Where I belong?

Every time I get to a new place I'm all excited and full of enthusiasm (and a tiny bit of fear, no doubt) to explore, find my bearings, become a local; even if it only means I'd be hanging around in that area for a few hours or half a day.

After acclimatizing, which I do fairly quickly, I start feeling or specifically this verse starts ringing in my head throughout: "this is where I belong. This is so me".

Not once, but on multiple occasions this has occurred.

And then there are other times when I would go back home, Singapore in this case, and my neurons go:

"This is where I so do not belong".

i am happy. very happy.

"We suffer more often in imagination than in reality".

I haven't slept for over 46 hours. I have been traversing three different continents, cities, time zones in a multitude of transport systems. I haven't had a change of pants in three days. I have a bunch of currencies in my jean pocket; when presented together will be considered an unacceptable payment method. The last proper meal I had was well over twenty-four hours. Yet...I am happy. Very happy.

:)

...it was all over in 20 hours.

Life’s journey is not to arrive safely at the Grave, in a well-preserved body; but rather to skid in sideways, totally worn out, shouting, “Holy Shit! What a ride!”

It all started with deciding to sleep at the airport till my flight to Singapore. Only to realize this particular Haikou airport, claimed to be the best of recent chinese revamps was not a disappointment. Neither did it flatter me entirely.

They simply do not function 24 hours.

After the last plane takes off, life at the airport turns off too. Now did I mention the itinerary, albeit boasting to be a transit protocol doesn’t quite cover the “keep my baggage for me while I roam bit”. Hence a significant amount of cash was spent in getting a member of the airport security and information counter to take responsibility of my baggage. One that held medical equipment and a pair of fairly adequate speakers.

That was 40RNB for two days. And for my question on what to do in Haikou, our friend had only one answer “take the shuttle bus to downtown”. Now downtown had to be the choice, given how everything about this place reads abandonment and far from what Shanghai is to me. Home.

Nevertheless one needs to explore. There is no other way of replacing the void that screamed “why can you not make plans”.

Off I picked a shuttle service that was heading towards a place where lots of food was available. Ten minutes into the journey, all I witnessed were dark windy roads. Lots more dark windy roads. 

Downtown varies from places to places? Or some dark Fae party was taking place. I mean what is the idea of downtown for the people in this part of the world?

Decided to ask the girl sitting a seat away.

“Where exactly does this bus go?”

“Where do you need to go?”

“Somewhere”…

“Do you have an address?”

“Ermm…Any address will work I guess”

The classic look of bewilderment with a tinge of doubt regarding my sanity was all over her face.

Confession time.

“I don’t have a place to go. I was thinking maybe you can tell me what people do at night, I might just alight at one of these stops and join in the fun…”

“Okaayyy…” This time she was convinced I was insane.

“Well it’s my first time here, and I was planning to stay at the airport for the transit till they told me it had to close. So I thought I’d check out the city after dark instead”.

“So you have nowhere to go?”

“I will if you provide me with one” followed by my million dollar smile.

“I see”.

Pause.

I initiated the conversation. Again. 

“Where are you from? Are you a student? Working? What do people do here when they are not working?”

Pause. Either she was hesitant or was trying to phrase her statement. 

“I am a student at Hainan University studying (something along the lines of aviation I think)”.

“You’re a student? Nice. Where you headed may I ask?”

“Meeting a friend for supper. You can join us if you want”.

Vegas neon lights took form of capitalized Y.E.S. in my head. 

“Really? That is very nice of you. Can I really? I mean I don’t mind, but wont it be a little troublesome for you?”

“Nah, its fine. We’re gonna have supper at this (insert Chinese characters) Street.”

“Awesome”.

The rest of the journey was filled with just me asking questions and her answering them enthusiastically often complimenting on my rusty Mandarin and the intense effort I took to understand them. DID I MENTION SHE SPOKE NOT A SINGLE WORD OF ENGLISH?

My patience and level of concentration was never tested this much in my life. The last time I maximized my Chinese language ability was when we had to fight for our rights against an evil, money bugger of a landlady. I digress.

