I’m not sure why I hadn’t grasped the thought beforehand. However, it wasn’t until I looked out of the airplane window today that it really struck me – if this trip goes according to plan, it will be the longest time in my whole life that I’ve been away from the UK. By a long shot… by more than double what it had been previously, when I spent about 3 months in the States coming up for 10 years ago (and I think it may be something of a ‘10 year itch’ that’s making me want to travel again).
I didn’t quite know what to do with this sudden realisation as I glanced up and down the grey Heathrow runway this morning. I chewed it round for a bit, toying vaguely with ideas of home and identity and thinking thoughts of cups of tea, rainy British seasides, the slow pull of London buses through traffic on dark autumnal evenings... These were all the images of the England I’m leaving behind that my mind could conjure up in an instant.
With a sudden flush of feeling I remembered how I felt when I first came to London at 21 – all the excitement and anticipation back then of starting life in a city that was now rapidly spreading itself out and diminishing before me as the plane ascended. The memories weren’t something I wanted to hold on to for too long. This realisation that I really am now embarking on a marathon of being away from the familiar was a bit like a mental ‘hot-potato’ that I have to say I dropped as the ‘you may now unfasten your seatbelt’ sign pinged. Maybe it’s just safer for me not to think about it too much for the time being…
Thankfully, the first leg of my flight to the States (Heathrow to Chicago) was unexpectedly pleasant. My internet ‘bucket-shop’ purchase of an Air India flight a couple of months ago seemed a great save compared to other flights on offer at the time (I don’t really understand the ups and downs of airline ticket pricing - it all seems quite an up-and-down kind of mystery…). However, back then, my feeling of self-satisaction about the bargain was offset by a sense of foreboding and doubt as to how comfortable and efficient the journey would be.
Well, I can now say that that was totally uncalled for. The plane this morning only had a sprinkling of passengers, it’s half emptiness meaning that I had a whole row of saffron and maroon seats (the plane did have a very Indian colour scheme!) to myself. To be able to stretch out and sleep was a real blessing. Plus, everything went as scheduled - something I, er, believe is not always going to be the case in South America! There were Bollywood films on show, and charming and very attentive flight attendants (the women in beautiful saris) who wouldn’t stop offering me free wine and spicy little Hindi snacks called 'chaklis', all before serving a delicious Indian in-flight meal (I thought I’d had my last decent curry a few weeks ago on Brick Lane but I hadn’t anticipated this). It really was a contrast to all the other joyless airlines I’ve flown with recently who sourly charge you the earth for a plastic sandwich, and don’t seem to realise how magic and liberating it feels to have that complimentary ‘drink’ drink as you soar off into the sky. Hey, I give the thumbs up to Air India!
Unfortunately, in contrast, the stop-over at Chicago’s O’Hare airport (my first point of entry into the States before transferring to Denver) wasn’t such a pleasure. The pedantry of US immigration control saw me buffered to one side by a surly female official and made to wait for ages because I didn’t have the actual street address for Kate and Brian, with whom I'll be staying for the next couple of days (Kate's my 2nd cousin, Brian her husband). I only had their number and a print out of the e-mailed plans we’d made for me to call her when I got to Boulder, and thought this would be enough. Although I tried the ‘smiling sweetly approach’, explaining the situation apologetically in my best BBC English accent, it wasn’t going to cut it with 'border control'… Eventually they called Kate and got the address and, after a reprimand, I passed through the next stages of my mission to make my connecting flight. First off was a lengthy interrogation by a humourless pimply youth wanting to know precisely what I did for a living in London and why I was travelling to South America. Then I had to witness the molestation of my hand luggage which contained some offending sunscreen which I had bought in Boots in Heathrow (oops!).
By the time I finally made it through to the domestic departure lounge I felt exhausted and a bit like a naughty schoolchild. It was about 5.00pm US time but 11.00pm in the UK – meaning that my body-clock was pretty confounded. With 3 hours to kill until the flight to Denver I was, for the first of what I’m sure will be many times, so glad to have this little laptop with me, and to be able to write some stuff up. However, it was kind of hard to concentrate as, while waiting, I found myself getting all caught up in the buzz going on around the airport on account of the Obama/McCain debate that is due to be screened later tonight. Absolutely everyone was glued to CNN, talking about it with great excitement… Back home last weekend I was forcing myself to read all of the paper (as opposed to just the magazine and travel section!) in order to gen up on US politics and the impending elections. It will be interesting to see if I can get more of a sense of how it is all affecting ‘Joe 6-pack' (or however Palin refers to the man on the street) when I actually touch down in the States...
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