52 Hours in Xiamen: Auntie Stampede, Foot Pain and Pistachio Milk Tea
Stop five of the 9-city sprint through post-COVID South China.
Arrival: Night Moves & No Breaks
After a long train from Guangzhou, I arrived in Xiamen late at night.
Still limping from Achilles surgery.
Still pretending this trip was โhealing.โ
Still dragging one foot like a cursed pirate trying to escape his past.
โ
Morning Chaos: Passport Regret Speedrun
Woke up early, determined to hit Gulangyu Island.
Taxi to the ferry terminal.
Arrive at the booth to buy a ticket, realized I forgot my passport. ๐ฎโ๐จ
Took a taxi back, Grabbed the document.
Came back, social smile, limping to the ticket window.
Managed to snag one of the last afternoon ferry tickets. Victory? Barely.
โ
๐๏ธ Gulangyu Island: Beautiful. Evil. I Was Not Ready.
The island is stunning.
European-style architecture. Trees swaying. Ocean breeze.
Which wouldโve been perfectโฆ
If my shoes werenโt actively trying to saw my ankles off.
I limped through cobblestone alleys.
I made it to the giant Zheng Chenggong statue.
Climbed the stairs like a man carrying 100 regrets in a backpack.
Posed for a photo. Smiled through pain.
Victory achieved. Spirit broken.
๐ธ๐ฟ๐ง ๐
โ
THE GATE OPENS โ WAR BEGINS
When the return ferry boarding gate opened, the atmosphere flipped:
Elders locked in.
This wasnโt boarding โ it was Hunger Games: Xiamen Edition.
"ๅฟซๆฅๅฟซๆฅๆๅธฎไฝ ๅ ไฝ็ฝฎ!!"
Uncles sprinted.
Aunties summoned reinforcements via WeChat voice memos.
Phones out. Bags flying. ๐ต๐ฒ๐๐โโ๏ธ๐จ
Meanwhile, Iโm moving at 0.6 km/hr while aunties and uncles bounce of my shoulders and biceps
Spiritually drained, I make it to a seat like a man who just won custody of his children.
Then โ a sweaty uncle appears.
Points at the seat next to me like heโs about to pitch a merger.
He wants me to move? Idk, social battery zero.
Then I look him in the eyes โ and he sees it.
The madness. The limp. The rage beneath the calm.
He nods. Sits next to me.
Respect. โ
๐ค๐ง
Halfway across the sea, uncle breaks the silence.
He initiates the sacred expat ritual:
ไฝ ๅชๅฝไบบ๏ผ๐
ๆฅไธญๅฝๅคไน ๅฆ๏ผ๐
ไฝ ๅไปไนๅทฅไฝ๏ผ๐ผ
ๆไธญๅฝ่ๅฉๅ๏ผ๐
I answer like a seasoned foreign NPC.
He nods, satisfied.
We both stare at the water.
Two tired soldiers. Same war. Different battles. ๐ง ๐๐ง๐ซ
โ
Zhongshan Street Redemption Arc
Feet aching, but curiosity intact, I headed to Zhongshan Road.
Snack heaven. Neon chaos.
I ate purple yam duck cutlet. Grabbed a random stir-fry bowl.
And a pistachio milk tea from โOpen Space.โ
Did I need it? No.
Was it divine? Also no.
But it iโm just here for the vibe.
And at that point, I was collecting small wins like rare Pokรฉmon. ๐ฏ
โ
Final Verdict
Xiamen gave me:
โข Passport plot twists ๐
โข Island ghost-walking ๐งโโ๏ธ
โข Auntie survival trial ๐ข๐ช
โข Snack-fueled redemption ๐ ๐ฅค
โข Pistachio milk tea confusion ๐ถโ๐ซ๏ธ
โข A reminder to always wear good shoes ๐
This was Stop 5 of my 9-city sprint across post-COVID China.
One city ๐๏ธ. One story ๐. 52 hours โฑ๏ธ at a time.
Next up: Guilin.
Spoiler: river boat cruise, scenic mountain views and scooter chaos.