Alain de Botton wrote about airports in his book, the art of travel. It’s been a while since I last read it but I have come to find out that he actually wrote another book specifically on airports when he was the writer in residence at Heathrow for a week.
Airports have always been a part of my life since I was a kid. I asked my mum to give me back my old passports and they used to stamp the pages in your passports, even when you were returning home as a citizen. I looked at the pages of my childhood passports and saw pages and pages of stamps of arriving and departing Australia, mainly to one destination - Hong Kong. I went so frequently. I saw some of the dates in my old passports, I went like at least 4 times a year to Hong Kong but it didn’t really register in my head when I was a kid.
I remember vividly what those days would be like when we went to Hong Kong as a family. We would be preparing for the trip, where my parents would buy gifts to bring back every trip. The morning of would be busy. We would have to wake up at 5am because our flight was at 9am. It was the regular Qantas hong Kong flight that we had always taken. I would wake up with sleepy eyes and I would hide all my soft toys in my closet because I wanted them to feel safe when I was gone. I would say goodbye to them and then take duck with me, who was in my tweety backpack. I would always pack a water bottle (before it was banned), my wallet with my cards, some tissues and I think I took my diary with me too. It was my little backpack of everything. It made me feel safe. Perhaps that translated into adulthood too because I still enjoy packing my backpack, albeit with some different things.
I remember we would be on stand by so we could never go to the gate early and we would have McDonald’s at Sydney airport. I remember there was a frog statue installation at the airport and we would climb it all the time whilst sitting at the food court, waiting for time window where we could return to the check in counter to find out whether or not we got on the flight. We would wait there with other staff members and would breathe a sigh of relief when we heard our names called. A lot of the times we would even get business class tickets. It was always so exciting and I loved travelling on the skybeds in the old Boeing 747 and 767s.
We would have to rush through the terminal and through immigration to get to our gate because they only issued our tickets when check in closed. I remember we had to wait for a while when customs checked our passports manually. But now we just stand there and let a machine take a photo. How times have changed.
I remember that we would seldom get allocated seats next to each other, cause we got whatever was left. I also remember when the flights were full that the check in people would ask us that if there were only a few seats, who would we prioritise getting on the flight. Such fond memories now. I would settle on the Skybed and watch all the movies I could. Back then, there were channels you could choose rather than movies on demand. So I would watch a movie then spend the rest of my flight watching Nickelodeon on Q. I would save the business class menus too. And I remember my favourite meal was a steak with potato gratin. I wanted to make it so badly when I got off the flight.
I remember how it felt to fly during the daytime to Hong Kong. They would dim the cabins but I would walk to the crew work area and there would be a window that was open which showed daylight. I would peak outside and look down at the earth below and see fields and fields of farmland. I think we flew over Queensland and Northern Territory. I’m not sure. But getting out of Australia took some time.
I loved the feeling of arriving in Hong Kong. I would ask my dad to explain to me why it would sometimes take just 8 hours and other times nearly 9 hours to Hong Kong. Dad would explain to me how planes worked. I was always so proud of my dad. Him being the aircraft engineer. But I would get so excited as the plane started to prepare for landing. I remember that the seatbelt signs would be on 20 mins before landing. Qantas is strict like that. Other airlines have seatbelt signs on literally just before they’re about to land. The cabin would be so quiet during the 20 mins just before they would land. And I would listen to music if I could still reach for it in my seat. I remember in the A380s business class too that there was storage on the side of the seat against the window so you didn’t have to put your stuff up top. That was something I loved so much because it felt like it was my little area. I remember listening to the yeah yeah yeahs little shadow acoustic version as we made our descent. We flew through clouds and descended in altitude, street lights coming alive as we neared the city and our destination. The anticipation I felt in my heart was unmatched. I was excited to see my extended family. Sometime my ears would pop when the plane descended but I would look out the windows in wonder. In those moments, you get stopped on your tracks and you feel the immense awe of this incredible piece of technology, called a plane that can fly so high and to faraway places and open the world to you.
