Sightseeing in China: not for the impatient & claustrophobic

China – February 2026

It’s the second day of the Lunar New Year in China when I set out on the quest to see the famous Terracotta Army of Qin Shi Huang in Xi’an. Created over 2,200 years ago and buried with emperor Qin, this huge collection of life-sized clay soldiers was meant to guard him in the afterlife. Discovered by local farmers in 1974, the site reveals thousands of remarkably detailed figures depicting warriors, horses, and chariots. Each differing in rank and appearance. With more than 8,000 soldiers spread across multiple pits, the Terracotta Army offers a powerful glimpse into China’s first imperial dynasty and is one of the country’s top tourist attractions. If even people from overseas know about this place, I expect many domestic visitors; and it’s the local peak travel season too. However, as usual I decide the exact day for my outing very spontaneously. So as I check the ticket availability online on the metro to the museum, I’m not surprised to see that there are none for sale anymore. But by now I’ve already left the city premises and am too lazy to turn around. I smoothly make the transfer to the bus and just hope for the best once I get off at the final destination.

The first interaction with a local guide isn’t reassuring: when I say that I don’t need her services and that I am only looking for the ticket office, she immediately tells me that there are none available. Taking this as a scheme to get me to book her after all, I politely say goodbye and follow the crowd to what looks like the entrance gates. Here, my confidence in my chances to actually see the warriors today drop drastically. The size of the crowds and the number of tour groups is larger than I’ve ever experienced before. As I walk up to the closed doors of the ticket office, another lady approaches me. She too offers her guide services, before telling me that the tickets are sold out for today. Just as she suggests that she might be able to get me in after all for a small extra fee, another man joins us. He asks the lady wether I’m a foreigner, which she confirms. Feeling bad because I’ve come such a long way to visit the museum, he finally opens the door to the office for me and grants me special permission to buy a ticket after all.

I pay the equivalent of 10 dollars and join the line to get my passport scanned at the automatic entrance gate. As always in China, the ticket information is directly linked to the visitors’ official government ID. Once my permission to enter has been confirmed, ‘m allowed to walk into the museum grounds. At first it appears, that the crowds scatter across the large compound. However, it soon becomes clear that everyone has the same goal: visiting pit 1, which is home to the biggest number of intact warrior statues. Once I pass the second security check, all I can really do is to blend in with the crowd and go with the flow. I’m pretty sure the maximum visitor capacity of 65’000 per day has been reached on this particular Thursday. The sea of people gathering on the square in front of the main excavation sites is sheer endless and every visitor seems to belong to one of the tourguides holding up various kinds of colourful flags and other props like umbrellas. At this point I’m already kinda over it and only want to get the visit done with.

The experience quickly becomes more of a ticking off a bucket list item, rather than actually learning about the events behind the monument. And I suspect that it’s the same for most of the visitors on that day. Everyone is shoving their way along the metal fences and families do their best not to get separated. Some people shout into their phones, others loudly clear their throat and a few even try to skip the lines by squeezing past security officers. With people pushing from all sides, even I start to feel a little claustrophobic and I’m not usually too bothered by crowds. However, I’m already too far in and there is no other way than to keep moving wherever the wave of people takes me. Then, 45 minutes in, I can finally recognize the remaining course of the queue. We’re redirected through a narrower channel of metal fences and with a bit of active queueing and passing people who are waiting for family members to catch up, I swiftly move to the entrance of the giant building housing pit 1. Of course there is another security check. And then I’m in.

By the time I catch a first glance of the terracotta soldiers I’m quite exhausted. But after all, this is what I was queueing for. So I join yet another mass of people circling the excavated soldiers on the walkway hovering about 1 meter above the terracotta statues’ heads. Taking proper pictures requires more pushing and shoving to reach the front of the narrow balcony. Even though I’m interested in the history behind the site, I can’t bring myself to read more than one of the explanatory signs fastened onto the railing. After about 10 minutes I finally exit the first building and head over to the less crowded pits 2 and 3. However, by now the constant exposure to people has drawn too much of my energy and I can’t bring myself to fully absorb the environment. So, 30 minutes later I’m on my way out, vowing not to do any more sightseeing in China.

Honourable mentions of tourists attractions I survived in this massive country before: visiting the Panda Research Centre in Chengdu & riding a bicycle along Erhai Lake in Dali. The first was actually a much more pleasant experience than Xi’an. Many people come to see specific animals like Hua Hua & He Ye who have reached somewhat of a celebrity status. So their enclosures do tend to get crowded. But if you’re happy to stick with the “regular” fur-balls, you’ll have plenty of space to yourself and are not rushed to take pictures. Erhai Lake is yet another story. The small paths along the shore are restricted to pedestrians, bicycles and scooters rented from the shops within the vicinity of the lake. However, even with those rules in place, especially on sunny days, the number of people who flock to the lake is high. And the number of people on bicycles who don’t know how to ride them is high too. So it’s not exactly the walk in the park you may be looking for, but you’re rather dodging potential accidents at all times. I still very much enjoyed my time in Dali tho: read more about it here.