Seven Days, Eight Flights: China-Barcelona-China

A trip to Girona (with all contestants).

There is one week of my life which still seems unbelievable as I look back at it. Seven days, eight flights, one night train, one night bus. That’s exactly what happened after I found out that I am one of the finalists of IEMed short story contest "A Sea of Words" and have been invited to the awards ceremony in Barcelona. Great! I am in China now. I said to myself. But in my mind, I knew, I would be there. And I was (except for the fact that I missed the ceremony itself). Now being back to boring Lianshui County (village) where nothing much happens, I am still living in those days and those planes: hectic, happy, rewarding.

Beijing – Kiev

It’s an early, sleepy morning. 5 am. I am waiting for the boarding at the gate of my flight in Beijing airport. Since I haven’t slept the night (lounging on a hard seat somewhere in the airport), I naturally feel dozy and exhausted. I put on my earplugs to let the music make me alert as I don’t... No, I don’t want to miss my plane! I must not miss my plane! Because that would result missing all the other seven planes, right? Some dum-dum pop music yells in my ears, and that feels good. I don’t take my earplugs out till the very boarding.

Only when I board the plane and settle at the window seat, I notice it’s raining outside. Moreover, I notice it’s STILL raining outside. I remember, it started already yesterday afternoon, and my wet feet can only confirm that it had been one of the most torturous nights at the airport having light autumn clothes on with two-years-ago-bought worn out boots that let the rainwater through. I don’t want to remember how I envied everyone who seemed smart enough to wear winter clothes. At least my eyes got warmth from them. But it didn't please my poor feet.

As I am on the plane and gazing at the rain for a while (until the plane gets ready to take off) I suddenly remember the French band Housse de Racket and their song “Apocalypso” which has the lyrics "It’s raining, imagine”, and I always want to sing “It’s raining in Beijing”. (Actually that song mentions “Pekin” in the French part of lyrics) That fits in this situation so well, and off in the clouds we are escaping all that depressing rain. The first heaven has been reached as I see shiny clouds and greet them with a brisk „Good morning!” We are heading towards happiness.

Kiev – Riga

Whenever I am flying back to Riga, the flight actually starts already in the boarding area as I am waiting for my plane. Seeing Latvian faces, hearing the native language – those are the first heralds that welcome you back home, that make you realize you have missed your home after all. And subliminally, you pay extra attention to the talks, people, and their mood about going back home. No, they don’t seem just random passengers; it feels like they are your mates, your folks from back home. Only once the home is reached and you split into different directions, they become your strangers.

There is a mother and a son who have just returned from India. Their badges on their hand luggage reveal that. There is a family of parents and two children, and an uncle (I suppose?) who mention Kazakhstan, India and Thailand in their talks, so I can’t figure out where they are actually coming from. Whatever the case, we all are heading to Riga in a very small air-plane that rather feels like a flying bus. 

Riga – Frankfurt

My flight to Frankfurt is at around noon the next day after I have returned from China. Before this flight I have submitted my documents for a new Chinese visa (as the one I had was a single-entry visa), left my passport at the embassy and with an identity card on a close look, I am ready for the next flight. I am in an aisle seat with two Latvian ladies in their thirties sitting next to me. They keep on discussing their plans in Frankfurt; it seems like a long anticipated vacation as they mention their jobs in Riga. I smile at a gentleman sitting in the other line behind me as he sleeps with an open mouth. 

Frankfurt – Barcelona

I need to spend around three hours until my connecting flight to Barcelona. What I like about Frankfurt airport is free coffee, tea, hot chocolate. It somehow compensates the fact that due to my visa issues I arrive in Barcelona much later than other finalists. In fact, I arrive when the whole ceremony is over (yes, it might sound ironic that I have travelled from China to actually miss it), but I am supposed to be on time for dinner. 

As we reach Barcelona, I hastily run towards the exit. This is the first time when someone welcomes me with a name tag in his hands. Yes, it’s my taxi driver hanging my name on a piece of paper. I notice him quickly. As we get in the car, I anxiously start asking him about the ceremony: did you like it? How was it? Has everyone arrived? Where is the dinner place? But only then I realize he has nothing to do with that. He is just a taxi driver. That makes me sit quietly and watch outside the window admiring the nightly Barcelona. Yesterday night I was in Latvia; the night before yesterday I was in China. I say to myself, and I can’t believe it. How manageable this world is! 

