Tag Archives: airports

At Home, (Almost) Anywhere.

 

Gorgeous lake in Nova Scotia

Travel is addicting.

Not that every aspect of travel is addicting, especially airline travel. If you are like me, you might feel ill when there is turbulence, despise the salty food and stale air, and the overall patience that travel requires is certainly not something most people revel in.

However, like an extreme sport, travel can provide an adrenaline rush, and of course people can be addicted to adrenaline. Constantly seeing new things and finding yourself in situations that you otherwise would not have experienced can be scary but undoubtedly can bring about some serious rushes.

I love taking pictures of new places, enjoy meeting new people, and as scary as waking up in a new place every night (or every few nights) might be – just as I have been doing over the past few weeks in Canada – it certainly staves off boredom.

Travel is also something you could get used to. I suppose people who travel on business might simply get used to waking up every night in a new hotel and standing in airport security lines can become a routine thing, just a part of the weekly commute.

Georges Island in Halifax Harbour

In my case, I arrived back in Chile a few days ago. I was traveling on my own, and was shocked at how natural it was to arrive in an airport in a different country and culture. I suppose Chilean environments and the Spanish language are simply not that “different” to me any more. I knew exactly how to make my way through the airport, get my luggage, clear customs and check back in before making my way to the domestic departures area. I naturally transitioned to Spanish and didn’t (well, couldn’t) speak a word of English upon arrival, even after a 10 hour flight and a sleepless night.

The smells and the spaces that had once seemed so “exotic” upon arrival were simply… not anymore. The only thing that still stimulated me was the view of the sunrise in the morning from the plane. Sunrises here in South America are so different from those in North America – at least in my experience – they are stunningly bright and hot, and produce the most amazing red, orange and purples in the sky. But even that, to me, had become a familiar and welcome sight, not a new and captivating experience.

I believe someone who is addicted to travel would take my arrival experience as a cue to move on. Leave Chile, seek newer pastures to start all over again and experience the euphoria of discovering a new place again. To pursue that “travel adrenaline rush” that I clearly had no longer experienced upon arrival this time.

Another tropical sunrise from the plane a few days ago

While I was staying at a university residence prior to traveling back to Chile, many of my peers were impressed by how I’d decorated my room. It actually only takes me about 5 minutes to tape up photos and postcards, set up books, rearrange furniture to be a bit more “feng shui” so that I can feel more comfortable in whatever surroundings I find myself in. For travels longer than a few days, I travel with small, postcard-sized artwork and pictures I like, my trusty Bodum French press (almost nothing else makes me feel at home like French pressed coffee in the morning) and other homey objects so that I can carve out comfortable places to work and sleep, wherever I find myself.

Like the physical objects that help make me feel at home in new spaces, I carry a database of knowledge in my mind of cultural, language and behaviours that help me “feel at home” in new places. I learn the language, grow accustomed to the airports, mimic the behaviours and customs so that I can generally try to blend in and feel comfortable wherever I find myself. I am eager to feel like I could belong (even if, when you get right down to it, I probably cannot, simply for cultural reasons – but that’s another blog post for another time -) anywhere.

I don’t know if I am addicted to travel. Maybe, maybe not. There are certainly some mechanical aspects of travel that I do not relish. I do, however, think I am addicted to being home. That is, making myself at home wherever necessary in the world.

These guys boating in Halifax Harbour demanded I take their photo!

The Glamorous Jet Age

Sunrise over the Andes mountains at the Santiago airport

“Travel is glamorous only in retrospect.” – Paul Theroux

These past few weeks, I have been on eight flights, countless cars, busses, taxis and trains, two continents and three countries… and yet here I am once again sitting at my modest desk overlooking a busy road and a powerful ocean in the north of Chile.

Before I embarked on any journey to Chile a few years ago, one of my husband’s friends was chitchatting to me about our impending travels and asked me how we get to Chile. Before I had a chance to reply, “by plane, of course,” he asked… “can you drive there?”

