It's been a long day. Awake at a quarter 'til five in the morning for my journey to Bangkok, I spent my first hour at the airport standing in the wrong line, although I couldn’t for the life of me figure out why the ticket agent I went to couldn’t check me in. After standing in another long line for an identical kiosk, I was notified that China Eastern Airlines would not check my bag through to Thailand, and not give me a boarding pass for my connecting flight until I got to Shanghai, where I would have to leave the secure area of Pu Dong Airport, retrieve my bag, then check-in all over again…going through the invasive Chinese checkpoint rigmarole twice. I realized that this could easily compromise my connection and leave me stuck in Shanghai. The security for my domestic flight from Capital Airport was strangely strict, the toughest I’d experienced in my two weeks here. Not only did they rifle through both my checked bag and my carry-on (eventually I convinced them that my contact lens solution isn’t explosive), but I was also subject to quite a pat-down. "Don’t touch my junk" flyers be forewarned, in China, they will most definitely give your undercarriage a “How’s your father?” although mine was carried out by a young female, which I found somewhat amusing.
After taking off late from Beijing, I began to pray that I would have an expedient trek to the baggage claim and no hassles in Shanghai, but, we ended up deplaning on the tarmac at least a mile from the terminal. Crowded onto herky-jerky buses with tight clutches, we made the agonizingly slow ride back, holding onto hanging handgrips…one of which broke while an old woman in front of me was clinging to it, sending her to the floor. After I helped her up, she looked at the shoddy subway strap in her hand and I said to her, “Now you’ve got a souvenir from Shanghai!”
It was typical traveler pandemonium at the baggage claim, but after two weeks of witnessing firsthand the Chinese characteristic of cutting line, I’ve learned to throw a few elbows myself. I got my bag, ran upstairs, and then waited another 45 minutes to check-in for my international flight. Thankfully, I managed to get my paper pass fifteen minutes prior to boarding time, and having no security checks that made me feel dirty like before, I even had time to get stamped out of customs and change my remaining yuan back into dollars, which can only be done before you leave China.
Of course, if I’d known our flight would be delayed by a further three hours (an update on the electronic board was never made) I would’ve delayed the currency exchange and had a beer in the passenger lounge. Thankfully, a nice German man named Uwe kindly bought me a Tsing Tao and we used our time in airport limbo to discuss what I should and should not do in Southeast Asia.
Now, I’ve been placed in the very last row of the Airbus, so that I can have a mass of people who don’t know how to wait in line elbow me in the head on their way to the lavatory (Karma for the baggage claim, I suppose). But, even though I am still on a Chinese vessel and presumably over their airspace, it won’t be long before I break free from the bonds of Beijing, and can therefore post a blog that won’t be blocked.
For having more than a billion people, it amazes me how tightly information is controlled in China. Facebook is not allowed (just in case any of my “friends” were wondering why I hadn’t made any status updates for the past couple of weeks), and the Google you get is technically from Hong Kong, which means when you do an image search for “Tiananmen” you won’t see a little guy standing in front of a tank. It should go without saying that their print and TV media is overwhelmingly biased (not that ours isn’t) but in the US, it’s not as laughable. I just read an article about Tibet that would’ve incensed Richard Gere, stating that monk self-immolation is merely a product of the Dalai Lama’s “brainwashing tactics”. I became aware of these propaganda prohibitions as soon as I walked the jet-way in LA, when I saw a dour man plucking Chinese-language American papers from the hands of Asians getting on board. (Thankfully, he didn’t make a move for my New York Times crossword)
It’s not until now that I’ve felt comfortable criticizing this however, as every hotel you stay at is required to inform the authorities that you are a guest, and I’d heard stories from other travelers about locals they’d never met approaching them on the street, knowing where they plan to sleep. Kent (the Dane mentioned in prior posts) took the positive view of being under constant watch by saying, “At least they’ll know if something happens to you.” I agreed, but hoped that if something did happen to me, it wouldn’t be at the hands of those doing the surveillance.
Big Brother aside, I don’t want to give people the impression that I didn’t have a rewarding experience on my visit to China. I met a lot of interesting and polite people, not all of whom were foreigners. I was privy to more acts of kindness than rudeness, and I think I’ve made mention enough times about how much I enjoyed the food. While it probably won’t be on my radar as a future vacation destination, I did get to check a few things off of my proverbial “bucket list”, and got to witness China during an electric time of growth and change.
Speaking of…one of my recurring ruminations on China involved how much change has occurred there during its long and fabled history. Whether you’re at the Forbidden City, or the Terracotta Warriors, or the Great Wall, you’re looking at the evidence of dozens of dynasties that have come and gone. Visiting the corpse of a man who was both revered by, and responsible for the deaths of, millions of people, I thought about how the birth of the People’s Republic was merely one in a series of revolutions, and will probably not be the last. I’m really glad I got to see the mummified Mao before he becomes a mere memory like the Manchu and the Ming.
My trip to China has been one that will live long into my memory, and forced me to persevere despite a gargantuan gap in language and culture. Whether it was ordering food, booking a room or hopping on transportation, I’ve gained a little bit of wisdom and patience, confident in my ability to eventually “work this thing out.” I hope that this quality will only improve as I set off for other challenging countries.
I’ve got about one hour more of smelling the toilets behind my seat before I begin a new leg of my adventure. Uwe informed me that I may want to adjust my plans to accommodate for Songkran, the upcoming Thai New Year which I had no idea I’d be present for, and where revelers enjoy shooting you with super-soakers full of water mixed with talcum powder. Looks like I’m going to need to find a Ziploc bag for my phone.
