On the other side

On the other side now, of the world. Gatwick. Rainy. People. Construction. Buses. Lost.

A drawn out landing and brought his long hauling across the globe to a climatic end. Landing back home held back from his for a few more precious minutes in the sky, like he had a choice to turn back. Like he was being asked if he really wanted to do this.

The rush through the baggage claim and out. Let loose.

In a whirl to the toilet, to Boots, to the North Terminal. He mentally checked off all the things he told himself he would do once he landed.

Lost.

- Where was the bus terminal? What is all this construction? Where is a sign to help me? This woman is taking too long with this man!

He stumbles upon the bus station but has time to burn, and some change too.

Discovering a coffee shop he finds relative peace, but two Italians sit slightly too close for comfort, and construction makes it self known close by. Work mates and business men laugh and banter. His face felt dry and stumble covered. He weary now, not like those around him just beginning their days.

But it was nice to be in the cafe. His drink came in a long tall clear glass, it seemed conspicuous, but he was too weary to let it bother him now.

And the staff. A mixture of English and others. They laughed and got along well. There was energy and life, a jovial atmosphere it seems. It's over priced, who cares, There is construction going on, who cares.

- Oh well!

There were many staff, enough to man a plane. Why not 'woman one' he wondered? They life of the staff was in contrast to the deafness of the Italian. The staff it seemed were just arriving, perhaps the Italians, stuck in their long silences, were departing?

Another long journey awaited. 4 hours on a bus. At the end family duties. A hug.

He was back, that much was true. But that was it. Nothing more certain could be said. He told himself to saviour the calm of the coffee shop. Life here would soon starting sweeping him along.

Nero

He was jaded, Understandably so. He'd been filled with plane food and in and out of sleep for the past 24 hours.

- Mmmm.

He enjoyed tasting the last part of the coffee, the thicker liquid near the bottom of the cup that was a little sweeter than the rest.

He wasn't sure why but he had a feeling of deja vu about the airport.

- It's the first time to pass through Istanbul? Maybe not

It was all a blur.

- How would it feel to be home?

Flying from Urumqi to Istanbul was curious. The mixture of the people on the plane. Chinese, they kind you expect, and Chinese Muslims, there dress and demeanour, and ethnic group all together different from the Han Chinese in the east. Seeing this didn't totally justify his decision to fly home the way he was though.

He was asked to move seats at the start of that flight. A Chinese man rushed over to him not long after he had sat down and gesticulated that he was with his wife and wanted to sit with her.

- Not really much choice. Don't want a grumpy person to sit by during the whole flight.

He wanted to clear his bowels before boarding.

It had been a long hard slog this cafe Nero in Istanbul airport. A slightly impromptu coffee on the way to the next gate for his final flight to the UK conjured up a feeling of anticipation again.

- What a tough night

What a tough flight from Beijing to Urumqi and then Istanbul. Cups dropped on him. Elbows. Requests to switch seats for a separate husband and wife - why? - The faulty seat. The back pain from sleeping on the floor of the airport. Lack of money exchange services in Istanbul airport.

- So many posers in airports. Looking good in their Starbucks. Avoiding the drudgery of laborious airport travel. Show offs

- Do only the rich fly?

He thought about buying Turkish Delight.
He could feel the English closing in.

- Shouldn't have passed through China.

Gatwick would be his 5th airport in 24 hours.

Sheep at the gate

- No new napkins in China! Stupid transfer system.

He supposed he was an expert on such things and readily disapproved of the methods on the communists.

Already he had settled in the departure lounge for the flight to Istanbul. 2 hours early.
A gate with no shops of cafe.

He had survived the rigorous security process.
The silly questioning, the silly poking.

- Evidently not good enough to be allowed near the new terminal.

Airports can give away something of a country's culture, to some extent.
In China they are pretty rough around the edges.
Plenty of stares from the security staff, eyes of suspicion, suspicious minds, or so it seemed.

- Are you done yet?

