A performance of the opera The Love of Muqam: Wan Tongshu at Xinjiang Art Theatre in Urumqi, Xinjiang Uygur Autonomous Region, on August 4 (XINHUA)

Xinjiang is often portrayed through the lens of headlines and foreign narratives, yet the reality on the ground is far more layered. From the bustling bazaars in Kashi to the modern promenades in Urumqi, this region reveals a tapestry of culture, commerce and coexistence. Three journalists share firsthand accounts of Xinjiang's landscapes, its vibrant human life and the ongoing interplay between tradition and modernization. Their stories illuminate a Xinjiang that is at once historic and forward-looking, challenging simplified narratives and offering a richer, more nuanced understanding of this dynamic corner of China.

Charbel Barakat, head of the foreign desk at Al Jarida newspaper in Kuwait 

The first time Xinjiang truly unfolded before me, it felt like a treasure chest. Each visit revealed a new gem. This year, attending the Shanghai Cooperation Organization's Media Cooperation Forum in Urumqi, the region once again showed its layers and vitality: ancient alleys, sapphire lakes, modern promenades and bazaars where centuries of trade still scent the air.

My journeys have taken me from Kashi's labyrinthine markets, where spices, doppa hats and prayer beads change hands beneath sun-browned eaves, to Kuerle's graceful Peacock River, where European-style bridges and café lights lend the riverbank a surprising cosmopolitan hush. In Yining, near Kazakhstan, I discovered a Russian-style garden where an accordion ensemble of Han, Uygur and Kazak players blended their melodies into something that sounded like coexistence itself. Even familiar Urumqi keeps offering new notes: nightlife in Shuimogou, one of the central urban areas of the city, sleek malls mixing local produce with international menus and city squares that remain convivial long after dusk.

What ties these scenes together is not merely scenery but people. Taxi drivers, professors, shopkeepers, imams and street vendors have become friends. Their shared values, hospitality, diligence and a belief in a common future repeat like a refrain across cities and seasons.

Contrast this lived experience with the monolithic image often painted abroad: a region reduced to headlines and abstractions. I arrived carrying the weight of alarming reports, yet what I witnessed was cultural resilience rather than erasure. Eid prayers, visits to the Xinjiang Islamic Institute and a stroll through the Kashi mosques revealed rituals and heritage practiced openly: worshippers at prayer, families shopping and artisans alive in their craft. You won't find any kind of dystopia here, not even if you search with a hundred magnifying glasses.

Economic development and infrastructure are equally visible. The Kashi Economic Development Zone, modern logistical hubs and upgraded transport links give Xinjiang energetic forward motion. From cotton fields and pear orchards to high-speed rails and trade corridors, the region functions as China's gateway to Central Asia. Its border towns are not merely lines on a map but conduits of commerce and culture. Local efforts toward social stability emphasize education, employment and community development, a pattern I saw reflected in both policy briefings and street-level projects.

If Xinjiang's landscapes range from snow-capped peaks to the sands of the Taklimakan Desert, its human landscape is equally broad: a living mosaic of languages, cuisines and customs that pulse with unity. My sensory memory, naan (flat bread) hot from the oven, pilaf whose aroma threaded through crowded markets and laughter around a table of sizzling kebabs, matters because it is human and because it complicates the easy narratives that have become so prolific despite being so far from reality.

To understand Xinjiang, come see it. Balance distant headlines with the textures of daily life. There is a song locals hum about their homeland, and after three visits, I understand why: I've traveled to so many places, but the most beautiful is still our Xinjiang. Each visit reveals greater beauty, complexity and humanity.

Tourists ride camels through the Kuche Grand Canyon in Kuche County on July 17 (XINHUA)

Khawaja Hamza Iqbal, a journalist specializing in security, politics and foreign affairs based in Islamabad, Pakistan 

Xinjiang is often misunderstood or misrepresented in global narratives; however what I found on the ground was a distinct story of harmony, hospitality, prosperity and ultimately hope: bazaars humming with music and trade, mosques full of worshippers, wind turbines turning against a clear blue sky and trains rolling westward toward Europe.

