Beijing was the first place where the country's immense scale became impossible to ignore. It wasn't simply the size of the city, but the way space itself had been designed to communicate power. Walking through the Forbidden City, Papadongonas found himself moving through one vast courtyard after another, each separated by monumental gates that seemed to stretch endlessly toward the horizon. "The Forbidden City did not feel like a palace you simply walk through, but like power turned into architecture: one gate after another, one courtyard after another, every axis designed to make you feel small," he told in the interview with Bored Panda.
Only a short distance away, however, another side of Beijing revealed itself. At the Temple of Heaven, imperial grandeur gave way to everyday life. Instead of crowds rushing between monuments, parks filled with older residents dancing, stretching, practicing tai chi, playing cards, and chatting beneath the trees. It was a side of the capital he hadn't anticipated. "I had expected imperial monuments. I had not expected the city's public spaces to feel so lived in."
Some of his favorite memories from Beijing came not from famous landmarks but from unexpected encounters. Curious to try donkey meat, Papadongonas visited Wangpangzi, a modest local restaurant where two Chinese men sitting nearby noticed the foreign visitors and enthusiastically invited them to share a drink. Despite speaking very little of each other's language, conversation flowed surprisingly easily. "It was a small moment, but it stayed with me because it was spontaneous: no tour, no performance, just a fun exchange between strangers over something I never expected to eat in Beijing."
Even the Great Wall, one of the world's most photographed landmarks, managed to exceed expectations. Having seen countless images throughout his life, Papadongonas wondered whether it was still possible to experience it without preconceived ideas. Standing on the Mutianyu section, watching the wall snake across the mountain ridges, quickly answered that question. "Some places survive their own fame," he said. "And this was one of them."
Leaving Beijing aboard one of China's high-speed trains marked another shift in the journey. While the country's rail system felt strikingly futuristic, many of the places it connected seemed rooted in an entirely different era. Nowhere was that contrast more evident than in Pingyao, where life continues behind centuries-old city walls lined with narrow lanes, traditional courtyard houses, and glowing red lanterns.
For Papadongonas, Pingyao marked the moment when China became far more layered than he had imagined. "It was the first time I felt the trip stretch beyond the expected China of big capitals, famous monuments, and modern skylines," he said. "The country suddenly felt layered: fast trains outside the old walls, slow streets inside them."
Having visited nearly 70 countries, he was used to finding a destination's rhythm after a few days. China never really allowed that to happen. Just when one place began to feel familiar, the next introduced a completely different landscape, history, or way of life. By the time he left, it was clear that the country's greatest surprise wasn't any single place, it was how much variety could exist within one journey.
