BEIDAIHE is a rather bizarre seaside resort on the Bohai Gulf, 300km east of Beijing, which was originally patronized by European diplomats, missionaries and businessmen around the turn of the century, who can only have chosen it out of homesickness. Its coastline - rocky, sparsely vegetated, erratically punctuated by beaches - is reminiscent of the Mediterranean. They built villas and bungalows here, and reclined on verandahs sipping cocktails after indulging in the new bathing fad. After the Communist takeover, the village became a pleasure resort for Party bigwigs, reaching its height of popularity in the 1970s when seaside trips were no longer seen as decadent and revisionist. Strict rules ordered where individuals could bathe, according to their rank: West Beach was reserved for foreigners after they were let in in 1979, with guards posted to chase off Chinese voyeurs interested in glimpsing their daringly bourgeois swimming costumes. The Middle Beach, demarcated by rope barriers, was reserved for Party officials, with a sandy cove - the best spot - set out for the higher ranks. Dark swimsuits were compulsory, to avoid the illusion of nudity.

These days the barriers have gone, along with the inhibitions of the urban Chinese (skimpy bikinis are fashionable now), and the contemporary town is a fascinating mix of the austerely communist and the gaudy kitsch of any busy seaside resort. On the hill behind the beach, on leafy streets guarded by discreet soldiers, sit the villas of the Party elite. It's rumoured that every Politburo member once had a residence here, and probably many still do. All around are huge, chunky buildings, often with absurd decorative touches - Roman columns, fake totem poles, Greek porticoes - grafted onto their ponderous facades. These are work-unit hotels and sanatoriums for heroes of the people - factory workers, soldiers and the like - when they are granted the privilege of a seaside holiday. On the beach, stirring revolutionary statues of lantern-jawed workers and their wives and children stand among the throngs of bathers, while on the beachfront behind them stalls sell Day-Glo swimsuits and sculptures of chickens made of shells and raffia.

Though you still see serious men in uniforms and sunglasses licking lollipops, and black Audis with tinted windows (the Party cadre car) cruising the waterfront, these days most of Beidaihe's visitors are ordinary, fun-loving tourists, usually well-heeled Beijingers. In season, when the temperature is steady around the mid-20s Centigrade and the water warm, it's noisy and crowded, and a fun place to spend the day. Everyone is here simply to enjoy themselves, and you'll see the Chinese looking their most relaxed.