The Call of Mountains and Sea: A National Day Self-Drive Across Shanxi and Shandong

There is no perfection in the world.

I believe everything is for the best.

After another storm, I hope a rainbow will appear.

Over the years, we have tried to avoid traveling during holidays. The memory of a National Day holiday years ago, with a long ticket queue at Hukou Waterfall and the crowd at Wang Family Courtyard that made it impossible to see anything, still makes us hesitate to travel during holidays.

A promise must be kept. Though we are not devout pilgrims, we trust that sincerity is rewarded and that goodness exists, and we must keep our word. Three years ago, before my son's college entrance exam, we visited Wutaishan and made wishes at Wuye Temple and Dailuo Ding. Now, my son is studying at his dream university. This year, after a major health crisis, when my fourth sister came to Wutaishan to pray on my behalf, everything went smoothly. Having just recovered from a serious illness, I wanted to visit again with a sincere heart—to fulfill a vow and to pray for new blessings.

I had promised my husband a trip to Qingdao for beer during the summer vacation, but it didn't happen. So this time, we combined everything into a National Day self-drive trip through Shanxi and Shandong.

Our original plan was to leave on the morning of September 29, the first day of the holiday. But the school suddenly announced that classes would end early on the afternoon of September 28, and my husband's shuttle bus would finish by noon. We immediately changed our departure to the afternoon and rebooked the hotel. This suited us perfectly because the first day of the holiday was also the fifteenth day of the lunar month, an auspicious day for offering incense. Just days before, we had regretted not being able to reach Wutaishan on the morning of the lunar fifteenth. Although we couldn't take advantage of the free highway on that day, the hotel was cheaper by avoiding the holiday peak by one day, which offset the highway cost. Such a wonderful start—I was very satisfied.

At noon, I drove to school to pick up my son. That little guy never does laundry at school; every week he comes home with a 26-inch suitcase stuffed with dirty clothes. Since I've been resting at home this year, picking him up every Friday has become my most important and happiest weekly task.

After meeting my husband at home, we set off at 2:30 p.m. sharp.

The road was clear all the way. The 350-kilometer drive took four hours to reach the area near Wutaishan Scenic Area. By then, it was completely dark. Near the scenic area entrance, cars were clustered and forming several disorderly long queues. After following the line for a while, we realized the queue was spiraling around. We had pre-booked tickets for both visitors and vehicles online. We saw some people who had waited for a long time but had to turn back because they hadn't booked tickets—what a pity! Finally entering the scenic area, we still had to drive over ten kilometers to reach our booked guesthouse. The guesthouse was near the core scenic area, which would be convenient for sightseeing the next day. There were no streetlights inside the area; it was pitch black, and we relied solely on our headlights.

The guesthouse we booked was the same one we had stayed at three years ago. After dropping off our luggage, we went out for dinner. We randomly ordered two dishes; the taste was average and the price rather high—I guess that's one of the characteristics of holiday travel.

The next morning, we first took the cable car up to Dailuo Ding. There weren't many visitors yet. Standing on the summit and gazing into the distance, the sky was blue, and clouds of varying shades layered into a vast sea of clouds draping the distant peaks.

The Hall of Five Manjusris and the Great Hero Hall were solemn and majestic. We paid our respects with sincerity—just a small token. Standing there, I felt deeply moved and emotional, wishing for everything to go smoothly and for a stable, peaceful life.

When we walked out of the hall, the clouds had cleared a bit, and the sky was even bluer. The temples and houses below were clearly visible, with red roofs dotting the mountains, a tranquil mountain village scene.

After descending from Dailuo Ding, we went to Wuye Temple, the most incense-filled place in Wutaishan. There was no parking nearby, so we parked far away and walked. The queue to enter, though requiring a wait, wasn't too daunting. But once inside the temple gate, we couldn't move. The courtyard was packed with people; it was beyond three or four layers deep—no separate queues, just a sea of people! We moved to the side and paid our respects briefly. I trust that sincerity counts.

Leaving Wuye Temple, we looked up and saw that the tall white pagoda I had been thinking of was covered—under renovation. Last time, my most satisfying photo had been that white pagoda against a red wall, which I had chosen as the cover of my travelogue. I had hoped to take another great shot this time. I guess regrets are inevitable in travel.

