Shenzhen International Airport. Thought I might be able to simply stroll across the border into Hong Kong. Looked close enough on my maps. Which, admittedly, showed the whole of China on two sheets. Foolishly, I’d admitted this to my parents. They’d been quick to point out it was a good hour by bus. Teased a little that I must have opted for a budget airline, landing far from the supposed destination.
I’d fly down from Wuhan. Couple of hours in the air to the north. Popping into Hong Kong to collect a fresh visa to enable me to ride south to the former colony at a sensible pace. Arriving in time for Christmas. A flying visit in every sense.
Chosen to travel on China Airlines for no other reason than it sounded reputable. Besides, couldn’t be any worse than the little known carrier I’d used from Azerbaijan to Kazakhstan. An ageing Russian Tupulov jet. The sort where you’d wish they’d relax the restrictions on rivet guns in the cabin. In flight meal boiled sweets. Helps with the depressurisation.
My trusty steed Emma secure back in Wuhan for a few days, a simple task to fly south, albeit briefly. A brief introduction to Hong Kong. And a chance to visit the imaginatively titled “Flying Ball Bicycle Company“, introduce myself to “Bikeman” with whom I’d been corresponding via e-mail. I imagined a bushy beard. No idea why.
