Trip Overview
When: December 2025 (winter—sunny but cold nights)
Duration: 4 days
Travelers: Solo female traveler
Budget: ~3,000-4,000 RMB (~$420-560 USD)
Transportation: Flight to Lijiang via Kunming
Day 1: Arrival in Shuhe Ancient Town
After a year-end work crunch, I finally had time to use my remaining annual leave. Scanning China's map—north is too cold, southern water towns are still crowded from the internet conference, I've already visited Yangshuo and Quanzhou—so why not Lijiang? Friends assumed I'd already been, given my restless travel history and Lijiang's fame.
Lijiang is famous for two things: endless online travel guides praising it like heaven on earth (plus those gorgeous photos), and making headlines during peak seasons alongside Sanya. But I'm usually skeptical of over-commercialized tourist traps. However, it's off-season now, and Lijiang has sunshine—worth a try to escape gloomy Guangzhou.
The flight via Kunming landed in brilliant sunshine. As we descended, the famous Jade Dragon Snow Mountain (玉龙雪山) came into view. I'd booked a quieter inn in Shuhe Town (束河镇), and the driver picked me up. The innkeeper's first reaction: "You came alone?" Apparently solo female travelers aren't uncommon here—I saw several on my flight.
I had zero intention of visiting Jade Dragon Snow Mountain—too touristy, and I'd heard about altitude sickness. When the driver asked if I wanted to go, I said I had altitude issues. He asked if I felt uncomfortable now. Lijiang's altitude is only 2,400 meters—should be fine, right? (Spoiler: I was wrong.)
The Blue Moon Valley (蓝月谷) is bundled with the mountain ticket, so I skipped it. The innkeeper was from Northeast China and had equipped the rooms with exceptional heating—cold-air and hot-air AC, heated toilet seats, plenty of hot water. Nights drop to -4°C, but the traditional Naxi courtyard's enclosed structure keeps rooms warm without turning on the heater.
Shuhe was incredibly quiet in the evening—barely a soul on the streets. I found a small restaurant for grilled fish and rice. The downside of traveling alone: I couldn't finish it all. At night, Shuhe is freezing cold, yet shop owners should really be home in their warm beds. Empty cobblestone streets, half-open shops, hanging red lanterns, silent moonlight—now THIS has atmosphere.
Reality check: The inn's front desk guy had the heater blasting while drinking tea in a t-shirt. I stood in the courtyard admiring the moonlight before washing up and messaging my husband about the day's lodging. Then I bundled under the covers to sleep.
Day 2: Exploring Shuhe on Horse
Sunlight didn't hit the courtyard until 8-9 AM. I took my time getting ready, wrapped on my scarf, and went out for breakfast. Regardless of anything else, Lijiang's sky is truly blue—that pure highland blue, making the perfect backdrop for photos. Looking at that pure sky, breathing that pure air—my appetite kicked in.
Shuhe Ancient Town (束河古镇) has a similar layout to Dayan (大研), with houses scattered and streams running through. Because there aren't many tourists and someone always cleans, the water stays relatively clear. I sat by the stream at a breakfast stall, eating hot rice noodles in the cold morning, watching school children and shopkeepers opening up for the day.
I wandered aimlessly along the stream. Shuhe was once an important station on the Tea Horse Road (茶马古道), nestled between mountains and water. I love the architecture here—every household has a courtyard with comfortable seating to sunbathe, drink tea, admire the blue sky and vibrant flowers. But when I realized most buildings are either shops or inns with artistic signs, and there aren't many original residents left, that leisure feels somewhat contrived.
Crossing Sifang Square (四方街), I watched couples shivering in beautiful wedding dresses for photos at Dashi Bridge (大石桥). Then I followed the creek to Longtan Temple (龙潭寺). I wanted to climb the mountain for a panoramic town view, but halfway up, there was no one around. It was nearly Chinese New Year, and I remembered my husband's warning: "Be careful out there..." I turned back.
Heading back, I visited the Tea Horse Road Museum (茶马古道博物馆). The exhibits didn't excite me much, but the blooming ancient plum trees were a delightful surprise.
