After the most extraordinary adventure across China, our final days softened into something quieter in Jinxi. We stayed with family, settling into the gentle rhythm of a water town that has endured for over 2,500 years. Less visited than its neighbouring towns, Jinxi is peaceful, unhurried and has the charming energy of a countryside village.

For somewhere so vast, modern and developed, Chengdu has a calmness to it. Life feels slower. People are open, warm and generous with their time. You’ll find huge, glossy shopping malls, but also quiet teahouses, shaded streets and small pockets of tradition tucked into the middle of it all. It’s a city of contrasts in the best way.

Leaving Chongqing for the Wulong Karst National Geology Park felt like stepping out of the city and into something much older and quieter. The drive takes around three hours, and it’s worth paying attention the whole way. Chongqing’s dense skyline gives way to mountains and then these dramatic limestone formations.

Chongqing is a punch to the senses. It doesn’t build gradually or ease you in. It arrives all at once in light and heat and movement, a city that seems to hum from the ground up. Neon cuts through the haze, towers rise out of the mountains and everything feels heightened. The spice sits in the air as much as on the tongue. The warmth comes from both the people and the climate, which in summer is almost unrelenting. It is one of my favourite places on earth.

I spent months fretting ahead of our trip to China. In truth, I think it was because I had never been so excited about going anywhere in my life. That kind of anticipation has a way of turning on you; I became convinced that something would go wrong. The visa would be rejected, the flights cancelled, the rains would set in and undo it all. I almost wouldn’t let myself feel excited about what I knew felt like a dream.