One of Beijing's most visited sights, the immense park of the Summer Palace requires at least half a day. Nowadays teeming with tour groups from China and beyond, this dominion of palace temples, gardens, pavilions, and lakes was once a playground for the imperial court. Royalty came here to elude the insufferable summer heat that roasted the Forbidden City.

The Summer Palace with its cool features - water, gardens and hills - was the palace of choice for vacationing emperors and Dowager Empresses. It was badly damaged by Anglo-French troops during the Second Opium War (1860) and its restoration became a pet project of Empress Dowager Cixi, the last of the Qing dynasty rulers. Money earmarked for a modern navy was used for the project but, in a bit of whimsical irony, the only thing that was completed was the restoration of a marble boat. The boat now sits at the edge of the lake in all its immobile and nonmilitary glory. The Palace's full restoration was hampered by the disintegration of the Qing dynasty and the Boxer Rebellion.

The place is packed to the gunwales in summer, with Beijing residents taking full advantage of Kunming Lake, which takes up three-quarters of the park. The main building is the lyrically named Hall of Benevolence and Longevity, while along the north shore is the Long Corridor, so named because it's, well, long. There's over 700m (2300ft) of corridor, filled with mythical paintings and scenes. If some of the paintings have a newish patina, that's because many of the murals were painted over during the Cultural Revolution.

Originally built in 1273, marking the centre of the old Mongol capital Dadu, the tower has been repeatedly destroyed and restored. Stagger up the incredibly steep steps for long views over Beijing's rooftops. The drums of this later Ming dynasty version were beaten to mark the hours of the day - in effect the Big Ben of Beijing.

The building came close to ruin during the Cultural Revolution, when it was reviled as an artefact from a feudal past. The Drum Tower has survived both Swiss engineering and Maoist scorn and are now protected treasures.

On display is a large array of drums, including the large and dilapidated Night Watchman's Drum (being one of the five two-hour divisions of the night) and a large array of reproduction drums.

The world's largest public square, Tiananmen Sq is a vast desert of paving stones at the heart of Běijīng. It may be a grandiose, Maoist tourist trap, but the view is breathtaking on a clear day and at nightfall. Kites flit through the sky, children stamp around and Chinese out-of-towners huddle together for the obligatory photo opportunity.

Mao conceived the square to project the enormity of the Communist Party, so it's all a bit Kim Il Sung-ish. During the Cultural Revolution the chairman reviewed parades of up to a million people here. In 1976 another million people jammed the square to pay their last respects to Mao. In 1989 army tanks and soldiers forced pro-democracy demonstrators out of the square.

Surrounding the square is a mishmash of monuments, past and present: the Gate of Heavenly Peace; the Museum of Chinese History and Museum of the Chinese Revolution; the Great Hall of the People; the Front Gate; the Chairman Mao Mausoleum, where you can purchase Mao memorabilia and catch a glimpse of the man himself (when his mortuary make-up isn't being refreshed); and the Monument to the People's Heroes.

By 1969, as the USA landed men on the moon, Mao had decided the future for Beijing's people lay underground. Alarmist predictions of nuclear war with Russia dispatched an army of Chinese beneath the streets to burrow a huge warren of bombproof tunnels which has now been put to use as warehouses, hotels and restaurants.

There are roughly 90 entrances to the complex, all of which are hidden in shops along Qianmen's main streets. A fluorescent wall map reveals the routing of the entire tunnel system. You can visit a section of the tunnels and, although there's not much to see, you'll pass chambers labelled their original function (cinema, hospital, arsenal etc) as well as flood-proof gates. You can also make out signposts to major landmarks accessed by the tunnels (Tiananmen Sq, the Forbidden City), but these routes are inaccessible.

The Forbidden City, so-called because it was off-limits to most of the world for 500 years, is the best preserved cluster of ancient buildings in China. The old world of beautiful concubines and priapic emperors, ball-breaking (and broken) eunuchs and conspicuous wealth still hovers over the lush gardens, courtyards, pavilions and great halls of the palace.

Most of the buildings are post-18th century; there have been periodic losses due to an injudicious mix of lantern festivals and Gobi winds, invading Manchus and, in this century, pillaging and looting by both the Japanese forces and the Kuomintang. A permanent restoration squad takes about 10 years to renovate its 720,000 square metres, 800 buildings and 9000 rooms, by which time it's time to start all over again.

The palatial former living quarters now function as museums. Opening hours are irregular and no photos are allowed without prior permission. Special exhibits sometimes appear in other palace museum halls, so check the expat magazines, such as That's Beijing, for details.

This laid-back place on the bar-cluttered Yandai Xiejie gets full marks for novelty. Formerly the Guanfu Taoist Temple, the shrine has been requisitioned for the city's exploding bar scene and simply decked out with art posters. The temple's roof guardians are still intact and the presence of religious statuary reminds visitors that they are on sacred turf.

This elegant lounge bar attracts glamorous types who recline on traditional wooden beds piled up with silk cushions, sipping daquiris. There's attentive service, fine cocktails and beer, and the music is varied, from house through chill-out, to techno, pop and rock.

Clamber to the roof terrace of this bar romantically slung between its namesake towers, duck under the thicket of branches and seat yourself down amid an idyllic panorama of low-rise Beijing rooftops. Rickety, a bit slapdash perhaps, but supreme all the same - plus it serves crinkle-cut chips.

This veteran veggie diner ranks as one of Beijīng's premier bloodless dining experiences. Restore your karma with dishes of mock meat and fake fowl, but pass on the roasted hedgehog. Service can be pedestrian and the downstairs decor utilitarian, but the well-thumbed English menu is handy and herbivores needing more style can always head upstairs.

The piāoxiāng páigǔ (deep-fried spareribs with pepper salt) here are gorgeous: dry, fleshy, crispy chops with a small pile of fiery pepper salt. The fried hot and spicy Xīnjiāng-style zīran jīchì (chicken wings)are deservedly famous and the Peking duck is crispy and lean. There's outside seating and another branch can be found in the Sanlitun area.

As fundamental to a Beijīng trip as a Great Wall hike, you'd have to be completely quackers to miss out on kaoyā (Peking duck). This place is geared mainly to the tourists, with photos of George Bush poking a duck with his finger and Fidel Castro sizing up an imaginary duck with his hands. Another branch is nearby and there's also one off Wangfujing Dajie.