Nanjing Travel Stories

I had been to Nanjing a few times on business before, but always on tight schedules, only managing quick visits to Sun Yat-sen Mausoleum and Confucius Temple. My husband was even less fortunate, having only seen Sun Yat-sen Mausoleum. This time, I planned thoroughly. It was late October, the golden autumn, and we spent six days exploring Nanjing—a kind of deep travel. I have many impressions and don't want to just list events; I've gathered the most memorable ones into this not-quite-travelogue to share.

What struck me most during this trip was the warmth of Nanjing's people. Feel it through these scenes: One evening around 6 p.m., returning to the hotel after a day out, we were walking from the subway station discussing buying some beer and peanuts to relax. As I looked around for a supermarket, an older woman nearby chimed in, "The little Hu roasted snacks up ahead have delicious peanuts." It was barely ten meters away. The shop was crowded with locals, and indeed, the peanuts were incredibly fragrant.

When we were about to leave and wanted to buy some Nanjing specialties like osmanthus cakes, we couldn't find any. My husband said there must be some at the high-speed train station. A man nearby got anxious: "You're going the wrong way! Turn back for the train station!"

While cycling along the Yangtze River, we were blocked by a military pier near the first Nanjing Yangtze River Bridge and couldn't continue. Just as we were about to return the bikes, a local woman in her early thirties came up and told us to ride along the street parallel to the river for a stretch, and then we'd reach the waterfront again. She even told us exactly that it was 3.7 kilometers to the Nanjing Yangtze River Bridge. Thanks to her, we didn't miss a beautiful stretch of scenery.

And the taxi drivers knew everything, from the Six Dynasties' ancient capital to the best local eateries. They led us to the authentic salted duck at "Zhangyun Salted Duck."

I feel that Nanjing people are a lot like Beijingers—warm-hearted, talkative, broad-minded, generous, and with a touch of worldly concern. Could it be because both are capital cities?

Our trip lasted five nights and six days. My husband booked a hotel within a ten-minute walk from Confucius Temple and Old City East, right inside Bailuzhou Park (many rooms were just a railing away from the park).

Staying in the heart of old Nanjing was so convenient. Eighty percent of the sights were reachable by subway. In the evenings, we could head back to the hotel, have a drink and rest before strolling along the Qinhuai River to see the night lights or go shopping. Dining was easy too—just a quick check on Dianping and we'd find what we wanted.

Our accommodation had its own little story. We had booked a room with a courtyard, but on arrival, the "courtyard" was more like a large balcony. After the first day out, we returned to freshen up and rest, only to find the TV wasn't working. The staff couldn't fix it, and combined with the misleading courtyard, we were a bit annoyed. The service was very responsible; she checked the booking record and said a suite was free today, offering to move us there until the TV was repaired the next day. That sounded like a hassle—moving back and forth—so I refused. She went out to call the boss, then came back saying we wouldn't need to move back; we could upgrade to the suite for all five days. Still reluctant to move, she persuaded us to just look at the room, noting it was twice the size. So we did. It was not just twice as big—the courtyard alone was a full 30 square meters, a suite with a bathtub. Delighted, we moved quickly.

After staying, we realized the courtyard was mostly useless. The second night, we wanted to enjoy some beer outside, but within ten minutes, mosquitoes covered us in bites, so we fled inside. Over those five nights, apart from stepping out for fresh air in the morning, we spent maybe 20 minutes total in the courtyard. But the bathtub was a lifesaver. Every evening, exhausted, a hot soak revived me perfectly, and I slept wonderfully. It looks like future trips will cost more for accommodation.

Because we stayed so close to Confucius Temple, we visited Confucius Temple and the Qinhuai River at least four times, both day and night. Every time it was packed. They say the daily visitor count can hit half a million—and Confucius Temple isn't large; half a million people—that's a bit terrifying.

We took a night boat cruise on the Qinhuai River. I joked with my husband that luckily the tickets were 100 yuan, a bit pricey; if they were 20 or 30 yuan, we probably couldn't even get on.

