Border Crossings

On my way into mainland China earlier this week, I tried a different approach to crossing the border out of Hong Kong. I usually go by ferry or via the Hong Kong subway system, but since I chose to stay at the airport the first night due to my late arrival, I decided to try a cross-border car service this time around.

The company I chose has a very China sounding name -- the Eternal East Bus Company. They have a little booth at the airport, and as it turned out, this was an excellent way to go into the mainland from the Hong Kong airport. I didn't even have to get out of the minivan at the border...it was delightful.

Since this worked so well on the inbound trip, I consulted with my hotel in China about using the same service to go back to Hong Kong. The only difference was that I needed to go into the city, rather than the airport. (I'm staying in Hong Kong a couple of nights due to all of the flights back the U.S. for Friday and Saturday being full...argh).

So this afternoon, I hopped into a similar looking minivan and headed for the same border crossing. Except when we arrived this time, the driver told me to get out of the van. He didn't tell any of the Chinese dudes riding with me to get out. Just me. He informed me that I'd have to walk through customs, and then find the same bus company on the other side of the border. What a pain.

I hopped out of the van and began my trek through customs. I presented my passport to the border agent on the mainland, and he began the usual process of scanning it and punching away on his computer. But then things went haywire.

He called a supervisor over, and the two of them played around for a couple of minutes on the computer. He then let me go on through the gate, but he told me to wait on the other side. He turned my passport over to yet another gentlemen who wandered off with it. I was not pleased. He told me to wait a moment.

About 6 or 7 minutes later, I see the guy still talking to a large group of coworkers with my passport in his hand. I then see a group of 5 or 6 policemen wearing white rubber gloves march past me and enter the fray. At this point, I was a bit unnerved. I was having bad thoughts about where those rubber gloves were headed.

I always get a little sweaty when doing all the border crossings. I don't have anything to worry about that I know of, but I figure all it takes is a computer spitting out a screen that says "Bag him" for me to be sipping goat's head broth soup on the concrete floor of a leaky cell, straining to see the light of day three levels above me.

Finally the guy with my passport plus the original crossing agent came over and presented me with my passport. The original guy was grinning from ear to ear and apologizing. I asked him if anything was wrong, and he just kept saying "Sorry sir. So sorry."

I smiled and told him it was no problem, and I'm sure he was able to quickly find a mop to correct the situation that had presented itself in the spot where I stood for close to 10 minutes.

After the border, I rode a bus through the hills of Hong Kong for an hour before being dumped at a subway station in Mong Kok. I hopped on the train and rode for another half hour before getting out and traversing through the massive Times Square shopping area to get out to my hotel. All in all, the return trip to Hong Kong was a nightmare compared to the outbound trip.

Next trip, I think I'll stick to the trains...