RLC 02 – To Go East, You Must First Go West

Farewell, My Home

July 25th began at around 5:30 A.M. when our alarm woke me for the last time in The Dungeon. A quick shower and a hearty breakfast later, two wonderful, slightly sleepy people arrived at our door to drive us, our 4 check-in bags and 2 backpacks to the airport.

Ready to go!

As it turns out, driving through Riga at 6:30 in the morning on a Saturday is something of a serene and surreal experience. The sky was already lit up by the summer sun, but the streets were empty but for a handful of taxis, a pair of intoxicated casino-goers and us, on our way to China. I’m not certain if it was the post-apocalyptic city streets, my 4 hours of sleep or, perhaps, my generally calm demeanour, but I was feeling pretty relaxed about the whole moving-to-another-part-of-the-world thing. Not even half an hour later we reached our destination, with a few surprises in store for us.

Surprise No.1 occurred when Zaiga pointed out a faimiliar-looking person speaking to a clerk in the distance. “Is that Mary?” “What? Where?” “Right there!” “Noo… I think it isn’t.” “No, I think it is.” “Uhh… maybe?” “I’m pretty sure it’s Mary.” “Holy crap, I think you might be right.” “It totally is!” As it turned out, the director of our previous school was on the same flight that we were, headed to Amsterdam.

Zazu was right. You’ll see.

Surprise No.2 was a little less pleasant. See, since we hadn’t bought the airline tickets ourselves and shipping/baggage expenses were to be reimbursed after our arrival in Xiamen, we weren’t entirely clear about which airlines we would be taking where, but it seemed to be airBaltic/KLM to Amsterdam, China Eastern to Hong Kong and Dragon Air to Xiamen. Each airline, however, had slightly different baggage allowance, and we weren’t sure if we would end up paying for our extra check-in luggage for each flight separately, or, which would be a little more problematic, if we had to check in our large bags again for every flight.

Our concerns were only partially addressed by airBaltic, who told us that our luggage would be taken care of for the flight from Amsterdam to Hong Kong (yay!), but that we would have to pick up and check in our luggage again in Hong Kong (boo!). In and of itself, that would not be a big deal, but we had 7 hours to wait in Amsterdam, whereas in Hong Kong we were spending only 90 minutes. That degree of worry regarding making our final flight would continue to poke us in the back of our heads for quite some time.

But at that point in time, there was little we could do about it, so instead we said our farewells and took a selfie.

Can you tell Martin had slept even less than I that night?

We then went through airport security. There was a brief moment of alarm when a lady working there asked Liga to stop and approach, but it turns out we’d mixed up our boarding passes, and she was simply trying to see why, exactly, Rihards Husko was a petite blonde woman. I could make a comment about open-mindedness in this day and age, but… ehhhhh.

Surprise No.3 (for me at least) was meeting another familiar face on the way to our gate. One of Liga’s CELTA teachers was flying out of Riga that morning as well, and we ended up having a brief, but informative conversation about long flights and the Far East. Like I said, small world.

Further proof? The airport employee checking our boarding passes onto our plane was a former schoolmate of mine from a parallel class. You see what I mean? Tiny.

A lengthier conversation with Mary helped alleviate our worries regarding the brief Hong Kong layover. She also gave us some key advice (I remember it being something along the lines of, “Screw everyone else and just elbow your way to the front of the line.” That might not be a direct quote, however.)

Pretty much this.

Soon enough, we were on the plane and that familiar sinking sensation washed over us as we ascended into the air. I do love flying. Thing is, people had been telling me that the moment you lift off is when most are hit hardest emotionally about leaving. Of course, I was sad to leave my family behind and say goodbye to the people I’d come to hold dear, but as I looked out the tiny window at my homeland below, the only thing I really felt was awe at the incredible beauty of Latvia.

It really is a jewel we’ve got.

What a Schiphol

Yes, that really is the name of the airport in Amsterdam.

Try saying it. Sssschiphol. Hahaha, I’m so mature.

Ever since we’d learned we had 7 hours to spend there, we’d planned to go out and see the city, since many had mentioned it was quite easy and quick to do from the airport. Alas, fairly quickly after our arrival it became clear that exploration outdoors might have to wait due to the next surprise – one hell of a thunderstorm, bringing with it torrential rain, not unlike what we’d had in Latvia that same week. Liga suggested we may have brought it over with us, but I kindly requested she not say such things out loud at the airport – people can be /quite/ sensitive about their timetables there.

