Imagine a city whose population exploded 500-fold in roughly 30 years. A city drawing young people and entrepreneurs from across China and the globe, hailed as a mecca for drone development and smartphone production. A city with remarkably few senior citizens. A city where Mandarin, the common tongue, prevails over traditional dialects. A city where the Internet of Things is woven into the fabric of daily life. A city boasting a stunningly massive international airport.
This is Shenzhen, China. But what does such a rapidly evolving metropolis offer the curious traveler? Guided by this simple question, I found myself wandering its streets again after several years away.
Shenzhen sits at the southern tip of South China, just north of Hong Kong. For this trip from Japan, I opted for the Hong Kong route. While Shenzhen Airlines operates direct flights from Narita to Shenzhen Bao’an International Airport, after some deliberation, I booked with HK Express – ever the cost-conscious traveler. Crossing the border from Hong Kong to mainland China is a process I’m familiar with; the distances and time involved are second nature, so I anticipated no issues.
Packed primarily with passengers from Hong Kong and mainland China, the late-night flight buzzed with the energy of Japan-bound travelers before arriving at Hong Kong International Airport in the pre-dawn hours. I noticed the ferry terminal for Shekou in Shenzhen, located before Hong Kong immigration – a way to enter mainland China directly, bypassing Hong Kong’s entry and exit procedures. However, the limited ferry schedule and higher cost made it impractical. I stuck to the plan: enter Hong Kong, then take the Airport Express and MTR subway system towards the border. I had plenty of time, and it’s the more economical option.
Alighting at Lo Wu, the final MTR station, I followed the flow of people and soon reached the border area separating Hong Kong from mainland China. Inside the border facility, the Hong Kong exit point features more automated e-Channel gates (which registered visitors can use) than staffed counters. On the Chinese side, entry relies mainly on staffed counters, preceded by a mandatory ten-fingerprint scan at designated machines. Despite the procedures, the scenery on both sides feels remarkably similar – less like a tense international border and more like a checkpoint managing the flow of people. The atmosphere is surprisingly relaxed.
After completing the formalities, I stepped onto mainland soil. I recall how, in the past, crossing at Lo Wu meant an immediate, jarring shift in atmosphere: dusty, a bit rough around the edges, and frankly, not very clean. Shady characters would linger, and unlicensed taxi drivers would solicit fares. English vanished, and the feeling of having truly arrived in mainland China hit you instantly. That was the norm. Today, however, the jarring transition is mostly gone. I wouldn’t go so far as to say it’s homogenized (lest I offend some Hongkongers), but the impression is that the gap between the two sides has narrowed significantly.
From the Luohu subway station on the Shenzhen side, I headed towards my hotel in the city center. A few stops later, I emerged from Huaqiang Road station and was immediately struck by the height of the surrounding buildings, the width of the streets, and the sheer volume of traffic. I quickly realized that the mental map I’d formed from looking at maps beforehand was completely out of scale. Everything is just massive. After walking a much longer distance than anticipated, I finally reached my hotel, located on the third floor of a mixed-use building with a shipping supply company on the ground floor.
My accommodation was budget-friendly, about $20 USD per night. Considering hotel rates in Shenzhen are generally less than half of Hong Kong’s, this doesn’t necessarily mean low quality. It felt akin to a modest, independently run business hotel in a smaller Japanese city – the essentials were there, prioritizing cleanliness over luxury, though the towel quality and a faint smell in the bathroom were minor disappointments.
The hotel’s location was near the Huaqiangbei area – often dubbed “China’s Akihabara” by Japanese visitors – making it a convenient base for exploring. During check-in, upon learning I was staying for multiple nights, they offered me an upgrade. It wasn’t much – just a larger window, perhaps two meters square instead of one – but it was a thoughtful gesture. I gratefully accepted, dropped my bags, and immediately set out to explore the famed electronics district.
The “Akihabara” comparison quickly dissolves in the face of Huaqiangbei’s immense scale. The area itself feels several times larger, with towering, modern buildings easily three times the height of those in its Tokyo counterpart. The dominant impression isn’t retail shops selling finished products, but rather wholesalers dealing in electronic components, parts, and gadgets. Countless small stalls seemed dedicated solely to applying protective films to smartphone screens, likely catering to repair businesses. Others were buying stacks of these display panels in bulk. It felt as if components for the entire world’s electronics flowed through Huaqiangbei.
