I am in Iceland. So far I’ve learned that I think this place is cool, and I like the airport, and someday I’d like to come back here and leave it, and when I’m half-delirious from what’s already been about 21 hours of travel I should not be dumped into a duty-free shop. Although, come to think of it, that’s probably exactly why I (and everybody else) got dumped into a duty-free shop. I bought myself Icelandic yarn, because of course I did, and birch bitters, because I was curious. There were many adorable and enticing things, but I managed to resist most of them. Now I’m sitting here, very perplexed as to the time of day, wondering if I need a coffee or a beer. I managed to sleep a fair amount, so I’m planning to try and avoid more sleeping until I get to California tonight (in some vague sense of that term).
When I was sitting in the airport in Paris for 7 hours this morning, I found myself thinking about just how bizarre they are. I wrote in my journal:
“You know, I’m basically on a moving walkway home now. Airports are airports are airports. People jostle for charging stations, and pay too much for coffee, and appreciate or bemoan the cleanliness of the bathrooms, and try to keep track of IDs and cell phones, and sleep anywhere they can. Airports are spaces outside of time and space. The accoutrement shift, but the overall place is the same. Maybe that’s why I find airports kinda comforting.”
And I do find airports kinda comforting. They’re a place where everyone is locked into more-or-less the same thing, there are huge windows everywhere you look, the signage is usually sufficient to explain what needs explaining, and they’re good at feeding you (however expensively and unhealthily). Don’t get me wrong– I’m very, very eager to get myself out of this airport and on my way to my final destination, but I can’t really complain.
This week’s blessing is the last picture I took in Israel. Behold, my stuff:
I gave (and threw) a lot away. I left some things behind in the apartment for the next guest. I sent some things home with visitors earlier in the year. And here is what remained when I walked out the door yesterday. I may not entirely believe that I’m going home yet, but that huge suitcase doesn’t lie.
I don’t think I should be trusted to blog in this state, so I’m going to stop. Shabbat Shalom to all, and I look forward to sharing a final shabbat blessing from America next week.