After the Wedding
Trip Start
Nov 29, 2008
1
16
Trip End
Jan 03, 2009
Hangzhou,
Zhejiang,
China
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Maybe being in love has kept all looking so young. His new wife Kitty had not yet arrived at breakfast, so we tucked into what the Shangri-La is famous for--the breakfast buffet. I tried to remain ladylike in such a posh setting, though it was hard to stop myself from falling all over the food. I hadn't eaten properly in more than 24 hours because I'd had a hangup at the airport in Medan. The immigrations officials wouldn't let me through because my exit visa had expired.
Thus began my nightmare. The officials wouldn't let me on the plane and no amount of money would fix it. Just my luck that the Indonesian government has cleaned up corruption in the airports because of some scandal in Jakarta. I spent the next day getting a stamp in my passport and standing in line to buy two more plane tickets, one to Kuala Lumpur and one to Hangzhou. That night, a little lighter in the wallet, I slept on one of the park benches set up for layovers at the Kuala Lumpur airport.
But I made it. And when Kitty showed up, she was beautiful, like all those things you hear about Asian women, an exotic Oriental flower. Tall and willowy, she wore black leather boots up above the knees over her slim legs and a blue silk qipao embroidered with white chrysanthemums. Al's done well for himself. She's not just a pretty face, though; she's got brains, too. She's a lovely conversationalist, and we got to know each other better chatting over the pancakes and waffles on my second trip to the buffet.
I'd missed Al and Kitty's wedding, part of the reason I had come to China in the first place, but was regaled with stories. Apparently Kitty's family outdrank Al's-no small feat because Al's family is Scottish and they can really knock it back. Everyone polished off the giant magnum of whiskey no problem and was feeling a little worse for wear for it today. That's one small mercy. I have no hangover at least.
Al showed me some of the wedding photos-he wore the traditional Scottish garb of a kilt and sporran. He even had the ceremonial knife to go with it. Kitty was gorgeous in five different kinds of dresses; she changed outfits like Vanna White on The Wheel of Fortune.
Russ, our other journalism friend, was a no show this morning after the festivities. He wasn't answering the phone either. I returned to the hotel on the lake, where the guests were staying, to find him. I haven't seen Russ in 13 years since we graduated from j-school either. When Al went to Shanghai, Russ went to Hong Kong. He was at the South China Morning Post for years but recently sold his soul to Lloyd's of London because it pays more money. It makes me question what I am doing with my life, being noble and writing about saving orangutans and elephants and coral reefs, feet getting filthy in the slums of Medan and sleeping on benches to save money on hotels. I made some sort of pact with myself to always be honest, but it sure doesn't pay the bills.
Russ answered the door and hit me with a blast of whiskey breath.
"Wendy! Good to see ya!" He stooped down-Russ is 6'7"-to give me a hug. "I'm still drunk!"
Russ hadn't changed, either. It was good to see him too, but my timing couldn't have been worse. He had only a couple of hours before he had to go to the airport to return to work in Hong Kong. As a consolation, he stuck a full bottle of Chivas Regal in my bag, with the promise that he would put me up at his place for Christmas. Not one to let anything go to waste, I accepted. The getting here was a little rough, but hopefully that's the end of it and it will be good times from here on in.