It’s funny, we are all floating on the same landmass, if you don’t count that relatively small slice of the Panama canal. I remember going on Google maps that night just out of curiosity – knowing that realistically such a drive was impossible – but wondering if any road could technically go all that way from Canada down to Chile.

I discovered that once upon a time such a route was envisioned and has been largely realized: the pan-American highway, running from the top of Alaska all the way down to the remote tip of Patagonia. (Take a look – have you been on part of it? I have!) Sadly, thanks to a few gaps in the highway system (most notably, a small stretch somewhere in the jungle of Columbia), politics, borders, laws and various dangers ranging from violence to malaria, the entire distance of this passage isn’t actually realistic to drive.

"I need directions to Chile, please?"

Still, in an odd way it’s somehow comforting to me that we are all connected, even if it’s in such a small, token way.

And besides,  if I could drive I would miss the glamorous experience that airports provide. (Note the sarcasm in that sentence.)

I am amazed that airports can be so far apart yet always feel so similar. There are the similar, universal color schemes: black, white, grey, sometimes peppered with a navy blue or an outdated teal or orange. There are the Starbucks and the McDonalds, as ubiqutous as the airport security and almost mechanical announcements that tell you “not to leave your baggage unattended” or that “this airport is in the __ time zone, the current time is __ o’clock…”

Airports (mostly) look the same everywhere

On the other hand, can smell different: some, like fried food, others, like plastic-y cleaners and the slightly murky smell of clothes that need to be washed or the musky smell of cologne. Likewise, the people are all the same in some ways (ears glued to cell phones, headphones on and dozing off in uncomfortable  and unnatural sitting positions, etc…) and different in other ways. I always remember all of the cowboy hats and boots worn in the Houston Bush airport. Chicago O’Hare is filled with professionals dressed in grey suits crisscrossing the midwest going to sales meetings (or the like). You can buy Disney and Harry Potter souvenirs in Orlando. San Francisco has boutiques that stay open late at night for shoppers catching the red-eyes to the East Coast. You can get poutine, smoked meat and bagels – all trademark foods of the area – in Montreal Dorval. I found a delightfully retro (1940s) bathroom in Buenos Aires Ezeiza. Miami feels like you’ve already travelled far, far away from the U.S., with its strong Latin American influences as well as Caribbean flair. Once you start traveling to a lot of airports, it’s fun to pick up on these little nuances that distinguish one grey, stale-smelling, magazine and potato-chip filled airport terminal from the next.

Delightfully retro yet surprisingly modern (note the clean black stone countertops) ladies' EZE bathroom

There are drastic improvements that could be made to all airports. I would love to know why concession stands and food courts in airports insist on only offering deep-fried, grease-soaked, chocolate-coated junk food. Usually, I would do anything for a piece of fresh grilled chicken, baked potato, bright green salad and seasonal fruit during my travels. (The closest I can get is usually a slimy fruit salad and mayonnaise-filled chicken sandwich. That will be $19, please…)

I also always wonder why one cannot get any fresh air in an airport. I understand the need to maintain a secure area, but what do airport architects have against designing courtyards where patrons can step outside and breathe in some fresh air? A bit of oxygen and a dose of sun is badly needed during a 5 hour layover after an 10 hour overseas flight.

Fun tip: a decent margarita can be found in MIA's new International departures (LAN, Air France, Lufthansa) terminal

Speaking of which, many airport patrons lie flat across rows of tandem seats in between long flights. Hey, airports, why not throw in a few recliners or oversized, cushy chairs for those of us who have just spent all night wiggling sleeplessly in a hard airplane seat? I know, I know, I could travel first class (and have) but it’s out of reach of most even though sometimes after a 10 hour flight cramped in coach all night behind the bathrooms, you would do anything, include dip into your retirement fund for the extra $1,000 required to recline in flatbed seats under a down duvet that some transatlantic first class cabins offer.

At any rate, travel itself sounds glamorous, but as the quote above indicates, the reality is that it is a less-than-human (or humane) experience at times. Until a pan-America highway becomes feasible to drive, or, better yet, a bullet train connects the continent, we’re stuck in those stuffy airport terminals. Still, there are some gems to be found if you look hard enough…

Sunrise in SCL

Like at the Santiago airport: you are forced to exit the security zone after arriving from overseas, so you might as well step outside for some air. In the early morning, I have witnessed a few spectacular sunrises over the massive Andes mountains.

