Friday morning has inevitably come around, and it's nearly time to leave China.
It's a particularly bright and clear morning and, for the last time, I gaze out from my 12th floor window across the Beijing skyline. I can just make out the red-roofed pagodas of the Forbidden City; further out, three distinctive oval-shaped pieces of modern architecture we passed on the outskirts of the city yesterday; and beyond - on the horizon - the rolling hills that, from this distance, conceal the Great Wall.
I think about the diverse places I've seen: Zhengzhou - the capital of Henan Province and the busy working city where I taught and, for the most part, felt I was the only waiguoren (foreigner) for miles around; Xi'an, the walled city with its superbly-preserved fortifications and beautiful bell-towers; and of course the breathtaking and mind-blowing Terracotta Army; Beijing - modern, sophisticated and cosmopolitan; proudly preparing itself to play host to the world in the 2008 Olympics. I also think about the excellent meals I've enjoyed and the absolute mayhem that passes for road transport.
But mostly I think about the people I've met. I remain overwhelmed by their kindness and generosity, and by the genuine affection each and every one has shown me; I'm still in awe of the way in which I - hitherto a complete stranger to them - am accepted almost as a family member. This, above all else, makes me sad to be going.
To be honest, though, the novelty of living out of a suitcase is finally beginning to wear off, and I admit to looking forward to a more familiar diet, to being in more familiar surroundings, and to returning to more familiar activities.
So, after tidying up parts of my previous blog postings, I collect together my various bags and baggage, hope none of it is overweight, and check out of the most luxurious hotel I have ever stayed in.
The taxi to the airport was 120 yuan. The taxi from the airport, two days previously, had been 100 yuan. At least positive inflation is something that is familiar to me!
China had one last little sting in the tail; one which, had I been thinking straight, I would have been prepared for: I had not even disembarked from the taxi at the airport by the time a woman had piled all my stuff from the boot into a luggage trolley and was heading off towards Departures. Fortunately, an official porter - with formal ID - was close at hand; he warned me I should not let her take it, and between us we wrested it from her. She was not best pleased!
The porter guided me through check-in and all the exit paperwork (customs declaration, health-check form etc), and accompanied me as far as security. I asked him how much I owed him and was told: "whatever you want to give me, sir". Now this is a hard one. In China tipping is not the normal custom, so I had no feel for how much would be right - not so much as to cause embarrassment, and not so little as to be insulting. I hesitated a bit, and passed him 10 yuan. A soon as I'd left him I felt ashamed, it having dawned on me that I'd just given him the equivalent of about 17p. But of course by then it was too late. Oh well, perhaps he would do better later in the day.
The flight left on time. I had a window seat, so I took advantage of the unusually clear conditions.
Above: this was shortly after leaving Beijing. It was not until I was studying the photograph after I returned home that I realised the light-coloured feature near the centre of the picture must be a dam. I've read about the massive scale on which such engineering projects are built, and this really makes the point I think.
Over the course of the next few hours I took further shots.
In time, the rugged brown mountains gave way to what appeared to be sandy hills or dunes. I assume this was the edge of the Gobi Desert, and Mongolia.
There appeared what looked to be icy lakes; presumably the fringe of Siberia. I wondered what kind of existence the sparse population down there had, and shivered.
Eventually it became too dark for the camera to focus, and I took a doze.
During the flight we were served two very acceptable hot meals. This being China Southern Airlines (code-shared with KLM), they were Chnese dishes.
The remainder of the flight passed without note, other than that my neighbour was a Dutch businessman who, while being talkative, was inclined to occupy more than his fair share of space, so that I felt pinned between him and the plane window. He was also, to my mind, rather conceited. It was clear he had travelled much in the far east, and he often spoke in mocking and quite disparaging terms about the Chinese; he even suggested that Chinese students were only recruited by our (the UK's and Europe's) universities because of the high fees they brought; that they were really not very bright, but were sent away with degrees anyway: pile'em high, sell 'em cheap, as it were. Mercifully, he spent most of the flight standing near the tail of the aircraft, chatting to some of his compatriates.
Wind forward to Amsterdam. I already had my boarding pass for the final leg of my trip, from Amsterdam to Manchester. I had a lot of time to spare, and made the mistake of passing through the gate's security during boarding of a previous flight. After I'd become the only person seated in the area, I was apporached by security staff and asked which flight I was waiting for. When I told them, they said that unfortunately I would have to go back outside the gate until an hour before my scheduled departure, as they were about to lock up. So then I had to go through it all a second time. Not that there was a problem, but it is a faff, involving the removal of belt, laptop, etc.
