Hello! I’m Ryan Cooper, a car sales executive currently living and working in Huangshan, Anhui Province, China. If you had told me five years ago that I’d be selling cars in a small mountain city in eastern China, I probably would have laughed. But here I am—and truthfully, I can’t imagine being anywhere else.
I come from a fast-paced urban background, having spent my early twenties chasing targets and promotions in big cities like Toronto and Singapore. But it was a spontaneous backpacking trip through China that changed everything. When I reached Huangshan—also known as Yellow Mountain—I was captivated. The granite peaks, the floating sea of clouds, the ancient villages nestled in mist-covered valleys… it felt like I had walked into a dream carved out by nature and time.
What started as a two-week detour turned into a career and a lifestyle shift. I took a job offer in automotive sales here not long after, thinking it would just be a “scenic break” from city life. Instead, I discovered a rhythm of living that’s both grounded and exhilarating. And I stayed.
Working in car sales in a place like Huangshan is different. Clients aren’t in a rush. Many of them are locals who have lived here for generations, and buying a car is often not just a transaction but a social interaction. Conversations stretch over cups of strong tea. Stories are exchanged—about farming, about family, about the changing seasons. I’ve learned more about patience, listening, and trust from my clients than from any sales seminar I ever attended.
But it’s what happens outside the showroom that truly defines my life here. Living in Huangshan means being constantly surrounded by some of the most breathtaking landscapes in China—and arguably, the world. On my days off, you’ll find me hiking the classic routes of the Yellow Mountains, like the West Sea Grand Canyon or Bright Summit Peak. No matter how many times I’ve climbed these trails, the scenery always surprises me. Sometimes it’s the way the light hits the stone. Sometimes it’s the sudden silence that settles between the clouds.
Weekends often turn into impromptu road trips to the ancient villages nearby—Hongcun, Xidi, Chengkan—places that seem suspended in time, with their whitewashed walls, dark tile roofs, and tranquil ponds reflecting centuries of history. I’ve developed a passion for Chinese ink landscape photography, trying to capture that dreamlike contrast between man-made elegance and natural majesty.
Huangshan has also changed how I travel. I used to be a checklist traveler, ticking off landmarks. Now, I crave slowness and depth. I enjoy sipping local huangshan maofeng tea while chatting with a retired calligrapher. I’ll spend an entire afternoon watching mist roll through pine trees rather than hopping to the next big attraction. This place has taught me to observe, to absorb, and to appreciate the quiet in-between moments.
One of my favorite recent escapes was a solo motorcycle ride along the Huihang Ancient Trail, tracing the old trade routes between Anhui and Zhejiang. The journey wasn't just scenic—it felt spiritual. Winding roads, silent forests, the occasional startled squirrel, and those moments where you pause, helmet off, heart still, knowing you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.
In the evenings, life in Huangshan is peaceful. There’s no glitz, no overwhelming noise. I’ll often sit on my balcony with a cup of tea or a local beer, watching the stars emerge above the mountain ridges. Sometimes, I sketch. Sometimes, I journal. And sometimes, I simply sit, breathing in the pine-scented air, feeling grateful.
Looking ahead, I plan to stay here long-term. I’m currently studying Mandarin more seriously, not just for work but to connect more deeply with the culture. I also hope to eventually organize local road trip tours that blend car culture with off-the-beaten-path nature exploration. Imagine driving through the Anhui countryside in a caravan, stopping at ancient villages, mountain viewpoints, and hidden teahouses. That’s the kind of experience I want to create and share.
Travel, for me, is no longer about distance—it's about depth. And Huangshan, with its poetic landscapes and grounding presence, offers me endless layers to explore.
If you ever find yourself here, look for the guy in the corner teahouse with a map, a camera, and a half-packed backpack. That’s probably me—planning the next spontaneous detour into wonder.
— Ryan Cooper