Bag Ancient and Modern: 14 Days China Family Trip for Dutch Tourists

A new day, a new wave of emails. I held my coffee, my eyes fixed on the screen. "My friend recommended you," Maria from the Netherlands wrote, getting straight to the point. I raised an eyebrow, set my coffee down, and continued reading.

Maria and her husband wanted to take their two children, who were fascinated by the Eastern continent, on a two-week trip to China. Their twelve-year-old daughter, Ella, was a budding architect, and their ten-year-old son, Lucas, was most excited about China's high-speed trains.

The kids had so many ideas about this land, I couldn't help but smile. They were wonderful ideas, and I knew I could turn their imaginations into reality.

Add History and Modernity in Trip

On their first day in Beijing, the lingering fatigue of jet lag was still on their faces. I hadn't scheduled any attractions for the first day, but the two kids insisted, so they went for it.

As soon as they stepped into the Forbidden City, their tiredness was replaced by awe. The majesty of the Meridian Gate, the grandeur of the Hall of Supreme Harmony—the red walls and golden roofs shimmered in the autumn sun. A massive historical scroll slowly unrolled before them. The children looked up, counting the mythical beasts on the eaves, marveling at the layers of intricate dougong brackets and painted patterns.

The guide intentionally steered them away from the crowds, taking a relatively quiet route through the inner palace. Their footsteps echoed crisply on the bluestone bricks, a sound that had been heard for hundreds of years.

The next day, we walked into the hutongs. Unlike the solemnity of the Forbidden City, the hutongs offered a different kind of vibrant, contemporary China.

Sunlight slanted across the gray tiles of the courtyards. An old woman sat at her doorstep sorting vegetables, and the crisp ring of a bicycle bell cut through the narrow alley. A few lazy cats dozed by the walls. The kids peered curiously, watching residents steam buns in large pots and smelling the fragrant scent of scrambled eggs with green onions drifting from a nearby kitchen.

In a quiet courtyard, we arranged for a calligraphy teacher to visit. Ella carefully held the brush, dipped it in ink, lifted it, and gently laid it on the paper, meticulously tracing the character for "home." As the ink slowly spread on the rice paper, she held her breath, her expression as focused as if she were creating a work of art. The silence in that moment was a striking contrast to the bustling world outside.

Maria and her husband were thrilled to see their adorable kids so quietly engaged in an activity.

The high-speed train from Beijing to Xi'an was the moment Lucas had been dreaming of. We arranged for first-class seats, with spacious chairs and a quiet car.

The fields and cities outside the window flew by. When the train smoothly accelerated and the speedometer passed 300 km/h, Lucas excitedly pointed at the screen. He pressed his face against the window, watching the distant mountains slide backward like a flowing stream. The high-speed rail strung cities and mountains together like a thread and needle. The quiet carriage carried people eager to return home—or perhaps, before they could even feel that eagerness, they were already there.

Making Memories That Last

In Xi'an, we didn't just stop at the awe of the Terracotta Warriors. I took them to a workshop run by an old artisan. Wearing aprons, they got to make their own small Terracotta Warriors by hand. Ella chose a general figure, carefully carving the armor patterns with a small knife. Lucas made a cavalryman leading a horse, focusing on coloring the horse. When they held their finished creations, their faces were beaming with a sense of accomplishment. I smiled, watching the family so engrossed in the DIY project; Maria and her husband were also fascinated by the process.

In Guilin, the guide steered them away from the tourist-heavy restaurants to a small eatery in Lujia Village that locals frequent. A bubbling stone pot of fish was brought to the table. The fish was tender, the broth was rich, and the aroma of peppercorns and chili filled the air. At first, the kids had to drink a lot of water because of the spice, but they were soon won over by the unique, fresh flavor. They kept blowing on the fish slices as they picked them up, eating with sweat on their brows but unable to stop. Outside the window was the night scenery of the Li River and the hazy mountain shadows in the distance, while inside, a family sat around a table, sharing the warmth of a spicy, steaming meal.

The last stop was Shanghai, where the lights of the Bund were dazzling, but what they talked about most were the calligraphy lessons in the hutong, the feeling of speed on the high-speed train, the small Terracotta Warriors they made themselves, and that spicy, mouth-watering stone-pot fish.

At the end of the trip, Maria told me the kids were going to give a presentation about China at school. What they took away with them were not just photos and souvenirs, but the characters they wrote, the clay figures they made, the flavors on their tongues, and the most authentic, vivid memories of Chinese culture deep in their hearts.