Well, that was exhausting to say the least. I knew the travel process and flight to China would be daunting, but I had never put myself in the position I found myself in during the journey; that position being sitting in the same place, in the same position for 15 hours. Oh my dear God that was terrible. I am by habit and history a chronic fidgeter who has trouble staying still through a one hour lecture, let alone the 15 hours we spent on that plane. Thank goodness I had a watch in my possession. While time seemed to slow and stall out in my position-induced anxiety, I knew I would have gone completely insane without one. A note to all future Plus 3 students, do yourself a favor and take a watch with you.
Despite the insanity of sitting on a plane for 15 hours, I was glad my travel agent had recommended the aisle seat to me. It helped a lot to have the occasional stretch into the aisle without displacing anyone. Also while the book I brought was hopelessly dry and irritating, the new music I placed on my iPod over the previous few days with the solemn promise to not listen to it prior to entering the plane was very entertaining.
On another bright note, my two semesters of Chinese served me very well on the plane. When I arrived at my seat, the man seated in the middle seat was already there. He started getting up to move out of my way, and I interrupted him by telling him that he did not have to move as I had the aisle seat. Though literally translated it was more along the lines of “Please don’t go; I lean on the aisle.” I had always found it entertaining that having the window seat or the aisle seat was differentiated by saying what the person leaned on. Anyway, my Chinese repertoire was 1 for 1.
When we landed in Beijing, it was cloudy, humid, and dark. The initial landing reminded me of the national airport in San Jose, Costa Rica, but the similarities ended right there. After waiting an hour or so to walk to and get through customs we hopped on the tram. What I saw on the tram was the views of the giant terminal that we had just exited and two or three more. They were huge. Even while waiting in customs I remarked on how ridiculously large the terminal was, only to later find out that it was one of many. I could read most of the important signs that were in Chinese, but most everything had English on it as well. My eyes would cheat me out of deciphering Chinese by reading the English, and I gave up trying while still in the airport. We then waited another hour while luggage problems were sorted out by Dr. Gao, two students, and the authorities. Both students have barely made the flight, but their luggage did not fare as well. Hopefully they will get it soon. I can’t imagine what they’re going through now as I can’t wait to shower and don fresh clothes and brush my teeth.
While in the airport, I could pick up the occasional tidbit of conversation and make guesses at what was being discussed. However they spoke very quickly and I would only pick up the occasional noun or verb. “Bathroom,” “luggage,” and “home” were unsurprisingly common nouns.
After hiking to the front of the airport, we were greeted by a few Tsinghua students. At the moment I couldn’t care less as I was looking at the domestic flights board to see which places I could put on a map. I performed miserably at this task. Chinese urban geography is not something we were taught. We emerged from the front of the airport, and BAM! The intense presence of cigarette smoke. It was thick and omnipresent. The smell did not leave, and is still present as I write this entry IN OUR HOTEL ROOM. A sign next to the bed politely asks that patrons do not smoke in the beds. This request was undoubtedly ignored by the previous guests. Hopefully I will get used to the smell, because right now it’s all I can think about.
After arriving at the hotel and a small grace period to unpack a little bit, we travel over to a local restaurant for dinner. The smell of smoke still lingered on the streets and in my nostrils. We sit down and order what looks to be edible, which didn’t appear too often on the menu. We order safe noodle dishes and some coca-colas by pointing to the menu. I don’t know the word for can in Chinese, but Coca-Cola seems to be universal. It’s even fun to say in Chinese; “KeKouKeLe.” Then one of our Tsinghua students comes over and asks what we have ordered. We politely told her and she started shaking her head. She then pulls over the waitress, or “fuyuan,” which I already knew to say, and starts ordering like crazy. We ended up getting 6 or so other things and were constantly invited to try them. I did not consider myself to be a picky eater, but I didn’t think it was too much to ask for to have the bones already removed from the pork. Despite the repulsive pork, the rice porridge was bland and palatable, and the hamburger dumplings were pretty tasty. The student, Vivienne as I later found out, asked during the meal if any of us knew any Chinese. I acknowledged that I did and said in fluent Chinese that I had studied it for two semesters. Chinese repertoire 2 for 2. She then responded in Chinese. I understand what she asked (it was along the lines of “How much can you understand?”), but could not formulate a response. Chinese repertoire 2 for 3. She then told me in Chinese an appropriate response, a response I could have formulated using words I know had I been thinking straight no less. But the Chinese conversation ended there and we resumed eating. After eating we returned to the hotel.