During my journey through China, I set out from Beijing for Pingyao, one of the country's best-preserved historic cities. I left the luggage I did not need at my Beijing hotel, planning to collect it on my return, and took an early taxi to Beijing West railway station before the morning traffic became heavy. My route involved a high-speed train to Taiyuan followed by a local train to Pingyao. Even the journey itself would become part of my photographic memories of China.
Beijing West was a spacious, modern station, with bright platforms and illuminated boards showing departure information. After the ticket and passport checks, I found my platform on the third level. The ticket identified the train, carriage, seat and departure time, and there was another check before boarding. A member of the train staff helped me find a separate space for my heavy luggage. The ticket to Taiyuan cost 195 yuan, approximately 65 Turkish lira at the exchange rate I noted at the time.
The high-speed train was comfortable and remarkably efficient. It covered the approximately 500-kilometre route to Taiyuan in two hours and fifty-five minutes, reaching speeds of up to 305 kilometres per hour. We passed through tunnels without any noticeable loss of speed. At Taiyuan, however, I transferred to a very different kind of train, one that stopped frequently and carried the everyday rhythms of regional travel.
The local journey to Pingyao covered about 100 kilometres but took roughly two hours. People boarded and left at each station; some stood in the aisles, while others travelled with bags, sacks and containers. There was no special compartment for my large suitcase, so I had to find room for it myself. Nor were there electronic displays announcing the approaching stations. A railway employee called out the names in Chinese. When I thought I heard 'Pingyao', I looked questioningly at the young man opposite me. He nodded, and I hurried to gather my belongings and get off.
I noticed many details of train travel along the way: the attendants, the clean toilets and the hot and cold drinking-water taps. Almost everyone seemed to carry a flask of green tea, refilling it with hot water throughout the journey. A woman in a uniform-like outfit moved through the carriage demonstrating and selling trouser belts. Her lively sales presentation reminded me of the vendors on Istanbul's ferries. These small encounters were as memorable to me as the distance travelled.
Pingyao's old city is surrounded by imposing Ming-dynasty walls, largely rebuilt in 1370. The historic street plan, shops, courtyard houses and public buildings preserve much of the urban character of the Ming and Qing periods. The city grew into an important commercial and banking centre, particularly during the Qing dynasty, and its historic core was inscribed on the UNESCO World Heritage List in 1997. The walls, gates and narrow streets make the settlement feel distinct from the rapidly changing cities I had seen elsewhere in China.
My hotel was inside the walled town. Because vehicles could not take me all the way to the building, the taxi left me near an entrance and I continued on foot. The hotel occupied a traditional Chinese courtyard house, with timber structures opening onto an enclosed central space. I liked the thought of sleeping in a building that belonged to the city's older architectural fabric. Other historic houses had similarly found new uses as museums, restaurants and guesthouses.
I bought a three-day admission ticket for the historic attractions, which cost 120 yuan at the time of my visit, and tried to see as much as I could. I walked along the city walls and visited former administrative buildings, a courtroom and old banking premises. Each place revealed another part of the city's social and economic history, from the officials who governed it to the merchants and financiers who connected Pingyao with distant regions.
One of the most unusual places I encountered was a temple associated with the cycle of rebirth. The approach included figures representing the twelve animals of the Chinese zodiac. Among the sculptures I remember a mother holding babies, with other figures carrying newborn children nearby. The imagery was unfamiliar to me, and I spent time looking closely at the figures and their arrangement before photographing them.
What I remember most about Pingyao is the contrast between movement and continuity. The fast train from Beijing, the slower regional railway, the crowded carriage and the quiet courtyard of my hotel belonged to the same journey. Inside the old walls, the architecture offered traces of an earlier China, while the streets continued to accommodate the everyday life of the present. My photographs are a record of both.