This raw energy and speed act like a magnet, drawing buyers from around the globe. Indeed, back at my hotel, I noticed many guests who appeared to be buyers, not just from within China but also from places like the Middle East. They reportedly fly in for whirlwind trips, sometimes just overnight, working at a frenetic pace to source parts and negotiate prices. International shipping counters are ubiquitous throughout the district. In the hotel elevator, I overheard a local woman ask another guest, “Are you here from Pakistan to buy smartphones? I can introduce you to a wholesaler I know.” In such a fast-paced city, my plan to leisurely stroll the streets for several days must have seemed unusual. Perhaps that (along with their own logistical reasons) explained the unexpected room upgrade – I sensed a hint of curiosity.
Driven by the common purpose of business, people in the area are generally friendly. English proficiency is limited, but as is often the case in economically vibrant places, the intuitive sense of danger is low. Amidst this bustle, I suddenly realized the near-total absence of Japanese brand signs. Only the logos of two major camera manufacturers and the ramen chain Ajisen (known for its aggressive Asian expansion) were visible. It felt like a stark illustration of the shifting tides in the electronics industry.
The next day, wanting to delve deeper into the city’s history, I took the subway to the Shenzhen Museum, located in the heart of the new downtown area. The vast, planned space around the Civic Center is dotted with enormous public buildings whose designs resemble colossal modern art installations. Their scale and presence are overwhelming, unlike anything I’d seen elsewhere. Astonishingly, all of this was built on virtually empty land within the last 30 years.
The museum chronicles the region’s history chronologically: from ancient human settlement and the peak of traditional Chinese culture, through the British colonial era (of Hong Kong), the Japanese occupation during WWII, the Communist revolution, and finally, from Shenzhen’s designation as a Special Economic Zone in the 1970s to the present day. An overwhelming amount of documents, artifacts, and exhibits are on display. As the timeline approaches the modern era, an understandable, perhaps, state narrative emphasizing government achievements becomes more prominent. Nonetheless, it offers a fascinating and detailed look at Shenzhen’s dramatic transformation since the 1970s.
According to the exhibits, Shenzhen’s development as a Special Economic Zone was a top-down government initiative, concentrating the nation’s resources. A fishing village of around 30,000 people mushroomed into a metropolis of 14 million in about three decades – the birth of the “world’s fastest-growing city.” This incredible urban construction and economic boom, dubbed “Shenzhen Speed,” became a model for modernization across China. This narrative is hammered home relentlessly through exhibits, text, photos, and videos. The final hall, showcasing drones and VR goggles as the latest products, left a lasting impression.
Feeling slightly fatigued by the official narrative overdose at the museum, I sought refuge in a nearby park (also enormous) to simply watch people pass by. Joggers, yoga practitioners, groups practicing traditional Chinese dance or sword forms, individuals rehearsing on traditional instruments – people were enjoying the space in their own ways, individually or in groups. A peaceful atmosphere prevailed.
The city’s expansion fueled massive internal migration within China. Consequently, Mandarin, the national common language, is predominantly spoken in Shenzhen, rather than the local Cantonese dialect (also spoken in Hong Kong). Life here involves intense competition, and undoubtedly, many don’t succeed. The people currently here are, in a sense, the winners who have thrived in this unique environment, and they appear prosperous and content. Shenzhen’s economic miracle seems to be a source of immense pride for ordinary Chinese people, etched into the collective consciousness as an overwhelming success story. It’s easy to understand why young people, especially entrepreneurs, are drawn to its magnetic pull. Underscoring this vitality is the fact that only about 3 percent of the city’s population is over 65. The entire city pulses with youthful energy.
This new metropolis is also the epicenter of global smartphone manufacturing. Walking around the city or riding the subway, it’s impossible not to notice that smartphones occupy a more central position in daily life here than anywhere else I’ve been. Smartphone ubiquity exists in Japan too, but here, the internet is integrated into the everyday through these devices in a much deeper way. In short, the Internet of Things (IoT) is highly advanced.
Paying for the subway, shopping at convenience stores, dining in restaurants, even buying from street stalls – smartphone payment is the absolute norm. It’s not just an option; cash is practically obsolete. In a small noodle shop, I watched a customer finish eating, casually scan a QR code taped to the wall with their phone, complete the payment via an app, and walk out without a word. Using these payment apps requires a Chinese bank account linked to the app on an internet-connected smartphone – a hurdle nearly impossible for foreign tourists to overcome. Even major international credit cards are rarely accepted outside of high-end establishments. Consequently, most travelers must rely on Chinese Yuan cash, but attempting to pay with bills often elicits expressions that silently ask, “Wow, you still use that?”
