Let me start this entry with the fact that I am sick. And as you know I don’t often get sick—however, what makes this situation all bright and shiny is that I am a medical mystery. With a mysterious fever that disappears and reappears, a swollen tongue/taste buds, a sore throat, a cough and some minor congestion the medical staff has no idea what I’ve come down with. Be forewarned—I was told I am not contagious nor do I have strep or malaria. *Whew*
Well after some adventures and dress making in Vietnam, we sailed for two days, where I stared at the inside of my cabin hoping to feel better. Of course the one time my body decides to test the immune system out, I find out that everyone onboard will be having their temperature taken and must NOT have a fever in order to entre Hong Kong. Oh joy. Luckily, I pass the test, thanks in part to my good friends: Motrin and Tylenol.
Upon our arrival to Hong Kong I decide, “Well, screw it. If I don’t feel well, maybe some fresh air will be good for me.” So on Sunday, Kristen (who is now feeling better after her stomach bug from Thailand) and I, venture to Hong Kong Island via ferry. We shopped and explored, got lost, took the wrong ferry back to our port, spent plenty of money and soon decided to call it a day. Ironically, Camp Kennybrook came back into my life for the second time on this voyage when I got to have a late coffee date and reunite with a fellow counselor, Leigh Hewson. Apparently, he’s been in an exchange program there since January! [cue the “It’s a Small World” song] So Leigh and I met up at the mall our ship was docked in and caught up on life. The American and the Brit meet in Hong Kong—love it!
But my China experience wouldn’t be any fun if I couldn’t top my crazy travel stories from Vietnam—so I decide to make this epic tale of mine into an epic novel. After what I like to refer to as, “That time in Nam”, I felt traveling would be a breeze. Little did I know, my cocky American attitude would quickly get flushed down the drain.
Right now I’m sitting in the Hilton hotel in Beijing. I will be visiting the Great Wall of China soon. But the story of how I got here is almost enough in itself:
This morning Kristen and I woke up bright and early to head to Beijing. We decided way back in South Africa that we wanted to independently go to the Great Wall—not through SAS or through the Facebook group (where tomorrow many of my friends will be sleeping/freezing on the Great Wall). So we booked flights from Hong Kong to Beijing and returning ones from Beijing to Shanghai, where we will meet the ship. We found a cheap hotel and booked that too—hey, it had free wi-fi. Expedia seemed like a reliable source, so that’s who we went through.
Well, obviously things didn’t go necessarily as planned. We hopped on the ferry this morning over to Hong Kong Island, found the Airport Express train, bought our tickets and were on our way. Just the two of us. Ironically (again!), we booked the same flight as the SAS trip so we arrived at the airport and boarded the plane with a little under 100 other SASers. Well, no worries. Once we landed in Beijing (and were reintroduced to winter weather—yuck), we went through customs (which took FOREVER!) and then made our way to baggage claim. But when we got there it was empty. I’m telling you and international airport baggage claim—empty! I’ve never seen anything like it in my life. Well, slightly concerned, Kristen and I attempt to ask someone when the baggage are coming out, or if they already did and she just keeps reassuring us that this is the correct carousel. A few minutes later, Kristen leaves to see if she can get directions to our hotel from an information booth and I wait, patiently, for our bag. Ten minutes pass. Then twenty, and finally we are fed up. We head to the Lost/Found area where my blue duffel bag is waiting for me, squashed underneath mountains of other bags. I pried it out and then we finally made our way to the taxi line.
In the midst of getting a cab, we were overwhelmed by the paparazzi who were snapping photos of some Chinese team who just arrived in the airport—I’m thinking gymnastics? They were all girls in track suits, with their hair all tightly pulled back and wearing medals around their necks. Anyway, we laughed and then found a taxi. Of course, our taxi driver had NO IDEA where this hotel we booked was. So we drive around while he calls literally everyone in his cell phone to find out where this place is. No good. And since he speaks no English, we can’t even tell him to pull over to a hotel so we can find someone to talk to. Finally after some pointing and nodding and broken, guttural sounds, we pull up to a shack of a hotel where, you guessed it, no one speaks English! Ugh.
Well after pointing at a map for 10 minutes a man, who happens to be staying there, walks over and realizes our distress. He helps translate for a while and we find out that no one knows where the Green Tree Inn is. So now we’re stuck. Shack hotel had no rooms available, so we ask to be taken to a Hilton or a Sheraton, hoping that maybe someone there will speak English, or at least they will have a room available. A few nods and handshakes later, we’re back in the cab and in front of the Hilton Beijing.
We go inside and of course it’s nice and warm and everyone is speaking English and we’re back in our comfort zone. That is, until we ask the prices of the room. Let’s just say that it was slightly higher than our $20 a night, cheap room at the non-existent Green Tree Inn. Kristen and I decide that instead of staying we’re going to shop around for another hotel. The gent at the front desk, kindly understands, gets us a cab, and tells us there is a 3-star hotel around the corner for about the same price as the Green Tree would have been. So we head there.
This new hotel doesn’t seem too bad, but when we go inside there is only one room left and the girl at the front desk says it “stinky.” Clearly, we know the meaning of this word, but we can’t grasp what she is trying to tell us. She understands and decides to show us the room and let us decide for ourselves. We get to the room, tired, 3 hours after our flight landed, just yearning for somewhere to sleep and put our stuff down, but the room smells like a combination of fresh paint and formaldehyde—not good. Kristen and I give each other one look and walk right out of that hotel and march back to the Hilton.
At this point we’ve given up on money and we decide that for the money we know we’ll be staying somewhere clean and the people will speak some English—that’s all we can ask for. Oh language barriers—don’t you love ‘em? We finally settle in, call our parents, laugh a little and make our way back downstairs to hunt for dinner. The receptionist gives us the name of a nice little Chinese place that makes good dim sum and we have her write it down in Mandarin to show to the cab driver. He nods, we get in, and then, of course, he has no idea where it is—and he speaks no English. Excellent. He drops us off on the road where this mystery restaurant is supposed to be and instead we find some little place where no one speaks English—we’re accustomed to it at this point—and play the “point and order” game.
Thankfully, I’m safe and sound now, back in my hotel.
Great Wall later on—hopefully…
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