temple of the White Dagoba stands just over 50 metres (164 ft) high, making it the largest surviving dagoba from the Yuan dynasty (1280–1368 AD). Completed under the supervision of a Nepalese architect, it was considered a masterpiece of aesthetic and structural design.

Kublai Khan later built a Lama temple in front of the dagoba, which was destroyed, rebuilt, and eventually renamed the Miaoying Temple during the Ming dynasty (1368–1644 AD). Over the centuries, the temple endured dramatic changes—converted into a factory during the Cultural Revolution, damaged by the 1976 earthquake, and finally restored in the 1980s.

Today, four halls remain, housing Buddhist sculptures from the Yuan and Ming dynasties, along with Tibetan tankas. During restoration work, scriptures and relics dating from Emperor Qianlong’s reign were discovered—hidden echoes of history brought to light.

The incense burner pictured is part of this sacred complex. Built by Kublai Khan, the White Dagoba was intended as a place of deep religious devotion—a spiritual anchor in the heart of Beijing.

This is Suzhou Street, a 300-metre-long stretch containing 64 small shops. Originally, it was built for the emperors to enjoy shopping during visits to the Summer Palace.

During the reign of Emperor Qianlong, it was known as the “Buy and Sell Street.” Its roots date all the way back to the Han dynasty (206 B.C.–220 A.D). In addition to the shops, the street once featured 14 archways and 8 bridges. Sadly, in 1860, the Anglo-French allied forces invaded and destroyed much of the area. Only recently was the street fully restored as a tourist attraction within the Summer Palace.

Modelled after the bustling market street in Suzhou, Jiangsu Province, Suzhou Street was designed to give the imperial family a feeling of mingling with everyday life—an experience forbidden to them. To maintain this illusion, eunuchs posed as tradesmen and customers whenever nobles strolled through the shops, creating the scene of a thriving marketplace.

Since its 2003 restoration, the street is once again lined with “archaized” structures, including shops, teahouses, and restaurants. Each building is furnished with classical Chinese decor, and the shop assistants wear traditional Qing dynasty clothing. Strolling here, one might feel transported to a South China street from a hundred years ago.

The building is called “Strolling Through a Picture Scroll.” It’s a large, two-storied octagonal pavilion, open on all sides and topped with a double-eaved roof adorned in green and yellow glazed tiles.

It was designed to evoke the feeling of walking through a traditional Chinese painting—an immersive blend of architecture and landscape.

We didn’t quite feel that way ourselves... but perhaps others might.

This is commonly known as the Marble Boat, though its official name is the “Boat of Purity and Ease.” Built in 1775 and measuring 36 metres in length, it’s not a functioning vessel but a decorative pavilion constructed entirely of marble.

There’s an old saying: “Water can carry a boat, and it can also capsize a boat.” By drawing on that wisdom, the Marble Boat was meant to symbolise the Qing dynasty’s unshakable stability—solid as a rock, destined never to fall.

A large incense burner stands in the foreground, with Betina beside it and a magnificent dragon sculpture nearby. To the left of the photo, you can see the start of the marble staircase—marked by a tall, white post.

This octagonal pagoda stands seven storeys tall, rising to a height of 16 metres. Along each side are small windows, each carefully engraved with images of the Buddha—silent sentinels watching over the landscape.

From its upper tiers hang bronze bells, which chime gently in the wind, creating a melodious song that drifts across Longevity Hill.

In front of the pagoda stands a stone tablet inscribed with “Ode to the Imperial Built Pagoda of Many Treasures of Longevity Hill”—written in four languages: Chinese, Manchu, Mongolian, and Tibetan.

If you want to see the Great Wall without a crowd at your back, Huanghuacheng is a great place to go. This wild section of the Wall is remote, peaceful, and untouched. No souvenir vendors, no noisy tourists—just you and the beautiful countryside.

The Great Wall at Huanghuacheng is not under maintenance. Small trees and bushes have begun to grow along the top, giving it a wild and natural appearance.

Only a narrow footpath remains for those adventurous enough to follow the wall—winding between the overgrowth and stone, offering solitude and quiet views.

In Tiantan Park in Beijing, you’ll find the Hall of Prayer for Good Harvests. Built in 1420, this magnificent structure is a masterpiece of traditional Chinese architecture.

Its wooden pillars ingeniously support the ceiling without the use of nails—a testament to ancient craftsmanship. The building stands 38 meters tall and spans 30 meters in diameter, crowned with a triple-eaved roof covered in blue glazed tiles that symbolize the heavens.