He could help but wonder how much time was needed to check him over for hidden illegal items.
Over zealous body searcher by the x-ray machine drew out the anti-climax of accessing the rubbish gate.

- Uh! Weary!

He had slept quite well on the flight from Beijing, but it was only short.
The run around in the airport in Beijing had eroded some of the gains though.

Behind him sat a group of aged Australians. They talked about their travels and the number of times their bags were searched. A subject finding common ground among them. He listened.

- It's good listening to old people sometimes.

A woman talked about visiting Spain in the 1970s.

Fasting for a few hours would do him some good.

He was distracted by the conversation of the men behind him. They were older than him, bearded and grey, party of a tour group it seemed. One of the men talked about his trip from the UK to Australia when he was a child.

He travelled by boat when he was 7.

- What an adventure! Not easy to remember much though!

It was quite a journey. Gibralter, Alexandria, the Suez, Bombay, Colombo, Freemantle, Melbourne, Sydney. Views of the harbour bridge. No opera house then. The man wittered on to the woman opposite.

- Suppose they are a tour group.

He wondered how else he would fill his time at the gate. Kindle? toilet? sleep?

- All three?

- Still and hour to go

The woman took over from the man, on and on about her family. Mmm...Mmm were his replies. He acknowledged her. Then a plane arrived at the gate and the conversation ended.

Not enough seats at gate 91. In Beijing.

He peed and moved seats.
There was little comfort now. People had to stand.

- Down to my last napkin.

- 3 flights to go before mine.

- This waiting is reminiscent of Riyadh.

Two women gabbled. Strangers who had got talking opposite him. One was American, blonde, older, experienced. He guessed from California, at least he wanted to imagine that and her accent let him. She's cute. The other was younger, he guess she was an Aussie.

- They were sheep in a pen at the this gate. Surround and enclosed.
- They enjoyed their natter.

- A direct flight might have been better. Oh well. Better for the body but maybe not for the mind.

He knew he would get home eventually, but would still be happy when he sunk into his seat on the next plane.

Napkin Notes

The polished floor and the reflective lights of the terminal floor leapt out at him.

So white.

A hospital sheen...a sterile area.

The small Dunkin Donuts he was in was calm. Despite the Korean hip-hop playing and loud bangs from behind a nearby wall it was a relaxed place to be.

He noticed the music was selflessly promoting the donut shop.
'...Allll day, every day, Dunkin in my lifeeee....'

Dunkin everyday, and we're not talking basketball!

His chair gave him a view out of the wall-less cafe into the distance, across the long white expanse to some elevators. He watched people enter from the building doors on the right and filter from right to left past an information desk and disappear up to the next floor.

Not many people. Still, it's early.

The emptiness reminded him of his apartment he had just left for the last time.
He had left his sea-shell like home, and the functional airport space didn't let him forget it.

A void. Bare. Soulless.

He thought of his now former home, it had been rubbed clean like a shell in the sand battered by the elements, and would soon be buried in dirt again. And buried in his mind.

18 months. Soon that cell will entrap someone else! At least it had sun,

A woman walked by with her head in her phone, her head at 90 degrees. She was heading to the busy departures floor upstairs, already teeming with people.

One day that could be a medical problem that needs treating!

A queue began to form in the cafe he noticed. Queues are everywhere he thought, though some nations do them better than others.

He noticed the smell of freshly bake bread in the air. How high does that rank on the list of good smells he wondered. He own bagel with cream cheese had hit the spot.

Queuing is such a ritual.

Sitting almost directly in his eye-line he noticed a pretty young woman, he couldn't avoid seeing her, he tried to glance and not to stare. A quick glance was enough. There was the briefest of eye contact, enough to know you'd been seen and know you been seen seeing.

The Dunkin Donuts music grew louder it seemed, and ended the moment.

It was probably time to move on, upstairs. His cup was empty, and his belly full,

That's enough Dunkin in my day!

It's my birthday

Huh-huh-huh!