Tea Horse Road Museum
Almost every household in town has dogs—various breeds, all sizes, countless cute ones that serve as shop mascots. These dogs are as laid-back as the locals here, not as wary as city dogs. And they're greedy! A pampered dog with food security still begging for snacks—if you meet them in the morning or with food (not necessarily bones), they'll come right up. I saw two beautifully dressed poodles outside a shop, staring enviously at a child eating snacks. Ridiculously cute and funny.
After basking in the sun all afternoon, I went back to the inn for a rest—then realized I'd forgotten to apply sunscreen! Ahhh... my face. As I dozed off, I started feeling body aches. The altitude sickness had arrived.
When the sun set, I went out for dinner. Not feeling well, I wanted soup—ordered local chicken soup. Yunnan cuisine tends to be salty. Having visited Yunnan several times, I'm not particularly fond of the food. Cantonese (like me) are spoiled when it comes to eating—hard to impress.
The restaurant owner's kids were running around—they have that highland flush on their cheeks. Prices here are commercialized—not necessarily gouging, but not cheap either. Groups of tourists dining would glance at me eating alone. I don't mind eating alone, but it's wasteful when you can't finish. If only there was a dog across from me. Walking back, I bought two handmade necklaces. Shop owners here love saying: "We don't bargain here." So un-Chinese—haggling is half the shopping fun! If you want a discount, do your homework to know the real price; they'll only budge when they know you know the market.
Shuhe isn't that big—once you know the directions, you always find your way back. Walking here feels like being in a movie set—you can photograph any scene you want, but there's no real substance. If Shuhe is a town losing its essence with just a shell left, then the famous Lijiang Ancient Town (大研古城)—Dayan—is completely a commercial marketplace. More on that later.
玉龙雪山
Day 3: Moving to Dayan (Lijiang Ancient Town)
Sleep was poor—half dreaming, half awake. I got up to explore before heading to Dayan. Now I understood the town's layout better—toward Sifang Square, across Dashi Bridge, then up the hillside. On my way back, I visited the museum again for the plum blossoms, then looked at Jade Dragon Snow Mountain (玉龙雪山) from the parking lot.
Everything here is either a shop or inn. Looking at the tourist numbers, I wondered if they could all survive. I saw many shops and inns with "for transfer" signs. Running a business isn't vacation—no matter how grand the dream, reality bites.
Heading back, I spotted a taxi and flagged it down. In Shuhe, minivans cater to tourists going to Jade Dragon Snow Mountain or Lashui Sea. The driver said Shuhe to Dayan costs at least 30 yuan by van, but taxi only 20. Taxis pick up passengers in Dayan and come back. He helped load my luggage and invited me to come back.
The driver complained that Lijiang people are far from simple anymore—even Shuhe has changed. He just brought a passenger, and when someone wanted to get in his car, the van drivers blocked him. He'd have to drive back empty without me. He also talked about peak season—prices skyrocketing, crowds everywhere. During Golden Week, his friend brought visitors to Lashui Sea for horse riding—more people than horses, fighting to ride. I could imagine but couldn't understand why anyone would deliberately suffer like that. Better stay home. But maybe everyone has different interpretations of travel—some just need to "have been."
The taxi dropped me near my booked inn and took 20 yuan, kindly warning: "Don't expect too much." I searched online for inns in Dayan—reviews were similar. I chose one supposedly run by a friend's relative, already paid through Ctrip. When I called, they said the place had just transferred ownership! Luckily, the new owners said they could host at the original price. I called Ctrip—they apologized and refunded plus gave me compensation equal to the room rate. Good service.
The inn was at the edge of Lijiang Ancient Town—convenient transportation, not too noisy. A small courtyard with Lijiang's delicate decoration. I was on the first floor. My altitude sickness peaked—aching shoulders, whole body weak. Tried napping, but the cleaner played music outside. Couldn't sleep, started wishing for tomorrow's return flight.
Still, I went out. It was still sunny. Walking into the ancient town, the crowds grew. Chinese tourist spots all have the same vibe—busy, all ages. Dayan is毫不例外地就是一个集市—a marketplace. Streets full of shops selling similar things—ethnic costumes, handicrafts, hand drums, and recently popular flower cakes. Looking at these shops, you sense the original essence is gone—now it's at best a larger, prettier commercial district.