Finally the stop came and we got off at a place that was not any less darker than the previous streets we had passed. Seriously what kinda downtown was I being introduced too.

Nevertheless I followed her lead. It didn’t end, we had to take another bus, this time a less comfy, much cheaper public bus that took about 20 minutes to get to the Food street. She paid for me. Shameless, I have become. 

Food Street was freakin' crowded! People eat here after dark. It's almost like a hobby. 

As I took in the happenings, her other friend came by. This time a Chinese Muslim girl from Henan province. She was amazingly nice and hospitable. They enquired about my background, about Singapore, my Shanghai life. They shared their life in Haikou and how one of them actually dislikes Shanghai for larger cities have a faster pace of life, compared to the laid back one that Hainan poses of.

I was convinced this was no downtown. I never saw foreigners in my 20 hours here. The only whites I saw were coming in from other flights landing at the airport and me the lone brown woman, loitering the streets with two other amicable young ladies I met ten minutes ago, in a bus that I decided to board; giving myself the benefit of doubt of heading somewhere nice and perhaps different.

Different it was.

People crowded the streets on their uber low tables and even lower wooden stools for a dessert bash. This particular dessert was made from tropical fruits, especially young coconuts with raisins, white fungus and a whole bunch of Chinese herbs whose names fail me. I was even greeted to one of the best Red Bean Bubble Tea I have ever had in my life. Yum!

Now you probably have labeled me a frugal, stingy, good for nothing traveller who leeches of others. Allow me to explain. What happened was the way these girls refuse to accept my cash. They actually had a look of “are you insulting me?” You do not want to mess with girls who may misinterpret your actions and abandon you in the middle of nowhere. 

When desserts were over, they were asking for my plans.

“ahh the 'P' word. I might just walk around till dawn and take the shuttle back to the airport”.

“No no no. You will be tired. You need to rest.”

“Well I didn’t book a room. And I don’t want to check into a hotel for a night when I don’t even have a change of clothes. What is the point anyways?”

“This is not a safe town for you to roam alone. This is not Shanghai.”

“Oh okay. What do you suggest then?”

“We’ll find a cheap hotel”.

They started scouring phone numbers for motels on the food street and prices below hundred.

Hotel 59.

“69 bucks for a night and separate electricity and water fees”.

“What the….”

“Deposit 150RNB”.

“I only have a hundred. How about I swipe”.

“No cards. Only cash. There’s an ATM outside.”

ATM only accepted Chinese cards. I had successfully cleared my Chinese account. Semester ended for Christ sake!

“How about 130RNB?”

“Only 150RNB. I’m just doing my job”.

Can’t stay there any longer. Not when a clearly annoying old woman was out to make your life miserable.

We resorted to a rather dilapidated, peeling walls, scribbled graffiti, forth floor motel, whose “windows” by the way were made of barbwire. >.<

I wanted a cheap room not a junkie’s ghetto!

Although I had barely slept in the last 61 hours, I was still able to differentiate between a cheap hotel and an emancipated building.

However, the kid who was in charge of this serenely intimidating motel was kind, nice, and polite and the rooms were freaking big for the meager amount he didn’t even demand but requested. There was even hot water. There were clean sheets and there I was looking forward to cockroaches. 

Under a tattooed mafia exterior laid a sterile Operating theatre.

At this point, the two girls were extremely tired and possibly unsure what exactly I was up to or wanted to.

“You don’t want to rest?”

“I can appreciate a rest, just not here.”

I actually would have relented to that room, if they were keen to stay there with me. But that was just too much to ask. And I was not comfortable with the ambience. Neither were they. But they were a lot more concerned about my lack of sleep in the previous days then my potential lack of sleep if I had agreed to actually take that room.

“KFC”.

“Its 24 hours, they have internet, I can stay there till dawn and cab to the airport. How much does it cost to get to the Airport”.

“Hmm..20 minutes and 50 RNB. Tell him not to run the meter and fix a price of 50 and no less”.

