Iceland Airport

Long plane rides have never bothered me.  Since we were small my family traveled back east to Pennsylvania quite often, so as a child I grew to enjoy the plane.  This time from Seattle to Iceland there was little difference.  Although it does give me a feeling of being less connected.  And I was very aware that we were flying over the ocean.  Somehow it feels different than flying over land. I’ve never been one to wish I could fly.  Instead I have always wished I could breathe underwater.  I think about the ocean and how vast and powerful it is.  Not mean, not sweet, just the ocean doing its ocean thing.  When we lived in San Diego, Daniel had Fridays off from work so those mornings we went to Ocean Beach to splash around in the waves.  At times I felt so small and overwhelmed with where I was; clearly not a natural part of the water.  Yet somehow I also felt that the ocean belonged to me.  So I would challenge the waves.   On those Friday mornings when I felt nervous in the water I would lay back, float and let the waves and salt hold me.  And I just had to breathe deeply and think, “If this is how God/The Universe wants you to go, let it be.  Relax, you’ll either get eaten by a shark or you won’t.”  In those moments of fear I was so surprised how calm I was capable of becoming.  Thinking of this on the plane helped me feel more connected to the earth. 

Iceland is dark.  It’s only seven in the morning here so there is nothing to see out the windows.  It’s cold, I know that.  The flight attendant informed us on the plane.  Plus there is a white substance blowing across the ground that Daniel guesses is perhaps salt?  Until I point out to him that it is also in the sky.  Ah ha!  It’s snow.  On the west coast it is 11:11p.m. which incidentally is Daniel’s favorite time.  We are slightly hungry.  Air France gives you food, Iceland Air does not.  Not even peanuts.  Not even pretzels.  Thanks for the six and a half hours of water.  Reykjavik is a small airport and there are no cafes open.  Well, there is one selling soggy sandwiches.  I guess we’re not that hungry.  We leave here in two hours.  It’s a three hour flight to London.  Somehow all of this still doesn’t feel real.  I know I’m not on vacation, however, it still feels as if I’m not moving to England either. 

An hour later, we share a soggy sandwich.