China 2007

My new phone number is 15910582430 (append Chinese country code). This post was submitted by a mobile device; please excuse spelling errors.

 

Pork balls, with rice and some other vegetables. Don't ask me what that means. As such begin my experiences in China. I enjoy Cathay's business class service to Beijing, passing the time by speaking to an Australian woman - discussing, among things, travel, dogs, the aboriginals of Australia, genealogy, and the wonders of China. It would have been wonderful that by the time we exited customs, after she grabbed her bag and we parted with a friendly Aussie farewell, my simple brown bag would have plopped onto the belt. But alas, I waited and waited, fruitlessly. I was shown to a dingy office in a back room, with what looked like bullet holes in the walls, and sat in front of a lady who could barely form the hand signals to communicate. As opposed to most international tourist destinations, hardly a soul could speak English. Lucky for paperwork (as my phone was nearing its deathbed) I had an itinerary and hotel information to send the bag to. I even knew the weight, by chance. This all didn't seem necessary - just take the tracking number, and track it already! - but when I saw the sheet that noted my bag had left LAX three hours after I had, two days ago, and never arrived in London, I realized this might be harder than I first imagined.

A security guard escorted me outside to meet my driver. I was passed between several hotel representatives, got some cash, and got in a fancy little stick-shift. After a few minutes of silence, arranging my possessions, I spoke.

"First time in China. No bag. Sorry... how are you, Sir? It's very hot this evening."

The driver, a young Chinese man with a narrow face and big smile just turned slightly to the side and gave me a puzzled look.

"Okay... ha ha. That's fine."

We gestured a bit, discussing trivial things. He tried to teach me the names of London, Hong Kong, Beijing and Xian in Mandarin, which I eventually got, but he incorporated them into sentences much too quickly. I think he wanted me to say something like, "I flew from London to Hong Kong to Beijing." He didn't know where Los Angeles was, but eventually he understood that it was a place. Finally, he took me sightseeing as we stopped at intersections of the busy downtown area. Tienemen Square is just two blocks down the road, apparently. He taught me the word for 'blocks' but I immediately forgot. I need to see these things in writing.

We pulled into the hotel, and as a man open the trunk and prompted, "Your luggage, sir?" in a thick accent, I sighed.

Checking in was not a problem, and I was "upgraded" to an executive suite (a room consisting of a bed double the size of a twin, a couch, minibar, safe, and desk). But when I tried to explain "when large group from CITS arrives from airport, call my room" (because my phone was dead) it took quite some time to get through.

I got to my room and found there to be, among other things, plenty of toilet paper. And only two TV channels, CNN and HBO. After answering several calls that asked me when I needed a ride to the airport, I shaved with a rusty Chinese razor (I survived), took some video of the sad view out of my window, and quickly fell asleep. I woke up around 4:30, expecting a call at any time. My alarm was set to 5:30, but I was excited. I showered, got dressed and headed down to breakfast by seven. It took me most of a day to get ahold of anybody by phone, but when I did and found Mrs. James and the gang still at LAX, I lay down with mixed feelings. Well, at least my bag should be here by tomorrow morning, I thought. Pssh. How wrong could I be?

I breakfasted on soggy eggs, crunchy bacon and sour milk. I watched some movies on HBO for the hours to come, until I had to check out. It took about an hour to convince the lady that I was part of a group that had been delayed by a day. "But you just check out... now check in?" Yes, yes... I am that weird. Because my room wasn't ready, I wandered much of the day around the hotel, walking in circles. I wanted to get some more cash from an ATM (I felt highly priveleged at the airport when an HSBC ATM exclusively serviced foreign cards) but the Agricultural, Workers', and Commerical Banks of China don't take my card. They wouldn't even let me in the door to the streetside ATM with that thing.

So I wandered around the mall, full of nothing but shoes. I could use some shoes. But when I got my bag, that would be another pound and a half that I didn't need. I wandered through a food court, daring myself to eat something. But not a single sign had a single English letter. I was about to leave, and a lady called out to me. "Musige?" What? Had I found food, at last? "Hmm?" I inquired. "Massage," she exclaimed. Boy, I could have used a massage - that backpack was weighing me down, and along with sweating like a pig, I was exhausted. "No thank you. Maybe later." I went into a small booth in a corner of the mall, which sold Motorola phones and such. I walked past, into a more general computer store, pulled out my phone, and said "charger". I had to be more specific, so I showed her how the phone was dead, the battery, an outlet in the wall, and produced some worthy sound effects. "Ahh," she finally said, happy at the prospect of business. She pulled out a charger that fit loosely in my phone. I wrinkled my forehead in dissatisfaction, but she plugged it into the wall and proved to me that it worked like a charm. Satisfied at last, she had her young daughter come over to tell me the price in english. "One hundred and twenty one," she proudly pronounced. What a rip-off, I thought, but I was happy to hear English for the first time in days, so I parted with my money. Besides, I didn't have much of a choice. It was my lifeline.

I decided to point at pictures after all. I went to a McDonald's stand, and pointed at an ice-cream like thing. Gratefully, this was only about a dollar and some, but a break from the heat. After walking in circles for a few more minutes, I decided to sit down in the hotel lobby lounge. I got a sandwich and enjoyed the cool air. Satisfied, I got settled into my room and fell asleep by about 6, after watching two more movies and some news.

Will Baker enlightened me to the fact that we also received a music TV channel, which featured a mix of Chinese and British hits. He knocked on my door around 4 in the morning, and we chatted for a while as our - excuse me, his - bags arrived. The plane had stopped in Anchorage, God knows why. We were ready for bed by 5, but I couldn't fall asleep quite yet. So I stared out the window at the city that already looked like noon. But still, not a single glimpse of blue, blue sky.