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In the early days of this millennium, I graduated university in England and set out for a new life in China. Here, I share the quiet stories of my journey, a chronicle of discovery and displacement, woven into the fabric of a land vast and unfathomable.

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What is Ill Grandeur?

Ill Grandeur is a travelogue that traces my years in China, beginning in the summer of 2004. Fresh from university in England, I arrived with little more than a teaching contract and a sense of curiosity about a country that, at the time, seemed as enigmatic as it was vast. I had ostensibly come to teach English, but what I found was a landscape of contrasts: ancient traditions brushing against the thrum of a modernising nation.

I prefer the term "slow travel", a style of travel writing that seeks to look beyond the surface, delving deeper into the places I visit, the people I meet, and the unspoken moments that shape a journey.

What does Ill Grandeur mean?

The phrase ill grandeur emerged from my early impressions of China. Upon my arrival, I was struck by how the crumbling imperial grandeur of ancient buildings stood in stark contrast to the sleek, ambitious skyscrapers sprouting everywhere. The sense of something once magnificent, now marginalized, was palpable, as the country rapidly moved into the future, leaving behind relics of its past.

Later, the term came to reflect my own uneasy sense of belonging. The word 老师 (lǎoshī), meaning “teacher” or “old master,” was a title I wore uncomfortably. At twenty-one, I was hardly an "old master" in any sense. My official designation, "foreign expert", seemed even more absurd. In truth, the only thing I felt expert in was how to navigate a world where I was always, unmistakably, a foreigner.

Why are you writing Ill Grandeur now?

For years, I lacked the appetite for writing. Perhaps it was the aftertaste of university deadlines, the late nights hunched over textbooks in the dim glow of the library, that soured the act for me. Writing became a task - something to be endured rather than enjoyed.

But time has a way of altering things. Decades later, a wave of nostalgia has settled in, like dust disturbed from forgotten corners. Old photographs, tickets, faded notebooks, and half-forgotten souvenirs found in the loft have stirred something in me - memories I had abandoned, buried beneath the weight of years. And with it, a quiet impulse to put words to them, to capture fragments of a past that otherwise slips away.

So I write, partly to preserve what I still remember, before time erodes it all. But I also write for my children. I want them to know who I was - a young man on an adventure through a world that felt as foreign as it was intoxicating.

If you’d like to come along for the ride, then welcome. The journey, I hope, is as meaningful to you as it is to me.

Where should I start?

Ill Grandeur unfolds chronologically, beginning with my arrival in Beijing during the summer of 2004. The first chapter is available here, should you wish to begin at the beginning. However, I try to craft each entry to stand alone, like a fragment of a larger journey - a miniature exploration of a place, a moment, or an interaction. Each chapter offers its own glimpse into the quiet ebb and flow of travel, where the ordinary becomes extraordinary when observed long enough.

If you're unsure where to start, perhaps try one of the more popular posts, those that seem to resonate most with readers. It may give you a sense of where others have found meaning, and perhaps where you, too, might.

Note on style: Dialogue written in italics indicates conversation in Mandarin Chinese. Non-italicised dialogue is in English.

Photography: All photos are by the author unless otherwise stated.