We left for China one year ago today!

One year ago today, Preston, Brock, & I took off on a trip of a lifetime & brought home the best Christmas present ever. However, the first few days of that trip were considerably less than smooth. We flew out of Springfield just before 10:00 a.m. & arrived at O’Hare just after 10:30 a.m. We were supposed to have a two-hour layover, but it ended up being closer to a five-hour layover as the airline decided to put a new battery in our airplane. On top of that, when they went to fill it with fuel, there was an issue with the fuel line & it pumped excruciatingly slow. Our flight to Hong Kong took off around 3:00 p.m.

I was recently reviewing my blog posts from last December & found myself surprised by how horrible our last evening at home played out. Preston had been home sick from school for 2 days, but had seemed to be feeling alright most of that day. However, he suddenly got pukey again that evening & I had to call Brock home early from basketball to run to the pharmacy to get some Emetrol, as well as Dramamine for the trip. It didn’t help my mood any that my beloved Illini lost the annual Bragging Rights game in disgusting fashion that night. Our cats, apparently angry over our impending departure, decided to show it by first puking on our bed & then later peeing on clean clothes I had just folded & brought up from the basement. I ended up sleeping in Preston’s room with him, while Brock slept on the couch. Full of anticipation & worry about forgetting something important, I woke up around 4:00 a.m. & never went back to sleep.

The flight from Chicago to Hong Kong lasted around 14 ½ hours. Thanks to time zone changes, we went over the North Pole on Christmas Eve. I looked out the window, but never saw reindeer pulling a sleigh. We alternately slept, watched television, followed our progress on a world map, ate (the plane food was actually quite good), read, & played games. Going through immigration was relatively painless, but I got in trouble for taking pictures while we were in line (didn’t realize it wasn’t allowed). We spent Christmas Eve night at the Hong Kong Marriott near the airport. Here are some pictures of Preston in & around the hotel:







Christmas morning, we took a horrifying fascinating 30-minute taxi cab ride to a train station. The trunk wasn’t large enough to hold our luggage, so the driver left the lid up. Brock & I were just certain something was going to fall out. The drive spoke NO English & the car (like many in China) had no seat belts. I was mesmerized by how quickly the buildings would change from looking like a high-dollar business area to dilapidated projects & then back again.

At the train station (which is bigger than some airports), we had a challenging time figuring out where to go. Additionally, the public restrooms (like most of China) were just holes in the ground. We were also quickly learning that in China, there is no “personal space” or right-of-way. People simple push & shove their way around. It is not considered rude; it’s just how they operate. Once we found the entryway to the platform, we discovered we had to go through immigration again.

Our train ride was right at 2 hours long. Preston slept for almost all of it. As we approached our stop, we woke Preston up & then followed the crowd to the tiny little bunk shelves where the luggage was stored. We had to stand on a tiny stairwell right next to the bunk shelves. It was rather stressful, as I can’t begin to tell you the sheer number of people crowding into a terrificly cramped space. Preston began complaining of a sick stomach, but we quickly dismissed it, as he hadn’t puked in a couple of days at this point. We erroneously assumed he was simply being impatient because he’d just been woken up. Oh, boy…he proved us wrong by vomiting once twice three times four times, with increasing quantity.

I have never felt so helplessly trapped in all my life. There was nothing nearby to grab to use to clean it up, it was right where everyone needed to be in order to grab their luggage & exit the train, we were the only Americans on the train & couldn’t clearly communicate just how sorry we were to all of the other passengers, & there really wasn’t room to bend over & deal with it anyway. As I ridiculously pleaded with Preston to wait until we got outside (as if somehow that was going to make it all go away), another passenger took pity on Brock & handed him some newspaper. Finally, a gloved & masked train employee showed up to clean it up. To his credit, Preston never cried.

Once we were able to disembark the train, we found ourselves amidst chaos. People were literally climbing all over each other to get out of there. As we got smashed in the crowd, trying desperately to stay together, we took a left & realized we had to go up 5 flights of stairs – Preston with a backpack & small suitcase, me with two large suitcases & a backpack, Brock with two extra large suitcases & a carry-on. There was no stopping at any of the levels for a breather, either, or we would have gotten trampled. By the last flight, I was crying out to Brock that I was not going to make it…not that he could do anything about it. For the last 2/3 of the last flight of stairs, a kind woman grabbed one of my suitcases and carried it the last of the way for me. When we reached the top, we squeezed ourselves up against a wall and tried to catch our breath. My heart was pounding & I was gasping for air. Brock was in similar shape. Once most of the crowd had dispersed, we noticed an escalator further over that would have made things much easier on us, but we had no way of seeing it through the sea of people earlier. Then, we had to go through immigration AGAIN (this was our 3rd time).

We finally met up with our guide, Connie, who navigated us through a bunch of foot traffic. We eventually found our driver & jumped in a mini-van for a 45-minute ride to our hotel. The traffic was very intimidating. There is a lot of honking over here. And for anyone that thinks I’m a tailgater – you ain’t seen nothin’! OH, my, gosh. The merging & braking & cutting off & honking & bicycles & pedestrians & you-name-it. It was nuts! We found ourselves quite relieved to arrive at our new temporary “home”, The Victory Hotel. Here is a picture of Brock & Preston standing in front of it:



Thanks to the incredible outcome of our trip, my memories of all of these troubles are as faded as a yellowed-out antique photo. I wouldn’t trade it for anything & would easily do it all over again. That being said, I’m looking forward to an incredibly more relaxed Christmas weekend this year.