My First Impressions of Mainland China Began in Wuhan
My first trip to mainland China began in perhaps its most recognizable city, not because of centuries of history or iconic landmarks — despite being rich in both, but because of an event six years ago that brought the world to a standstill. I arrived in Wuhan expecting to find myself thinking, "No wonder it started here."
Instead, I found a city that challenged every assumption I had carried with me: remarkably clean, strikingly modern, and more organized than even many cities I've visited.
Our tour guide, Lily, tells us, “Many people think we in Wuhan eat bats, but if you walk around the city, you'll see that most of the food is just ordinary Chinese cuisine -- even the street food,” she says. “There’s hardly any exotic food in Wuhan. I’ve never tried any myself.”
Although nobody in our small group brought up the infamous bat soup myth, we appreciated that Lily acknowledged it early in the tour. It helped dispel a misconception that had long shaped outsiders' perceptions of Wuhan and allowed us to see the city with a fresh set of eyes.
Yangtze River: From the Pages of Books to Reality
On our first day in Wuhan, we set out on a late afternoon-to-evening cruise along the waters of the Yangtze River. Towering buildings lined both banks, their colorful lights reflecting across the Yangtze as darkness settled over the city.
Ever since I started reading Asian literature, I have encountered the Yangtze River countless times, especially in novels set in China. I always imagined its vast waters, the civilizations it nurtured along its banks, and the pivotal role it played in the country's history.
To finally lay eyes on even a small stretch of it felt surreal. The pages I had read for years suddenly came to life. And while the river itself was a picture of calm, my mind was racing, knowing I was cruising on the waters of a river that had long existed only in my imagination.
The Three Kingdoms Banquet and more of Wuhan
Just as I was beginning to understand Wuhan, we boarded a high-speed train bound for Shennongjia. A few days later, we returned to see the city through different eyes.
It was at Zhiyin Hall, where our lavish banquet unfolded like a theatrical production, that I was introduced to China's Three Kingdoms period. Lily shared that even cadets at West Point study the Three Kingdoms era for its lessons in military strategy, a testament to the period's historical significance. The lengthy conflict among the rival kingdoms of Cao Wei, Shu Han, and Eastern Wu, which lasted from 220 to 280 A.D., remains one of history's most studied military campaigns.
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| Each performer dished out a standout performance |
The "Banquet of the Three Kingdoms" pairs a multi-course feast with a dramatic retelling of this historic era. Costumed performers weave between dining tables as scenes from the epic unfold, transforming history into theater scenes. Before coming to Wuhan, I associated the city almost exclusively with the events of six years ago. By the end of dinner, I found myself thinking instead about Cao Cao, Zhuge Liang, and one of the most debated periods in Chinese history.
At the Yellow Crane Tower, I got my best view of Wuhan. From its upper levels, the Yangtze River cuts through the city as modern skyscrapers stretched toward the horizon. It was easy to see why this hilltop has drawn visitors.
Rebuilt in the early 1980s, the present structure traces its origins to 223 A.D. during the Three Kingdoms period. What began as a military watchtower later evolved into one of China's most celebrated cultural landmarks, mentioned in poetry and literature and visited by generations of scholars, artists, and philosophers.
Looking out over the city, I couldn't help but think about the contrast before me. The same vantage point that once overlooked ancient kingdoms now frames one of China's most modern skylines. It was yet another reminder that Wuhan was far more different than the version I had imagined in my head before arriving.
The rest of my glimpse into Wuhan was spent on city walks and cafe hopping, especially around East Lake Scenic Park, home to what is said to be the largest urban lake in China. What surprised me most wasn't the size of East Lake but how it was being used. On a Wednesday afternoon, families strolled along the waterfront while joggers, cyclists, and readers filled the shaded pathways. It reminded me how much urban life can improve when cities invest in public spaces.
In Hankou, once a separate town before it merged with Wuchang and Hanyang to form modern-day Wuhan in 1927, my architecture-loving self, found endless joy wandering its historic streets. At the intersection of Lanling Road, Dongting Street, and Poyang Street, the triangular-shaped Panoff Mansion immediately caught my eye, along with crowds stopping to photograph the century-old landmark.
Built in the early 1900s by Russian tea merchant J. K. Panoff, the five-story mansion once symbolized Hankou's flourishing China–Russia tea trade. Today, following an award-winning restoration, it anchors Lihuangpi Road, where beautifully preserved heritage buildings have been transformed into cafes, galleries, restaurants, and boutiques. Walking through the district felt like stepping into another era, where traces of Wuhan's cosmopolitan past remain visible in every building façade.
As the rest of the group headed toward the lively shopping street near the Jianghan Customs House, I went the opposite way, making my way to Wuhan's historic Hankow Bund.
The waterfront is lined with surviving late 19th- and early 20th-century landmarks, all well-preserved structures that stand as lasting reminders of the five foreign concessions: the British, French, Germans, Japanese, and Russians, that once helped transform Hankou into one of China's most important inland port cities.
Walking the Bund felt like more than exploring a Chinese city; it felt like leafing through a chapter of colonial history, where British, Russian, Japanese, French, and German architecture still stands side by side.
Of course, when we’re not enjoying formal set meals at well-known restaurants where we were served generous platters of local specialties such as roast duck, along with an array of chicken, pork, and beef dishes accompanied by plenty of vegetables, all eaten with chopsticks, I took every opportunity to explore Wuhan's street food scene.
At Wubu Alley, a 150-meter-long food street, stalls selling grilled skewers, dry and soup noodles, dim sum, roast duck and countless local snacks presented me with the good problem of deciding what to order. I settled on a dry noodle dish with generous toppings of seafood.
Apart from its well-preserved buildings, green spaces, and cycling and walking paths, another thing I envy about Wuhan is its impressive mass transit system. What better way to experience it than by riding the city's suspended monorail?
Also known as the Optics Valley Photon or Sky Train, it became China's first driverless suspended monorail when it began operations in September 2023. The line currently spans 10 kilometers with six stations, while a second phase will extend it to 27 kilometers with a total of 16 stations.
I found that riding the Sky Train is more than just a convenient way to get around. With its expansive glass windows and even a glass-bottom section, it also offers a unique perspective of Wuhan, gliding above streets and through some of the city's most scenic areas.
Before arriving in Wuhan, my view of the city had been shaped by headlines rather than firsthand experience. It didn't take long for that image to fade. Instead, I discovered a city rich in history, green spaces, modern infrastructure, and people simply living their everyday lives.
Travel has always reminded me that no place can be understood from afar. You have to walk its streets, meet its people, and let the destination tell its own story. Wuhan became my introduction to mainland China, and it left me eager to discover more of the country.
A version of this article first appeared on Esquire PH
I booked my group tour via Penville Travel and Tours, contact them for inqiuries.