As it drew close to boarding time, a message appeared on the monitor screen to the effect that the Manchester flight would be delayed. It did not say by how much. Eventually though, the aircraft arrived, and everyone prepared for boarding. It was at this point the announcement came: owing to a "technical problem with the aircraft" the flight was cancelled. Just like that! I think in fact, it may have been grounded as a result of the attrocious weather that this part of Europe had recently been experiencing. That's as maybe, but when you are, metaphorically-speaking, within sight of your own front door, it comes as a sledge-hammer blow. It's the equivalent of having driven across Europe only to be stuck in gridlock just south of Junction 19 on the M6. Why, when every flight up to this point had gone without a hitch, did this have to happen?
Unfortunately, to make matters worse, in dealing with the problem, the KLM staff were totally disorganised. Initially they assured us that we'd all be looked after and switched to an alternative flight - the next day; that in the meantime we would be put up in a nearby hotel. But in fact, everyone seemed to be telling us something slightly different. In the end, we weren't sure whether we'd be automatically transferred, or whether we'd need to secure our own flights in the morning. In the end we were told we'd need to return to the airport at 6am to re-book our flight, which in practice would have to be Amsterdam-Birmingham-then
At this point the staff all sugared off home to bed and left us to our own devices in an otherwise-deserted airport!! All this time I'd been lugging around my back-pack containing the laptop, power-supply, one of Liu Chi's heavy (of course!) presents, assorted books and other bits; plus a carrier bag with yet another of Liu Chi's heavy (of course!) presents and various sundries. I was absolutely shnackered, I can tell you, having been up since 6 am Beijing time (7hrs ahead). The idea of having to compete, at 6 the following morning, with all those other lost souls for a limited number of seats did not fill me with much enthusiasm! My original flight had been due to depart for Manchester at 9.05 pm. By the time I finally checked into the airport Ibis hotel it was already 00.40 am (ie 40 minutes past midnight). We'd been told we were entitled to a meal as part-compensation, and the restaurant would still be serving dinner until 1.15 am. There's safety in numbers, and I'd managed to team up with an Oldham woman from the "stranded flight" (official terminology). She'd only been to Amsterdam for a week-end conference, so this was rather putting a dampener on her outing. Neither of us could face the idea of dinner at that point, so we missed out on it.
She requested a 4.30 am wake-up call from Reception, and we swapped room numbers - the intention being she could phone me and we'd catch the 5 am shuttle bus back. Thus, I didn't bother with a wake-up; and anyway, I was confident there'd be an alarm clock near the bed, like there is in all hotel rooms. There wasn't. And my own travel alarm clock was ... in my suitcase. At the airport. I set the alarm on my mobile, but wasn't confident it would go off. So not a lot of sleep was had: I awoke approximately every half hour petrified in case I'd over-slept. I woke up for the final time at 4.15 am, and decided to get up. Just after 4.30, and on a whim, I rang the room of the woman who'd asked for the wake up call. Good job I did. She hadn't received it, so until I rang had still been fast asleep!
We skipped the (complimentary) breakfast of course, in order to make sure we got back to the airport early enough. When we did, it turned out we had been switched automatically to the Birmingham flight. If they'd made that clear to begin with, it would have saved us a lot of stress. I was seat number 2A, which I thought was rather intriguing. She was in row 20.
Although it had never been suggested to me, it became evident that I and several other passengers had been upgraded to Business Class. I presume we were ones that had flown into Amsterdam from elsewhere. In the end I had a lovely flight. Plenty of leg-room, a good view from two adjacent windows, and a jolly nice brunch - including real coffee in a real mug - plus a refill.
Birmingham airport is tiny. Much easier to operate than Manchester. We were through baggage collection and out the front door in no time. The coach was waiting and we set off. Other than having to stop twice on the hard-shoulder for the driver to close the luggage bay door that kept falling open, it was a trouble-free ride.
So - being stranded in Hampster Jam may actually have been the icing on the cake, in effect. (Is that a mixed metaphor?)
Caroline and Pete met me at Manchester airport, and I drove home. And that's nearly the end of the story; but not quite, because I intend to publish one more post with some of my overall thoughts about China.
Meanwhile, thanks for staying with me during my adventure.
Mike
(Wei Bo)
