Touch Down

A sea of Chinese faces stared back at me. I fixated on each one, walking as slowly as I possibly could amongst the flow of people, desperate for my name to be flashing back at me in lights. But there was nothing.

Carried by the crowd, I emerged at the exit of arrivals, a lost looking tourist alone in a foreign land. I had barely touched Beijing soil when I encountered my first problem…

I had no transport…

Tired, drained and resembling more like a dead woman walking than an excited tourist, I found a phone and called the emergency number I had wisely brought with me. Ten minutes later I was a defeated woman – how on earth do you use a Chinese payphone?

Across the airport was my saviour: an information desk with smiley ladies. But alas, they too couldn't access the number – I was stranded, with no Chinese Yuen or any knowledge of the lingo. I was too tired to care.

Was this even real?

Was I going to wake up in a minute in my lovely soft bed in the hotel and laugh at this ridicoulous dream?

And then, like an angel (who wasn't dressed in a white gown and wasn't smiling at me), he appeared holding a sign that didn't have my name or the name of the company on it – Pereguine who? He was an hour late but who cares? He was here and he was going to take me to my lovely warm bed…

Hello Beijing. zzzzzzz

A colourful display at Tiananmen Square

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