Ancient Wonders: The Great Wall and Terracotta Army

They told us not to go! Every local, expat and travel agent we confided in about our plans to visit the Great Wall and the Terracotta Army over the May 1st extended holiday tried to dissuade us. "It will be very busy," they warned. We went anyway. Sometimes, fewer options make decisions easy: with the hot summer approaching and Eddie's limited vacation time, our eagerness to see these historical marvels trumped our fear of crowds. I must admit they were wrong—it wasn't busy, it was jam-packed. But ...., what an extraordinary trip we had!

We first flew to Xi’an to see the legendary Terracotta Army. As one of China’s Four Great Ancient Capitals, Xi’an (Western Peace, 西安) has been a political and cultural hub since the 11th century BC. It served as the main residence for many Chinese dynasties and was a crucial trade post on the Silk Road.

Xi’an’s ancient glory was revived in 1974 when local farmers digging for a well in the nearby Xi Yang village stumbled upon relics that unveiled the Terracotta Army. For centuries, legends swirled about the buried army and the mausoleum of Qin Shi Huang, China’s first emperor, but there was no proof. While clay fragments had been found in the region before, locals dismissed them as useless. The Terracotta Army is now a UNESCO World Heritage Site and one of the most significant archaeological discoveries of the 20th century.

Built around 200 BC, Qin Shi Huang’s burial site is estimated to contain 8,000 terracotta soldiers, 130 chariots with 520 horses, and 150 cavalry horses. Only three pits are open to the public; the majority of the necropolis is and will remain in situ, as current technology cannot ensure their safe excavation and preservation. The actual tomb, resting under a modest pyramid-shaped mound, blends seamlessly with the surrounding greenery, undisturbed for millennia.

With all that information swirling in my mind, my anticipation soared as we entered the 1st pit. The largest in the museum, it seems to have been dedicated to infantry and contains the bulk of the statues unveiled so far.

The Terracotta Warriors are life-sized, hollow figures, standing up to 2 meters tall, with higher-ranking officers being the tallest. As visitors, we could only walk around the pit and observe them from a distance. Despite the crowds, I managed to snag a spot at the front of the fenced area and spent a few moments observing them.

The detail on each figure is astounding, even by today’s standards. Each warrior's gestures, facial features, hairstyle, clothing, and armor are meticulously crafted. Interestingly, despite archaeologists identifying only about ten types of facial expressions, the warriors seem unique when viewed as a group. They are arranged in a realistic military formation according to their rank and weapon, laid out to protect the emperor’s tomb from the east. Accompanied by horses, they originally held wooden weapons and chariots. Over time, the wooden artifacts and the ceiling that once covered the area have decayed. Today, I could only imagine how imposing and lifelike this army must have been when first assembled.

So far, all but one statue, “The Kneeling Archer,” were found in pieces. What I was looking at was the result of restoration work that is nothing short of miraculous. The “warriors’ hospital,” located in the second half of the pit, towards the exit, is in full operation and offers a fascinating glimpse into the different stages these artifacts go through, from discovery to the moment they’re ready to stand tall once more.

Our journey continued to the 2nd pit, believed to be the headquarters for the army strategists and high-ranking officers. This site, only partially uncovered, impressed me with its very deep, reverse pyramidal shape, the visibly more intricate statues, and the presence of artifacts in their original state, as they are on their way … out. The later truly illustrated the delicate and arduous work involved in resurrecting this buried treasure.

The archaeological exploration of the 3rd pit, still in its early stages, was revealing more bronze weaponry, hinting at a different kind of army formation.

The excavation of the buried statues is done with extreme caution, not only because of the clay's fragility but also due to the delicate nature of their surfaces. I was surprised to find out that originally, the terracotta warriors were painted in vibrant colors like dark red, yellow, purple, and white, made from precious stones, fired bones, tree sap, and other materials. Hair and eyebrows were painted black, and a lacquer covered the statues, giving them a lifelike appearance. However, in Xi’an's dry climate, these colours fade within minutes of the mud surrounding the artifact being removed.

I managed to literally catch a glimpse of these colours and intricate carvings on the few statues showcased in the museum. This section was, by far, the most crowded part of the visit. Summoning some bravery, I got close enough to snap a few pictures, but at the time, I felt that any extra minute spent there risked having me crushed by the crowd. It was just enough to appreciate the finesse achieved with such a simple and fragile material: clay. Sadly, the technique and mastery of crafting these statues have been lost to time. Legend has it that, in his quest for true uniqueness, the emperor ordered all the craftsmen killed to prevent them from passing on their knowledge. Could be true...