The drive from Wutaishan to Qingdao was about 800-plus kilometers, taking over nine hours. We chose to rest for the night in Jinan on the way, so the journey wouldn't be too stressful and the driver wouldn't be too tired. We had been to Jinan before, so this time we considered staying in Dezhou, which we hadn't visited. But fearing that a smaller city might lack good facilities and make our short rest less comfortable, we ended up choosing Jinan after much deliberation. Once Jinan was decided, I immediately searched for food on Dianping. With only one chance for dinner, I had to make it count. The photo of sweet and sour yellow croaker at "Cheng Nan Wang Shi" restaurant instantly caught my eye—the fish with its head and tail raised looked so lively. I chose a hotel near Daguanyuan, with a branch of that restaurant right next to it, convenient for a stroll around Daguanyuan the next morning before heading to Huangdao to meet my third brother at his wife's home, with an ETA of evening.

Leaving Wutaishan, we drove toward Jinan. This leg would take us from Shanxi Province, through Hebei Province, to Shandong Province. Three provinces in one day—it felt like quite an achievement! Our principle was to take breaks, relax, and not rush.

Just as we were about to leave the Wutaishan area, my husband couldn't resist and bought two bottles of Shanxi's specialty aged vinegar. I teased him for acting like someone who had never traveled before, but he insisted: when you go somewhere, you must buy local specialties. Shopping is definitely an essential part of our travels.

Along the way, we passed several service areas. At the Dezhou service area, there was a large Dezhou braised chicken shop. We couldn't pass it up. Chef Li eagerly walked in and bought two, adding a hearty dish to our dinner tonight and tomorrow.

It was dark when we arrived at the Jinan hotel, which was located at a corner intersection. The surroundings were a bit messy. Leaving the hotel for dinner, we realized the restaurant was inside Daguanyuan. This Daguanyuan was very different from what I had imagined. I expected a garden with birdsong and flowers, but it turned out to be a commercial area with ancient-style streets, combining shopping, dining, cinema, and street performances. Under the lights, the white walls, red pillars, and upturned eaves of the old-style buildings had a classical charm, while the crowds and noise created a lively atmosphere.

Cheng Nan Wang Shi is a well-known old Jinan restaurant. The decor is dark-toned, elegant, and upscale. The staff were warm and well-trained. Besides the yellow croaker I had been longing for, we ordered stir-fried pig kidney, intestine in brown sauce, and a vegetable dish. The yellow croaker was the signature dish that every table ordered, and it arrived in a stunning pose. Beautiful as it was, we didn't know how to start eating. The waiter promptly asked if we needed help cutting it. She took the plate to a side table and skillfully used a knife and fork to make the once-proud fish lie flat. Observing around, we saw that at every table, the dish came first with head and tail raised, was photographed from all angles, taken away for professional cutting, then returned for tasting. Many round tables hosted family gatherings with all ages. Though not in a residential area, the restaurant clearly had the approval of Jinan locals.

That yellow croaker was huge! And the sweet and sour flavor was a bit too sour for our taste. We tried our best but still couldn't finish it. Stuffed, we didn't even get to the Dezhou braised chicken—leaving it for tomorrow.

After dinner, we wandered around Daguanyuan. There were some sparsely attended performances, handmade crafts being created on the spot, and many shops selling food and souvenirs—lively yet a bit chaotic. Having now seen Daguanyuan, we returned to the hotel and replanned the next morning's itinerary.

Eight years had passed since our last visit to Jinan, when we had visited Baotu Spring and Daming Lake. This was a revisit. We decided to see these two most famous spots in the city again and taste the Golden Week atmosphere.