And that is what travel really is all about, anyways: dealing with pain, hassle, discomfort and trouble for a few precious moments that end up being the ones you remember most.

The Night Before

So, tomorrow afternoon my husband and I head out of YUL (that’s Montreal, for you non-airport geeks), on our way to Miami (aka MIA) where connect to our overnight flight (10 hours) that will take us to SCL (Santiago). We will arrive at our final destination airport (ANF) in northern Chile on Sunday night.

Although I am tired and overwhelmed and the last thing I feel like doing is analyzing my feelings on the matter, I told myself that if this blogging thing is going to work I am going to have to plant myself in front of the computer and spill. This is the eve of my great voyage, so my vast readership (aka the WordPress bot that waltzes through here once or twice a week) will be eager to know what is running through my head! What did I pack? What am I feeling? What’s it like leaving home for 17 months?

The docks in Antofagasta, Chile

My feeling tonight is a little like the night before the first day of school. Nerves, a sense of unease, nostalgia for what has just passed, yearning to stay in the normal and familiar surroundings and yet also an eagerness to take on the unknown and dive into new challenges headfirst.

An even greater comparison to this moment is that night a little over 9 years ago before I went off to university for the first time. I had chosen to go to a school nearly 1,000 miles from home in a different country. Going from a quiet life in the American Midwest to the relative unknown of a different city, country and culture – McGill University in Montreal – was quite a leap. It was, when you get right down to it, quite a terrifying task to take on. I wish I had a blog to look back on and read about that night when I really left home for the very first time.

Tonight it is much different. I am not leaving my parents or family behind (I have already done that) nor am I leaving my hometown behind (ditto). It is bittersweet saying adieuto Montreal for a while, which has become home. I will even miss Canada quite a lot. It’s my adopted country and I am very fond of it.

The city of Antofagasta

However, this time I am leaving on an adventure that is (probably not) permanent. In a little over a year and a half, my husband and I will be back, hopefully with many great memories and stories to share for the rest of our lives. That also brings me to my second point: I’m not embarking on this adventure alone.

I also am not leaving without a sense of knowing and understanding what it’s like trying to take on life in a new country. It is very difficult when you do not understand the language, attitudes, local customs or culture. My experiences in Quebec and other travels abroad have taught me all about those challenges. In some ways, knowing how hard it is to face some obstacles inherent to being new to a country is a burden, but in other ways it gives me a sense of ease because I know I have done it before and can do it again. It’s making an unfamiliar situation strangely more “familiar.”

Packing has been more stressful than anticipated. It’s a bit like picking out that outfit for the first day of school and packing up your backpack. You don’t want to go overboard, yet you want it all to fall in place and be comfortable and include everything that you need for the day.

View of the Atlantic from YUL - MIA flight

I am a bit of a shopaholic and love clothes, so picking out what I’d want to wear for the next year or so was a bit daunting. In three average sized suitcases, however, I think I managed to fit everything I wanted and then some. The “then some” includes some comforts of home (a blanket, some sheer curtain panels, both picked up at Target this past spring in the U.S.; a few votive candle holders from Ikea, a small vintage flower vase that was one of many that decorated the tables of my wedding reception last summer, two picture frames and a handful of photos). I also love electronics so my laptop, iPad, iPhone and Kindle were musts. With them, I almost feel at home anywhere.

The truly spectacular feat of packing was that I managed to get all that I needed for 3 long flights and 23 hours of traveling into one small laptop bag so that I can also carry on a violin. I also managed to squeeze in my art supplies into my luggage. So I can continue to do what I love, even on the other side of the continent.

Oh, and my U.S. passport, Canadian PR card, and husband, of course. Check.

It’s so strange to think that my next blog post will be coming to you from Chile. (Or an airport, depending on Internet availability.) See you on the other side! Adios