If you can't view the above video, you can watch it on my YouTube channel.
Standing above the main square in Linhai, the cacophony rises through the darkness. Traditional Chinese music mixes with bassy pop bangers, the rhythmic clapping of synchronised dancers competing with the mournful lament of two-string erhu violins. Sharp pops of shuttlecocks against racquets.
To my left, children whirl around on miniature motorised cars, complete with lights and cutesy C-pop soundtrack. To my right, elderly men spin old-fashioned spinning tops, the cracks of their whips audible over the hubbub. Welcome to a typical evening in a typical Chinese city.
One of the things I loved most about living in China was how people used parks and public squares. These weren't just empty spaces between buildings - they were the heart of community life, alive with activity from dawn to well past dusk.
In cities around the country, you'd stumble across the same delightful chaos: huge synchronised dance routines happening alongside ballroom dancing couples, badminton games weaving between tai chi practitioners, card games in the corners while someone practiced violin nearby. Often all at once, in the same space.
What struck me wasn't just the variety of activities, but how naturally they coexisted. No one was competing for space or complaining about noise - they were sharing it. Grandparents teaching grandchildren to dance, teenagers joining in with pensioners' card games, amateur musicians performing for anyone who'd listen.
These spaces were free, open to all, and buzzing with life at any hour. I could spend ages just watching the organised chaos unfold, soaking up the energy and community spirit.
It's something I genuinely miss - China’s public spaces that aren't just designed for looking at, but for living in.
#ChinaMemories #SixYearsInChina #China
This article originally appeared as a post on my LinkedIn profile.
