TheBanyanTree: Leaving Beijing, July 23

[Pat M]

*Walking Away*

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As we wove in and out of the streaming traffic en route to the Beijing
airport, the Chinese taxi driver next to me removed the lid from a
coin-sized red tin, dipped his finger into some pungent, golden-brown
ointment and poked it into each of his nostrils.  He took more and rubbed it
against his temples. Although the man couldn't speak English, he indicated
with his eyes and gestures that I should do the same.  Suspicious of his
motives, I picked up the tin and smelled its contents. "Boo, shea shea, (No
thank you)" I said.  I wasn't taking any chances.

We pulled up toTerminal 2.   I assumed the driver would drop me off next to
the luggage carts.  He didn't.  In spite of knowing my backpack was so heavy
that it was nearly unmanageable, he rolled to a stop some distance away from
the carts and the doors of Terminal 2. With my hands, I indicated I needed a
cart but he seemed to not understand.  More likely, he didn't want to
understand.  With a sigh, I indicated that he help me put on my backpack.  Even
he had difficulty lifting it.  Once it was on, I hunched forward and slung
my smaller leather pack/purse on my front.  Independence, I thought, was
sometimes bloody hard.

Once I had obtained a cart, I bee-lined to the "Left luggage" department
where I had left my 23.5 kg of teaching materials nine days earlier to reclaim
my suitcase.  It had cost me 280 yuan (about $40) to leave my suitcase there
but the convenience had been priceless.

The Beijing airport thronged with people pushing luggage carts, changing
currency, purchasing tickets and checking in.  A cacophony of Chinese
assaulted my ears.  It still felt strange to be in the minority and unable
to decipher the local language.

I was more than two hours early for my flight to Guilin; better to be early
than to miss my flight, I reckoned.  I joined one of the many Air China line
ups.

When I reached the ticket counter, the clerk cautioned me not to put my
luggage on the scale until he checked my flight.

"Too early," he said in halting English.  "Come back later."

Disappointed, I searched to find a quiet area to rest, but it was
impossible.  All seats were taken.  I parked my luggage cart against a wall
and sat on top of my suitcase, setting my leather backpack on the floor between
my legs.  I was well aware that there were thieves operating at the airport,
and I was determined that they would not take advantage of me.

Among the Chinese bustling around me, I was glad to see the faces of some
other foreigners; I didn't feel quite so alone.  Near me, a blonde woman
traveling on her own waited.  I tried to catch her eye to strike up a
conversation but she seemed wrapped up in her own thoughts.  I watched as an
official from the airport strutted over to her and asked to see her ticket.
 There was something I didn't like about the man.  I avoided his eyes but I
caught him studying me.  Something told me to stay clear of him, and I was
happy when he did not approach me.

An hour crawled by; finally it was time to check-in.  As I pushed my trolley
toward the check-in counter, I heard shouts.  Two men, the same man I had
seen earlier and another, both dressed in pressed navy slacks and white
shirts, beckoned.

"Show me your ticket," the first man demanded in broken English, his chest
swelling with importance.

"Oh," I said, puzzled.  "You need to see my ticket?"

He nodded.

"Just a minute," I said, and dug it out of my fanny pack.

He grabbed it out of my hands and read it.

"Follow me!" he ordered.

I wasn't sure why I had been singled out but I followed.  I was in trouble
and I didn't know why.  Just my luck.

The man led me to one of the many Air China line-ups to check in.  As we
waited, he lifted up my backpack and my suitcase several times.

"They are overweight," he said, eyes narrowing.  "You're going to have to
pay money."

"They're not," I countered.  "I'm allowed 23 kilograms in each."

"This is China," he said gruffly.  "You have to pay money."

When it was my turn to check-in, the man demanded my passport to give to the
airline representative.  I passed it over.  When I tried to walk up to the
counter myself, he bellowed, "Behind the line!"

Chastened, I obeyed.

"Do you work for the airport?" I asked, suddenly suspicious.

The man quickly flashed the small white name tag that he wore on his lapel
at me before turning back to the check-in counter.  There wasn't enough time
to read it.  I watched as he called someone on his cell phone.  What was
happening?  I'd done nothing wrong.

The man returned my passport and handed me my boarding pass.

"Follow me," he said.  As he led me towards security, he said, "In China, you
are only allowed 20 kg.  You have 45 kilograms.  You need to pay 1,000 yuan
(about $160.00)."

I stopped dead.  "One thousand yuan!" I gasped.  "I don't have that much
with me."

"Eight hundred is okay then."

Something wasn't right.  Someone working for the airport would not negotiate
or try to conduct business while walking through the airport.

"I don't have eight hundred yuan," I lied.

"How much Chinese money do you have?"

"Two hundred yuan."  Again, I lied.

"How much US money do you have?"

"Forty dollars." I was getting good at it.

"Okay.  Give me 200 yuan and $40."

By now, I was almost certain this man was a crook.  I hefted my leather
backpack as if to open it to divert the man's attention while I read his
name tag: "The Double Dragon Hotel".  The man was a scam artist trying to
trick me out of my money!

"Give me my ticket," I said and with a boldness I did not feel took it out
of his hand.

"Give me the money," he demanded.

Nearby, a man at the Hainan Airlines ticket counter said, "Pay! Pay!"

Was it possible that he was in on the scam, too?  I decided to take a
chance.

"Take me to your supervisor," I said to the self-important man next to
me.  When
he hesitated, I said, "I'm not paying!"

"Pay the money!" he ordered again.

"No!  I'm not paying!" I said and walked away, waiting to see what would
happen.

No one grabbed me; no police officers appeared to arrest me.  I glanced
behind me.  The man who had been speaking with me had wandered off and was
speaking on his cell phone again.

By now, I was trembling.  Only when it was over had I realized how
frightened I had been.

I approached an Air China information counter and spoke to the young woman
there about what had happened.

"I think that was an illegal operation.  Be very careful," she warned.

Wiser, smarter, heart still pounding," I cleared customs to await for my
flight.

***

(I'm still working on trying to upload my photos so you Tree people can see
them.)





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