Was it all a dream? I fell asleep in Beijing or possibly over Xinjiang if you want to get specific, and I woke up a few minutes before landing in Paris.
In 1999, when 16-year-old me flew back to France after an amazing summer in Beijing that marked my first-ever solo trip and the beginning of my wanderlust, I cried all the way back home. I’m wiser (and older) now—I cry before leaving but sleep for most of the flight.
The thing is, there’s no way to transition smoothly from China to France. You just have to close your eyes, jump, and hopefully land on your feet (and use the right language upon arrival). It’s impossible to picture France while in China, even when buying delicious chocolate croissants at Paris Baguette (it’s a South Korean franchise, to boot). I can’t even remember what cheese tastes because I’m half spicy chilli oil, half sesame paste in this corner of the world. Likewise, before landing in Beijing, I could hardly remember the rich, fragrant smell of soy sauce and wok-fried dishes mixed with the pungent aroma of spices that constantly permeate the humid air.
We had a full day in Beijing before saying goodbye to Beijing. The sky was blue, everything we bought kind of fit in our backpacks, and we still had energy, so we explored Guomao once again—this is where we stayed at first. We wandered around the business district—strangely enough, no suits and ties!—, walked by the CCTV headquarters and ended up at the mall where we found a karaoke box and butchered Baby One More Time. I bought a couple of 鸡蛋饼 (thick pancakes with eggs) to take with me on the plane while the guys had a very early dinner.
“I think we’d better go…”
The plan was to be back at the apartment at 5 p.m., finish packing, take a shower and find our way to the airport. Feng and I are usually on the same page when it comes to timing but this time, he didn’t seem to be in a hurry. Freudian slip?
“Come on, we’re gonna miss the plane!”
“Yeah, I’m just looking at the bikes…”
“GUYS!”
We eventually arrived at the airport at 8:30 p.m. Fun fact, China is very paranoid about fire hazards. Batteries or power banks are inspected, and lighters aren’t allowed, even in checked luggage. Every piece of luggage is scanned—Feng had to throw his lighter, mine wasn’t found and slipped through. People leave their lighters for others to use outside, before entering the airport—the biggest collection of lighters in the world!
I was dreading the long 12-hour flight but it went by fast. The hardest part was boarding because everybody was fighting for overhead bin space. Since airlines now charge for checked luggage, people tend to bring bigger and heavier carry-ons…
We landed in Paris just before 6 a.m. and waited for the 9:45 a.m. train to Nantes.
Except for the fact that I apparently lost my French in China, it’s all good. Now let’s resume that French summer!
Bon retour en France 🙂 Quel est le plan ensuite, est ce que Feng et Mark rentrent à Ottawa pour la rentrée des classes ?
Feng repart samedi, Mark et moi le 31 août.
J’adorerais dormir 12 heures sur un vol aussi long! Wah! Bon retour en France, et ensuite au Canada j’imagine! bises!
Ça aide, les départs à 23 h!
> there’s no way to transition smoothly from China to France.
Hé bien si, il y a une solution.
Tu peux prendre le Trans-Mongolien ou le Trans-Mandchourien à Pékin, et respectivement à Ulan Ude et Chita, tu rejoins le Trans-Sibérien qui va jusque Moscou. De là, ya plus qu’à trouver un train ou un bus pour la France. Smooth.
Ah ben voilà. Tu parles à quelqu’un qui voulait vraiment traverser le Darien Gap en bus à l’époque, j’en avais des idées à la con à 18 ans… 😆
Par contre, la Russie me tente moyen moins.
Ouais, pareil, la Russie en ce moment, ça fait vraiment pas envie. Mais dans l’esprit, ça me plairait bien de faire ça.
Pas sûre pour moi, même dans l’hypothèse d’une Russie, euh… différente niveau leadership. J’aurais plus aimé traverser l’Afghanistan et tous ces pays, niveau route. Comme les babas des années 1970s (mais sans le cannabis et l’envie de finir au Népal).