Saturday 3rd May 2014

Thursday.

In which I learn much detail on how to apply for a visa to the People's Republic of China.

China.

Hmmm, a business trip to China sounds fun doesn't it? Well, yes. And no. Because the Chinese seem to like their bureaucracy. And why not, its their country. But having to prove I was not going to be a drain on their economy and welfare system seems like a step too far.

Things is there are no hard and fast rules on how to go about this within my company, and so I was kinda flying blind. But all that was for when I got into the office. Being a Thursday, not a Thursday but going home on a great white gezome bird Thursday, was a cause for celebration. I packed, had a shower, checked out, packed the car, had breakfast, drove to the office.

And the sun was still shining, and I was going home. What could possibly put a downer on the day? I drive down to Esbjerg to meet with steffen so we can discuss some details of the project. The sun continues to shine, the traffic is light, I am in a good mood.



I arrive at Esbjerg, say hi to all my friends, grab a coffee and begin with the Googling of visa requirements to China.

China.

I have to arrange visas and travel for myself and seven other people,well, kinda. And the most important was for me to get a visa, only to find from a website that I could not just turn up with my paperwork and get a visa, they wanted my passport for three or four working days. And I need my passport for business travel right up to the week before the China trip. Bugger.



I start to collect the paperwork, and then call the embassy in London. I wait in line for 45 minutes. The phone rings, then switches back to call waiting. Another 20 minutes pass by. I explain the situation, they still to their rules. In the end it is decided that I will not travel to the team building exercise next week, I make an appointment at the embassy for Thursday, and I hope I can get a visa before I have to travel again the next Monday.

I am now hopelessly behind in work, so I struggle to catch up. And before I know it, it is time to leave Esbjerg to head to the airport for the long trip home. I rush round saying bye to everyone, pack my ever-growing pack of paperwork, load the car and head north to Billund.

It is now May, and the time of year when Danes think of little else than heading south for some sun, therefore the airport was full of them in shorts and flip flops, getting ready for some spring sunshine by loading up on strong beer. And why not?

I am not granted the key to the lounge, so slum it in the Gastropub, and decide that the company should pay for some lunch and a beer. Time passes and as BA seem not to run the flight, or they do as I am allowed to check in at the BA desk. anyway, it leaves now some 20 minutes early which should give me an even better chance of catching the earlier train to Dover. If all goes to plan of course.

So, we board the flight, I have my usual seat of 8A, and soon am snoozing as we soar over Denmark, visible to the horizon as the great weather continues. Over Holland the cloud rolls in and as we approach the Essex coast clouds cover the ground and as we descend, we pass through rain clouds. Below the clouds, England is typically grey and wet. Perfect. But I am home.

The plane skims over East London, we are sent to a distant gate, a bus collects us and delivers us to the terminal, only to find no queue at immigration. We charge to the barriers, are allowed through, and my bag just appears through the curtain of the carousel. I grab it, and fly out of the arrivals hall to the DLR station. I have to wait 5 minutes for a stratford train, but I work out I have at least 45 minutes.

At Stratford it is quarter past, I wonder if I could make the earlier train....

Seventeen minutes past as I approach the gate, I could hear a train approach. A Dover train. I get through the barrier, and pick up y cases and run down the escalator. As I arrive on the platform, the doors are beeping prior to closing. I run across the platform, get in as the doors close. I laugh manically.

This means I will be in dover another 25 minutes earlier. An hour and 25 minutes earlier than I used to be.

The Essex and Kent countryside flashes by. At Ashford over half the passengers get off, and so I get a seat, slump down at a seat by a window and watch as Folkestone then Dover nears. Jools is waiting, we head home in the car for a snack for dinner, a huge cuppa for me. Another week nearly done, and then a three day weekend ahead.