This weblog is a tribute to the people I have met during my 30 years
of travel. Most are nameless, but all have touched my heart in a special way. Their actions may seem insignificant
to you, but when I was lonely or lost or tired, these small acts meant everything to me. From time to time, I'll share
stories of other people I've met who have also touched my heart. I hope you appreciate their stories as I share my
adventures with you.
Coming off the red-eye
on the next to last leg of a three-week trip throughout Asia, I had one thought in mind – only 9 more hours until I
board my flight for home. Although I wasn’t looking forward to spending the entire day at Beijing airport, I knew there
were plenty of shops and restaurants where I could spend the rest of my Renminbi. I followed the signs
for transfer passengers and was relieved to see no queue as I approached the immigration hall. The immigration officer examined
my papers, and sent me to another booth. The next officer began speaking to me in rapid Chinese. He kept pointing at my e-ticket
and passport. After about 5 minutes, a uniformed customer service representative from Singapore Airlines (the airline I flew
into China) approached and spoke with the agent. They wanted to deport me because my documents weren’t in order, and
Singapore Airlines was ordered not to return to Singapore without me! I was caught in a bureaucratic catch-22.
I needed a boarding pass to be a valid transfer passenger, but I couldn’t get a boarding pass because the ticket office
wasn’t open. I hadn’t applied for a valid visa for re-entry because I thought I was a transfer passenger, so I
couldn’t legally enter China because I didn’t have a valid re-entry visa. (Lesson learned –
I had researched rules for transfer passengers through Beijingon the internet, and I was misled about the validity of e-tickets
for re-entry. Next time, I will contact the Chinese embassy before leaving home.) Anyway, immigration and Singapore Airlines
decided to make me someone else’s problem, and a man in a crumpled uniform came to collect me. He didn’t speak
English; I don’t speak Mandarin, but I had no choice except to follow him. We walked a long way along a dark corridor,
and then took an elevator down into the bowels of the airport. I didn’t know where we were going – it could have
been jail for all I knew. We stopped at a cramped, dirty office, and he motioned for me to take a seat on an old, stained
orange chair with sticky wooden arms. Kindly, he offered me some tepid tea and stale biscuits. He took my passport and e-ticket
– my only chance to get home – and left for quite some time. No good thoughts crossed my mind as I sat and stared
at the walls and watched the minutes tick by. Of course, I had a book in my briefcase, but I didn’t dare take it out
to read – it was Soul Mountain by 2000 Nobel Prize winning Chinese author Gao
Xingjian, a book banned in China.
The uniformed man finally came
back, boarding pass and passport in hand. He then escorted me to the Business Center, where I spent the rest of the day. Although
not a word passed between us, I fully understood that he tried to put me at ease throughout my ordeal, and for that, I was
grateful.Even so, I was ecstatic
when my flight was called. I thought things were finally going my way when the flight attendant paged me before the plane
door closed (perhaps an upgrade to business class?). But, alas, I was informed that my luggage didn’t make it on the
flight. Apparently, the transfer time was too short! Bonus: To read the first page of Soul Mountain,
click on this link: http://www.amazon.com/Soul-Mountain-Gao-Xingjian/dp/0060936231#reader_0060936231
My first memory of
a simple act of kindness by a stranger was when I was 12. I had a minor accident with my bike, and I fell down a ditch near
a little white house. The kind lady of the house came out, brought me some lemonade, and cleaned and dressed my wound. The
woman has since passed on, but I never drive by that house without remembering her goodness. The scar on my knee is a constant
reminder as well. So let’s fast-forward forty years, more or less. As an experienced cyclist with a business trip planned to
the Netherlands, I couldn’t pass up the opportunity for a biking adventure. My destination was Haarlem, so I decided
a 50-mile trip to Delft was very doable in a day. After all, the direction I would be traveling was south, so the trip would
be all downhill, right?I prepared by regularly attending spinning class, researching bike rentals, and
ordering bike path maps. I knew each city along the way had a train station, so if I got tired, I could just hop a train back
to my hotel. I even had two local colleagues write down instructions in Dutch and their phone numbers in case of an emergency.
I was ready! However, as we know, history repeats itself, so, yes, I had a minor accident. And like my first incident, a kind
woman approached me as I lay on the ground with a light rail train looming ever closer. She helped me onto my feet and gathered
my belongings as I murmured “Dank u” in a very bad Dutch accent. Please join me as I tiptoe through
the tulips on my journey to Delft by watching this video.
Bonus: If you
want to get a feel for life in Delft in the late 1600's, check out the movie "Girl with a Pearl Earring". It is
an excellent fictionalized story of Johannes Vermeer's famous painting. You can also check out this blog: http://girl-with-a-pearl-earring.20m.com/
