A Stopover at Beijing Airport

After close to a week and a half of being away from this blog, I'm back. After a 23 hour-long trip, my plane landed in New York at around 5:30 p.m. last night (Sunday night, 6:30 a.m. in Manila). It was a long and exhausting trip. It would have been a much shorter trip were it not for my five-hour stopover in Beijing.

I took a Philippine Airlines (PAL) flight out of Manila for Beijing early Sunday morning. It wasn't a full flight. At the most, the flight was only 40% full which made me wonder if the Manila-to-Beijing route was a profitable one for PAL. The stop at Beijing involved a transfer to an American airline. Once my plane landed at Beijing Airport, I was surprised to find that even though I was only there for a stopover, I was still required by Chinese immigration law to fill out immigration admission and departure forms. I asked the lady at the immigration desk why this was so but she barely spoke English. It was mainly through hand gestures that she was able to partly answer my questions.

As they say, one can't fight city hall so I decided to comply, albeit reluctantly. I also had to watch my behavior for being in a strict communist state, I knew that the authorities there have a very low tolerance for dissent. The last thing I needed was to spend months in a dirty, cold and crowded Beijing jail simply because I questioned the wisdom behind some of their immigration laws.

Beijing's airport was quite huge and it was made so in preparation for the 2008 Olympics. However, in my humble opinion, the place didn't really offer much in terms of entertainment or shopping. I didn't see a lot of souvenir shops. Most of the ones I saw sold cigarettes, liquor and perfume. Pretty much just the basic stuff. The signages on the shops were not pleasing to look at either. Most of the shops' names were simply painted over an awning above a shop's entrance. Televisions all over the airport lounge I was in only showed programs in Chinese without the benefit of English subtitles. In short, the place was big but boring. I'm just glad that I brought a good book with me to help while away the hours.

Except for the immigration officers and people who manned the airline desks, communication in English was definitely a problem. At one point, I needed to go to a restroom and had to approach one of the airport workers to see where I could find the nearest restroom. Our brief conversation went this way:

Baker: Excuse me, could you point me to the nearest restroom?
Airport worker: No. (Shakes his head while responding.)

Thinking that I might have been misunderstood, I immediately rephrased the question to see if I could get a different answer out of him.
Baker: Is there a comfort room around here?
Airport worker: No. (Shakes his head again.)

I searched my mental dictionary for another word he might be able to understand.
Baker: Is there a toilet around here?
Airport worker: No. (Shakes his head again and smiles this time. The "smile" was probably his way of confessing that after all this time, he didn't really understand a word I was saying.)

The only option left to me at this pont was to use some hand or bodily gestures to show what I needed to do but again, this was Beijing. I have to admit that since it was my first time in a Communist country, I was a bit paranoid and didn't want to do anything that would offend the "authorities". Thus, by resorting to gestures, I ran the risk of being misinterpreted in a big way and it will probably land me again in a dirty, cold and crowded Beijing jail. So, I just kept walking until I eventually came across a picture symbol for a restroom. Good.

Walking into the men's room, I was greeted by a male attendant who, in contrast to the airport worker I dealt with a few minutes earlier, proved to be a shining example of extreme helpfulness. With a smile, this attendant courteously directed me to one of the available urinals. (As if I needed to be shown where they were. Hehehe) Once I was done, he immediately walked over to one of the sinks and proceeded to turn the faucet on for me. I appreciated the service and put my hands under the faucet. As I began to wash my hands, he immediately proceeded to turn the liquid soap dispenser (which was immediately to the right of the faucet) on for my use. With that, I completed washing my hands.

However, the gentleman wasn't done with his service. As soon as he saw that I was done washing my hands, he immediately swiped two paper towels out of the paper towel holder on the wall and handed them to me so I could dry my hands with them. I wasn't sure if he was expecting a tip from all of that great service he provided but I sure appreciated his help. He smiled and respectfully nodded his head at me as I thanked him while walking out of the restroom.

Finally, no Baker activity would be complete without a visit to a cafe or restaurant. Midway through the five-hour wait, I got hungry and decided to have an afternoon snack at an airport coffee shop called "The Lei Cafe". I ordered a couple of hotdog sandwiches (Did I say that I was VERY hungry at this point? Hehe) and a can of Coke.

As I was waiting for my order, I came across the following sign that was posted by the coffee shop's main entrance. It attempts to explain the rationale as to why The Lei Cafe was named the way it was. Word for word and down to the exact spelling of each word, here is what the sign said:

"Lei are used to signify Peace, Friendship and Love. It also should be a welcomed, parting, thankful or congratulant celebration of one person, is affection to another."

I couldn't have said it better myself. :D

I'm slowly easing my way back into work mode after having been away for 10 days. It doesn't help that I'm dealing with a severe case of jet lag and to a lesser degree, an upset stomach. But I should be ok within a few days. I hope.