An earthen terrace rises on Beiguan Road, rebuilt where the poet Su Shi drank under the Mid-Autumn moon and wrote the verse Chinese schoolchildren still learn. He governed the town when it was called Mizhou, a name still on its streets. A short ride away, duck-billed dinosaurs dug up around town stand taller than a house in the Dinosaur Museum.
Beyond the old center, the wide Wei River runs past new apartment towers, and worn sections of the Great Wall of Qi follow the hills outside town. Summers are hot and rainy, winters cold and dry. A Local Friend walks beside you instead of ahead, stopping for smoked pork and letting the talk choose the route.