Being a traveller is something all of us can be. Airports are liminal spaces, something that’s not quite fully formed, always in transition. A bunch of people who were there in the morning would be a thousand miles far away from this place by night time. It’s so transient. The water you drink at one place will no longer be the water you drink in 8 hours. You fly from one place and within a blink of an eye, you’re in someplace completely different. It’s probably why I felt like I needed to wake up from a dream when I was in Copenhagen. How was I in Sydney just 25 hours ago? How am I now thousands of miles away from everyone I love? Where’s my dog?
Airports can make you reflect intensely on life. Sometimes you’ll see other lone travellers. Sometime you wonder why they’re going to a random place that you would have never thought of. There are families and kids. Old people. Young people. Groups. Couples. Solos. Cabin crew. Every walk of life walks through these terminals. I remember sitting at Oslo airport and seeing this gentleman. I suspect he had a stroke before because he had a slight foot drop and his hand was a bit limp. I worried for him but it made me feel better when I saw him with someone who clearly cared for him. Maybe it was his daughter. I don’t know. But you see all walks of life altogether in this terminal, going different places, all with their own life stories. Maybe someone is flying to see family, or for a holiday, or for something sad or for something happy.
That night I sat by the gate waiting for my flight to Dubai from Sydney. I was nervous and a bit in denial I was going off on my own. The check in counter crew told me that I wouldn’t see my luggage until I was in Copenhagen. I thought yep, I can’t back out of it now. And I sat there at the gate. Some guy was next to me chatting to someone. I bought a bottle of water cause I knew I needed it. I swallowed a few pills cause I was feeling sick. I sprayed some refreshing spray on my face. I tried to pack my bag again to minimise the bulk. I put the bag on my lap and hugged it tight. I felt a bit vulnerable there. I was alone on an epic trip I planned for myself. I was nervous and I wasn’t sure how I would cope. So I hugged my bag tighter, my little home for the next 25 hours until we get to Copenhagen. I went to bathroom before I boarded the flight too. I had to bring my backpack into the toilet cause obviously no one could look after my stuff. When I came back, my seat was taken so I moved somewhere else where I could have a clearer view of the planes. The gate was starting to populate. Naturally. As it was an a380 flight to Dubai. I waited to see when my boarding group was ready to board. I still had some more time. When i get a bit nervous, i feel like my tummy hurts at times. But it didn’t hurt so much. Maybe I was ok. But I remember that night. I was trying my hardest to get over this nasty cold. I was really unsure how I would fare on the flight. And it was hard. But I made it eventually.
Airports are such interesting places. It marks adventure, hope, happiness, sadness, nostalgia. And all the other human emotions and feelings. Sometimes I would feel sad when I arrive in Hong Kong airport now. My grandpa who has passed since 2022, used to wait for us at the arrivals hall and I would always see him leaning against the railing and he would light up upon seeing us. I still look for him when I go to Hong Kong. And I close my eyes and try to visualise him waiting for me and giving me a sheepish smile. He wouldn’t want to give away too much of his excitement. It’s the Asian way of showing love.
Airports really rouse memories. I remember our extended family would come to send us off at the airport and our arrival in Hong Kong would be a huge occasion. We would arrive into Hong Kong in the afternoon and we would go to my grandmas place and she would prepare a feast. All my relatives would be there and it was a huge fanfare. Back then I didn’t think of it as much, but it’s now just only a memory. Something that has happened but won’t happen again. The last time when my dad and I went to Hong Kong, we arrived and went to the flat, put down our luggage and went to grab a meal at a restaurant near our place. It wasn’t the same. The warmth, the loudness and the gathering was not there. It was just me and dad. How times had changed. And I guess that’s just life.
I am writing this on my phone whilst laying in bed. It’s probably filled with grammatical errors and stuff. But I can’t be bothered to proof read it yet. Maybe I will do it when I’m on a desktop. But it turns out I have a lot of emotions regarding airports. And it’s something that has shaped my childhood and the way I grew up. I pretty much grew up going to airports all the time. And it’s why cumulatively, I probably have lived in Hong Kong for at least 2 years, if we add it all up. Or more. I don’t know.
There’s more to say about Hong Kong. Of course. It’s where I was born and it’s the culture I grew up with and something I have had to reconcile with the Australian culture I also absorbed into my being. I don’t know what I am totally. I am Australian but tinged with Hong Kong. But then sometimes im very Hong Kong. I might write something about it again another night when I am laying in bed and struggling to sleep. Yep, it’ll be for another night.