The only animals in the zoo that have some semblance of a natural environment are just a few. Most of the others live on bare concrete floors, with no hay, no shelter—nothing to mimic their natural habitat.

It’s a shame. Not just for the animals, but for the reputation of the zoo itself. (Remember it's 1999, I guess it has changed a lot since then).

The Sacred Road leads to the Ming Tombs, a solemn and majestic path lined with stone figures. Along the way, you’ll encounter guards, ministers, animals—and even mythical creatures carved from stone.

At the entrance stands a giant tortoise, crafted in 1425. It carries the largest stele in China, a towering monument that marks the beginning of this ceremonial route.

This is the entrance to the Lama Temple in Beijing—perhaps the most colorful temple in the city, surrounded by serene gardens and intricate architecture. Originally built in 1694, it was transformed into a lamasery in 1744, becoming a residence for monks from Mongolia and Tibet.

Inside, the temple houses a breathtaking 18-meter-tall Buddha, carved from a single piece of sandalwood—a masterpiece of devotion and craftsmanship.

During the Second Opium War in 1860, French and British troops pillaged and set fire to the imperial family's summer residence in Beijing. These haunting ruins are now known as the Old Summer Palace—or Yuanmingyuan, the "Gardens of Perfect Brightness."

The palace was never rebuilt. Today, visitors can wander through the park, where miniature reconstructions and crumbling stone remnants hint at the grandeur that once stood here.

At the heart of Wanhuazhen Mace stands a remarkable structure—one of the few buildings left untouched during the devastation of the Opium War. When the emperor hosted grand festivities in the palace, he would reward the first guest to reach the center with lavish gifts, adding a playful challenge to the regal celebration.

The Great Wall at Simatai remains in a relatively untouched, natural state—steep, rugged, and brimming with history. This section boasts 135 watchtowers, each uniquely designed and strategically placed across the mountainous terrain.

Archaeological discoveries here include small cannons and chilling evidence of rocket-type weapons—some reportedly equipped with flying knives and swords, hinting at the fierce ingenuity of ancient warfare.

The Great Wall at Simatai remains in a relatively untouched, natural state—steep, rugged, and brimming with history. This section boasts 135 watchtowers, each uniquely designed and strategically placed across the mountainous terrain.

Archaeological discoveries here include small cannons and chilling evidence of rocket-type weapons—some reportedly equipped with flying knives and swords, hinting at the fierce ingenuity of ancient warfare.

When you arrive at Simatai, you pay an entrance fee to explore the historic stretch of the Great Wall. Some sections have been carefully restored, but much of it remains raw and untouched—just as it stood during the Ming Dynasty.

The terrain is rugged. No trees or bushes break up the stone landscape, and some staircases tilt as steeply as 70 degrees. It’s definitely not the right place to bring your sweet old grandma in a wheelchair 😄. You'll need strong legs, a good dose of courage, and a daypack to keep your hands free.

The sidewalls are missing, leaving the narrow path dangerously exposed. A single misstep could mean serious trouble, with steep drops on either side. In the distance, a watchtower looms.

The Marco Polo Bridge, also known as Lugou Bridge, was famously described by Marco Polo in the 13th century and still bears his name today. Stretching 260 meters, it features 250 marble balustrades and is adorned with 485 intricately carved stone lions, each with its own unique expression and posture.

Emperor Qianlong celebrated the bridge’s beauty in his poetry. His verse, Morning Moon Over Lugou Bridge, is now engraved on stone tablets mounted on steles beside the bridge—an enduring tribute to Beijing’s scenic wonders.

This bridge played a pivotal role in history. In 1937, it served as a key route into Beijing during the Japanese invasion. The clash that occurred here marked the beginning of the Second Sino-Japanese War, and the city was subsequently referred to as Peking. Just a few hundred meters away stands the Museum of the War of Chinese People's Resistance Against Japanese Aggression, preserving the memory of that turbulent time.

Pedicabs are one way to get around the city. We didn’t try them—partly because it was too cold, and partly because of their reputation among foreigners. Stories circulate about fares mysteriously multiplying by ten upon arrival, despite prior agreements. That’s what we read and heard, though things may have changed if you visit Beijing today.

A pedicab typically holds one or two passengers, with the driver pedaling up front. It’s a snug, street-level way to explore—but perhaps best reserved for warmer days and clear fare negotiations.