At the end of our visit, our guide had a surprise for us. We got to meet Mr. Yang Gaojian, one of the farmers who discovered the Terracotta Army. Now in his late 60s, Mr. Yang was at a souvenir shop signing books about the Terracotta Warriors. That day, I wished more than ever I could speak Mandarin and have him tell me his story.

Xi’an is also home to the Giant Wild Goose Pagoda, another UNESCO World Heritage Site. This seven-story pagoda, the oldest Buddhist temple in China, was built during the Tang dynasty in the 7th century. It owes its existence to the Buddhist monk Xuanzang, who returned from India with Buddhist teachings, ancient texts (sutras), and figurines. Legend has it that a wild goose guided Xuanzang back home, inspiring the temple's name.

The 64-meter-high pagoda sits within a Buddhist complex that serves as an active place of worship and a residence for monks. Unfortunately, we couldn’t go inside to explore or climb to the top for a city view, so we admired it just from the outside.

From a distance, its simplicity might seem underwhelming, but up close, this very simplicity exudes strength and resilience, both physically and spiritually. I learned that the 1556 Shaanxi earthquake, the deadliest recorded earthquake in the world with its epicenter about 100km from Xi’an, only tilted the pagoda slightly to the west. This minor damage remains unrepaired to this day.

Some 2,000 years ago, Xi’an was the starting point of the ancient Silk Road, China’s gateway to world trade and cultural exchange. Inspired by this rich history, our guide told us about a local show themed around the Silk Road, and we decided to check it out. What we experienced was far beyond our expectations—a truly innovative and interactive performance.

The audience seating area revolved, transporting us from one elaborate stage to another, each depicting different cultures and locations along the Silk Road. We witnessed the depiction of hardships and dangers traders faced on their long journeys, as well as the lives of the families they left behind. The stages were immense and packed with real elements: waterfalls so large they sprayed the front rows, real camels strolling on stage and through the audience, and huskies (standing in for wolves) darting between rows. It was quite a production, bringing history to life in the most vivid way! It was also … very busy.

Throughout its 1,500 years of existence, the Silk Road facilitated not just the exchange of goods, but also the flow of ideas, cultures, religions, and scientific discoveries. This ancient trade route brought people from Persia and other Arabic countries to Xi’an, where their descendants still live today in the bustling Muslim Quarter, also known as Muslim Street.

Though few speak Arabic now, they continue to uphold their traditions.

Muslim Street is a lively, 1-kilometer stretch shaded by trees and lined with street food stalls and old buildings. We visited in the evening, joining a river of people that included young women in traditional costumes and multigenerational families. The street was alive with the sights and sounds of cooking, with kitchen displays right on the sidewalk. I was still full from our lunch, but I couldn't resist some local temptations: I savoured freshly squeezed pomegranate juice (a local specialty from the Shanxi district) and indulged in lightly fried persimmons filled with chestnut (I just love persimmons).

After a very fulfilling day in Xi’an, we caught an early high-speed train to Beijing the next morning. The pleasant five-hour journey brought us to the heart of China’s bustling capital, ready to explore how the city’s historical and modern lives intertwine.

While Xi’an has preserved much of its architectural heritage,

Xi'an city wall

including its 7th-century city wall, Beijing has lost quite a bit to modern expansion. However, the Hutongs, ancient residential and commercial neighbourhoods, remain an exception, being frequented by both locals and tourists.

We ventured to Dashilan Hutong, which we chose for its reputation and its convenience to our itinerary. I found it to be blend of old and new, a charming maze of narrow streets filled with small eateries and shops, intersected by a larger pedestrian street shaded by trees and home to bigger establishments. I also found it, as expected, to be bustling with people—a sight we were starting to get accustomed to. Finding a restaurant seat seemed impossible, so we opted for a Peking duck wrap from a street vendor and enjoyed it standing, blending in ... at least custom wise.

Leaving the buzzing hutong behind, we made our way to the Red Theatre for an acrobatic show that promised to leave us breathless—and it certainly delivered. Acrobatics hold a special place in Chinese culture, an art passed down through generations for over 2000 years, either as a family tradition or from master to apprentice. Originally, acrobatics served as cheap entertainment for commoners, explaining the use of simple props like chairs, porcelain bowls, and tables. Though it occasionally graced the courts of dynastic China, it was largely regarded as a lower-status occupation.

