A 7 Hour Layover and Free Internet Equals
A blog post. I was originally afraid of my layover (at Narita International Airport in Japan) because I thought it was going to be 8 hours long, but Japan is a different time zone than China, so I only have to spend 7 hours at the airport! Oh happiness. I am being 50% sincere when I say that because spending 7 hours in the airport seems significantly more manageable than spending 8. I do have the option of getting out and chilling around Narita (Tokyo is 2 hours away by bus and given the additional time to go through customs twice if I do go, it doesn’t make any logistical sense to trek out there), but I have two carry-ons, one of which is my violin and the other a backpack with 30 lbs plus of stuff (mostly my laptop, sheet music, a couple of books, and miscellaneous papers I didn’t have the heart to toss). The backpack’s a huge deterrent from moving around much — not just because it’s so heavy (I’m weak and out of shape, especially from gluttonizing the past 4 months; don’t make fun of me), but because it’s more or less an awkwardly humongous turtle shell and I don’t want to traipse around Narita with it. If anyone does find himself or herself on a layover here though, I do recommend checking the surroundings out — there is a very nice temple nearby called Narita-san (成田山新勝寺） with an adorable pond filled with turtles people painted names on as prayers for the well-being of their friends or family.
I’m sitting in the Yahoo Internet Cafe facing the window looking down upon bright yellow trains shuttling to and from the extension terminal. I can’t believe I’ve left Beijing and am on my way back to New York. It feels foreign, going to New York, as strange as that sounds. Walking across Terminal 3 of the Beijing International Airport as the sun rose, bright pink-hued orange light flooding across cold white walls while the airport speakers streamed the first movement of Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata, was a surreal experience. Beijing has really grown onto me — on the taxi ride back from the Immaculate Machine show at Yugong Yishan, while passing by the Shichahai neighborhood, I realized that I’m really, really fond of the city. There are plenty of unpleasant things, like blowing your nose and finding that your snot is dark gray (apologies, tmi) and dealing with unresponsive waiters at restaurants (and while we’re on the topic, this and this), but there’re so many just plain nice things about the city. As a college student, I’m going to miss cheap, delicious, and plentiful Chinese food, but I’m also going to miss the friendly impromptu conversations with complete strangers. I’m going to miss wandering around like a clueless laowai (or rather, LOLwai), and I’m going to miss feeling accomplished when I get something done by talking in Chinese, even it is as simple as reserving a taxi to get to the airport at 5:30 am. I’m excited to see my family, I’m excited to eat meat that doesn’t have bones or isn’t diced into tiny pieces, I’m excited to play piano and work on a Chopin romance I fell in love with last week and can’t stop thinking about. I’m excited to go home, but I miss Beijing and I want to go back.