Last-Minute Great Wall Trip Twist: Brazilian, Argentinian Tourists Found Lower Price

It was a warm early-June morning, and the condensation on my iced coffee cascaded down the side of the glass like a tiny waterfall. My attention shifted from this small pleasure to my computer screen, where a unique inquiry from South America had just come in. Matias, an Argentinian engineer working in Shanghai, and his Brazilian colleague, Carlos, wanted to fulfill their dream of walking on the Great Wall before their work contracts ended.

"We want to see the real Great Wall," they wrote, and I immediately thought of the Mutianyu section hidden by green pines and the starry skies over Simatai at night.

The initial itinerary was quickly approved, but you know how it goes—things that move too fast often have a twist.

A Sudden Quote from a Competitor

Three days after confirming the itinerary, Matias forwarded a competitor's quote. The price was nearly 40% lower than ours.

I hopped on a video call. On the other end of the screen, two faces were filled with confusion. "We're not questioning your professionalism," Carlos said, sliding a price comparison table into view. "But the difference in cost is enough to cover our flights home." "Why should we pay more?" they challenged. "Why is your Great Wall so much more expensive?"

I noticed their itinerary did have some overlap with ours, but years of experience told me it wasn't that simple. Over the video call, I invited Matias to look at the competitor's details with me. They had squeezed every core cost: Mutianyu only covered the basic area with the first six watchtowers, the night tour was a mere 15-minute light show, and the accommodation was in a budget hotel without guaranteed quality. The "complimentary free time in Gubei Water Town" clause typically meant semi-forced shopping.

I used a red pen to circle the fundamental differences between the two plans. Our itinerary included a five-kilometer hike at Mutianyu, from the main gate to the preserved Ming Dynasty watchtowers. Our night tour came with a professional guide to lead them along the rugged section of Simatai, the only part of the original wall open for night climbing. When I showed them a photo of a hotel balcony at Gubei Water Town—the view of the Great Wall winding through a sea of clouds—their expressions brightened.

"Your itinerary is definitely more worth it." Hearing those words, I was so relieved to have successfully explained the value of a truly thoughtful Great Wall itinerary.

Winning their trust wasn't just about comparing prices. It was about showing them the superior service we provide. Over the next 72 hours, I was proud to show them the level of dedication they could expect on their trip. I confirmed the legal validity of our "no-shopping" clause, and our Beijing team worked overnight to film a video of the kitchen at our planned restaurant. On the fourth morning, I received a forwarded copy of the competitor's final contract. It was marked in small print that transportation and guide services within the scenic area had to be paid for on-site. This time, before I could even explain, Carlos calculated the hidden fees himself. "With those added in," he said, "the actual cost would be 12% more than yours."

The trip was on.

Worthwhile Great Wall Trip by Day and by Night

The two days of their tour were sunny and clear. In the early morning at Mutianyu, a light mist still lingered in the mountains. As they walked up the stone steps, sunlight broke through the clouds, bathing the gray wall in a soft golden glow. Unlike the crowded Badaling, there were only a few tourists scattered about. Some were posing for photos, while others were crouched down, watching ants carry things. A cool mountain breeze felt refreshing, and the rolling green hills in the distance seemed to hold the vibrancy of the coming summer.

My WhatsApp never stopped. They sent me a picture of them sitting on a large rock, eating sandwiches, and another of a gray-feathered bird flying over a parapet and into the woods. In that moment, the Great Wall was peaceful and quiet, a stillness that made you want to stay a while longer.

As evening approached, they took a car to Simatai. The road was winding, with headlights cutting two paths through the darkness. When they arrived, it was completely black, but the lights of Simatai were on—not a harsh white light, but a warm yellow that glowed through cracks, steps, and ramparts, like a soft lantern draped over the Wall. Standing at the observation deck, you could see the Wall winding through the night like a faint silk ribbon wrapped around the ridge. The tourists were quiet now, peacefully taking photos with their phones. As they slowly walked onto the Wall, the lights on both sides cast long shadows. The night, sometimes, is a journey's most professional filter, awakening the heart's gentle and poetic side again and again.

In a thank-you email three weeks later, a passage made my eyes well up: "When we touched the names of the frontier soldiers from the Wanli era carved into the bricks on the west section of Mutianyu, we suddenly understood what 'worth' truly means. Those tourists who paid $20 more than us will never see the wild apricot flowers blooming in the cracks of the wall." This, perhaps, is the true meaning of travel: some value can never be compressed into a number on a spreadsheet.