When Anna was planning her first visit to Xinjiang in 2015, her friends were perplexed.

“They couldn’t understand why I’d visit a place that back then was considered one of China’s most dangerous areas.”

One of her friends pulled out of the trip and started “ghosting” her on WeChat, said the 35-year-old Chinese national, who did not want to reveal her real name.

“She said her parents forbade her from going anywhere near Xinjiang and did not want to engage further.”

Anna went anyway, and returned this June. But it had changed, she says.

“Xinjiang was as beautiful as I remember it, but there are far too many tourists now, especially at the major attractions.”

For years, Xinjiang had bristled under Beijing’s rule, sometimes erupting into violence, which kept many domestic Chinese tourists away. Then it became infamous for some of the worst allegations of Chinese authoritarianism, from the detention of more than a million Uyghur Muslims in so-called “re-education camps”, to claims of crimes against humanity, by the United Nations.

China denies the allegations, but the region is largely cut off to international media and observers, while Uyghurs in exile continue to recount stories of terrified or disappeared relatives.

And yet in recent years Xinjiang has emerged as a tourist destination – within China and, increasingly, outside of the country. Beijing has pumped in billions of dollars to develop infrastructure, help produce TV dramas set in its unusual landscapes, and has occasionally welcomed foreign media on carefully orchestrated tours.

It has been repackaging the controversial region into a tourist haven, touting not just its beauty but also the very local “ethnic” experiences that rights groups say it is trying to erase.

Stretched across China’s north-west, Xinjiang borders eight countries. Located along the Silk Road, which fuelled trade between the East and West for centuries, some of its towns are packed with history. It is also home to remote, rugged mountains, majestic canyons, lush grasslands and pristine lakes.

“The views exceeded my expectations by miles,” says Singaporean Sun Shengyao, who visited in May 2024 and describes it as “New Zealand, Switzerland and Mongolia all packed into one place”.

Unlike most of China which has a Han majority, Xinjiang mostly has Turkic-speaking Muslims, with the Uyghurs being the largest ethnic group. Tensions escalated throughout the 1990s and 2000s as Uyghur allegations of marginalisation by Han Chinese spurred separatist sentiments and deadly attacks, which intensified Beijing’s crackdown.

But it is under Xi Jinping that the Chinese Communist Party has begun tightening control like never before, sparking allegations of the forcible assimilation of Uyghurs into Han Chinese culture. On a visit in September, he hailed the region’s “earth-shattering” development and called for the “Sinicisation of religion” – the transformation of beliefs to reflect Chinese culture and society.

Meanwhile investment has been pouring into the region. Some 200 international hotels, including prominent names like Hilton and Marriott, are either already operating or planning to open in Xinjiang.

In 2024, the region welcomed some 300 million visitors, more than double the number in 2018, according to Chinese authorities. Tourism revenue from Xinjiang grew about 40% over this period to reach 360 billion yuan ($51bn; £39bn). In the first half of this year, some 130 million tourists visited the region, contributing about 143bn yuan in revenue.

While foreign tourism has been growing, the vast majority are domestic visitors.

Beijing now has an ambitious target: more than 400 million visitors a year, and tourism revenue of 1 trillion yuan by 2030.

Some people are still scared to go. Mr Sun says it took him a while to gather friends for a trip in May 2024 as many of them saw Xinjiang as unsafe. The 23-year-old himself had a bout of the jitters, but as the trip continued, they vanished.

They started off in the bustling streets of the regional capital, Urumqi. They then spent eight days on the road with a Chinese driver, travelling through mountains and lush steppes, which left Mr Sun in awe.

It is common for drivers and tour guides in Xinjiang to be Han Chinese, who now make up about 40% of the region’s population. Mr Sun’s group did not interact extensively with local Uyghurs, but the few they managed to strike up conversations with were “very welcoming”, he says.

Since he has returned, Mr Sun has become somewhat of an advocate for Xinjiang, which he says has been “misunderstood” as dangerous and tense. “If I can inspire just one person to learn more about the province, I would have helped reduce the stigma by a little.”

To him, the stunning sights he enjoyed as a tourist seem far removed from the disturbing allegations that put Xinjiang in global headlines. All he saw was evidence that Xinjiang remains highly surveilled, with police checkpoints and security cameras a common sight, and foreigners required to stay in designated hotels.

But Mr Sun was unfazed by that: “There is heavy police presence, but that’s not to say that this is a big problem.”

Not every tourist is convinced that what they are seeing is the “real” Xinjiang.