So, a tour of Amsterdam didn’t seem to be in the cards, which was a pity. However, we were pleased to find that the airport was a really rather nice place to be. Free water at numerous drinking fountains. A broad variety of places to eat. Clean and pleasant interior in the general waiting area. 7 hours is not a small amount of time, but we were going to be fine. It wasn’t entirely without difficulties, though.

One of my personal greatest challenges was not buying a block of chocolate (or several) while there. No, not a bar. A block. There was a cafe selling delicious-looking bricks of milk, dark or white chocolate the size of Liga’s fist. I still drool at the thought.

Look at it!

Some other neat things we saw at Schiphol were charging stations for your phone and laptop that required you to pedal a stationary bycicle to generate power for it. I feel like I should get one of those at home – exercise while powering your PS4 or laptop, why not?

Surprisingly comfortable, too.

We settled down nearby at a park-themed green lounge area, where plenty of people were snoozing either in beanbag chairs, on the weaving green couch or atop the platform it created. The incessant pounding of the rain was drowned out by the sound of wind through the leaves of trees, birds chirping and distant laughter, played through hidden speakers.

Nice, eh? Granted, there were a fair few more people when we were there.

It’s a great place to relax and catch some shut-eye while waiting for your plane, which is what we ended up doing, but I have to say – whoever edited that ambience loop together is kind of a dick: every few minutes there is a single bark, significantly louder than the rest of the sound. Noise doesn’t bother me when sleeping, but that can’t have been necessary.

Several hours later we woke, had a meal (lunch? dinner? breakfast? No clue at this point.) and went to check on our flight. The storm hadn’t let up at all, flashes of lightning still splitting the rain-drenched sky with impressive frequency, and there was still no gate information, though our flight hadn’t been delayed yet – unlike the majority of other flights. That is, until about half an hour later, when our flight was, indeed, delayed by 30 minutes.

The concern regarding our Hong Kong layover creeping up our spines once more, we approached some KLM representatives who told us that, regrettably, KLM has no association with Dragon Air, so they, unfortunately, couldn’t help us with the baggage issue. Hrmh.

Alas, there wasn’t much we could do about then and there anyway, so we decided to head to the wing of the airport our flight was expected to leave from some 90 minutes later. Shortly, I really wished we hadn’t.

In the weeks leading up to our departure, a good friend of mine had been repeatedly asking me about nervousness or fear regarding the move to China. I always replied that, honestly, I wasn’t experiencing anything like that at all. Baggage problem (and slight fear that my PS4 might not make it to Asia in one piece) aside, I’d felt pretty relaxed about the whole thing.

Well, within 15 minutes of entering the Asia flight wing of Amsterdam Airport Schiphol, that casual attitude was replaced by a gut-wrenching sense of dread, slithering its way to my brain from the pit of my stomach. I remember the moment distinctly – we’d just passed through security, and suddenly it was like an entirely different airport – kind of dirty, bland, strangely empty, and with large sections of it under renovation. I get that they were working on improvements, but after the welcoming feeling of the common area, this was a far cry from making me feel at ease. It didn’t help that we were trying and failing to charge either our phones or laptops to send a message both home and to Xiamen, because it seems like none of the power sockets in the public charging stations were functional. We were sitting, silently fuming at the non-functional technology, and I looked around. We were surrounded by almost exclusively Asians, many speaking languages I didn’t even recognize, much less understand. And the fearful part of my brain went, “Shit, this is it. This is your life for the next two years. Well.. good luck!”

Thank God, Liga was there to reassure me we were going to be fine (talk about role reversal) – needless to say, I’d have probably freaked out if I’d been travelling by myself. But I got over it and we continued waiting for our flight. And waiting.

We must’ve spent 2 hours looking at our airplane out this window before we finally got to board.

A 30 minute delay became a 60 minute one. And even as the minutes kept ticking by and we reached and passed the new expected boarding time, nothing changed. Apparently, we were waiting for the food to be delivered, which, to be fair, you /do/ want on an 11 hour flight, but soon our concern wasn’t, “Are we going to have time to pick up and check in our baggage?” but, “Are we going to make it to our final flight?”

Spoiler: We didn’t.

Tune in next week (I promise) for RLC 03 – The Asia Adventure Begins