Success only runs one direction....
Wednesday, May 7, 2008
Beijing
Note to the Beijing Airport Council:
Fire whoever came up with those graphics on the luggage cart handle.
Forget the arrows that point up–you have to push down to disengage the brake.
Of course, I don’t discover this until reaching the ticketing area.
‘Nuff said.
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Wednesday, May 7, 2008
Beijing
Good guess on the doorman and driver’s part. This is the terminal where I should be.
Grab a luggage cart at the curb. Try to figure out the confusing graphics on the handle that “explain” how to disengage the brake. Pretty sure you’re supposed to lift up, but sheesh, this thing is hell to move. Especially with ten thousand pounds of overstuffed luggage on it.
We’ll call this my morning workout.
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Wednesday, May 7, 2008
Beijing
Got up at 4:30 a.m., after a two hour nap. Got the suitcase to close (using all my body weight to do so). Signed the bill at the front desk, grabbed a taxi, and am on my way to the airport as the sun is just beginning to come up.
This is the prettiest time of day just about anywhere. Quiet. Peaceful. Still.
Same here. Wish we had time to spin past the Forbidden City one last time. I’ll bet it’s amazing right now.
While enjoying the last moments of Beijing, I’m also holding my breath about making my flight. In spite of allowing ample time to get out the door, my exit from the Westin was still about twenty minutes later than planned. Plus the doorman wasn’t sure which terminal I need to go to. Plus the driver wasn’t sure which terminal I need to go to. Plus there seems to be no highway signage that tells you which terminal to go to.
Hopefully, all international flights depart from the same place, because that appears to be the guess both the doorman and driver agreed to try out.
Hmm. Could be interesting.
(Photo credit: Anon.)
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Wednesday, May 7, 2008
Beijing
I’m not a bit tired. The packing is pretty much done, but I seriously fear my suitcase will burst open. It’s jammed to the point the zippers are straining, so I’ve put the bathroom footstool on top of it, in hopes things will compact down over the next few hours.
I don’t want to leave. I don’t even want to think about leaving. I can barely bring myself to close the curtains, as I watch the night sky twinkle above me (how many cities can you actually see the stars in?).
Only two hours before I need to get in the shower and start heading out. Two hours.
Not enough time.
Not nearly enough time.
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Tuesday, May 6, 2008
Beijing
Does it matter? I’m going home tomorrow. I refuse to look at my ankle tonight, so there.
Instead, I get on Skype (which, thankfully still works, unlike half my email accounts and all access to RetailSpeaks or Blogspot since the morning after I checked in). Call the folks. Get a call from my sister. And from my brother. And it was great.
In fact, this has been just about the greatest birthday of my life. In spite of being half way around the world from them, I knew all day that every single one of my family members was right there by my side, scaling the Wall, gasping at the view from the top of the Summer Palace complex, sipping champagne upstairs.
I am blessed. Over and over and over again, I’m blessed.
I’m also not even remotely tired.
Or packed.
Gulp.
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Tuesday, May 6, 2008
Beijing
Tonight’s bath ritual: Arabia
Ginger, cinnamon, nubmet, geranium, cumin, and amyris
Much to my surprise, this is my favorite of the bunch. Divine. Sat in the dark bath, surrounded by my candles and rose petals, watching the “dripping lights” on the Ritz Carlton a couple of blocks away. Sipped the last of my champagne. Decided to move to Beijing.
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Tuesday, May 6, 2008
Beijing
No way I‘m going to spend my last evening in the room, packing (besides, I’m seriously in doubt that my belongings are going to fit in the suitcase, having forgotten to buy a cheap second bag for the return home). Denial being a wonderful thing, I opt instead to head upstairs to the Executive Lounge, which I’ve been granted access to as part of a hiccup on the hotel’s part during check in.
(Note: Not a big hiccup…not even big enough to warrant this, in my mind, but the manager insisted.)
I head up, wearing faded blue jeans and my new cashmere sweater (purchased for 50 RMB each, or $7.15 US…seriously), to grab a couple of hors d’oeuvres and a cocktail while writing out postcards—if they’re going to be postmarked “Beijing,” they pretty much needed to go out in the morning. Since the room was fairly full, only one love seat was open, facing a nice American man who offered it. I sat. We visited. And I had a blast.
Turns out he’s from Arkansas, a big thoroughbred horse racing fan (who sincerely knew what he was talking about), and fun. His trip to Bejing was to visit a college friend who’s currently living here in the hotel. His friend–Chinese by birth–is a hotel staff favorite and knows the lay of the land.
We hung out in the lounge, me sipping champagne while he drank red wine, for a couple of hours. Eventually, his friend joined us, the two of them trying to convince me to join them for a trip to the foot masseuse a couple of blocks away. And this was no run o’ the mill footrub, folks; the basic package was a two hour massage, complete with oils, reflexology, the whole bit.
Wisely, I opt out—partially because as nice as they were, they’re still total strangers, and partially because I’d undoubtedly be tempting fate, given the current condition of my left ankle. About an hour later, I bid my farewells, and head back to my room, champagne in hand.
After all, I have a Bathologist appointment to make.
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Tuesday, May 6, 2008
Beijing
Then I got to my room.
This is what I found on my desk, next to a hand signed note wishing me a happy birthday, on behalf of the entire staff.
I’m telling you—Westin is the way to go, folks. No question.
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