My Trip to China, Mongolia and Russia 2000 By Mike Bailey
As the jet descended lower and lower I could see the houses where the Chinese people lived below. Some of the buildings looked to be made out of stone. Many had walls around their backyards. The jet landed. We had made it.
Entering Beijing Airport
We were taxied to the terminal and after a little wait we filed out of the plane. I had no idea what to expect. I hadn't done any international traveling since 1970 When I came back from Vietnam after my tour of duty was finished. Down the hall there was a line of people holding up cards with people's names on them. I didn't see any with my name on any of them. An announcement came over the innercom in English stating that our luggage could be found at carousel number one. Surprisingly I was feeling cool and calm under the circumstances. I was thousands of miles from my home in a country different then my own. It was a communist country. I didn't speak the language.
I followed the crowd into a room and was handed a little card to be filled out. It had all the usual information they wanted; the same information that is on your passport, where you were from and other things. It was a very short form. After that I gave it to someone who was standing at the entrance of a very large room. Here we had to get in line and give a person seated behind a counter a piece of rice paper we filled out while we were in the plane. When my turn came I stepped up to the desk where the custom worker was and handed him the piece of paper. He took my passport and then wrote something on a piece of paper then handed it back to me. I asked him where carousel one was. He looked at me with a puzzled expression and said something in Chinese. I smiled and said thank you and left.
I went down some stairs and saw that there were carousels so I found carousel one and after a little wait found my suitcase. I grabbed it, pulled the handle up and started rolling it toward a door in the middle of the building that led outside where other people were leaving.
The air was sultry but not too warm. I could tell that it had been raining recently. Outside the door there was a crowd of people. Again there were people holding up signs with people's name on them, some in Chinese and some in English and other languages. There were also taxi drivers soliciting for customers. Someone held up a little yellow card that had the word, MIR written on it. That was the name of the travel company I booked this trip through. I made eye contact with the person holding the card and lifted my index finger. "Are you Michael Bailey"? The American with dark hair asked. I said I was. He lifted the ribbon that separated the crowd from the people coming out the door and pulled me through and guided me to the back of the crowd. He introduced himself as Paul Schwartz, the tour manager. Then he introduced me to Yang who would be our guide while we were in Beijing. Paul mentioned that I had been the first one of the group he had found so far. He left me with Yang so he could find the others. While standing and waiting Yang told me twice that if I wanted to smoke I had to go outside. I told him twice that I didn't smoke.
Yang was a native of Beijing and knew the city well. In a few minutes Paul came back with two other member of our group; Fran and Arlene. We were taken to the van where we put our luggage and then got in. Other members of the group started to arrive. Sabine who was a world traveler and then a middle aged man with his eighteen year old son. We were ready to go. Yang said that it would take about an hour to get to our hotel since it was in the heart of Beijing. I was actually happy to hear that since it would give us time to see the city a little. On the way it was like watching a documentary of China like I had seen many times over the years, but this one was live. I was seeing it in the moment.
We were in rush hour traffic so the driver spent his time maneuvering through traffic trying to get us to the Peace Hotel. At times the traffic was stop and go.
Traffic
Everything in Beijing is big. The buildings are huge. The major thoroughfares are about six lanes in each direction. While we were driving along Yang was trying to explain to us that Beijing is constantly changing. If we would come back in three years we would not recognize it. That seems to be true of my city too, I thought.
We finally got to the hotel and checked in. We didn't do much that first day since the tour was to begin the next day.
The next morning I got up and went downstairs to the resturant and had breakfast. They had a variety of everything both American and Chinese. After breakfast we had a little time, so my roommate, Sabine and I walked around the block to see if we could find any hutongs.
Hutong
These are little old fashioned alley ways that represent the real China that are rapidly disappearing as Beijing modernizes. We found one not far from the hotel. As we were walking around in the early morning people were on their way to work either walking, riding bicycles or driving cars.