After the formation of the People's Republic of China, while acrobats' lives didn't necessarily become easier, their craft gained more support and a boost in societal status. Acrobatic shows were, at least in the beginning, an important aid of international diplomacy.

The show we witnessed was anything but cheap entertainment. It was a spectacular display of superhuman physical and mental stamina, flexibility, coordination, and balance, all accompanied by music and lighting that heightened the suspense. Each act, from traditional props to motorcycles and bicycles, pushed the limits of what I thought was possible. By the end, I almost wanted to go touch the performers to ensure they were real!

Looking back, one of the most precious moments I remember was seeing a girl practicing the one hand stand back stage. So much determination and strength at such a young age!

Still replaying scenes from the acrobatic show long after it ended, we decided to call it a night and wrap up our first day in Beijing. The next day was awaiting with an early start and a two-hour drive to the most anticipated part of our trip—the Great Wall of China. Too excited to fall asleep, I ended up having a short night, but who needs sleep when you're about to have a once-in-a-lifetime experience?

The Great Wall is a UNESCO World Heritage Site, celebrated as one of history’s most impressive architectural feats. Known in Chinese as the "Long Wall" (长城, Chángchéng), its construction began around 200 BCE under the orders of Qin Shi Huang, the same emperor who commissioned the Terracotta Army. Over the centuries, various dynasties expanded and maintained different sections, culminating in an astonishing total length of 21,196.18 kilometers. Initially constructed with soil, stone, and wood, the wall saw a shift to bricks and sticky rice mortar (yes, sticky rice soup mixed with slaked lime or egg shells) starting with the Ming Dynasty in the 14th century. While its primary purpose was to protect the kingdom from invaders, it later also served as a means of border control, aiding in the collection of duties on goods transported along the Silk Road.

To experience this monumental masterpiece in its most authentic state, we decided to start with the Panlongshan (The Curling Dragon Mountain) section, built during the Ming Dynasty. We arrived around 9 AM and found only a handful of people, who we quickly left behind within the first ten minutes of hiking up the mountain. Reaching the wall’s rim, I truly felt on top of the world! It was a cool, sunny morning with a cloudless sky and perfect visibility. The mountain ridge stretched endlessly, with the wall winding around the slopes, indeed like a curling dragon.

As I walked, I imagined the immense effort it must have taken to build this wall at such heights, with such rudimentary tools. Touching the stones, I tried to envision the soldiers standing guard, enduring the passing seasons, and living their daily lives in this remote area. Up close, the wall reminded me of an old warrior—showing its age and scars, yet standing strong and undeterred. The few hours we spent in Panlongshan, surrounded by the serene beauty of nature and the ancient wall’s untold stories, warmed by the gentle spring sun, were simply magical.

The Panlongshan section is as authentic as it gets for visitors like me; renovations here have focused mainly on safety and accessibility and I do appreciate not fearing a watchtower falling on me or having to navigate through dense bushes.

On another hand, Simatai, the next section on our itinerary, was a bit more polished. Located near the Beijing Gubeikou Ancient Town and at a much higher altitude than Panlongshan, it’s accessible either by gondola or a rugged hike up. We opted for the former. After spending the night in Gubeikou Town, we rose early to be first in line for the gondola, even before it opened. Lucky for us, we were rewarded with another beautiful day and, for the most part, a quiet visit.

While the Simatai section is more renovated and touristy, it’s also more spectacular in terms of architecture and scenery. The wall clings to the mountain ridge, often sloping so sharply that even hiking up is a challenge. Arriving at the highest watchtower open to visitors, the scenery was simply breathtaking—city life in the valley, mountains as far as the eye can see, lush greenery coming to life, and the Great Wall, carving its way into the horizon, effortlessly and naturally, as if it were always meant to be there.

As a bonus, part of the Simatai section is lit at night, transforming the Great Wall into a string of sparkling gems adorning the mountains and the skyline.

The Beijing Gubeikou Ancient Water Town is, in fact, a new town—a replica built using original houses, bricks, and wood transported from other parts of China. Learning this from our guide was a bit disappointing, but I have to admit, they’ve done a good job, as the streets and buildings have the look and vibe of an old town. There were lots of artisanal stores displaying and selling both antique and modern pieces. Some offered workshops in a variety of traditional crafts; you can learn to make combs from deer horns or wood, build kites of all sizes, or make silk fans by threading silk from silk cocoons .

