Guangdong, China -

ou don't usually hear the words 'Shenzhen' and 'culture' in the same sentence. I was dubious myself when I found a large, glossy book in my room at Shenzhen's Crowne Plaza promising to introduce me to genuine chunks of Ming architecture inside one of China's most prefabricated cities.

I can hear readers in Beijing and Shanghai sniffing haughtily at the very thought of a city without even a dialect to call its own claiming to have any culture. Ming architecture – in a city that 30 years ago was a mere glimmer in Deng Xiaoping's eye? Yet there it was, a full-colour guide extolling the ancient historical sites of a city younger than most Shanghai taxi drivers. This had to be worth seeing.

Most visitors to Shenzhen will only ever see its two smallest districts, Luohu and Futian. That is, if they even get further than the odious shopping centre that sits on the Hong Kong border before hopping into a taxi for the airport. But wrapped around these two districts like a misshapen croissant is the rest of the Special Administrative Region, including the districts of Bao'an, known for hot springs and golf courses; Yantian, home to some fine beaches; Nanshan; and the largest district, sprawling Longgang. It's this last district that contains much of Shenzhen's unexpected cultural treasure.

In decent traffic it takes about 30 minutes to put the skyscrapers behind you, and then there's another hour heading east along wide freeways to get to Shenzhen's key historic attraction, Dapeng Ancient City. On arriving I found myself transported not just a few score kilometers, but several centuries distant from modern Shenzhen. This well-preserved walled town dates back to the Ming dynasty (AD 1368-1644), and was originally built as part of a fort designed to defend the coast against pirates. It contains homes, temples, shops and courtyards that look pretty much the same as when they were built centuries ago. The ancient stone wall, still intact, contains a number of gates. Like the rapidly disappearing hutong neighbourhoods of Beijing or the Old City of Shanghai, Dapeng Ancient City is very much alive, and for the most part the residences are occupied, the shops are still in business, and people still worship at the temples. This, of course, accounts for the distinctly modern power lines, plumbing fixtures and odd TV antennae you'll see in Dapeng.

After spending a couple of hours walking through the narrow cobblestone alleyways of the ancient city I headed over to the modern city of the same name just a few kilometres down the road. Not to be confused with its historic namesake, Dapeng City contains little for the avid seeker of traditional culture. In the west, however, I came across a temple complex dedicated to the goddess Guanyin, perched in the side of a hill overlooking the town. There were several shrines, a statue of the goddess, and a two-storey temple in which visitors are invited to pray and enjoy devotional Buddhist artwork. While I was engaged in the latter activity, I was approached by the temple's resident soothsayer, who offered to set me on an auspicious path for the rest of the rooster year. I asked how much his services might cost, and he cocked his head with a wistful, slightly mystic air.

"I never discuss money before a reading. Afterwards, you pay me whatever you think it was worth to you."

Fair enough, I thought, and stepped into his office, a tiny, windowless room adorned with posters of dragons, gods and goddesses, and a good number of other shamanist trinkets. I won't go into detail on the reading itself – but it was rather personal and fairly spot-on. I was impressed enough to reach for my wallet.

"A good Hong Kong businessman might pay a thousand kuai for a reading like that one…" the soothsayer suggested.

"A good Hong Kong businessman can afford it," I countered. "I'm a poor American writer."

We settled on fifty, which I placed in a red envelope under a small Guanyin statue on his desk so as not to sully the sanctity of the transaction. I left feeling suitably blessed.

By the time I got out of the temple it was almost five. Though I could have headed back to Shenzhen proper, there was still one more area of cultural significance in Longgang that I wanted to explore, so I decided to turn the trip into an overnighter. Dapeng is a quick bus trip away from the lovely seaside resort town of Nan'ao, and it was here that I found a room overlooking the harbour in a decent hotel for under RMB 300. Nan'ao is a picturesque little village known for its seafood restaurants and large semi-enclosed dried seafood market, where Cantonese delicacies like shark's fin can be purchased for a fraction of what it'd cost across the border in Hong Kong. Nevertheless, I decided to stick to dried shrimp and scallops.

The next day I caught a taxi to the last stop on my tour of historic Shenzhen, the Longgang Hakka Enclosures. The Hakka people were nomads who eventually settled widely around southern China, and their architecture is well worth a look. Victims of persecution throughout the Qing dynasty, the Hakkas built typical courtyard homes but with a twist: an added exterior wall turned the settlement into a fort, complete with arrow slits for discouraging unwanted visitors.

This particular day was a quiet one, and I seemed to be the only visitor. The only other people I saw inside the walled village-turned-museum were those who worked there (and I use the term loosely). After buying my RMB 15 ticket, I strolled the grounds for an hour, alone except for the palpable presence of ghosts hanging out in their Qing-furnished dwellings. Many of the homes were not just furnished in authentic style: they actually seemed to be in the same state as when their occupants left them, with Qing-era tools and teacups lying around on wooden tables. The place gave me an eerie feeling, as if the original inhabitants had just popped out for a bit of hunting and might come back any minute, crossbows cocked, to repel intruders.

My lust for ancient culture temporarily sated, I left the Hakka Enclosures and caught a cab back to the Blade Runner landscape of Shenzhen. It really says something about the density of history in China that even its youngest city has roots that go back hundreds of years.