Actually, inside Confucius Temple, there's just a statue of Confucius. Confucius is all the way in Shandong; I couldn't really see the point of worshipping him here. The old examination hall was once the largest imperial exam site, but all that has faded into history—what we see now is rebuilt. So what draws these massive crowds? I think it's the former romance and charm of the Qinhuai River, at least for me. Who wouldn't want to see the Qinhuai River of talented scholars and beautiful ladies?

The Ming Dynasty city wall in Nanjing originally had four layers: palace wall, imperial wall, inner city wall, and outer city wall. The capital of Nanjing under the Ming Dynasty was truly grand in scale. Today, it usually refers to the well-preserved inner city wall—the longest, largest, and best-preserved ancient city wall in the world. Construction began in 1366 and finished in 1393, spanning 28 years, using an estimated 350 million bricks.

Its design broke with the old tradition of square or rectangular layouts. Built upon the foundations of the Six Dynasties' Jiankang city and Southern Tang's Jinling city, it followed the natural terrain of mountains and rivers. The outer Qinhuai River served as a natural moat to the south, Zhongshan Mountain as a backdrop to the east, Houhu Lake as a screen to the north, and Stone City was incorporated in the west, creating a unique defensive fortress. The inner city wall stretched 35.3 kilometers, with 25.1 kilometers still intact, and the outer city wall exceeded 60 kilometers, enclosing over 230 square kilometers—a world record.

What impressed and moved me most during this trip was the Ming city wall (specifically the inner wall). Nanjing is an ancient capital for ten dynasties, but very few original relics remain—mostly just the Presidential Palace and Zhanyuan Garden. Much has been completely rebuilt over time. However, the Ming city wall is essentially original, with only some repairs, often using old Ming bricks. I met a local at the hotel who said that when he was a child, these walls were still there, albeit a bit damaged and shorter. Stone parts were better preserved, but many earth bricks were taken. He said many work units were assigned sections of the wall and could dismantle bricks to sell them; his father even sold bricks to Shanghai. During urban renewal years ago, the government launched a campaign to collect wall bricks—"Every Grain to the Granary, Guarding the City Wall"—collecting over five million bricks. I asked if every household had some then. He said no, unless they needed them for building, nobody collected ancient bricks. Maybe they didn't think the bricks were special or valuable back then.

Nanjing's wall bricks are special: each is carved with inscriptions, usually 30–50 characters, recording the names of those responsible in the brick-making process—from prefecture and county officials down to local heads, kiln workers, and conscripted households. Bricks were transported from all over to the capital, and if quality or quantity issues arose, they could trace responsibility through these inscriptions. Emperor Zhu Yuanzhang established a complete accountability system, along with an acceptance standard of "ringing sound when struck, no holes when broken." A "brick ticket" system was enforced during transport: all ships on the Yangtze had to carry bricks to Nanjing and receive a ticket; any ship without one was punished. It was this systematic approach that kept the Ming wall standing for over 600 years!

About Top-notch Restrooms

On the last day, we visited the commercial hub—Xinjiekou. First, we checked Dianping for food; many restaurants scored above 4.7. We ate at a popular spot called Jiangnanli, ordering recommended dishes like black pepper beef cubes, egg yolk chicken wings, fish soup, bacon baked potato, and braised wide beans. Every dish was unexpectedly delicious. It's amazing how the internet empowers us.

And at Xinjiekou, how could we miss the ultra-luxurious restrooms at Deji Plaza? Truly extravagant, matching the plaza's standing as one of the top-selling, luxury-packed malls in the country. There are two, on the second and sixth floors, costing 8 million and 12 million yuan respectively. We went to the one on the sixth floor. It was a Monday, a workday, but all the sofas inside were full, with a queue. Everyone was cheerful and poised—you'd never guess it was a restroom. I admire the mall's creative thinking. Walking around Deji Plaza, except for LV, many stores were empty, as desolate as other brick-and-mortar shops elsewhere. I wondered how they achieve such high sales.

