Right, I’m on my most absurd adventure ever…
Bit of background: I decided today I’d go back to Hong Kong. Having had so much foresight as to get a super flexible ticket, I was able to call in the morning and get a flight for 13.05. Nice, I'm really getting used to this kind of flexibility.
However, just as I logged out and started packing my stuff, an email arrived in my inbox. My flight had been changed to 12.55 (for reasons too complex to go into here, something to do with the weather). Unfortunately I had only memorized the time of the flight, not the flight name (CX9091).
So when I arrived at the airport, how was I to know that the reason there was no 13.10 flight to Hong Kong was because it was actually the 12.55 flight I was supposed to get on?
To make a meandering story short, I basically checked into the wrong flight. With the wrong airline. I’m just not intelligent enough to understand how on earth a company will let you check in with another company’s ticket. But they did, and took my original ticket, they did.
So, back to here and now: I’m writing this as I am waiting to board the flight, and by now I’ve realized the mistake. But this is so insane, I’ve decided to actually try to board it. Yes I know, its stupid, of course they are going to take me aside and explain to me that there’s been a mistake. But what if they don’t? I know I’m risking everything here, my health, my career, possibly all my earthly possessions. Worst case scenario- they will take my soul. But it’s worth it I think. What if they let me on? What if they let my fly with them by mistake? Surely that will the most ultimate of all amazing airline-messup stories. EVER! It will be the airline-messup story to end all airline-messup stories.
Chances of success are slim though. It will be very embarrassing if I hold up the whole flight because they have to unload my luggage. I’m getting cold feet.
Ok, update. This is turning into some kind of freaky absurdist novel. The flight has been cancelled. I’m still pretending to be unaware of the mix-up, and I’m now writing out of a coach taking us to a hotel. I hope it’s a nice hotel. It would make a good story, wouldn’t it, if they actually check me into a five star hotel because of all this. I can dream. But even a decent four star one would still do for a good story.
My chances of success are getting slimmer though. They’ve taken my boarding ticket (which by the looks of it they were actually going to let me use if the flight hadn’t been cancelled), and return my original ticket- which of course says Cathay, not Dragonair. They didn’t check my ticket when they put me on the coach, but surely during hotel check-in somebody’s going to ask me whether I’m actually supposed to be here.
The plot thickens.
Update from the hotel: I’ve just been checked into a five star resort, which is the funny happy crazy news. But it’s miles away from the city center, so I’m stuck here. I’m wondering whether I’m still having fun enough to try to see if they’ll give me food as well, or whether I’ll just give up on this and call my real airline and get a new flight.
Bizarre though isn’t it? Not one person has asked me whether I actually belong with the group. I wonder whether I could go to jail for this or if I can plead ignorance?
Update from the middle of the night... Yeah, the fun has really worn off now. I hate hotels. I'm trying to get hold of Cathay and see if I can somehow get out of here, anywhere. Don't necessarily need to go to Hong Kong. Singapore would be nice. Ko samui. Siem Reap. Bangkok. Just not this hotel.
Oh btw, yes they did give us food, a really nice five-star buffet.
On the way there, we stopped at a road-side restaurant. Not only was the food excellent, but so was the whole experience of sitting in the middle of a forest, eating fish we’d just seen captured out of a pool and a cucumber I had picked myself. Not to mention chatting with my party of co-weekenders who included such incumbents as Satomi and Nick, as well as friends and colleagues of Nick’s. If we’d decided to just stay there the whole day and never see the wall, I would have been very happy.
I’m glad we did do the trek across the wall. as now i can say that I’m feeling not only happy, but also quite moved by the whole experience. At one point at a particularly high section of the wall, the view was particularly awesome. It gave me a deep experience of awe. The mountains seemed to go on forever, hidden in mist (pollution?) in the very distance, but green and lush. And across this view spans the great wall in a way that defies any prior conception I’ve had of man-made buildings.
And of course, since walking this bit of wall was more similar to climbing a mountain than strolling across a crowdy square, I feel a sense of accomplishment. I'm glad I could now look Mao in the eyes if I ever met him.
(Warning: what follows is a self-indulgent piece of half-baked philosphy and/or flow-0f-consciousness amateur psychology. Here be dragons)
Speaking of pre-conceptions… I’m surprised to learn how empty my head is of pre-conceptions when it comes to nature and life outside of a medium-sized city. As a kid I had the amazing privilege of seeing the grand nature of Iceland with my grand-parents. But it seems I was much more interested in the comics I brought with me on these trips and my strange stories me and my uncle used to tell each other. Sitting in the middle of a forest and watching a newly caught fish splatter around on the ground is an entirely new experience to me. I have no internal language to describe what’s going on.
END OF DRAGON TERRITORY
The way down was way easier than the way up. Although much scarier. We took the cable cars down, flying over rather high altitudes but getting some really cool views of the landscape and a different perspective of the wall.
This is a question that has haunted the human race ever since we started tracking time. The most frightening aspect of this question is that even if you manage to solve the riddle one week, it’s back in force the next week. The weekend is a hole in the fabric of time, threating at any time to destroy our self-identity. For the identity of our self is intricately linked to the passage of time, and the links we are able to create between different times.
I’ve been outside the forbidden palace a couple of times before. I don’t know how, but I had got the impression that the place would be quite small. So when I discovered that it’s made up massive-courtyard after massive-courtyard, I realized this was going to be a different experience than standing outside the Big Ben and saying “wow, that’s a big clock”. The courtyards are connected by long corridors and gates with grand names like “the gate of law and order”. Some sections are at a higher altitude than others, and you get dazzling views of Chinese-style rooftops that seem to go on forever. Again I am struck by the authenticity of the whole thing- I am used to this style of rooftops being used as gimmicks or to advertise that “we serve Chinese food here” in China towns around the world. Here, they are the norm.
The most amazing part of this sightseeing trip through the palace was discovering a rather spacious garden in the middle of it, with massive trees providing a green shade from the sun and surrounded by temple like structures and a strange, very large rock sculpture. A moment of bliss ensued after I found a café selling beer, as I sat down on a stone structure and enjoyed a quiet moment of reflection. “Here I am having a beer in the emperor’s garden”. It’s good to feel like you have the right to the same privileges as the emperor of China.
I told Nick that this was possibly the most impressive man-made building I’ve been in. He replied that Angkor Wat in Cambodia could possibly compete for that title. “Really?” I asked, although I didn't expect an answer. “Interesting”, I added absent-mindedly as I went through my travel plans in my head, wondering whether they have good internet connections in Siam Reap.
Joining me this day was Satomi and Nick both of whom seem to have caught the tourism bug as well. Also, Nick introduced us to his colleague Mike who turns out to be a top dood. We all ended the day on the terrace of a nearby tea-house which was a destination in itself.
