So what is it then?The fact that you wake up at an unusual time?
The fact that you carry a suitcase?
That you wonder whether people wonder where you’re going?
Is it the time to yourself?
Is it the fact that it’s dead time, not really time that you can use for any other purpose apart from changing your location? Waiting time. Waiting for the bus, then your stop, then the train and then you are there, at that big platform of crossovers. The airport…
Duty free shops, cafes… Will you grab a coffee? Will you grab something to eat? Sweet or savoury? Yes, grab a newspaper! Where do you sit to wait?
Reading, people watching…Children with mini luggage, overexcited; and mothers trying to make them behave. Put yourself in either position; How exited and careless….or how frustrated…
So why do you like airports that much?
They are a middle situation; you are going somewhere but you still haven’t left. There’s the trip to the airport and then there’s the airplane…
…the plane…
Still a transition, still more time to yourself.
Precious thinking time.
Reflection.
In flight entertainment, time to read, time to write, time to reflect.
First instances of culture shock…
First instances of your references changing…
Time to stop, time to pause.
All my life watching this culture…how come this country, or rather this city, has become such a big part of my life? Do I really know this country? Do my realities merge here? Does it all blend now? Or does it?
He was right; he knew it was going to happen.
