#15 Paris to Guangzhou—a small miracle

I was very glad I ignored the hotel advice and booked my car forty minutes earlier. I boarded on time, but with none to spare. But small problem. At Charles de Gaulle check-in, my boarding pass showed a 15-hour layover in Guangzhou instead of 4. Which is why I have time to write this letter.

I spoke to the main man on the China Southern Airlines counter—but he had a big Boeing to get off the ground and no time for my crisis.

‘Go to the transfer desk in Guangzhou,’ he said— easy for him to say when he wasn’t coming with me. And no, he was sorry, but he couldn’t do anything from Paris.

The flight from Paris to Guangzhou was uneventful—but I didn’t sleep. Not a minute. Which is fine. I often don’t. But my  tv screen had a disorder. Juror #2 started, restarted, fast forwarded, then froze completely. And the touch on the touch screen wouldn’t work, so I spent twelve hours watching two films in instalments, using the cord remote slider to find and refind where I was up to.

And when that became too much for my fried brain, I put on the flight map—but the aeroplane was behaving erratically, travelling forwards and backwards. We flew to somewhere over Kazakhstan, then we reversed. Just like yesterday! At one point I think we may have returned to Paris.

On arrival in Guangzhou, I discovered the original connecting flight had been cancelled in March. March. They think they told me. I thought not. Who knows. I’m not ruling out my fault. Anyway, the 15-hour layover was the earliest available option. Splendid.

I opted not to get a hotel room because it involved a queue a mile long for security, filling out an immigration form with a QR code on my phone, and then having to get myself back to the airport or terminal or whatever for the flight.

Then—a miracle.

The China Southern lounge.

Not just showers (I knew about them, already a godsend), but something far better. When I booked a bathroom, the attendant said, ‘That is a very long layover. You’ll be wanting a sleeping room.’

Quoi? A sleeping room?

I didn’t get too excited because I assumed she meant one of those torpedo pods lined up in the terminal—no air, no light. Or worse, something communal.

But no. An actual room. A proper single bed. Freshly ironed sheets. Crisp doona. Air-conditioning. A door that deadlocked.

I had a shower and slept for four hours.

Heaven.

Now I’m up and at it again.

The smog, by the way, is quite lovely here from an aircraft—like a beautiful watercolour. I have a photo but I can’t seem to upload it.

A few hours to go. Practically a day spa.

I wait you in Guangzhou. But not for much longer!

Shelley

PS I’m doing this on my phone because wifi here is like a château banned area. So please forgive mistakes.