Downtown was not downtown and meters are for cheating.

We politely declined rundown motel to KFC where it was 24 hours and always crowded. The girls were happy that I was in a sound place. They accompanied me to KFC, set with me till I was settled into my space. Whatever that meant. 

Told me to sleep well and be rejuvenated. How ideal was KFC for a good sleep? Beats me. Passed me the packet of milk they bought when they saw my cereal packets. With the reference to the clock at the KFC outlet whilst I’m typing this, all this kindness, altruism, caring manner was from two girls I met 4 hours ago.

Moral of the story being if you’re into Aesop’s Fables, sleeping in airports are convenient, fun, and if I had agreed to spend my 20 hours indoors I would not have met two amazing girls who are now my friends I’d be writing too (preferably not in chinese), the fact that creepy motel owner was nicer and a lot more likable compared to that crappy old lady in charge of hotel 59.

Now you know why I travel. The world ain't that bad. So far. 

________________________________________________________________________

Next stop; Home. 

Who would’ve thought the journey towards home would also include a harrowing experience on the road. When I exited KFC to go hail a cab, a cab driver was in the midst of getting my attention. I gave him my divided attention and a wave to signal that yes I would consider his help. Note: I do not have a sensitive nose in addition to the 74.5 hours of non-sleep pretty much every other organ was functioning at half if not a quarter of its original ability. Negotiating the price and finally fixing on a 50 bucks ride I settled in the front seat behind him. And my nose picked up the alcohol. Surprise! I’ve entrusted my life to a drunk driver.

I have never been this awake in my life. Not even in class. He was on the walkie-talkie, he lit up a cigarette and soon he was picking up speed on an extremely narrow road filled with hairpin turns. And there was no other car in sight. I had to let him know that I was not prepared to die that day. Not in a car. Not by a drunk driver. Not in China please!

“you might wanna drive a little slower”.

“slowww…slowww…”

For the rest of what was supposed to be a 20-25 minute journey was the LONGEST 25 minutes in my 25 years of living. Every time a long vehicle was making a turn, I was watching out for it. I was making sure, my driver was not about to fall asleep in his drunken stupor. Ensuring he doesn’t beat red lights or fails to see a pedestrian or turns a little too fast for his own good. He may have been a good driver, but he was drunk at 4am in the morning and that is sooo not cool!

When we finally reached the airport and I was very sure it was the airport, I thanked him profusely.

For sparing his life and mine.

Acquaintances on the GO!

Travelling is a brutality. It forces you to trust strangers and to lose sight of all that familiar comfort of home and friends. - Cesare Pavese

More than the material things I have owned, my ability to make small talk has paved the way for me to meet new people and enable to learn more from them. 

I made friends in the shortest of circumstances.

Acquaintances were created in the most oddest of places. 

As we jog-walked the climb down the Great Wall of China we met this couple whom, we never thought were a couple but just a couple of people who just can't get along. Throughout the walk they seemed to address each other in a manner whereby one would assume, one was not comfortable talking to the other. The lady was always grumbling about something, and the man was shooting pictures while the lady ranted. Soon because we weren't sure why these two were constantly bickering just blurted the question if they actually knew each other at all. Turns out they were a couple. And that was just the way they interacted.

Now Trish here, was a mother, an artiste and an avid traveler. Met her when I unintentionally disrupted her sleep as I was trying to get myself into bed in the dorm room. We were living in the same hostel and actually tackled the Great Wall together. She finished the task. We didn't. She is a painter by profession and takes keen interest in cultures and calligraphy. Compared to world heritage sites, tourist locations, she would attend gatherings, music events while she was in Beijing. Not sure if that is how she usually traveled. She was very informative and had lots to share about her hometown, a small town off Sydney. 

Remember the trip I took back in Feb 2011? Well that probably included my largest first time meeting with strangers. I was willing to travel slightly less than quarter way off the world to circumnavigate India with 17 others I have never met. No Facebook interactions. No emails. All I had were 17 imaginary faces and voila the next thing I knew I was spending 24 hours, for the next 15 days with these guys. The above is just half the gang.

