Carwyn Morris moved to China on the 24th of August 2005... well... sort of?
Upon arriving at Charles De Gaule airport in the plane from Heathrow, I may have, theoretically, picked someone else's bag up. In theory I did this, made my way to the baggage-check for my next plane and then was confronted by the guy whose bag I theoretically had.
For the next 40 minutes I ran all around the maze that was CD'G in Paris. I spoke to many people, traversed the hole terminal and ran around on the airport waving hands wildly! Then, eventually, I found the bag... about 20 meters away from where I started out.... huzzah? Ohh yes, I'd missed the plane (well, it was still fucking there just not letting me on!).
So, I'm there, walking around like... shit. Where do I go now? The French man with a funny tasch says "Walk that way." So I walk... and walk... and walk, get a luggage holder and then... walk! Finlay I find a help-desk where a beautiful lady, much prettier than that Naomi Campbell, who I shall compare her to, is! Well she was like "Yo fizzle dizzle homes'!" And I was like "YOU SPEAK ENGLISH!" I regale my story, sort of, blaming the entire thing on the terrible airport management and get a free room in a nice airport for the night! Score~
Then I realise I have no Euros or Dollars so I can buy anything... dang!
Well, everything goes well after that, I finally arrive in Beijing. Alone, sweaty, lonely, tired and by my self! I hadn't taken advantage of the free long haul flight drinky McAlcohol which I now realise, in hindsight, was madness. And if I had I probably wouldn't have run into my second, probably the greatest, problem ever!
I walk off the plane, some how get past customs, disease check etc. I held my nerve and didn't say I had Avian Flu on my papers and then I took the long hike to the baggage area (By the by, that arrived over a day ago on my other flight). Well, me being the cunning individual I am, like a fox, I find it. My woe's are over!... No.
Jenny, my Project Trust helper lady is all "Oh my fucking god, you're late, you should've have been hear yesterday, you're an idiot~! Let's go; Run, run, run, fast fast, fast!" So I go... and go, I have 50kg on my back and my passport in my hand. I put my passport, ingeniously, in the luggage holder and make haste. Run into the taxi, through everything in my hands in the back, and we go(!) to my hostel.
*Ten Minutes Later*
"Can you pass me your passport Carwyn, we need it to get you into the Hostel." "Ok, it's just in that see-through b-- FUCK!" "Where is it Carwyn?" "It was in my see-through bag, I had it... it must've been in the taxi!"
*Ring, ring goes the taxi drivers phone*
"MeiYou" ("Not here at all, ever, not exsisting... nothing" for use whose illiterate in the Chinkese wordsies). "I hate you Carwyn"...
We go off to the Police Station, get the WORST PICTURES EVER taken of me after more than 24 hours awake and at 37c + in Beijing (These pictures are stile alive in my new passport). A few days later I have my passport, only took one morning to do.
I also promptly got my visa. (5 months later, 2 hours AFTER my train to Shanghai, for my holiday, had left, yay?)
That is Carwyns version of 24: Getting to China told in gripping, illegible, fashion in a blog which I should have started alongggg time ago.
More 'China: Year 1' later.