July 22, 2010

i miss nanjing

I think almost anyone who studies abroad will tell you that that place becomes a part of you. Things like the sounds, the smells might fade (well, maybe not in China's case. . . open sewage system, anyone?) but the people you met, the experiences you had--it all stays with you.

The hardest part in going back to Oxford is going to be all the things that get lost in translation. I can't tell a funny a story about, say, Mazzo without explaining what Mazzo is and why it was so great, and by that point, even a really good friend would be looking around, thinking of all the things they'd rather be doing than listening to me wax poetic about study abroad.

And like Garbo said a while back, when you go abroad it's all, "Hi, I'm Kelli! You're from ________? That's so cool!" so on and so forth.  And when you go back, it's more, "I met So-and-So and he/she was from Wherever and they said this funny thing and it's just so funny because they're from There!" and your friend just nods blankly, wanting to understand but just can't.  The experiences you have when you study abroad are so uniquely yours that things get muddled when you try to explain.

It's gonna be a hard adjustment, I think (and those who have already studied abroad and been back for a while can vouch for that). Especially when you factor in the fact that you won't see people that were all you had for 6 months.

. . . and now that I've completely depressed myself, I think it might be time for a popsicle.

July 5, 2010

the end

Well boys and girls. . . this can no longer be called "Life On the Oriental Express" because I am no longer on that particular train. Alas, never fear gentle readers! This blog will continue in some way, shape or form because my dear sweet friend Garbo has requested as such. So I will keep you posted on those developments. Until then. . .


Have an amazing summer!

July 3, 2010

home home home part 2

Definitely fell asleep immediately after putting up my computer last night. . . oh jetlag, how you ruin my life.

I believe I promised to explain why getting from Beijing to Shanghai (a two hour flight, keep in mind) was such a nightmare. . . here you are:

So I get to the Beijing airport at about 12:30 in the afternoon, check in for my flight at 1:50 to Shanghai Pudong Airport (there's two airports in Shanghai: Pudong and Hongqiao. That's important to remember). I'm sitting at my gate, enjoying the relaxing knowledge that I'm on time for my flight. And then. . . 1:50 passes. And I'm still sitting at my gate.

I get up and go talk to the women at the China Eastern Airlines desk. In frustratingly bad Chinese, I explain to them that I have to be in Shanghai by 10 am Friday because that's when my flight to America leaves, and God help them if I'm not on my way to America by then, because I want to go home. When they tell me the plane is in Hangzhou (which is a 3 hour flight away) and won't be in Beijing until 7 pm, I demand to switch flights.

They blink at me and say, "Please have a 休息." (a rest). I grit my teeth, get my phone out and call Pong to explain the situation. She's silent, then goes into kill mode, saying "Kelli give them the phone. I'll sort this out." I smirk on the inside, knowing someone is about to get ripped a new one. (I'm bloodthirsty when I'm pissed and ready to go home. It's a fault I freely acknowledge.)

I can't quite here what Pong says to the women, other than the occasional "美国" (America) but I can hear her voice from across the counter. When the China Eastern woman hangs up and hands the phone back to me, she says in a mix of Chinese-English, "Go to Gate 23, the 对面 (across) of Gate 23. Exit past security. Go to our counter to the right. Then you can 换票 (switch tickets)."

I peace out and go up to Gate 23, while bitterly bitching to Erin about the extreme 麻烦 of traveling in China. Then I can't find the exit across from Gate 23 for a good 10 minutes, until I see a tiny sign and a guard. I hang up the phone and inform the guard I want to 换票 and he lets me through, past a line of airport workers who gawk at me. I look to the right, and there is only security, no China Eastern counter. I fume, then look to the left and there's the counter.

I wait my turn (unheard of in China) and explain that I want to switch tickets. Approximately 7 Chinese stick their government ID cards in front of my face trying to cut me. I whirl around and almost scream, "排队!" (Wait in line!) at them and they all slink back, except for one particular annoying character, who still waves his ID in front of me. I slowly turn around and give him the meanest look I can conjure and he slowly withdraws his ID.

