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From the archives: A few years ago, Evan Naudé flew the long way around to Mongolia. In China, he discovered yet again that when you have to spend a few hours in an airport, there are few things as entertaining as people-watching.
I flew out of Cape Town last night and spent this morning staring at shelves of expensive cigarettes, whiskeys and designer perfumes in Dubai International Airport.
Now it’s late afternoon and I’m in China, waiting for another flight – my final flight – which will take me to Mongolia. If you want to travel on the cheap, you take the long way around.
It’s a challenge to stay awake, waiting in one airport after another. You become so jetlagged that you stumble like a zombie from one queue to the next with your passport in hand. You’re awake, but only just.
I’m in a restaurant on the second floor of Beijing Capital International Airport and I order a black coffee. I try to read a book, but it makes me even sleepier.
The Wi-Fi is free but it doesn’t work very well. The waiter says it’s because thousands of people try to WeChat, Renren (the Chinese equivalent of Facebook) or #whatever at the same time.
It’s true: When I look down at the heaving mass of humanity on the floor below, almost every face is bathed in the glow of a cellphone screen.
Few things are as entertaining as people-watching, especially in an unfamiliar place. It’s my first time in Asia and every scene that catches my eye seems to be a slice of life from a particular place and time, but without context.
It’s like looking at photos in a stranger’s photo album – you make up your own backstory for every snapshot.
Some things you notice purely because that thing is different to what you know at home – the weird things you’ll tell your friends about later.
For example, every water point in the airport has a cold and a hot tap – and most people drink from the hot tap!
The tram that runs between terminals is called an Automatic People Carrier.
The prices on the menu look like ours at first glance: a draft beer costs Y45, a pizza Y100, a sandwich Y40, a coffee Y20. But when you google the exchange rate and realise you have to multiply everything by two, you quickly lose your appetite.
And everyone, young and old, spits into every available rubbish bin like it’s nothing.
I notice groups of security guards in neat, black uniforms. Lanky and young, they look like they should still be in high school. To the side, a military man stands to attention on a small stage, cordoned off with rope. In his crease-free green uniform, he stares into the distance while tourists take selfies in front of him.
Chinese men don’t seem to favour beards or moustaches – I only spot one older man with a long, pointed beard in a sea of clean-shaven homogeny, like the facial-hair equivalent of Where’s Wally.
The terminal is packed with people, but very few of them are foreigners. I only see one group of Germans. Like obedient children, they’re following a Chinese woman who holds a flag aloft through the crowd.
They pass three men who have built a fort out of their trolleys – they’re seated on their luggage and drinking coffee. Next to them, a woman is filling a big suitcase with food in unfamiliar packaging.
An old lady in sunglasses zips by on a motorized suitcase. And another couple is using their suitcase as a table to eat instant noodles – ah, that’s why the water points have hot taps!
An announcement plucks me from my reverie and I realise I have to get going.
My aeroplane is waiting on the other side of the Automatic People Carrier and I still have to navigate the crowds below before I can get some much-needed sleep on my final flight.
I hope this R40 coffee will keep my eyes open until I get there…
