The Last Leg

Getting off at the Beijing Airport was surprisingly easy, and not really intimidating at all.  It was still dark, so I couldn't see much, but it seemed like most other airports I've ever been in.  I think they must try to lull foreigners into a false sense of security, though, because it didn't take long for things to rapidly get crazier and crazier.

The first thing I had to do was figure out which line I needed to stand in.  This turned out to be fairly easy, as it rapidly became Almost-Uncomfortably Clear that I was most definitely in the category of "foreigner".  I didn't realize at the time just how true this was, and how much I really am delineated from the rest of society.  Not to worry, though: the next sign I ran into that I could actually understand was very helpful. 

(I think they should append ", you're going to be here for awhile".)

After ages of waiting here and there, though, I finally managed to get on my flight to Zhengzhou.  At the gate, however, the kind gentleman informed me that "you need to exchange seat".  I acquiesced to the change, wondering if I would get to sit by a local this time.  Instead, I found they had moved me to the very back corner of the airplane, with no less than twelve empty rows between myself and the next person.  I think they must've thought I had swine flu.  Who knows.  I did, however, get to catch some snapshots as we flew over the mountains and the sun finally rose.  I quickly learned two things: 1) taking pictures out of an airplane window sucks. 2) once you're up that high in the air, pictures of mountains really just look like the satellite view on google maps.  Ah, well, they were mountains anyhow.

Once I arrived in Zhengzhou, and said goodbye to the last foreigners I would see for awhile, I was faced yet again with a choice:

It's like a choose-your-own-adventure, but only one choice is an adventure.

Welcome to China!  Which one would you have picked?