Visa-free travel has given birth to a war of wits: Russian tourists suffer from the battle of guides in Chinese cities.

"We were warned that the Chinese don't understand English, don't pay in cash, even with their own yuan, and can overcharge taxi fares. But they're also sociable, initiate conversations with foreigners, and try to help with online translation on their smartphones," says Alina, a tourist from the Russian Far East who entered China through the land border crossing in Suifenhe (a city in Heilongjiang Province a few kilometers from the Russian-Chinese border). "In reality, it was the opposite. Volunteers with badges met us to help us fill out entry forms. Everything was quick, clear, and in excellent English, and some even spoke Russian. From Suifenhe, we took a taxi to Harbin (about 500 km – author's note). And here, everything was the opposite. In the taxi, everything was strictly according to the meter." And in Harbin itself, at the very first restaurant we went to for a bite to eat, we were asked to pay not just in cash, but in rubles! But the locals on the street stare right through you. We'd been warned that the Chinese might intrude on our personal space and be nosy. And also that they might ruin your appetite if you sit next to them in a restaurant: they're supposedly slurping (loudly slurping - author), and they might even burp right at the table, and it's not considered rude. And wherever there are two or more Chinese, and they don't travel alone, there's a terrible roar. But what I saw reminded me more of Tokyo, where I visited before the pandemic. The Chinese behave very similarly: polite, but distant. If you ask them for help and they don't understand English, they'll simply shrug their shoulders, apologizing. And then they'll leave. In other words, they're not pushy at all. Unlike guides, especially ours.

This turned out to be the main problem for many of the first visa-free visitors to China from Russia – attacks from compatriots living in China, who, in light of the visa-free regime, quickly turned to self-employed tour guides. Many shared their own ideas on social media: "I was sitting there unemployed, supported by my Chinese husband, and here our guys are coming! Why don't I show them my city?" And our tourists, delighted that they were able to get by without buying a tour from a Russian tour operator, even though those had also become cheaper, were faced with the fact that in the huge, densely populated Chinese cities, where tourist attractions are scattered and all phone apps are Chinese, it's difficult to live without a guide.

"To book, say, museum tickets online or use a taxi app, you need a Chinese number," share Russians who arrived in Shanghai on a visa-free basis. "We bought SIM cards on Hainan without any problems. But in mainland China, it wasn't so simple. They have a fair amount of bureaucracy. SIM card sellers know, of course, that we're now visa-free, but they're required to take a photo of the visa when selling them. So they just shake their heads: no visa, no SIM card. Of course, in this situation, when a Russian woman approached us at the hotel and offered us guide services, saying she'd lived in Shanghai for over 10 years and spoke Chinese, we agreed. While we were chatting and arranging a meeting, no one seemed to pay any attention to us. But after the Russian woman left, the Chinese woman at reception said the hotel manager wanted to speak with us. A polite young Chinese man in a suit came and told us in English that using uncertified guides in China is illegal because it's dangerous for tourists. And this Russian woman, when we met that evening, told us that talking near the reception desk, where they might understand Russian, was her mistake. We shouldn't tell the Chinese that she's our guide; they'll think we're all just tourists. So, she knows perfectly well it's illegal, but she's still breaking the law. But she'll charge us rubles.

Russian guides working in Chinese cities for domestic travel agencies complain about the same thing: these newly minted, self-employed tour guides, comprised of Russians living in China, charge below-market prices, thereby undercutting both official Russian guides and their Chinese counterparts. The quality of their services is subpar, making it nearly impossible for a tourist new to China to understand the quality of what's on offer.

"In China, organized guides have priority access to most tourist destinations, special safe transport for transfers, and everything else. The Chinese are extremely law-abiding in this regard," explains Turgen from Buryatia, a Russian-speaking guide with a Chinese travel agency. "But a Russian private guide living in China will simply guide you for your money, on a regular basis."

Chinese tourism industry professionals, however, are more blunt: in their country, foreigners are prohibited from working as guides unless hired by a Chinese tour company. And if you hire one, don't be surprised if the police arrest them mid-tour.

There are grounds for this harsh approach: experts on both sides of the Russian-Chinese border predict that as the visa-free regime continues, the number of illegal guides will only grow—both individual and small businesses registered outside of China. Meanwhile, Russians living in China but not seeking to earn a living as guides are laughing at the idea of ​​a "zhan"—a battle between guides for Russian tourists.

"But the Chinese will definitely win," asserts Vadim Chekunov, a Russian writer living in Shanghai. "In the 1990s, when Chinese tourists flooded into Russia, I worked as a guide to greet them. I'm a teacher of Russian as a foreign language by training, but back then, many of our people who spoke Russian earned money in tourism. And even back then, Chinese groups arrived not only with their own guides and drivers, but even with their own buses! The groups ate only in restaurants opened either by the Chinese themselves or with their money. They even shopped at souvenir shops run by their fellow countrymen. Yes, the Chinese even sold matryoshka dolls to their own. Even in our country, they did everything to ensure their tourists' money stayed in China, and at home, they'll make sure their clients aren't stolen. Foreigners, unless they're invited specialists, find it almost impossible to find work, even with knowledge of Chinese. And the prices are high, so one can understand Russian wives of Chinese husbands and the like.

Other compatriots living in large Chinese cities also emphasize that perceiving China as "Shanghai" (in the Russian sense of the word—a noisy and chaotic Asian country) is a misconception, and a dangerous one at that. China truly was such a "Shanghai," but only about 10 years ago, whereas today, in terms of restraint and law-abidingness, the Chinese are approaching their Japanese and South Korean neighbors.

Russian tourism industry experts confirm that from the early 1990s until the pandemic, the Chinese firmly established themselves in the Russian tourism industry: they opened their own hotels, cafes and restaurants, transport companies, and shops catering exclusively to Chinese tour groups arriving through their own companies. Some believe that illegal schemes and tax minimization were used in payments, with no more than 40% of the money spent by Chinese visitors ultimately remaining in Russia. But today, we have love and a visa-free regime, and bygones be bygones. The main thing is not to renew this "old ways" by spurring their own illegal schemes in China in response to the welcoming visa-free regime. Moreover, there is no need for them: in anticipation of a large number of independent Russian tourists, Chinese travel agencies, they assure us, have hired Russian-speaking guides.