On the first night of our hostel stay in Hangzhou, I learned pool from these sisters from Shanghai. They were spending their weekend there. The younger one of the sisters who was teaching me (and perhaps also shook her head every time I messed it up) couldn't speak a word of English. As much pool skills I "imbibed", it was definitely a great interaction. We even tried jamming on the available guitars with our existing skills, which were definitely better than pool!

The night after pool, further friendships were formed between this eloquent Chinese who had no trouble conveying herself in English, and she has never left China before. She went by the name Summer, and definitely one of the better English speakers I have come across in China. She even shared with us how she took efforts to master the language just so it would allow here to interact with non-Chinese speaking people. I was floored. That never crossed my mind, every time I try to master Chinese. Still trying to be precise. The dude is a Korean who was backpacking around China before he returns home to join the University. He was hilarious. But you gotta be there to get his jokes.

The last of the friendships that were formed while on the go, was just last week when I was stranded   at Hangzhou Airport. 100 over passengers who didn't know each other. All waiting for their flights and just getting ready to fall asleep became one stranded family who just can't wait to land in Singapore all within a span of 24 hours. We eventually started speaking to the one in the seat beside us. As we were told to leave the airbus, we made conversation to the one who was given a room beside us. And as time went, I knew 25% of the passengers on the aircraft. 

I have a tendency to talk to the passenger beside me. I tend to ask where they are from or heading to. One of the main reason why I hardly pay attention to the safety procedures and prevent the person beside me from learning how to save their lives in crisis. 

Anyways, before the flight took off, we had the shot taken to remind us how much the airline was a pain in the arse and the chances of us taking it again was slim if not non-existent. Bryant, the dude, was from Singapore, working in Hangzhou and Lisa, a German travelling around Asia. We have agreed to meet again in Singapore. See how that goes.On a side note: She had the most divine 120mm film camera that certainly got me thinking of getting my own one too!!!

Life was like a box of chocolates. You never know what you gonna get - Forest Gump 

Of course this does not end here. I have met more people then I have allowed myself to talk about here. I just haven't got pictures of these other people to share with you.  In each of these places, I definitely met a few others besides the ones mentioned, who had lots of stories and interesting tidbits to share, that which will be up once I am able to source out a few faces to go with it.

7 Highly Probable Aftermaths For The Stranded Airline Passenger

This is not for ANY stranded passenger, but particularly one who had no choice because the airline couldn't figure out what to do next to keep the crisis under control.

When discovered with a malfunctioned brake, you will be housed in a five-star hotel. Exactly! If you fly a kick ass airline, you probably paid for your room's worth when you bought the ticket. What I paid for, which by the way adheres to my rule of keeping within the budget, wouldn't even get me a room in a hotel on any normal day. 

You would tell yourself you're gonna maximize the hotel's facilities, only to hit the sack the moment you see the pretty bed and clean sheets. I was suppose to get their breakfast, grab stuff that were actually free, bla bla. Only to doze off and wake up to a call telling me lunch has been arranged. 

You spend more than 12 hours talking to people you just met. You guys will actually be whining on the same frequency. A group of us were a little upset over the delay, for some had conencting flights, others were just heading for a weekend trip and a day was gone already. I have missed flights. I have flights that left late. Never a flight that made me wait for an hour, later board and wait another hour inside the cabin and and a night for free in a hotel. Make it two nights.

One of the flights carried this. Is this common?

You run into the airline crew who are equally if not more clueless towards the predicament then you are. The crew had no idea of the updates we as passengers were receiving from various representatives. For some reason they were even surprised to know that we might be leaving earlier than them. Are we gonna travel without a crew then, you may ask. Thing is, I haven't got the slightest idea. 

The carrier is so diverse you're left wondering...An Australian carrier filled with Singaporean crew, and with one of them actually sounding "Singlish" over the intercom. 

