Mike Chrisp

The two weeks previously had been a like a roller coaster ride with the sudden death of my father. Our original plans were dumped as I came to terms with his passing. There was so much to do. My wife Lynn practical as ever had borne the brunt of things organising everything with the funeral directors and sorting out flower tributes and refreshments after the cremation service. The Rev. Oliver Harrison carried out his duties impeccably, putting us all at ease and the small chapel was packed, standing room only. So with the music and the poetry reading, the prayers and surrounded by the people who loved and respected him, I hope we gave him the send off he deserved. The next day Lynn took me to the airport.

The route arced across northern Europe, Denmark and the Baltic. Passed over St Petersburg and entered the airspace over a barren northern Russia. Finally turning southeast passing over numerous towns ending in -sk. Then into Mongolia passing Ulan Bator, the capital before crossing the Gobi dessert and arriving in Beijing at 09:10 local time.

The airport complex is vast with a massive new building programme very evident as they try to get ready for the 2008 Olympics. The main complex is beautifully cool and very modern.

On entering the immigration area, I already knew that my visa would not quite extend for the duration of our adventure, so I smiled sweetly at the female police officer and said, "Do you speak English?"

"Of course," she replied.

"I am so stupid," which I was, "when I booked my return flight I didn't count the days properly and my flight home is two days longer than my 30 day visa. Can you help me?  Do I extend it here or somewhere in the airport?"

She gave me one of those looks you know the type - yes you are stupid.

"One moment."  She turned to her colleague behind her and chatted away for some time. The other female officer giggled and bowed her head and hid her mouth behind her hand. They continued for a while and then abruptly my officer turned back to me and said, "No problem, when you come back, you just pay when you leave."

"You mean I won't get arrested?" I asked.

She dropped her head to one side and asked, "Arrested?"

I brought my hands up to simulate being handcuffed.

She laughed, "No," and handing back my papers said, "Welcome to China."

"Xeixei, thank you," I replied and walked off to retrieve my luggage.

A huge baggage collection area with English speaking attendants on hand dwarfs most European and American airports and it is very well laid out.

Arrival in Beijing was a shock from the air conditioning on the aircraft to sweltering heat well over 80 degrees Fahrenheit.

The town is masked in a kind of smog, obliterating the horizon through a mixture of dust and pollution from the thousands of vehicles belching out their exhaust.

The hotel courtesy bus driver deftly worked his way through traffic, which seemed to have a semblance of order that most drivers tended to ignore.

At one road junction while we waited patiently for the lights at the precise moment they did change a car turned across all traffic going the wrong way on the wrong side of the road. Of course it was our fault for being there. Horns blaring, drivers becoming exasperated and through it all bicycles and pedestrians would wend their way. At a few intersections groups of ten to twelve girls in blue uniforms collected with brooms to hand and bags of rubbish. Some of the rubbish was slung in large plastic bags over the ubiquitous bicycle.

Eventually we arrived at our hotel - a quiet oasis in a sea of bustling humanity.

—Mike Chrisp

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