For May Day 2026, with no long trip planned, I decided on a whim to see Dalian. I’d heard for years that it was modern and clean—a cut above most northern Chinese cities.
My wife’s sister and brother-in-law live there, so this was a rare trip where I didn’t have to build an itinerary. For once, I just followed along.
On May 2, under gray skies and light rain, we went to Fujiazhuang Beach.
We set up a tent. When my brother-in-law heard we were coming, he got a small table and chairs ready.
Out came the gas stove, and then beef and lamb for barbecue.
He knows how to marinate meat. The beef was seasoned through and very tender.
The green chilies were seriously hot. The beef was juicy enough that each bite seemed to burst, and wrapping the two together was deeply satisfying.
We still had a box of meat left and truly couldn’t finish it. There was also a pot, so we ended with buldak noodles.
The water at Fujiazhuang was clear, and the beach was made of small stones. I imagine it looks beautiful on a sunny day.
That evening we drove to Donggang to see the musical fountain. The moving light strips on the buildings were quite good; I liked the blue.
During the May Day holiday there were two shows, 19:40–20:00 and 20:40–21:00. On ordinary days there’s usually just one.
Once the music started, it was time to use the camera. It’s extremely photogenic.
If you arrive early, you can get a front-row spot—though wind may spray you with water. If you’re late, I wouldn’t wedge yourself into the middle; standing farther back gives a wider view.
A fine drizzle began, and the plaza lights turned dreamlike.
After the fountain, a few minutes’ walk took us to Donggang Venice Water City, where lots of stalls were selling snacks.
A squid that size was 15 yuan a skewer. In Beijing, a little stall on a square charges about the same for a few tentacles.
There were also big, smoky skewers nearby. I was tempted, but we’d eaten so much barbecue that afternoon that nobody bought anything.
That packed May 2 was nearly over. One complaint: Dalian hotels were absurdly expensive over the holiday. Even while trying not to downgrade the stay too much and to save where we could, two nights cost more than 900 yuan.
The next morning we ordered delivery from Li Jiutang Doufunao at the Wuyi Square branch. The baked red bean paste pancake was unexpectedly good.
We got up late and didn’t leave the hotel until almost afternoon. On the road I saw an old No. 201 tram, a DL3000 model built in 1935 and still running after nearly a century.
At lunch we went to Riyuesheng and had sea intestine rice and local menzi. The flavors were new to me, and the local dishes were good value.
After eating, we drove toward Xinghai Square.
There were huge holiday crowds and bad traffic, so we didn’t walk around the square. Instead we went for a stroll on the trail along Binhai Middle Road.
Looking at the sea from the hill, I saw a boat sitting still below the cliff. I used a telephoto lens to see what they were doing: sea fishing.
There were many stray cats in the little woods there.
If only I had a small courtyard—I could have lured them all home. Before I knew it, evening came again, and we tried mackerel dumplings. They were full of fragrance.
Back at the hotel that night, I realized there was a district called Dongguan Street nearby. I’m not usually a fan of newly built ancient-style cultural architecture, but since we were there, we took a look. It’s quite suitable for photos and check-ins.
I wanted to sleep early but didn’t manage it. The next day, on the way to North Station, we still had time, so we wandered around Wanjing Street near Dalian Port.
(Argh—dust on the lens.)
Quite a few people were camping by the river and quietly having small barbecues. In the distance, giant ships were being built at the shipyard. The only problem was the wind in Dalian, which kept blowing and blowing.
Two or three days really go fast. We saw quite a few places in a cursory way, and I felt Dalian is a city that rewards slowing down.
Lying in a hammock by the river, I noticed that when we first arrived, the riverbed was still underwater. A few hours later, the rocks that had been submerged emerged. It was the first time I had such a concrete experience of the tide rising and falling.
On May 4, there were no tickets from Dalian back to Beijing, so we had to transfer at Shenyang Station.
A local said Dalian hasn’t changed much in more than ten years. You can feel the glory of the past everywhere, and it made me sigh: opportunities for a city are hard to find, too.
Dalian is lovely. I hope to come back.