luggage, ex-pat kids and airports
I love airports. I think is it partly because I spent much of my childhood as an ex-pat child. I was one of those children with a red and white striped label around their neck being escorted through security. I grew to hate the being escorted everywhere bit, but I did rather like the Air Canada policy of putting single (ie not a whole group of forty or more kids as you used to get on the Hong Kong run) in First Class so they could keep an eye on them. First Class in those days was just a really big chair and as a minor there was no free wine, but it was still rather cool. I became quite an expert on which airline looked after the UMs best.
Once you have checked in and you are airside you abdicate all responsibility. There is nothing you can do except wait. I like to do this with glass of wine or tea, depending on the time of day, a book and my eyes. Just watching people, wondering where they are going and why they are going there.
With my newfound minimalist eye I have expanded my people watching to luggage watching. We travelled with three children under three (we have twins). We travelled with a toddler and me heavily pregnant. We did all of that long distance to countries that you could not reach by a direct flight from the UK so we had the added fun of crossing Paris, usually in rush hour. Believe me, even with all of that you really do not need to bring the entire nursery with you (and that was in the days before iPads). My eldest daughter, then aged 2 occupied herself from Newcastle to London, London to Paris and Paris to Pointe a Pitre with a tiny doll about 2″ tall and an empty meal bowl which became dollie’s bed. Her younger sister, a couple of years later, suffering from a nasty gastric upset that materialised out of the blue and involved copious vomiting was kept occupied by a dolls house made by her sisters out of a cardboard shoebox in our hand luggage and furniture and people drawn on scrap paper.
I have watched people check in monumental cases and then take a pretty enormous wheeled carry on bag on the plane. Yes it is possible that they are emigrating or taking vital supplies to cousins overseas ….. But ALL of them? No I don’t think so.
It strikes me that if stuff gets in the way of living, which I have discovered it does, then surely stuff gets in the way of a holiday. Surely a holiday is a time to relax, to let go, to try new experiences. How on earth can you do that if you are lumbered with luggage you have to keep packing and unpacking and keeping track of and washing…..