You're bound to run into one of those travelers whom you thought never existed. One was almost left to be stranded on airport grounds for he had no visa. And all he had to say, with a straight face, as a matter-of-fact-look written all over it. "No one told us." Dude did you not do your research before packing your bag??? "I've never travelled before". 

You learn to appreciate your foreign passport. This of course is not the nicest of things but guess what, if your aircraft experiences problems within the Chinese boundaries, and you're to be put up in a fancy hotel room, as an international passport holder you get a room to yourself. Whereas, the Chinese will have to share with the other Chinese travelers. As fun as it may sound, it still is a little biased but what can I say. I'm already being held for 48 hours when my journey itself is only 5 hours!!!

Krishna's Dwarka

As we boarded the first train, that would officially kick-start the Great Circular Indian Railway Challenge 2011, we were all set to leave Mumbai towards Dwarka; amongst the dry lands of Gujarat.

Largely undeveloped, this part of India depicted a stark contrast to the technology improvements that cities such as Bangalore or Hyderabad have embraced. Small streets narrow streets, houses amongst empty lands, and foreigners were looked upon as aliens, In a good way.

Hardly anyone visits this part of India and it was visible from the handful of motels and lack of any elaborate restaurants except small shops and streets. There was this one street which just uber crowded from the desolete surrounding areas. This area sold a whole range of things and there was a particular crowd that were dancing to music and carrying baskets of flowers.

Holy Bollywood Grooves

It was a procession heading towards this immaculate and beautiful Krishna Mandir. Having caught amongst the parade, one of us (Emily) had the chance to carry the flower basket on her head and groove to the tunes that came out of sound systems that could very well go with the term ancient. These baskets filled with a type of yellow flowers were considered sacred and held the flag to the Krishna Temple. Having the opportunity to carry it for a distance is considered lucky among the devotees.

The procession

Every two hours, the basket changes hands for another would be endowed with the same chance to carry the basket.

A brief history about the temple that the devotees of Dwarka were so attached to:

Krishna Mandir

The temple was constructed on the idea that after Krishna killed his maternal Uncle (for a particular reason that the driver who was with us had difficulty comprehending) he settled in Dwarka. I'm assuming the temple was built as his homeage to this place. A sign to signify Krishna's permanent migration to Dwarka.

Upon entering the Mandir, I realised how different the idols were compared to the depiction of the same Lord Krishna down in South India. I would have never been able to guess this was a temple for Krishna if I was not informed. 

Pretty miserable Indian roots I carry with me.

Mumbai Meri Jaan

Introduction

16 others I have never met before. All with the same purpose: Great Circular Indian Railway Challenge 2011. Witnessing events, people and passing through 180 cities. Literally crashing into millions of Indians, of varying shades of brown (not racist being here, I blend in pretty well actually), language and traditions. No doubt diversity equates to India.

The Indian Chauffeur

Mumbai Taxiwallah: Mr. Sushant Singh

Could it be a marketing gimmick?

Mr. Singh actually said, my stuttering, grammatically incorrect hindi, randomly strung words from Bollywood hindi was impressive. 

Unless, like I said my understanding of the language was so poor the comment he gave with a smile sounded along the lines of 'impressive'.

2 days later I learn, I was ripped off. I paid 450 rupees for a 200++ trip from Santa Cruz to Churchgate. There I was all excited to explore one of the most densely populated cities of the Indian subcontinent only to be cheated on my arrival itself. 

On a positive note, he never failed to point out sights that I might have otherwise missed. Yeah, yeah I hear you go an extra 200 bucks for pointing out sights is largely over rated. Lets just say, I would like to think I was not cheated and that probably Sushant is an otherwise honest man. 

I forgive that dude.

Reached Chateau Windsor, where it was fully booked and I ended up hanging at the roof top terrace with my newly made friends and travel companions for the next 17 days.