The hotel was two kilometers from Baotu Spring. The weather was perfect—neither hot nor cold—so we cycled there. Near the scenic area, the crowds were buzzing. Police were maintaining order, and the serpentine queues stretched over a large area. Inside, many staff guided visitors, and some forks had been made one-way. Following the crowd, we arrived beside Baotu Spring. It was right there but invisible, hidden behind layers of people. Pushing through to the front felt impossible for me. I rested on a corridor behind the spring, watching the visitors in front—a true Golden Week holiday scene. I squeezed in from the side and glimpsed the water: deep, emerald green, with a moderate upwelling at the center, adding vitality to the pool. Not seeing the full front view felt unsatisfying. My husband pushed into the crowd, held his phone above his head, and captured a perfect photo: green spring water, golden pavilion, green willows, and the white splash of the spring, forming a dynamic beautiful picture. The crowds couldn't be removed and became part of the scenery. This 5A scenic area is still worth seeing. There were cultural creative ice pops for sale in various colors and flavors. I had seen many similar ones online from the Temple of Heaven and friends' circles; they were eye-catching but didn't tempt me to taste. My husband found a few tourists who had bought them and took photos as a memento.

Leaving Baotu Spring Park, we continued cycling through the alleys of residential areas to Qushuiting Street, and through that street to Daming Lake.

Qushuiting Street is a famous historical and cultural old street in Jinan, the City of Springs. Spring water from Pearl Spring and Duke De's Mansion Pool converges into a small river that runs alongside the street. Old houses with blue bricks and broken tiles stand near the clear spring water, full of drifting green algae, with clear bottom visible. Little bridges straddle the flowing water, and weeping willows line the stream. Street-side boutique shops add a literary touch. We found the spot where we had taken a photo together eight years ago and took another. Time flies, and the changes in us were greater than those in the street.

Daming Lake is a scenic area centered on a natural lake, its water sourced from numerous springs in the city. Strolling along the lake leads to various scenic spots. We followed the principle of "just a walk," entering from the south gate and exiting through the west gate, then cycling back to the hotel to set off for Huangdao.

Shandong's highways are new and spacious. Inevitable traffic jams and accidents during Golden Week increased our driving time. We arrived at my third brother's home on Huangdao early in the evening. He had prepared a lavish dinner, including my favorite small red scallops. I had bought them a few times in Beijing at around 10 yuan per jin, but here they were only 5 yuan per jin. Their flesh was fresh and sweet, with the special sweetness of fresh seafood. With these small red scallops, I was content!

The next day on Huangdao, my brother arranged for us to have Thai food at the Red Forest Thai Restaurant. It was about a kilometer walk. Stepping out of the residential compound, the wide road was busy with traffic—far more vehicles than when we came years ago. The restaurant had Thai-style decor, and through the large floor-to-ceiling windows, we could see the distant sea. We ordered several classic Thai dishes: steamed sea bass with lime, beef curry, grilled pork neck, and pineapple rice—a bountiful table. The Southeast Asian prawn crackers were delicious side snacks.

The midday sun was too strong, so we gave up a seaside walk and strolled around the town square instead. The town was European-style, with white buildings against blue sky and white clouds—perfect for photos, and we saw a few couples taking wedding pictures.

Sunac Mall was a few kilometers away; we took a taxi there to wander. What impressed me most was the spectacular claw machine game area—so many machines and such a large space, unlike anything I'd seen in other malls. It even gave me the urge to try. I bought a McDonald's ice cream cone—delicious, my favorite, and it had been a while.

In the evening, we went to the seaside. Counting back, it had been four and a half years since I last saw the sea, and now I was standing beside it. Being at the shore lifted my spirits. Gazing into the distance and emptying my mind—it was wonderful. Some locals were digging for clams. Watching the tide rise, the digging spots slowly moved closer to shore, and their harvest grew. I tried using someone's tool but didn't find a single clam, so I quickly returned it, afraid of delaying their dinner. Being a leisurely little fisherman must be a joy.

For dinner, four seafood dishes for dozens of yuan. We ate to satisfaction, even exhaustion.

At night in the compound, the breeze was cool and refreshing.

The next day, we went to a market and bought seafood, experiencing local life. Qingdao's small seafood truly lives up to its reputation—fresh and affordable.

Standing on the balcony, I looked out to the sea in the distance. Close by were the orange-red roofs of small villas, exuding a European romantic feel. Further away, the gentle beach with a few strolling visitors and a few towering buildings. The vista opened my heart, and I felt exceptionally happy.

Over seven hundred kilometers and eight hours later, I was back in my little nest in Beijing. Rest well, and look forward to the next trip coming up soon.

2023.10