On my second trip this May, I spent time in Urumqi and Kuche, discovering a region where history and modernity negotiate a surprising, productive armistice. At the Xinjiang International Grand Bazaar in Urumqi, a fascinating blend of local customs and international influences, I watched vendors call their wares in standard Chinese, Uygur and English. A Uygur dance troupe performed beneath banners of color, and spices perfumed the air. In Kashi, ancient alleys carried the weight of centuries. In Kuche, Buddhist caves and museums spoke to a layered past that China is preserving.

As a Pakistani journalist, the Belt and Road linkages struck a chord. Xinjiang is not a geopolitical abstraction but a living gateway: Cotton fields and pear orchards feed local markets while freight trains connect to Central Asia and Europe. The China-Pakistan Economic Corridor traces its origins here, promising tangible economic ties that reach to the Pakistani port city of Gwadar and beyond.

During my visit, I observed extensive wind farms, turbines gleaming against the blue sky, exemplifying the region's commitment to environmental sustainability. In agricultural demonstration zones, I saw mechanized farms, demonstration plots and clean logistics hubs, showcasing economic modernization that creates jobs and improves livelihoods.

Religious life is woven into daily routine. I prayed at the Grand Mosque and watched local families prepare for the Corban Festival (Eid al-Adha), one of the major Muslim holidays. They were buying lambs, selecting sweets and dressing children in new clothes. Worship felt open and ordinary; my conversations with local worshippers underscored that religious practice is a visible part of community life.

My repeated visits taught me that the truth here is layered: Cultural preservation and modernization can coexist, ethnic diversity and national unity are lived realities for many and economic integration is reshaping prospects for ordinary people.

If Western reporting values accuracy, then it should rely on on-the-ground observation. From my perspective, Xinjiang's most consistent characteristic is people striving for better lives. From bustling bazaars to quiet prayer halls, from pear orchards to freight trains, the story of Xinjiang is one of rebirth, resilience and hope. The region serves as a beacon of connection between East and West, booming with immense culture and commerce, and an eternal landscape on which the past and future live as one.

Lilit Verdyan, an editor at Armenpress news agency in Armenia 

When I stepped off the plane in Urumqi, a single dot on China's vast national map, the city struck me with color, scent and sound: ethnic melodies drifting through streets, the warm spice of mustard and chili, and the encounter of smiling locals walking through bazaars. My first visit to this culturally rich city also happened to be my first ever stay in China.

Urumqi is a crossroads in the truest sense. East and West merge here, not as abstractions but as something that materializes in the cadence of daily life: Standard Chinese, Uygur and Russian accents fill the air; a coffee-sipping promenade rubs shoulders with centuries-old market stalls. The Xinjiang International Grand Bazaar is more than a marketplace; it is a living museum of the Silk Road. Walking its arched corridors, sunlight glancing off filigreed façades, I swam in a chorus of salesmen's calls, street musicians and the aromas of tea and baking bread.

"Stepping into a fairytale" is not hyperbole; it is the immediate truth.

Cultural heritage here is both preserved and performed. At the Xinjiang Museum, I encountered Muqam, a UNESCO Intangible Cultural Heritage treasure with an ancient and intricate musical form. I realized that music, like language and craft, is a living archive. I had to stop at this point and consider how much I was moved by the seemingly eternal staple that this represented. Modern life in Urumqi is at its most dynamic and progressive, yet it manages to exist alongside these age-old traditions.

I vividly remember the evenings when the sun slowly dipped behind the snow-covered peaks of the Tianshan Mountains, casting a golden glow across the city. Around 110 km away from Urumqi, Tianchi Lake gleamed like a highland gem, which immediately cast my mind to the shape of the Armenian Highlands, a reflection forever seared into my memory.

I came to Xinjiang expecting the unfamiliar; I left with a new appreciation for different ways of life and cuisines, as well as a new frame for understanding Xinjiang.

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