All 17 squeezed into a single cabin (Image by Troy Floyd)

Pre-trip pose with half the gang (Image by Troy Floyd - the dude in the front)

Drama Begins

We were greeted to a band organizer by our own Ryan, a Mumbai native, and an unofficial guide for us. The band started playing Indian film songs that (I think) was pictured with  trains in the background. 2 songs and the trip's organiser, Mark, started showing his Bollywood moves. What next? A crowd had formed around him and the band.

Mark with the band

Soon, a man wearing khaki uniform joined the crowd. Not to dance, but to stop it.

"Not allowed to play music!" 

He was the Railway Inspector, and apparently dancing at the entrance of the railway station is not allowed. While he was making his point across, some of us had started taking videos and photos of the drama which prompted him to wave his arms at us to stop recording the scene.

Funny how location matters for dance and music, considering this was India. Interesting.

Reluctantly, the crowd and us together with the band were beginning to disperse when Rachael showed up. She was the reporter from Times of India covering the trip. There she was with her professional photographer. 

Now, how do we get the Inspector to believe that this girl was actually writing for Times of India? She was English.

Either way, we managed to get a photo shot for the paper (which never appeared for some reason), together with the crowd, and the now silent Band.

Pretty eventful.

Now the 150 rupees shouldn't go to waste right, the band was herded towards the exterior of the station, far from where the uniformed men were. Settled somewhere along the roads, right infront of a parked bus, the band started playing. Stares we invited many. Crowds we invited many.

Mark was urging us to join in and dance as he was already grooving to the trumpets and drums, while the remaining dudes and dudettes were busy with their cameras. 

Don't you love their uniforms?

The Kashmiri

Face of Kashmir, India

As I took her photograph, not once did she flinch or blink. She stared right into the camera. One of my favorite shots of the many I took during my stint in India last month.

It can't get any better!

16 Jan, 7:15am

I reached the Bus station that should take me to Hangzhou City, Xiao Shan Airport from Shanghai. Turns out, they had no services in the morning or in the early afternoon. 

Weird! How can I be holding onto a flight ticket that is to depart in the afternoon and no possible services to transport me from my current location to the airport.

After what was an eternity of discussion with the receptionist in her "amazing" English and my equally "amazing" Chinese, she gave me an alternative solution. Which was not direct, and she had no idea if the other location even had services that would get me to my destination. Either way, I had very little time and decided to take the shot. 

"You take Bus 144 to Shanghai Nan Huozhe Zhan. But not Huozhe Zhan, You take Bus to Hangzhou City. But, that bus will not go to Airport. You take taxi to Airport."

"Okay. So how do I know which is my stop or where the bus station is? How long does this local bus take to get to Shanghai Railway Station? And how long is the duration from Shangahi to Hangzhou?"

"Errr. You alight 40 mins later. Its the last station. And from there you take the 3 hour bus ride to Hangzhou city".

I thanked her and saw the bus 144 just as I left my current location. Boarded 144, had a free 40 minute ride, for I forgot to pay and no one realized. 

Possibly the  only good thing that happened that day.

As I reached my destination and alighted, I literally took a 360 degrees turn to take in my location. No point, I had no idea where I was. She told me not to take the train ride to Hangzhou and I couldn't find the city-city bus station anywhere. 

Heck her!

I gave up and walked towards the Railway station and located the counter that sold tickets for that day. And bought myself a last min "no seater" or better known as a "standing class" for a two hour ride to Hangzhou. 

The ticket was only 29RNB and that is way cheap than I assumed or my initial city bus ride which is 100RNB.

I stood the full 2 hours crammed between Chinese men, women, children, elderly you name it and they were there. Chinese and their big ass baggages. Chinese and their love for instant noodles. Chinese and their amazing way of being able to hold over a hundred people in a cabin that could only hold say 60? 

I have to admit, although a little uncomfortable for later I couldn't feel my legs, I finally got my taste of the real China. 

Did I mention I felt famous? Yes, I was the only foreigner if not brown skin passenger so I got free stares for the entire 2 hours. Cameras were the only things missing.