About Nanjing Special Foods

I only knew about salted duck and duck blood vermicelli soup. The taxi driver had recommended "Zhangyun Salted Duck." There happened to be one near our hotel, always with a line. The first time, seeing others buying braised duck alongside the salted duck, we got some braised duck too. Drinking beer that evening, the braised duck tasted especially good. The day before leaving Nanjing, we queued again, this time only buying braised duck.

As for duck blood vermicelli soup, online guides were all over the place, and even the taxi driver couldn't pinpoint the best. After a few days, we realized duck blood vermicelli soup in Nanjing is as ubiquitous as flatbread or fried dough sticks elsewhere—everywhere. Different people have different favorites. One day while shopping, we were hungry and ducked into a random shop. We ordered two bowls, and they turned out to be delicious. It turned out to be a long-established brand—Jinyuan Duck Blood Vermicelli Soup. They prepare and braise their own chicken livers, gizzards, and intestines, with a fresh, rich broth.

When visiting cultural sights, without prior research, seeing them without a guide is almost pointless. This trip, we rented audio guides at the Nanjing Museum, hired a guide at the Ming Xiaoling Mausoleum, and followed volunteer narrators for the Taiping Heavenly Kingdom exhibition at Zhanyuan Garden. Where guides weren't available, we just had to eavesdrop on others.

Guides varied in style, quality, and open-mindedness. The most narrow-minded was the one we hired at Ming Xiaoling. Afraid others might overhear a single word, he led us nearly ten meters away from the explanation point, lowering his voice whenever someone passed. That pettiness from a grown man was so unpleasant to watch, making me uncomfortable; I couldn't even focus on his talk.

But the guides I eavesdropped on were generous. They didn't mind my lingering and even answered my questions. Many guides enjoyed sharing anecdotes, like at Meiling Palace, claiming Chiang Kai-shek's marriage to Soong Mei-ling was initially political—that Chiang really loved Chen Jieru but had to send her to America under pressure from the Soong family, promising to bring her back as his wife in two years. Later, through shared hardships, Chiang and Soong developed real affection. Such stories aren't entirely unfounded. Some guides were truly knowledgeable and skilled. I didn't know much about Linggu Temple, visiting it only as an afterthought at Zhongshan. A professional guide explained the design and purpose of the war dead cemetery built by Chiang Kai-shek, the marvel of the Ming Dynasty beamless hall (Wuliang Hall), and the "Three Marvels Stele" at Baogong Pagoda, which astonishingly bears original inscriptions by Wu Daozi, Li Bai, and Yan Zhenqing. In the end, I felt Linggu Temple was the most worth seeing. Guides really are the lighthouses of our travels.

My hometown is Yichang, Hubei, by the Yangtze River. These years, I've lived in Beijing and Shanghai. Recently, I suddenly wanted to see the Yangtze elsewhere, maybe because of the poem: "I live at the river's head, you at its tail; daily I miss you without seeing you, yet we drink from the same river." On a road trip to Zhangjiagang, I made a point to visit the Yangtze bank, but wind and rain blew us back into the car. This time in Nanjing, seeing the Yangtze became important again. Climbing Qixia Mountain, we viewed it from the summit but couldn't get down to the shore for a close encounter, which was disappointing. So on the last day, we headed straight to the river, cycling five kilometers along the bank, touching the stones, washing our hands in Yangtze water, and ticking off the first Nanjing Yangtze River Bridge. That was one of the most beautiful moments of this trip.

About Nanjing's History

In AD 229, Sun Quan, the Great Emperor of Wu, made this his capital, and Jinling rose, shifting China's political center out of the Yellow River cultural sphere and leading the development of the Yangtze basin and the entire south. It long served as the political, economic, and cultural center of southern China. During the Six Dynasties, Jinling, as the economic, cultural, political, and military center, had a population exceeding one million—the first city in the world to surpass that mark and the largest city of its time. It later became the capital of the Five Dynasties and Southern Tang, the founding capital of the Ming Dynasty, and the capital for the Republic of China and the Taiping Heavenly Kingdom, earning its title as the ancient capital of six dynasties and a metropolis for ten.

