TIC: an acronym foreigners often use in china for every absurd thing for which there is no explanation except… this is china.

i had the most ridiculous experience coming back to beijing from hong kong. it’s going to sound like a rant except, the separation between expectation and reality was so great that it was comical. looking back, that is. i’ve only at two other times in my life had such hilariously awful travel experiences:

1. going to the wrong train station in paris with linda, racing for the other station, and missing the train to switzerland by 47 seconds.
2. getting on the bus going the wrong way in shanghai with carrie, getting dropped off in the last stop–a dark alley–at 1am, and begging the drivers to take us back to a place with taxis.

so the thing is, for my hong kong trip, i had bought return tickets from guangzhou because they cost maybe 1/4 – 1/3 less than flying directly from hong kong. well, i paid that price and will not do it again.

expectation: train leaves at 4, arrives at 6, go through customs, get a taxi to the airport shuttle stop (5 minutes away) by 7.

reality: train does not leave on time, customs takes 45 minutes, taxi line does not exist outside of one of the biggest railway stations in guangzhou. also, it is raining cats and dogs. a man follows me around while i try to grab a taxi, shouting prices at me. the one taxi driver i find refuses to take me to the airport in the rain, so i bargain hard with the guy following me around, and out of desperation, i concede. (will not disclose how much i paid cause i know my mom is reading this.) man kicks a woman out of the car so i can get in (yes, i felt bad), and we are speeding along like crazy on the highway and i am holding on for dear life, considering calling my dad to tell him to make sure i’m still alive in a couple hours. i make it alive.

expectation: i will be going door to door in a taxi from the airport to my apartment and therefore have left my heavy coats/jackets at home.

reality: i arrive at the start of the biggest snowstorm beijing has seen in 60 years.  there is a line of people 50 deep with no taxis in sight. i run for the last airport shuttle of the night.

expectation: the shuttle will drop me off at a location where it IS possible to catch a taxi.

reality: the shuttle stops in the middle of tiananmen square at 12:30am. chang’an is a deserted ten lane road and i am frozen to the core in -10C weather without a coat. i wait 20 minutes before my dad calls me worriedly, and at this point it dawns on me that this might be the first time he does have reason to worry. i’m almost in (frozen) tears but then a cab pulls up and i am saved. SAVED.

and so i arrived at my apartment around 1:30am, a little poorer, a lot in pain, but immensely thankful that i was simply alive. safe. warm. did i mention that state-mandated central heating is the very best thing about beijing? well, it is.

(i’ll leave the story about the airport express breaking down the next morning while i was picking up becky–for another day.)