When I finally got away from the clutches of China's population, I had to battle with the remaining Chinese men who were at the exit of Hangzhou train station, waiting to grab you and show you around Hangzhou. They were not as persuasive as the ones in Shanghai. That was a relief.

I finally got into a taxi that resembled the legal ones in Shanghai. However, I wasn't too sure when I finally settled into. Actually I am still not sure if the cab ride was legal or I was cheated.

As I chucked my bag in the back seat, and popped in beside the driver, he started off saying, "A flat rate of 120RNB for a ride to the airport".

I pointed at the meter, which had a receipt dangling from it. 

"What's wrong with the meter?"

And he started explaining how they don't use the meter, cos people wait hours for cabs and they aren't many cabs. 

I have no idea how the two things are related. 

Along the journey, he stopped when this lady was flagging down the cab and asked where she was headed. And I remembered as I was waiting in line for a cab, two ladies who didn't know each other were sent to take the same cab as their destination was the same. 

So basically, the meter is redundant. Or  I just had a ride in an illegal cab. 

Either way, the driver was a friendly guy who spoke bits of English and told me to improve my Mandarin. He even gave me career advice on how I should switch from Western Medicine to Chinese Medicine as it brings in more cash in China.

Finally the Airport came into sight, I stashed the cash into his hands, grabbed my backpack dashed out.

Only to realize my flight was not on the departure screen.

I approached the information counter to enquire of my missing flight. She punched in a few digits on her telephone and returned to me with this:

"There is only flight for this airline and it flies off at 1135pm".

"That is not possible. I have a flight for 210pm. Are you telling me the flight has been postponed to 1135pm".

"I do not think so. You need to check with your agent with the mix up".

"There is no agent. I booked my flight online". 

I showed her mu itinerary with full confidence that the airlines made a mistake. 

She dialed the same numbers again. She told them of my booking number and they exchanged a few words in Chinese and she later looked at me with a smile. 

Aha. The hope that reiterated my confidence.

"Ma'am, you booked your flights for February 16th". 

"huh".

I grabbed the sheet of paper from her hands (I later apologized) and just stared at it for a good 10 seconds before my palm reached for my forehead. 

Feb 16, 0210pm.WTF.

16 Jan, 1250pm

I was tired from not sleeping the previous night or the night before. I was tired from standing against the wall with my 13kg backpack at my feet and my other leg jammed behind a door to maintain my balance from falling on any Chinese or having any one falling on me.

I dumped my bags onto the baggage trolley thingys and started walking around the world-newest-and probably-boringest-airport aimlessly. I wanted to still use the ticket but the lady at the counter had no idea however she did say "probably can't".

Thing with Chinese, they never say "I do not know" they just give tell you it cannot be done. More often than not, there is an alternative.

But instead, I took her word for it and started considering other routes. A flight to Hong Kong was leaving in 30 minutes, but I was short of 900 bucks. Credit card got declined so lets just leave it at that.

Back to Square one.

The airline I bought the ticket before will only open their counters two hours before departure. I was left with no choice but to camp at the airport for over 10 hours.

There I sat, staring at my ticket, hoping something would take shape and tell me "You can leave now and won't have to stare into space for the next half of the day".

I tend to forget my room mate's advice to only print the itinerary and not the whole thing, cos that would mean the 4 sheets of rules get printed as well and people don't actually read these things. Least, I never did. Till that day.

"Changes to this booking can be made up to 48 hours before departure".

The mantra finally worked.

I was way too tired to get all cranky and worked up, I only had two words running through my mind: Think Usha. Think..

There was no wireless facility at the international departures. And I hadn't brought my laptop with me to actually use the facility at the Domestic departures either. 

No point there.

My local pre paid card ran outta cash and I had start roaming with my Singapore number.

Blackberry saves the day.

Started using GPRS (which will eventually cost me much), to long onto the website. Sadly, I couldn't make changes from the mobile site and the main site wouldn't load. I called a few numbers directly.

China: "No English Please. I do not understand English. Only Chinese or Cantonese". I hung up.