On this trip, my husband was unimpressed by the omnipresent promotion of Qinhuai culture. Romantic charm appeals to human nature and is attractive for tourism promotion; I thought Nanjing had hit the right note. But reflecting on Nanjing's ten-dynasty history, none lasted over a hundred years—they were brief flashes. While geography, politics, and military factors played a part, perhaps the easy comfort of Nanjing also led to complacency.

About the Taiping Heavenly Kingdom

In Nanjing, you can't escape the Taiping Heavenly Kingdom. Visiting the Presidential Palace, we saw the rebuilt audience hall and study of Heavenly King Hong Xiuquan. At Zhanyuan Garden, we discovered it was also the "Taiping Heavenly Kingdom History Museum," passively learning about this peasant movement.

The Taiping Rebellion was a massive anti-feudal, anti-imperialist peasant movement in modern Chinese history, the peak of millennia of peasant wars. It lasted 14 years, spreading to 18 provinces, occupying the fertile middle and lower Yangtze for years, with battles affecting half of China.

They enacted the "Land System of the Heavenly Dynasty," abolishing feudal land ownership and stipulating equal land distribution, advocating equality for all and gender equality, heavily laced with utopian absolutism—but it was never actually implemented.

They instituted a "Sacred Treasury," or public warehouse, where all property was communal and distributed by need. Eventually, the treasury became Hong Xiuquan's private purse, no different from the imperial claim that "all under heaven belongs to the king."

Interestingly, while the Taiping opposed feudalism and theocracy, destroying temples wherever they went, they replaced it with another theocracy—worshipping God in the "God Worshipping Society," which originated from Christianity. Hong Xiuquan went to Guangzhou to study Christian teachings, influenced by the tract "Good Words to Admonish the Age." He later founded the sect, declaring himself God's second son and Jesus as his heavenly elder brother.

The Taiping Heavenly Kingdom's cognition was limited to feudal society, no different from past rebels who changed dynasties. Naive, ignorant of human nature and state machinery, their rapid failure was inevitable.

About the Old Campuses of Nanjing University

On the last day, I wanted to see the century-old Nanjing University and Southeast University. I did some homework: Nanjing University has a long history—Sanjiang Normal School (1902) → National Southeast University (1920) → National Fourth Zhongshan University (1927) → National Central University (1928) → National Nanjing University (1949) → Nanjing University (1950). Southeast University is the old campus of National Central University, with many Republic-era buildings, including the Auditorium and Wutong Avenue. It was a filming location for dramas like "In the Name of the People," "So Young," and "SoulMate."

After exiting the subway, we walked a bit and saw Nanjing University, only to find it wasn't open to the public—card access only. I asked the guard, who said only students, faculty, and affiliated personnel could enter. Weren't they previously open to the public? The answer: "Not since this summer break." I recalled how just a few years ago, the government required not only universities but also non-classified institutions to open up. I was so glad about China's progress then. Alas, now that progress is gone, and we've regressed.

About Those Newly Built Ancient Buildings

This time, I was somewhat disappointed with Nanjing's historical sites. Many are rebuilt on ruins; very few are truly original. I can count them: the Ming Great Wall, the Beamless Hall at Linggu Temple, Zhanyuan Garden, and some modern ones like Sun Yat-sen Mausoleum and the Presidential Palace. More are complete reconstructions on original sites: Niushou Mountain's Buddha Shrine, Confucius Temple, the Examination Hall, the Grand Bao'en Temple, the Taiping Heavenly King's Palace, Jiming Pavilion... These reconstructions are deceptive; many people don't know the truth until they arrive, which feels uncomfortable. Some reconstructions aren't even faithful to the original, which is even more upsetting. For instance, the Grand Bao'en Temple now looks like a glass tower and is criticized as tacky.

Actively tapping into tourism resources isn't a bad thing, but reconstructions must be done with caution and seriousness.