“Don’t forget this moment ever,” I told myself the first time I drove away from an airport. It was nighttime in Delhi, India, and my heart pounded with anticipation over being in a foreign city, in a new country.
I had just completed my first trip involving air travel. As we flew along the highway lit up with yellow street lights, everything seemed to transform from fluorescent white to sepia. It was so colorful, but I had no way to process and hold on to everything I was seeing and discovering.
I had never lived in a city, and the sprawling metropolis of Delhi never slept. It was on that drive that I decided I could never fully go back to rural life.
Suddenly we hit a traffic jam. We inched along, and I felt so small amidst such a great throng of humanity. The knowledge that I was surrounded by millions of people enraptured me and left me craving for more.
I can’t remember all the senses I experienced in those weeks in India, but I remember my feelings: overwhelmed, afraid, enthralled, lonely, and yet surrounded by hosts of new and interesting people. My eyes were bug-eyed with wonder as I encountered new people, thronging masses, and spatial capacity on levels I’d never before considered.
Oh, and my nose! The sweltering heat of summer drew out body odors that I’d rather say goodbye to than hello. Curries and gasoline fumes filled streets lined with vendors, beggars, chai stands, and seeping piles of garbage ripening in the sun. I did my best to step around those piles. But by the end of my trip, I still had to throw away my shoes from all my walking. It grieved me to part with those shoes covered in the dirt of this place I loved.
India left me craving for more experiences like this. Little did I know that this international journey would be the first of many.
Years later, while eating tamales with a friend in America, I reminisced back to that first arrival in India.
“I love to leave airports,” I told my friend.
She looked at me strangely.
“Well, I don’t go to the airport just to drive around it and wave goodbye,” I tried explaining. “But there is something about the ride from an airport that’s like being transported to a whole new world. I think I could drive away for hours and get lost in the newness.”
Now when I book travel, I look at the arrival time first. If it’s at night, I feel giddy with excitement and throw logic and practicality aside. The best arrivals are ones that allow me to discover new places at night.
Jordan offered help when our pre-arranged transportation didn’t come through. The men waiting around the airport treated us like their sisters and willingly provided us with safety.
Thailand had a different, complacent sort of peace—but it felt tinged with silent shame.
Germany is a sleepy place. Things only move during daylight, when you can see what you’re doing.
Kazakhstan at night held unexpected splendor. It rejected basic function and practicality in favor of excessive luxury.
Spain stole ease and comfort, like a thief in the night, while Chad brought simplicity to the complexity of my life.
The world at night shows you a side that you don’t get to see during the day. Every place has its own wondrous feeling that only comes out when the stars are hidden beyond urban light. And when I get to see what life looks like on the other side of the world, I no longer think about what I’m missing elsewhere.
Instead, I look for what I’ve found.
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**This account comes from Anna, a Frontiers worker serving in the TCK ministry.**
Photo by Ashim D’Silva
Original article: https://www.frontiersusa.org/blog/article/driving-around-airports-at-night