A Dutchman in Beijing.

(Blogger's note: It is with great difficulty that I write this entry a few months after this event took place, not because of my poor memory of the detailed events that unfolded back then, but because the circumstances of our relationship had turned sour, to say the least. The full scope of this tragic turn for the worse will be revealed in a future posting.)


It snowed this morning like I've never seen it snow before in Beijing. The ground was covered in white, and on this, I set out to pick up a good friend of mine from the airport. I've been looking forward to this day ever since Dutchman emailed me his confirmed Air Canada flight itinerary a few weeks before. I was elated.

I found an Airport Shuttle service with a station that was within walking distance from my apartment back when my CouchSurfing guest, BOCI, flew out of Beijing on his last day here. 16 RMB was all it cost, compared to the 110 RMB it would have cost by taking a taxi.

I got to the airport early enough to see flight AC029 followed by the words "ON TIME" appear on the flight-board change to "ARRIVED" while twiddling my thumbs and trying to find a comfortable place to park my buttock. I thought about making a huge sign out of a large piece of cardboard with "DUTCHMAN" written in multi-coloured sparkle-markers and compete with the limited space at the arrivals gate where a crowd of others queued with their small signs of their own, but I didn't have the time.

After a while, sitting at the very end of the queue watching a stream of black-haired people pour out of the gates, a familiar face, pale in skin-tone, appeared. Nearly a foot taller than every one else, too. I was embraced with a familiar bear hug, shortly after. Something familiar in a foreign place of unfamiliarity. A little piece of Canada.

After taking the shuttle back to the Wudaokou bus stop, I wanted to take the taxi to take us directly to my apartment, as trolling along a suitcase in the slush wasn't our idea of fun. Unfortunately, despite my great effort in waiving my hand in the air, and despite Dutchman's holly "whiteness" and "dashing good looks" (his words, not mine), we walked all the way back. Clara, my flatmate, informed me later that when it snows in Beijing, an unoccupied taxi gets really hard to find. So much for his holiness.

Kim, Moe, Clara, Dutchman, and I got together for a welcoming dinner I had arranged for this evening at a Chinese restaurant called GuoLin, and an evening of relaxation with a bottle of red followed back at my apartment.