Barcelona – Frankfurt

We will miss the flight. OMG, it’s 3.45. We arranged to meet downstairs at 3.40 when the taxi was supposed to drive us to the airport. I hastily put on my coat, take my stuff and get down to the reception where me and Andreas, a guy from Cyprus (we are the two unlucky ones whose flights are at around 6 am in the morning) should meet. Andreas is not there! I knew he would oversleep. I start troubling the poor receptionist. “Taxi, taxi, where is the taxi? I want to check out. Fast, fast, call to Andreas, Room 103,” I say everything at once and only after that I realize that nothing of my message has been understood as the receptionist doesn't even speak English. But still. Didn't we arrange that the residence books a cab for 3.40? I am in panic, but he is calm, peaceful, even confused, mumbling something in Spanish. Why? Doesn't he understand we are going to miss our flights??? Only then I notice a big watch hanging on the wall. I want to laugh. I want to cry. I want to kill myself. It’s 00.40. Feeling embarrassed, I apologize to the receptionist and go back to my room. I can sleep three more hours!!! Alarm clock rang only in my dreams, it seems.

I didn't miss the flight. Neither did Andreas. Moreover, have you been on a plane with two pilots – one in front, the other one sitting back? Well, the second one was sitting next to me as a passenger. He felt the necessity to boast about it to the flight attendant who didn't seem to care. It’s 6 am after all. 

Frankfurt – Riga

Again I am happy to stop at Frankfurt airport for many cups of hot chocolate. It’s not too long to wait till my next flight. I take a seat, pick up a book and hear one of the most beautiful melodies in the world – two Finnish guys are leisurely chatting and ohhh, this is still one of my favourite and definitely, the cutest language I have ever heard. I wish I could keep this cassette on longer, but the guys leave soon and so does my flight with me thrust in an aisle seat. I don’t like at all what the captain says, as we are approaching Riga. It’s rainy, cloudy, unpleasant weather. Can you change the course, then? I want to ask. But he steadily moves across Poland, Lithuania and finally lands in Riga.

Riga – Kiev

I have one full day in Latvia to go and pick my visa, have dinner at home, and pack my suitcase for… China. Two more flights and I will have completed my eight-sky journey. The flight from Riga to Kiev was actually very terrifying. Not because of the turbulence… or I should say – it was my own turbulence as I suddenly had a feeling I had forgotten all my extra Chinese money home. Don’t laugh! I kept those banknotes in a stocking (not to have everything in my wallet which was already stuffed with lats, euros, dollars). Of course, I would normally take that stocking in my hand luggage. I couldn't believe I had carelessly tossed it in my suitcase. That however becomes my hope as to where the money could have gone. Another option is that I have left it at home which means I would probably find it once I am back home again. But what would I do with Chinese RMB in Latvia? There is another option (which is the one I least expect): I have somehow somewhere lost it (no wonder, after all that packing-unpacking-repacking from-to China-Barcelona-China). So, with a hope for the very first option (that I have packed it in my suitcase) I leave for Kiev and then I need to keep that hope for another 13 hours till I would find out which option my dear stocking decided to go for. Luckily, for my mental situation, Kiev airport appears to be a complete mess as there is this bewilderment around terminals. I arrive in the terminal B, but I need to get to the terminal D where the flight to Beijing will be boarded. Well, even the airport employees seem to be unaware of how to help me and other passengers with connecting flights. They are sending us like lost luggage from one gate to other. Finally, a driver arrives and takes us to the terminal D by micro-bus  That at least helped dispel the stress about my missing stocking. 

Kiev – Beijing

Next to my worries about possible lost Chinese RMBs, I get another burden. Aisle seat. Especially when I am flying long distances, I insist on having a window seat as it’s more comfortable for sleeping unless I get an interesting neighbour to talk to. Thankfully, the latter happens with me this time. The middle-aged lady who sits next to me is indeed a nice person. She is so cute with her slippers and fear to travel on a plane. That makes me feel more experienced sitting next to her; next to the professor of Environment as I eventually learn. We start chatting and guess what – I am trying to speak my very, very poor and broken Russian (I have no other choice as she doesn't speak English). I am so bad that I laugh about my tempo, word choice and sentences that are mixed with Latvian, English and in the end I sound like a kid who has just started to speak. Or even worse. But I am determined to get my message across, and it somehow works. The lady invites me for a conference in Ukraine. I also get to know she is going to stay in China for one month to lecture at a university. 

After the nine hours journey and constant chatting with her, I am so dead tired and low in energy as if I had been running a marathon. This is the time to say “hello” to China again and find a well deserved surprise in my suitcase – my money stocking. I embrace it affectionately as if feeling sorry for having abandoned it in my suitcase. 

It’s time to find the bus station to my rural, remote village where I live (actually it’s a county, but sorry – I can’t call it like that with the village-like ambience it has). That becomes another adventure with fatigue and tears, but eh… that’s another story.