There was no shortage of restaurants, small eateries, and an abundance of snack stands! The most coveted snack in town seemed to be the bridge cake, made of glutinous rice flour and loaded with seeds, nuts, and chestnuts. Apparently, eating one is supposed to bring you luck in your career. By afternoon, the line for these cakes stretched at least 20 meters long, and I decided it wasn't worth the wait. Luckily, the following morning it was less busy, so I lined up and bought two—one for me and one for Eddie. Well, Eddie decided to pass on his, so, not wanting to throw our luck away, I ended up eating both. This was no trivial task; these cakes were as rich as they were tasty. I'm hoping that a double dose of bridge cake will give my career a substantial boost someday. At the very least, I was certainly full for the rest of the day!

Besides helping me get my lucky cake, the early morning walk to the gondola gave me my favourite memory of the town. With most shops closed and day tourists yet to arrive, the town seemed to be asleep. We could hear our steps on the stone pavement, breathe in the fresh air, and savour a few moments of serenity.

We left Gubeikou Water Town late in the morning and returned to Beijing, enduring a busy three-hour drive that reminded us we were in the midst of a public holiday. Despite the traffic, we made it in time to visit the Summer Palace and Tiananmen Square, capping off our tour.

The Summer Palace, a UNESCO World Heritage Site, has seen its share of tumultuous history over its more than 1,000 years of existence. Its original name, The Garden for Preserving Harmony (颐和园), hints at its serene purpose: an oasis of gardens, lakes, halls, and pavilions. This intricate ensemble of man-made and natural beauty served as a retreat for the imperial family during the scorching northern summers. The garden has experienced both glory and neglect, and miraculously escaped being razed during the numerous wars that loomed over it.

Upon passing through the entrance gates, we were greeted by a sea of people—a sight I had grown quite accustomed to. Over the past few days, I realized I had developed a new ability: insulating myself from the crowds and creating a mental space that allowed me to tune into the vibe of each place we visited, a sort of daydreaming.

This newfound skill enabled me to enjoy our walk alongside Kunming Lake, the garden's centerpiece, admire the ornate wooden buildings along the way and hide in the shade of the trees. One of the most admired architectural structures in the palace is the Long Corridor. It is an impressive 700-meter covered wooden pathway that allowed royals to stroll in comfort while enjoying richly painted scenes depicting famous Chinese places and mythology. Remarkably, this unique and rather fragile piece has survived largely intact to this day.

While planning this trip, the Forbidden City was high on our wish list. Unfortunately, tickets sold out within minutes long before the public holiday, and our chances of snagging last-minute entry were slim to none. So, we resigned ourselves to admiring it from the outside, standing in Tiananmen Square.

The square takes its name from the Forbidden City's gate, Tiananmen—Gate of Heavenly Peace (天安门)—located just to the north. Initially built in the 1600s with a rather low profile, Tiananmen Square grew in historical and cultural significance over time. It was here, on October 1, 1949, that Mao Zedong proclaimed the founding of the People's Republic of China. In the 1950s, the square was expanded to four times its original size and is now flanked by prominent monuments and buildings such as the Monument to the People’s Heroes, the Great Hall of the People, the National Museum of China, and the Mausoleum of Mao Zedong.

We arrived in the late afternoon, just as the heat was starting to wane, and found the square sparsely populated. There was indeed a peaceful atmosphere; people strolled leisurely, took photos, and hung out with friends and family.

As our trip neared its end, standing in the middle of Tiananmen Square, I felt a wave of emotions wash over me. I reflected on the sites we had visited and the history we had absorbed. It felt as if history itself was speaking to us, sharing its tumultuous and glorious tales, trying to convey a message. I closed my eyes, lifted my face to the sky, and felt the soft embrace of the sun. I prayed for Heavenly Peace in our hearts and across the world.

Traveling within China is an adventure on its own, especially if you don’t speak the language and want to venture off the beaten path. We managed by hiring private English-speaking guides through a travel agency, which also arranged our car transportation. The agency handled buying all our entrance tickets online in advance—something we wouldn't have been able to do ourselves, as the online applications are all in Chinese. There are also special rules for foreigners, entrance and parking you may need to figure out on the spot, also in Chinese. However, navigating Beijing was quite easy with the subway and Didi (China's most popular car hailing service).

Lots of sweat (luckily no blood) went into this trip, all for the love of culture and travel journalism. If you ask me, I’d give you the same advice we were given: don’t go unless you have no other choice. But here’s the twist—I guarantee that if you do go, you'll create a lifetime of memories. So, take that chance when you have it!