The Journey, Part 1

The travel aspect of life abroad is often one of the most stressful ones.  Granted, there is often much excitement and joy surrounding the journey as well; anticipation at what one will find waiting for you on the other end.  So it was that I set out in January for Thailand, to attend a teaching job fair in Bangkok.  I would be traveling alone, which was an exciting change for me, and staying with good friends upon my arrival there.
This was a trip like no other... I was not going to enjoy the sunshine and the sandy beaches of Phuket or Ko Lanta this time.  I was merely going to try and secure a job for what I hoped would be our next post overseas.  I was filled with uncertainty and nervous about the interviews that lay ahead.
The trip started out smoothly, and I breezed through the check-in at YVR, only lacking a boarding pass for my connecting flight in Beijing, but the Air Canada attendant assured me that I would get this in China with no difficulty.  I laid back in my extra small economy seat on the co-chair Air China flight and tried to get comfortable (to no avail).  I have forever been spoiled by the few business class flights that I have been privileged enough to take, and the leg room in economy only seems to grow smaller and smaller.  Perhaps the plane was designed for a smaller sized individual, but there was almost no leg room on the flight, to the point where my knees were dented from the seat in front.  I kindly asked the woman in front of me to let me know before she put her seat back, if she wouldn't mind.  She was obliging, much to my relief.  The only saving grace was having a window seat... this way I could try and curl up somehow to get a bit of sleep against the side of the plane.
I made it through the flight and landed in China safely.  Upon exiting the plane, I followed the crowds towards immigration, knowing that I needed to find a transfer desk to get my boarding pass for the connecting flight to Bangkok.  I spotted it and made my way towards the kiosk where there was a polite sign on top of the desk informing me that no one would be arriving for at least two hours.  It was 6am, and an attendant would not be arriving until 8am... I took this to mean that it could be 8:30 or 9am if I were lucky.  My exhausted body began to tense and I felt a sudden urge to cry.  I looked around for somewhere to sit, to wait, to sleep, but this was a very stark, cold airport with only a janitor sweeping the hallways.  They were spotless, however, so I decided they would have to do.  I made my way to the closest wall and sat down with my things.  I was soon joined by two other travelers in the same predicament, and so we passed the time talking about our travels and adventures.  Travelers are great that way... no shyness going on there!
When an attendant finally arrived, we politely argued over who should be the first to speak with someone, based on the urgency of each traveler's situation, and then we stood up and formed a queue.  When I made it up to the counter, the expressionless agent behind the counter asked me for my passport.  I handed it over and explained that I needed to get a boarding pass for my next flight.  He replied in monotone that I would need to go through customs.  I explained that I did not wish to enter China, but that I wanted to stay in the airport and get on my next flight.  He yelled at me to go to the customs counter and motioned for the next person in line.  Shocked, I turned to find the next line that I was expected to join and saw that it was weaving and winding its way around the waiting room, and was at least 200 people long.  The sympathetic glances from my fellow travelers in despair brought the urge to cry up into my throat again, but I pushed it back down.  I put my bag on my back and walked resolutely over to the long line of people.
An hour or so later, when I finally reached the agent at the front of the line, I once again handed over my passport and took a deep breath.  She closed it and handed it back to me, motioning that I should join a different line to her left that read "Diplomats and Aid Workers".  I insisted that I was not an aid worker or a diplomat, and that I had been told to join her line by an agent at the transfer desk.  Again, I was given the monotone response that I was dreading and felt myself being pushed aside by the next person in line.  I felt an overwhelming feeling of dread... but I walked to the indicated line and waited for my turn.  There were several of us at this point, faces that I recognized from my flight over three and a half hours before, who were all waiting in this line.  None of us knew why we were there, and all of us were certain that we did not meet the criteria on the sign that asked for diplomats and aid workers.  We all waited, however, and we all eventually received a 24 hour visa for China.
This is how I took my first steps into China, a country where not even my husband Matt had been (and his list of countries is a lot longer than my own).  I was nervous, yet excited, and relieved to see a Starbucks down the hall in front of me.  I changed some USD into Yuan and headed over to get my skinny vanilla latte and sit down for a few minutes in a comfortable chair.
Armed with caffeine and a bit of energy, I decided to go and find the check-in desk for Thai Airways, where I was to get my boarding pass.  The signs above the assigned desks indicated that the check-in agents would not arrive until two hours before the flight.  Typical.  Okay, so I had at least seven hours to kill.  Well, I might as well explore Beijing a bit, right? So, I bought a subway ticket and decided to take a very direct route to an area that the woman behind the information desk told me had some good shopping.  Why not?  It would give me a chance to stretch my legs and get a bit of fresh air.  Off I went... to be continued...