So, I got off the plane a few days ago.
While it took just a few short hours to unpack my suitcase, it's been arduous (re) adjusting to glorious glorious Eastern Standard Time. Equally frustrating is the inability to pull pictures off of the Arundel High School issued Ipad.
I'm curious what will happen first, an organized collection of all the videos and photos I took, or an organized collection of an 8-hour REM cycle. I'll send the competition over to the odds-makers in Vegas.
However, my notes are refined and ready to rumble.
The end of our trip is an excellent place to start.
The last weekend before we returned to America, Mike, Erin, and myself were treated to the sights of Beijing. More on that later.
We left Beijing on an overcast, thick, and balmy Sunday morning.
Our Beijing driver, Master Chao, and our translator, Tracy met us in the hotel lobby. Having your own personal driver and translator for the weekend in the capital city is a pretty cushy honor. Master Chao drives like an efficient maniac, which is to say he fares excellently on the Beijing roads. Tracy's studies are in tourism affairs (which requires her passing twelve examinations, thirteen if you count the English test), which means that she is well versed in the sites we visit. She's even better at towing the well scripted talking points for the English speaking folks she travels with (Tracy said it's a healthy mix of Aussies, Brits, Canadians, and Americans. I wondered if different nationalities got different degrees of indoctrination).
The Wall
Tracy told us the first evening in Beijing, shortly after we landed that our itinerary had been revised. The last thing we were going to do before getting on a plane home was scale the Great Wall. This was originally planned for Saturday.
When I say scale, I mean it.
We were told by many people, including our Arundel colleagues that had already visited Beijing, that the Great Wall required a lot of walking. However, many of the images that I'm used to seeing on the front of travel brochures, history books, and the like don't transmit the essential idea that you're climbing multiple mountains before you're rewarded with the famous sights.
There's very little level ground walkin'. At least where we were, The Badaling.
Comfortably Numb
To the best of my recollection (which is mediocre at best-- I was too busy wondering if my 18 month hiatus from exercise was going to do me in. At different points of climbing the wall, my legs, back, and heart were taking turns yelling at my brain for such negligence), there were at least 6 different mountains that we climbed to reach the summit of the Badaling.
During the ascent, the tourists became more and more scarce, especially Chinese climbers. By the time we reached our peak summit, roughly half of our exhausted brethren were Russian, Australian, French, or American; hardly the demographic when we were on the first mountain section.
Once we reached the top (which was actually a crude stairladder made of slippery withered stone), we were too exhausted to appreciate the accomplishment and the view. The haziness of the late morning limited the square footage of visible land and dry clothing.
Historians aren't sure how the original stones that compromise such high points on the wall were moved. All I know is, I'm glad it wasn't me doing the heavy lifting. In fact, I'm not quite sure how the soldiers mobilized so quickly and regularly for duty. Very impressive.
History Note: The wall was indeed used as a deterrent from Northern invaders, but such high points on the wall were actually more useful as a beacon (I immediately thought of The Return of The King) to alert the nation to mobilize for war. During the day, it was smoke signals, and at night, large torches.
It's Time To Go
The other reason we weren't able to bask in our achievement was due to the desire to begin moving back down immediately.
We had a plane to catch.
Tracy gave us a few hours before departure time, which didn't give us much time to dilly, nor dally heading up or back down. (No, Tracy did not join us during our wall hike. We totally understood after a few minutes. We were also grateful that we didn't have to hear her scripted comments every five minutes while trying to not die).
Six wobbly legs worked down the great steps, each one lacking congruence from the next. What the downward trek lacked in exhausting cardio, it made up for in terrifying moments of envisioning falling down, and taking a few poor Chinese tourists with you).
Railings were a commodity, and the currency exchange was evil glances. I understood why folks climbing up where we just left wanted to hang on for dear life, but my proclivity for motor-related injuries motivated me to own the railing on my side of the steps at all times. My diplomacy skills were reaching new lows every time I missed a step or a young child took it upon themselves to get in my way. I caught myself even gregariously gesturing to railing hoarders to obey basic traffic rules. Stay in your lane!!
On our way up, a few women walking down were spotted scaling backwards, towing themselves with the railing, like Stallone in Cliffhanger. I would have tried it, but the steps and railings were built for people 18 inches shorter than me.
I wanted to efficiently boogie down this wall. I was on a mission. We all were. We were ready to go home. Reaching the summit at the top of the wall, was a perfect symbolic victory-- we accomplished the last item on our itinerary in China. It was all downhill from here.
When we reached the car, Tracy and Master Chao were waiting with smiles. They were eating plums and listening to the radio in our trusty van when we happened upon them.
All of us were saturated in sweat. Even the strap of our hiking bag could be rung out with sweat. We were disgusting. A wretched, soggy, smelly trio. In just a few hours, we'd be on a plane.
Something had to be done.
Bring the Boys Back Home
After an hour ride in the car, which I staved off sleep (save it for the plane, Andy), we were at our destination. Beijing International Airport.
We shook hands with our gracious hosts (to hug them in our condition might have caused an international kerfuffle), and made our way to the nearest restroom. Bye Master Chao. Bye Tracy. We all wondered throughout the weekend if there was something between those two.
We all shuffled our suitcases to an unoccupied corner and pulled out the necessary tools for cleaning up, including new clothes not destroyed by the wall.
We then began taking turns in to the restroom, while someone watched our bulky belongings. Changing and cleaning up in a public restroom is a life skill. My favorite of these sub-skills is to change shoes, socks, pants, and underwear standing up (sitting on a public toilet in China is either dangerous or impossible-- most stalls do not have western toilets, just porcelain holes in the ground), without letting bare feet (or socked feet for the matter) touch the floor.
If this sounds easy, please fill me in below in the comment section. It was an arduous task for me, so much so that when I was changed, I'm almost certain that I made a noise that alarmed my potty neighbors.
We all did our best to mask the harsh reality of our Iron Man tourism jaunt. It seemed to work just fine, but maybe we couldn't smell the forest from the trees. I didn't get any looks from my in-air-seat-mates. In fact, my neighbor on the plane held down a 90 minute conversation before passing out on my shoulder.
I'm almost positive that applying that much deodorant can't be good for your health, but in a pinch, it really does the trick.
Life back on a double-decked international flight was much easier the second time around, for equal reasons.
One, we were all excited to run off the plane and eat Mexican food.
Two, we had just spent 3 hours walking a three mile 45 degree plane.
Three, we knew what to expect after our original flight over just 15 short days ago.
Time, indeed, flew. We left Beijing at 5pm on Sunday. When we landed in Detriot 11 hours later, it was 4pm on Sunday.
Hours later, we were back at BWI to hug our husbands, wives, fathers, and colleagues.
When I hugged my fiancee for the first time, after a few elated moments, I inquired, "do I smell"?
"Kind of", she replied.
"That's not me, that's the Great Wall. It was much worse yesterday".
Thanks again, Old Spice.
Next post-- we'll go back to the start. Our landing in Shanghai!