As the jet descended lower and lower I could see the houses where the Chinese people lived below. Some of the buildings looked to be made out of stone. Many had walls around their backyards. The jet landed. We had made it.
Entering Beijing Airport
We were taxied to the terminal and after a little wait we filed out of the plane. I had no idea what to expect. I hadn't done any international traveling since 1970 When I came back from Vietnam after my tour of duty was finished. Down the hall there was a line of people holding up cards with people's names on them. I didn't see any with my name on any of them. An announcement came over the innercom in English stating that our luggage could be found at carousel number one. Surprisingly I was feeling cool and calm under the circumstances. I was thousands of miles from my home in a country different then my own. It was a communist country. I didn't speak the language.
I followed the crowd into a room and was handed a little card to be filled out. It had all the usual information they wanted; the same information that is on your passport, where you were from and other things. It was a very short form. After that I gave it to someone who was standing at the entrance of a very large room. Here we had to get in line and give a person seated behind a counter a piece of rice paper we filled out while we were in the plane. When my turn came I stepped up to the desk where the custom worker was and handed him the piece of paper. He took my passport and then wrote something on a piece of paper then handed it back to me. I asked him where carousel one was. He looked at me with a puzzled expression and said something in Chinese. I smiled and said thank you and left.
I went down some stairs and saw that there were carousels so I found carousel one and after a little wait found my suitcase. I grabbed it, pulled the handle up and started rolling it toward a door in the middle of the building that led outside where other people were leaving.
The air was sultry but not too warm. I could tell that it had been raining recently. Outside the door there was a crowd of people. Again there were people holding up signs with people's name on them, some in Chinese and some in English and other languages. There were also taxi drivers soliciting for customers. Someone held up a little yellow card that had the word, MIR written on it. That was the name of the travel company I booked this trip through. I made eye contact with the person holding the card and lifted my index finger. "Are you Michael Bailey"? The American with dark hair asked. I said I was. He lifted the ribbon that separated the crowd from the people coming out the door and pulled me through and guided me to the back of the crowd. He introduced himself as Paul Schwartz, the tour manager. Then he introduced me to Yang who would be our guide while we were in Beijing. Paul mentioned that I had been the first one of the group he had found so far. He left me with Yang so he could find the others. While standing and waiting Yang told me twice that if I wanted to smoke I had to go outside. I told him twice that I didn't smoke.
Yang was a native of Beijing and knew the city well. In a few minutes Paul came back with two other member of our group; Fran and Arlene. We were taken to the van where we put our luggage and then got in. Other members of the group started to arrive. Sabine who was a world traveler and then a middle aged man with his eighteen year old son. We were ready to go. Yang said that it would take about an hour to get to our hotel since it was in the heart of Beijing. I was actually happy to hear that since it would give us time to see the city a little. On the way it was like watching a documentary of China like I had seen many times over the years, but this one was live. I was seeing it in the moment.
We were in rush hour traffic so the driver spent his time maneuvering through traffic trying to get us to the Peace Hotel. At times the traffic was stop and go.
Traffic
Everything in Beijing is big. The buildings are huge. The major thoroughfares are about six lanes in each direction. While we were driving along Yang was trying to explain to us that Beijing is constantly changing. If we would come back in three years we would not recognize it. That seems to be true of my city too, I thought.
We finally got to the hotel and checked in. We didn't do much that first day since the tour was to begin the next day.
The next morning I got up and went downstairs to the resturant and had breakfast. They had a variety of everything both American and Chinese. After breakfast we had a little time, so my roommate, Sabine and I walked around the block to see if we could find any hutongs.
Hutong
These are little old fashioned alley ways that represent the real China that are rapidly disappearing as Beijing modernizes. We found one not far from the hotel. As we were walking around in the early morning people were on their way to work either walking, riding bicycles or driving cars.
posted by THE REAL MIKE BAILEY at 7:03 PM
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