It was summer 2024, and I was planning a last-minute trip to Vietnam. Since there is no direct flight from Barcelona to the country at the moment, I was assessing different options to get there, and the cheapest one included a stopover in Shenzhen (China). This option would give me one full day in the city, as the plane would arrive at 7 a.m. and the connecting flight would leave at 9 p.m. I had never heard of the city, but I checked online and found that—for nationals of some countries—you can enter China visa-free if you have a connecting flight leaving from the same airport you arrived at within 72 hours. So, I didn’t hesitate and booked it.
I consider myself pretty well-traveled, and despite having been to Asia before, it was my first time in China. I was aware I wasn’t going to one of the main tourist spots in the country, such as Beijing or Shanghai, but rather to a fairly unknown city with seemingly little to do. Still, I was curious to visit this huge metropolis of over 17 million inhabitants.
The first thing I remember thinking when I got there, still on the plane, was, “This place is gigantic.” From the plane window, even several minutes before landing, one could see an endless expanse of skyscrapers, roads, and more skyscrapers. The immensity was continuously expanding, as it seemed that everything was under construction. This makes sense since Shenzhen experienced massive growth within the last 40 years. Before it was designated as China’s first Special Economic Zone—an experimental area for foreign investment and market-driven policies—in the 1980s, it was a fishing village with a population of only 300,000. In 2024, it will be an industrial and financial megacity housing giants like Huawei, Tencent, and BYD, emerging as a symbol of the country's reform and opening-up. As some say, China’s "Silicon Valley."
I also had the early impression that I was entering a futuristic dimension, starting with the metro I took from the airport to the city center. On the platform, screens at each entrance door show not only when the next train is arriving but also the occupancy rate of each car and even the temperature inside. Trust me, you don’t want to choose the cold ones because it’s freezing in there. Once inside, as if in a Black Mirror episode, there was no interaction among people at all. Everyone was in silence, looking at their smartphone screens. That silence extended to the street, where all the vehicles were electric. I’m not exaggerating—cars, taxis, buses, and motorbikes were all electrically powered. Of course, most of them were Chinese brands, such as BYD, the market leader, although I did spot some Volkswagens and Teslas.
But amidst the futuristic sheen, there was an inescapable sense of being watched. There were cameras everywhere, and surveillance was also done through your phone. Almost everything you do must be done through an app called AliPay; credit cards don’t work in China unless they’re linked to an AliPay account. This app is used for every transaction and every trip by metro, taxi, or bus. Almost every activity requires you to scan your AliPay code, the dominant app for both financial transactions and identity verification. So, there’s this feeling that "they"—without knowing exactly who “they” are—know exactly where you are, with whom, and what you’re doing at every moment.
Despite this technological oasis, it’s easy to feel isolated. Virtually isolated, as none of the American apps work in China. You got it right—no WhatsApp, no Google Maps, no Instagram, no email. I was glad I had been foresighted enough to buy an eSIM with an integrated VPN back home. Even with the VPN, Maps wasn’t useful at all, as no data was entered there.
I also felt physically isolated. I was traveling solo, and I’m not exaggerating when I say I didn’t see another non-Asian person the entire day. I felt watched all the time. Occasionally, especially children, would come up to me, say hello, and ask for pictures—with sign language. But most of the time, it felt as though locals didn’t quite trust me. This is probably uncommon in places that are used to tourists, but that wasn’t the case in Shenzhen. The language barrier didn’t help either; no one spoke English—not even a word. Thankfully, Google Translate worked with the VPN, so I could get help when needed.
After a long day—preceded by a long flight—in China, I felt both physically and mentally exhausted. And soaked, as rain hit hard in the evening, and at some point, it felt as if the world was ending. But what didn’t end was my fascination and curiosity about China. As my plane took off, with the skyscrapers shrinking below, I knew I'd be back for more than just a layover.