The lady said that in English. My Chinese will only worsen the existing situation and the last thing I wanna do is make flight changes in Chinese.

The next hotline was for  Hong Kong. Same thing. Followed by Singapore. Slightly different but same dead end nonetheless. 

"Our operators are currently busy. Please try again later". Hung up again.

Finally I called the home nation of the airlines and simply stalked them till someone took my call. My temptation to cut to the chase while she was saying stuff I was barely paying attention to was overwhelming. Eventually, I figured it was not that I was not paying attention but the female on the other line had a problem enunciating her words. I just didn't understand her.

"Sorry but I don't quite get you". I repeated this a million times throughout the conversation before I stopped. I sensed the onset of annoyance in her voice. Even her "thank you for waiting ma'am" sounded sinister.

Or maybe it was just me.

Either it didn't jeopardise the situation. She changed my flight for 16 January and told me to pay a couple hundred bucks extra for the changes made.

Phew!

The rest of the day I spent my time reading Shantaram and observing people entering and leavin the airport.

(Story doesn't quite end there actually)

16 Jan, 9:35pm

The ticketing counters finally opened and I paid my cash and saw my new itinerary. 

Oh wow!

I had an hour 15 mins to check out from the first flight, grab my baggage and check into my connecting flight to Singapore. My baggage will not be directly transferred whereas the lady over the phone said, it would. 

I told you I barely understood her.

Least the friendly dude at the counter, checked my backpack into premium so that it will be the first few to appear on the baggage carousel.

17 Jan, 4:25am

My flight should have landed at Kuala Lumpur International Airport but instead has been delayed. 

Am I the only one who thinks this is a problem. Everyone else is just sleeping.

My hand reached for my hair when realization hit.

My glasses were missing.

In the dark, I was searching but to no avail. I am almost blind without my glasses during the day. And in the dark, you can might as well assume I am blind.

I turned to the Indonesian girl and said who by the way is uber nice. "I dropped my glasses.".

Why I said that I have no idea. She got the hint and that is what that matters. 

"Lets search together she said. She used the light from her mobile and voila she found my glasses under my seat". :-) 

My saviour. I would have swore I saw her cape flying behind her as she swore into the night skies. 

And we started talking and she was also a student in Shanghai. I was telling her about my connecting flight and that I probably would have to move fast so please give me way.  She laughed.

17 Jan, 5am

Flight landed 35 minutes later. Plane came to a stop and people started standing and removing their bags from the overhead compartments. I took mine, bade farewell to the Indonesian and started using the words "Please" "Thank You" "I'm late" "Please make way, I'm sorry" as I bypassed everyone to the exit and from there on just ran.

I ran to the arrival counter, took a couple of the arrival cards for foreigners and started scribbling while standing in queue. 

Will never condemn a doctor's handwriting ever again.

Again another dash, this time I had a crowd to handle before I saw the florescent orange backpack cover of mine. Grab and run was my motive right now. Grabbed and ran from the arrivals to the departures.

Grateful for the small airport. If this were Changi, I would have collapsed.

Checked my baggage in again, and went to the waiting area where I  was told to head of to Gate 55 or at least that was what I heard. It was a long run on the runway. No I was not running right next to the jets.

Although the thought appears pretty. :-)

I was running beside the loading unloading of baggages along the runway. Till I realized I might be going the wrong way. There was 20 mins before my plane took and this time time I was stressed. Till I saw a dude at the loading dock who I was begging to not show me but bring me to gate 55. Till he asked for my flight number and told me its Gate 85 not 55!

Seriously this can't get any better. Optimism. One reason I am still living.

Another long run to gate 85 and this time I showed the stewardess at the entrance my boarding pass and even asked her if this was the flight to Singapore. Man, she messed with my head.

"Is this the flight to Singapore?"

"No. Bangkok."

"What? Do you know where the flight to Singapore is?"

"I don't know."

"Nice. Thanks".  And I almost walked away when she pulled me by the arm and said "Just kidding. This is the flight to Singapore".

If only she knew how amazing my day had been...