Singaporean Thenmoli Silvadorie, who visited with friends in May for 10 days, says: “I was very curious about Uyghur culture and wanted to see how different things may be there. But we were quite disappointed.”

She and her friends were wearing hijabs and, she says, Uyghur food vendors had approached them saying they were “envious we could freely wear our hijabs… but we didn’t get to have very deep conversations”. They also weren’t allowed to visit most local mosques, she adds.

Still, the allure for foreign visitors is strong. China itself is a hugely popular destination, and Xinjiang has emerged as an “untouched”, less commercialised option.

A growing number of foreigners are “approaching Xinjiang with open minds and a genuine desire to see and assess the truth for themselves”, China’s state-run newspaper Global Times wrote in May.

The party has also been quick to promote content on Xinjiang by foreign influencers that aligns with the state’s narrative. Among them is German vlogger Ken Abroad, who in one of his videos said he’d seen “more mosques [in Xinjiang] than in the US or any countries in Europe”.

But others take a different view. Writer Josh Summers, who lived in Xinjiang in the 2010s, tells the BBC the city of Kashgar’s Old Town was “completely torn down, reimagined and rebuilt in a way that doesn’t reflect Uyghur culture in any way”.

According to a Human Rights Watch report from 2024, hundreds of villages in Xinjiang had their names – which were related to the religion, history or culture of Uyghurs – replaced between 2009 and 2023. The group has also accused authorities of closing, destroying and repurposing mosques in Xinjiang and across China to curb the practice of Islam.

Grave rights violations have also been documented by other international organisations, including the UN. The BBC’s reporting from 2021 and 2022 found evidence supporting the existence of detention camps, and allegations of sexual abuse and forced sterilisation.

Beijing, however, denies all of this. Within the country, the party has been remaking the image of what was once seen as a troubled province to woo more domestic tourists. And it appears to be working.

When Anna went for the second time, it was with her mother, who was eager to visit after watching a drama series set in the mountainous Altay prefecture in the north. The series, To the Wonder, was funded by the government and promoted on state media.

Altay has plenty of fans on the Chinese internet. “Who would have known that I’d wander into God’s secret garden in Altay? At the Ka Nasi Lake, I finally understood what it means to be in paradise. This is a place where the romance of mountains, rivers, lakes and the seas are woven together in a single frame,” reads one comment on RedNote.

Another says: “At dawn, I watch from the guesthouse as the cattle graze the fields. Golden birch forests glow in the sunlight, and even the air seems wrapped in sweetness – such undisturbed beauty is the Altay I’ve always longed for.”

Travel agencies describe the region as “exotic” and “mysterious”. It offers a “magical fusion of nature and culture you won’t experience anywhere else in China”, says one such agency, The Wandering Lens. The prices for these tours vary. A 10-day trip could set you back between US$1,500 and US$2,500 (£1,100-1,900), excluding flights.

A typical itinerary for the north would include the Kanas National Park, with outings to alpine lakes and the popular five-coloured beach, and a visit to a Uyghur village where you can ride on carriages and spend time with a Uyghur family.

Things get more adventurous in the south, where trips often include drives through the desert, various lake excursions, and a visit to Kashgar, a 2,000-year-old Silk Road city.

Visitors share their itineraries online, complete with coloured-coded route maps and snaps of Uyghur delicacies, like the spicy stew, “big plate chicken”, grilled lamb skewers, and wine made with horse milk. Some even mention “hours-long performances that recreate the splendour of the Silk Road”.

If you search for Xinjiang on social media platforms RedNote and Weibo, as you’d expect, you get posts raving about its beauty and iconic architecture. There is no mention of the allegations that clash with this idyllic appeal.

At this time of the year, Chinese social media is awash with photographs of Xinjiang’s poplar forests bathed in autumn’s amber glow.

The Communist Party is “selling its own version of Uyghur culture by presenting Uyghur people as tourist attractions”, says Uyghur-American Irade Kashgary who left the region in 1998.

“They are telling the world we’re no more than dancing, colourful folk who look good on social media.”

Watching her hometown grow in popularity from across the Pacific, Ms Kashgary, the Uyghur activist, urges tourists to “recognise the serious issues” in Xinjiang.

“It’s not my place to tell people not to visit, but they need to realise that what they experience there is a whitewashed version of [Xinjiang],” she says.

“Meanwhile, people like me will never be able to go back because of our activism. It is far too dangerous… and yet, why can’t I? This is my homeland.”