The guy changes my ticket, then discovers I have already checked my two bags (massive cumbersome bags with my entire summer wardrobe and several World Cup glasses in them) and tells me to go to Q2. Exasperated, I turn and start heading in the apparently wrong direction because one of the people I screamed at to wait in line screams at me, "Outside!"

When I finally find Q2, they tell me I have to go downstairs to the first floor to pick up my bags and recheck them. I stand there for about 30 seconds and alternatively curse China and cry. Nobody is sympathetic, except Erin, who I call and cry to. She tells me I have to channel my inner bitch if I'm gonna get anything done. So I suck it up and go in search of my bags.

Turns out I have to go in where new arrivals come out. Which would get me tackled in the States. So I apprehensively creep up to the guard and tell him in the most broken Chinese I can manage at the moment that I'm switching flights and my bags are already checked. He waves me forward and I go to another worker and tell him the same. He stares at me, then tells me to have a rest while they bring my bags. I curse the words 休息.

About 10 minutes later, another guy brings my bags round. He looks at them, looks at me, and chuckles, "一样的." I almost snap, "Yeah I know my bags are the same. It makes them easier to find when picking them up. Sue me."

After re-checking the bags and rushing to my new gate (where my new flight leaves in 30 minutes, into Shanghai's other airport), I arrive and call Pong and Erin, telling both my new flight information. Erin tells me that she went to the Ramada where we are supposed to share a room that night and asked to go ahead and check in, even though the room is under my name and they let her.

So my flight leaves (an hour late) and I arrive in Shanghai, at the Hongqiao airport an hour away from my hotel (which is 5 minutes from the Pudong airport. . . so 麻烦). I take a cab and 200 RMB later, I call Erin to tell her she can stop her eye twitching, I'm here.

And my plight has yet to end, y'all. I hand my passport to the receptionist and wait to be checked in. She asks for my confirmation number because they can't find my name in the computer. I give them the number; they can't find it either. Erin and I are both beyond confused--after all, Erin's already in the room and paid the deposit, so does it even matter? We ask, and are ignored.

They tell me they've lost my reservation, Erin and I repeat, that's not possible, she's already paid the deposit and is in a room. This is again ignored, and they tell me not to worry, probably because they can see I'm about to cry because damn it's just been the WORST day and America is so close I can taste it but people keep tryin to get in the way of our reunion.

Finally finally finally they realize that Erin is in the room already, and we both try and control our groans because we have already told them this. And finally, I'm allowed upstairs and my miserable, no good, very bad day stops being so very bad.

But now I'm home, and even though I'm so glad to be in the US, I wish all of you 南大ers were with me. You could live in my house, I'd vouch for you.

July 2, 2010

home home home

Disclaimer: I'm back in Memphis but my internal clock can't quite grasp that. It thinks we're still in Nanjing and that it's actually 10:50 Saturday morning instead of 9:50 Friday night. Not only have I been up for 24 straight hours, but I also took sleeping pills about 10 minutes ago. So basically, don't judge me for typos or rambling, kthx.

Got an update on the Belgians I creeped on! I emailed them the picture with an apology for my superstalking and they emailed back, which I wasn't actually expecting. Would you email a creeper all-star like myself back?

Basically all they said was no need to apologize, they love Beijing, say hi to my Chinese friend, and have a safe trip home. But the best part is they signed the email "Grtz from the Europeans." Love it.

So yeah, I'm back in the US after 17 hours of flying, which is always simply delightful. Maybe when my head isn't tingling from lack of sleep, I'll rundown the HELL it was getting from Beijing to Shanghai. Let's just say I almost murdered some Chinese people while crying and leave the story for my next post.

Dad played paparazzi at the airport:


And my eyes are starting to cross, so that's my cue to cut this short and promise more for next time.