This is the reality of a society built anew. While Japan and Hong Kong have long had electronic payment systems, cash persists due to deep-rooted history, culture, and habits. In Shenzhen, a city with a short history as a major metropolis and a diverse population drawn from all over, smartphone payments are simply more rational and efficient. Their thorough integration into daily life stems from sheer convenience. Watching an office worker scan a stall’s QR code on her phone to pay for fruit, I had a realization: this is the Internet of Things – not buying expensive smart bulbs to control living room lights remotely, but this seamless, practical, everyday integration.
Still slightly stunned by this level of advancement, I decided to seek a change of pace the next morning by heading to a more conventional “tourist” spot: Sea World. A 20-minute subway ride involving a transfer brought me there. Shenzhen lies within the Pearl River Delta and has ancient ties to the sea. Sea World is a vast commercial development built along the waterfront (more accurately, the Pearl River estuary) reflecting this history. It has a resort-like feel, lined with restaurants, bars, and hotels. A promenade runs along the water, dotted with anglers enjoying the pleasant sea breeze. Restaurant prices are a bit higher, but the menus offer diverse options. Many foreigners frequent the area, staff often speak English, and, typical of a tourist zone, some places accept credit cards. I admit to feeling a sense of relief in this easier environment, though I questioned my traveler’s spirit for seeking such comfort. But this, too, is part of modern Shenzhen. A little variety is essential on any journey.
Next, I ventured northeast from the city center to the Dafen Oil Painting Village. I wanted a glimpse into a world utterly removed from electronics and the internet. This unique neighborhood is home to over 8,000 painters, aspiring artists, and related businesses. It’s said that the vast majority of replica paintings adorning hotel lobbies and office buildings throughout the Chinese-speaking world originate here in Dafen. More recently, the village has actively promoted original artwork as well. With annual sales reportedly reaching hundreds of millions of dollars, Dafen proves that art, when pursued with such scale and dedication, can become a significant economic engine. I was struck by the many young people I saw who had apparently moved to Shenzhen from other provinces purely chasing the dream of becoming professional artists. The city’s development clearly generates human movement and opportunity across diverse fields.
Shenzhen is an immense city of over 14 million people. While crowded, it offers plenty for travelers to see, much of it newly created rather than ancient. Attractions like Splendid China Folk Village (replicating landmarks from across China) and Window of the World (featuring miniatures of global tourist sites) might initially seem kitschy. However, they embody a pragmatic Chinese approach – offering visitors a convenient way to virtually experience faraway places – and can be enjoyed with that understanding. Experiencing the vibrant atmosphere of Laojie, the old downtown shopping district dating back to Shenzhen’s smaller days, now bustling with young crowds, is also worthwhile. And for a breathtaking overview of this sprawling metropolis, the Meridian View Centre on the 66th floor of the Diwang Building is highly recommended. Gazing out at the unprecedented skyline and the distant border with Hong Kong offers a potent, tangible sense of Asia today – a truly valuable experience.
Shenzhen may be an elusive, ever-changing new city, yet it feels pregnant with clues about the future. This land pulsating with fresh energy is a fascinating place to observe the dynamics of human migration and evolving lifestyles. Setting aside complex geopolitics, I highly recommend walking the streets of Shenzhen as a traveler. Breathing the air, feeling the city’s pulse firsthand, offers an invaluable understanding of contemporary China, Asia, and the world that news headlines cannot convey. Mulling over these thoughts, it was time to head back – through the Lo Wu border, into Hong Kong, and onward to Japan.
(An Additional Note) If you happen to use or pass through Shenzhen Bao’an International Airport (SZX), take a moment to appreciate the design of its main terminal (Terminal 3). Its futuristic, honeycomb-like structure creates a beautiful, comfortable, and truly unforgettable space unlike any other airport I’ve visited. It’s also telling that while only a handful of foreign airlines (including those from Taiwan and Macau) serve the airport, over 30 domestic Chinese carriers operate there. This highlights Shenzhen’s role as a crucial hub connecting it directly to virtually every corner of China, much like Beijing and Shanghai.
∎