I left Yangshuo on an evening like a furnace, dripping with humidity and sweltering with light. I left in a flurry of teary smiles and...

The heat has come to Yangshuo. It is thick and steaming and heavy, like a blanket whose down was spun from dew. It rains in rushes and...

Every single thing in Yangshuo weeps. Water drips steadily from every ornate lamppost, each rooftop, each windowsill and tree branch,...

Landing in Guilin was like descending through an aeronautic obstacle course of karst mountain and cloud, storm-filtered sunlight painting...

Sometime between the fourth and fifth day, I finally fell in love with Shanghai — the ruckus and the uproar; the staring, spitting...

Until today, Nanjing Road has been my least favorite district in the city. It's a broad pedestrian shopping avenue teeming with hustlers...

I have thus far managed to locate only one cafe on my street with an English menu. There, one might order the following dishes, among...

I. A pedestrian never has the right of way. Nevermind the crosswalks and do not trust the little green man on the traffic light. The...

Shanghai sprawls like a sleepy lounge singer under silky robes of motionless fog, making the city look like an antique Chinese watercolor...