Atypical home address
“Where are you from?” It’s that one question that forces me to explain more about my life than sometimes I would like to. I have been questioned about this countless times and it never gets more comfortable to actually give the right, honest answer. Usually, what people expect to hear is the simple “I am from X-town, or Y-country”, you answer, and the conversation is done.
However, my honest response can’t usually be honest, because it will potentially trigger more questions, and more explaining to do when there isn’t time to do so. So, the short answer would be “nowhere”, or “everywhere”. Sometimes I just say where I live too. But deep inside, the actual answer would be pretty complex, but very real to me… The world. That’s where I’m from. The airport. That’s where my roots are.
One of the earliest memories of my life that I can recall is there. The airport. The next living destination could be anywhere in the world, but deep inside my head, as a kid, all I was sure and certain of was that to get there, we would have to drive to the airport first. To me, the most inspiring place on Earth. When travelling, some people tell me that they absolutely despise “the airport part” of a trip — the waiting, the crowds, the terminals, the security check, the overpriced food, and duty-free stores… But to me, it’s the most magical place.
A place where everything can happen. A place that harbours happiness and misery, that embodies loneliness and company… A place of hellos and goodbyes, a place of happily ever afters, or happily never afters. A beautiful place where all emotions come to life, simultaneously, confusingly, almost shockingly. Excitement and anxiety, curiosity and fear, joy and sadness, all there, side by side, almost overlapping among the people. It’s a place that evokes nostalgia, a place of transition.
It’s where at your departure you can create expectations regarding your destination, or where at your arrival you can rave about how your expectations were exceeded or not met at all.
It’s a place where all nationalities, cultures, experiences, and statuses meet — even if only for a second. It’s a place where you can’t help but wonder about who you are crossing paths with, where you can wonder about the arrivals and departures of the people that surround you. It’s a place of discovery, a meeting point for yourself, yourself and other people, yourself and other places.
You can go anywhere in the world, spend as much time as you’d like there, but when you are ready to leave, and even when you aren’t, the airport will be there — with its crowds, and terminals, and security check, and overpriced food, and duty-free stores — ready to nest you and direct you into your next chapter.
This piece was originally written on October 4th, 2018.