It was huh-huh-huh! --- huh-huh-huh! - like a machine gun.
What a laugh to listen to! Only literally of course.

It took away his concentration, assaulted his tastes, his expectations of public decency. How judgemental, how sensitive.

Bah!

Them ambling coffee shop music returned.
An annoying laugh or the sound of a man spitting? Which was worse?
He supposed the latter, after all that could be witnessed in all its grotesqueness.

Spitting in sports only? Sure, seems reasonable.

Hurruggkk-puh!!!

The throat scrapping mucus chucking of the elder male population was etched in his mind. Like a school bully's punches or a first kiss.

Should be grateful for the laugh!

He finished his white chocolate and wondered how to spend the rest of his day. It was not often he bought chocolate in coffee shops, but today he was a willing victim of, or could it be victor, of impulse. His stomach said victor.

What was so funny? Gosh! Oh well. He was in no hurry anyway.

What is pollution?
Even humans produce waste. Crap. Literally.

Sitting in the corner he realised how much excessive light and noise bothered him, that was all around him here. It had long since lost it's appeal, its wonder.

It's okay from a distance. To hear distant traffic from a hill top isn't so bad, or to see a brightly lit city. He cheered up as he reflected. Soon he'd be far from this madding crowd, this whirl of neon and huh-huh-huh!

The rough and grainy stubble on his chin reminded him he had no plans. Being clean shaven when meeting people was a quirk of his nature. Growing a beard flashed through his mind.

It's possible to cultivate a thick one. A weeks growth might be something.

He knew deep inside he'd be lucky to get that far.

His drifted through the past week.

She didn't like crowds, And they often ended up in the same place. The coffee shop across the park, does the job whenever she bothers. He didn't mind going there with her. It suited her. It was slightly bland and lifeless just like her after all!

He wondered why, with her beauty, she hid away from the world. In the quietest corners, in the calmest of places, it seemed like a bore. Sometimes he wished she would leap out.

Can't be blames in this city though. And what a city!
She lives in a concrete jungle, probably wants to escape.

He habit of pre-booking flights several months in advance -- her way of coping he supposed.

She might die alone one day -- What a bad thought!

It wasn't for him to rescue her though. She'd have to help herself with that.
Better just to fly away.

He drifted further.

It's all devices these days. Everyone on one, from one moment to the next. The people around him all seemed infatuated with something of one kind of another.

Phone. E-book. Tablet.

Even the coffee shops use electronic devices to tell us when our coffee is ready.
We've become incapable.

How did we manage before he thought.
How orderly the hockey puck chips or discs, they kind of look like discs, make our coffee shop visits. Like an early version of a future robot led police force.

Are they necessary?  -- the discs. Did people all stand in tense groups and huddle around the counter waiting for their orders before?  Maybe we were so disorderly.

He considered asking his dad or someone old enough to know.
Perhaps the electronic flashing UFO-like things replaced people.
He was sure why they were so common, but they were.

Cost cutting?!?

This seemed a reasonable conclusion.
It was a conclusion to anything anywhere when there seemed to be less people doing a job now when compared to the past.

Over and out

This is the end. It's the end of an era. So he pondered on this as he sat at his laptop. 18 months of graft are finally over. Finally. Those cicadas are at it again. He kept his window open though, by now in mid-September there was a calmness to their din, so much different from early August. No noisy delivery bikes tonight! But it was gone 1 am.

It was a novelty to be up so late on a week day. Haven't done this in a while! Rising before the sun had become so familiar, and lets not mention the dark winters. He shuddered at the memory. No more of that thank you! 

He looked at the clock and considered going to bed. It would be good to sleep normally. To sleep through until after the rush hour, rather than be at work before it seemed like the greatest gift in the world. Better not get up too late though, the estate agent might call. 

There was nothing left to do now, not tonight, not in Korea. It was over, he was done. To be free is great, but a new challenge will be along soon. He didn't think too far ahead, why worry. New worries will be along in their own good time.  Just enjoy the days you have left. It's over.