Saturday, July 11, 2015
Hidemi’s Rambling No.547
When I lived in California and flew from Japan to LAX regularly a long
time ago, its immigration was like procedure for getting in a prison.
Going through it had been tense confrontations with an arrogant
authority at a dark place. The immigration at Vancouver Airport is
distinctively different from that, which is the main reason I purposely
stop over there on the way to LAX. It’s a bright, cheerful space with a
waterfall, streams and greenery. It looks like a shopping mall rather
than the immigration. Another reason for me to stop over and stay the
night in Vancouver is the flight time. It takes ten hours from Japan to
Vancouver, which is one hour shorter than to Los Angeles. In my
experience, this one hour is decisive for the amount of fatigue. After I
got off the plane in Vancouver on my latest trip, I bought food at Tim
Hortons in the airport. There was a line at the counter and I joined it
watching the menu board above. Because I’m short and my eyesight was
blurred from a long flight, I had a difficulty to see the menu. A woman
ahead of me in the line noticed and kindly suggested stepping off the
line for a moment and getting closer to the menu. As I hesitated, she
insisted saying, “That’s okay! Go ahead!” I thought she implied that she
would save the position in the line for me. By the time I was getting
back to where I had been, more people had joined the line. I was
standing in front of the kind woman expecting she would let me cut into
the line. She said nothing and ignored me. I looked into her face and
she avoided an eye contact by looking around and staring at the ceiling
in an awkward way. People in the line behind her looked at me dubiously
to see if I would cut in. I felt deceived and went back to the tail of
the line. When I was finally handed what I had ordered, two muffins were
missing. I told the salesperson and he stared at the register that I
had no idea told him what. He grabbed a muffin and gave it to me. Still,
one more was missing. The same process was repeated and I got the right
order. Kind, but unreliable. That’s Canada I know, all right. As a
result of my choice for a cheap hotel, my sleep was disturbed by a loud
noise of the air conditioner. I turned it off, and then there were
noises of cars running on the street right down the window. I woke up
every time a big truck passed by. I got up 3 a.m. next morning, packed
and checked out. The hotel boasted its free hot breakfast but my
departure was too early for the serving time. Thankfully, there were
bags of to-go-breakfast at the front desk and my partner and I grabbed
one for each of us. Back at the airport, we checked in and I checked my
suitcase. Then I realized we were having the security check right after
that. In front of a ‘No liquid, No produce’ sign, I opened the bag of
breakfast. It had an apple and a bottled water. I just couldn’t stand to
throw them away, but wasn’t allowed to go back to the concourse to have
them either. My partner offered our bottled drinks to the airport staff
who walked by. They thought about it for a while but declined politely
due to the rule. My greed for free breakfast made us gobble them in a
hurry in front of the security check. I had never had one apple and 500
ml of water that fast. I got on the plane to Los Angeles and was taking
breath in my seat when a flight attendant spilled orange juice all over
my partner’s brand-new pants. They were his favorite pants that he would
wear all the way to the end of this trip. His face looked both crying
and laughing. The plane approached Los Angeles and the familiar sight of
brownish, scorched-looking land came into my view. Good and bad
memories flooded into my mind. Right before the touchdown, I saw the
signature structure of two arches and the control tower of LAX. Totally
unexpectedly and suddenly, a surprising feeling seized me. I felt I was
home. I felt as if I had returned from a long trip of ten years to my
hometown that I had given up coming back again. It was a warm feeling
that I had never had before. My eyes were filled with tears. I had never
understood those who talked about how wonderful homecoming was. I
didn’t know what they were talking about though I was born in Kyoto and
have lived away from it. I have never felt anything special every time I
go back to Kyoto. I just feel indifferent or rather disgusting. Coming
back to Los Angeles, I understood what homecoming is all about for the
first time in my life. If I had been traveling alone, I would have cried
out loud. I was stunned at the discovery of my hometown. The plane
landed and a tear of joy was on my face as I finally came home…
Labels:
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Canada,
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home,
homecoming,
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Japan,
Kyoto,
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Los Angeles,
overseas travel,
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Tim Hortons,
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Vancouver