L'aeroport

The airport~ In my attempt to be anything but the stereotypical travel blogger, I was determined to avoid writing about anything as cliché as my time in the airport.  Does the world really need another account of this crossroads of humanity, people experiencing their lowest lows and highest highs, people of all shapes, colors, opinions, and personalities thrown together for the sole reason of going somewhere?  Yes, an airport can inspire poetry or can be the track for a 500 meter dash that one never expected to run, but when I stepped off the plane in Miami International Airport, I suspected that my time there would perhaps be mildly pleasant but nothing more.  It began as such: a stroll that I spent perusing the eating options, followed by a quiet lunch at a Mexican restaurant (where I ate a dish rather spicier than I would usually, given the lack thereof at my destination), some visits to the typical bookstores and convenience stores, and a long walk to my gate, which, interestingly enough, was no longer my gate upon my arrival.

Enchiladas Verdes at the Miami <<Aeroport>>

After backtracking to D24, I found what I expected to be a group of passengers destined for the flight before mine, but as I pulled out my France guidebook and began anew the ever rich experience of mixing the recipe of a relaxing and full first day in Paris, the man across from me asked if I was going to France.  Of course I am, and given this answer, he said, “I live in Paris.  I am on the same flight, 6:10…right?” I never learned his name, but if I could give him one, it would be Bill…or Guillaume, I suppose, en Français.  Bill was originally from Oregon, but he has lived most of his life anywhere but there.  It all began with his adventure studying abroad in Italy just about when people started studying abroad.  There, he learned French from a group of “Pieds Noirs” (“Black Feet…” exiles from Algeria), and from “Madame la Contesse,” a lovely elderly woman whose château was destroyed in World War I but who would invite Bill to her new penthouse apartment in Rome for tea and lessons.  After working for a year in Paris, he ( as he flippantly stated) had another semester left of undergrad in the U.S. and then went to law school in…Paris!  And he proceeded to live an extremely international life.  Later, he moved to China for six years, where he met his wife, and he now has a teenage daughter, born and raised in China and now going into lycée (high school) in France, where the family has lived for six years.  That was Bill.  Then there was the couple from Guatemala sitting next to him, traveling to France for the first time, marveling at the opportunities available to people, with a daughter whose dream is to study fashion in Paris.  As our conversation ebbed and flowed, these three fellow francophiles reminded me yet again to understand the potential for fullness in every moment of travel…even somewhere as "potentially" mundane as the airport.