Gulangyu is small enough to walk across in half an hour and dense enough to fill two days. It is a 1.87 km² island just off the southwest of Xiamen, and for a century it was a foreign concession — thirteen countries kept consulates here, and the merchants and missionaries who followed left behind a whole townscape of villas, churches and gardens that survives more or less intact.
What makes Gulangyu unlike any other famous Chinese sight is the quiet at its edges. There is not a single car; the only wheels belong to a few electric shuttle buses. Step off the main shopping street of Longtou Road and you are in lanes of crumbling walls, banyan roots and bougainvillea where the loudest thing is someone practising the piano behind a shut window.
It is also China's self-styled island of music — Gulangyu has produced a remarkable number of concert pianists, owns more pianos per household than anywhere in the country, and is the only place with its own piano museum and organ museum. And it is a cat island: cats sleep in the shops and at alley entrances, and the island has adopted them as its mascot.
The catch is the crowds. Gulangyu is a capped 5A scenic area and, midday, the lanes fill with day-trippers funnelled off the ferries. The island is at its best in the early morning and after the last ferries leave — which is the whole argument for sleeping over rather than visiting from Xiamen and back.