Customs...

You might imagine it would be difficult to get in to China and you'd be right. But any difficulties you experience getting in to China are nothing compared to how difficult it is to get out of China. That, believe me, takes real persistence. 

Take Beijing Capital airport, for instance. First of all, you have to get to the airport - given the... improvisational, shall we say, state of driving in Beijing, that's easier said than done. Once you get there and check in - pretty much the same as every other airport - you have to get a train to the terminal (terminal 3 for international flights). This train is automatically controlled and has been carefully programmed to speed up and slow down at random intervals, and to brake as hard as possible, to ensure that as many people as possible stumble and tread on each other's toes. 

Once you arrive and stagger out of the train, freshly shaken, you negotiate the temperature check (which normally consists of one person taking full advantage of the opportunity to catch up on some sleep) and reach the passport control, where the queues match Disneyland on a national holiday for length, only without the fun ride waiting for you at the end. You queue (seemingly endlessly - these queues move very slowly) until a usually unsmiling young man or woman scrutinises you and your passport thoroughly before (if you're lucky) stamping everything in sight three times and taking your departure card. 

(You did remember your departure card, didn't you? Because if you didn't, in a life-sized version of life-sized snakes and ladders, you might well find yourself back at square one, at the start of the queue once again.)

Having had everything stamped, you move on to the next stage of the process, where you queue (at length - these queues are usually even slower than the previous queues) until a usually unsmiling young man or woman scrutinises you and your passport before (if you're lucky) stamping everything in sight a further three times. If that sounds a little like déjà vu, you're not going mad: you are repeating the process you've just been through but there are a lot of people in China and they all have to have a job doing something. 

Anyway, this deposits you into a further queue, this time for the x-ray machines. Now, the Chinese don't seem to put much faith in x-ray machines because everyone who goes through the scanner needs to be frisked and scanned with a hand-held machine. And I mean everyone. But not before a usually unsmiling young man or woman scrutinises you and your passport one more time, for luck. 

Of course, the problem is, the unsmiling young man or woman who checks and stamps your passport (young man or woman number two, that is) processes people at a much fast rate than unsmiling man or woman number three can x-ray them, leading to the inevitable bottle neck and interminable queues as you wait your turn to put all your stuff into gray plastic trays and get it irradiated. 

The good news is, once you've been given a rub-down by the x-ray man (or, if you're lucky, x-ray woman) you are free to find your gate and board your plane. Assuming, of course, it hasn't been delayed or cancelled which, in Beijing, is almost inevitable. And not before someone checks your boarding pass just one more time...