When I climbed the hill for a town panorama, my thinking was confirmed. There's some kind of temple or Taoist site—I saw a stone tablet marking it as a cultural relic. I went in and found a good viewpoint with tables and chairs. As I walked up to take photos, a beautiful woman sitting there stood up: "We have tea and juice." Oh, I see—she wanted me to buy something. I didn't want anything, just photos. She stared at me intently, so I nervously took a few quick shots and left.
Wanted to look inside, but at the entrance, someone peeked out: "Tea or juice?" I felt like I'd walked into the wrong place—is this a temple or a shop?
Coming down from the mountain and exiting the town, I thought about dinner. Found a restaurant on Dianping, but had to walk back into the old town. Someone stopped me: "Do you have the ancient town protection fee ticket?" What? No one asked when I came in! Looking around, at this time, every entrance to the old town had people checking. So this is the golden time to collect. I had to call the inn for directions, then took a bus back.
For most tourists' highlight—nightlife and "romantic encounters" at bars—I'm not interested. Better find sleep to gather energy for going home tomorrow. Near the inn, I found a local restaurant for cured rib hotpot—still couldn't finish it.
That night, between dreams, a group of young people who'd been drinking came back to the courtyard, laughing loudly, excited, flirting. I feel like tourist spots nationwide follow similar patterns—shops, bars, hotels—gathering young people with beautiful dreams. I think I'm getting old—I just want peace in places with mountains and water.
Day 4: Mufu Palace and Departure
I had half a day left. Since I'm here, I should visit a landmark—the Mufu Palace (木王府). Morning in Lijiang is really cold. Dayan Ancient Town is a World Cultural Heritage site. Though I think this heritage isn't very "cultural," the town's structure has its characteristics—some sense of small bridges and flowing water. The buildings are now even more refined by businesses—wooden doors and windows, courtyard lounges with tea sets, various decorations—somewhat contrived but comfortable.
This morning when entering the old town, I noticed ticket checkers at the路口—but maybe because it's early with few tourists, they didn't actually check. But to enter Mufu Palace, you must show the 80-yuan ancient town protection fee ticket. I stood at the ticket window thinking: paying protection fees for such poorly protected towns is reluctantly parting with money, but probably won't happen again.
Today's Mufu Palace is actually a modern building—rebuilt after the 1997 Lijiang earthquake. Though rebuilt, it's still the representative building in the old town.
TV dramas "Mufu Palace Storm" (木府风云) and "King Qian" (钱王) were filmed here. In "Mufu Palace Storm," Korean actress Choi Ji-yeon played the pretty and delicate Aleqiu (阿勒邱). In history, she was actually a hardworking, strong woman. Because in Naxi culture, women did the work while men studied at home—so women were valued for being strong and capable.
阿勒邱画像
Mufu Palace has free guides, but they also push tea during the tour—very Lijiang. However, learning about Mufu Palace history is interesting, and you can climb the hill for a panoramic old town view. The "Tianyu Liufang" (天雨流芳) plaque in front—unfamiliar visitors might think it's elegant Chinese, but this graceful phrase is actually the Naxi pronunciation for "Go read books."
After exiting Mufu Palace, I wandered aimlessly through the old town, going where fewer people gather. Here too, every household is either a shop or inn—original residents have apparently moved to the new town. Sometimes I think different soils nurture different people—not everyone chases visible profits. This involves local government management and individual choices.
I occasionally saw locals processing something like medicinal herbs—it turned out to be maca (玛卡), once heavily hyped but now largely forgotten. Lijiang is one of maca's main production areas, but because of over-marketing, too many people grew it, effects weren't as miraculous as claimed, and prices plummeted.
Zigzagging back to the inn, I sat in the courtyard sunshine waiting for time to leave. Chatting with the front desk girl—she said she was originally a doctor from Ya'an, quit due to work exhaustion, came to Lijiang, still recovering from altitude sickness after a few days. Her story: "Heard Lijiang is nice..." Another young person with beautiful fantasies. But youth is wonderful—they can dream and make mistakes, be impulsive. People like me "without confusion" have fewer chances to make mistakes or be impulsive.
The owner called me a car—80 yuan to the airport. I dragged my luggage out slowly. Lijiang's sunlight is still intense, sky still blue—it's not unbeautiful here, but beautiful scenery alone isn't enough to make people linger. Time to go home.