Somewhere over Greenland (or Iceland)

I write this as I am somewhere over Greenland, or Iceland, I think. I have no idea where Labrador City is without Google. But that is where my handy-dandy little computer screen tells me we are. Along with the hours left to go in the flight (10 hours and 1 minute - I’m being a cheerleader for myself and focusing on the two hours down part), the altitude (30999 feet), outside air temperature (-55*C - my brain cannot comprehend this or begin to convert it into F), and our speed (549 mph). Maybe it’s just been a while since I’ve flown internationally, but man this place is fancy.

I was hoping for maybe some Disney or Animal Planet, since that’s what I remember from my last transatlantic flight. But oh no! I have been served dinner, I have my own computer in front of me that will play me movies and TV shows and music or let me play computer games, I have been provided with a toothbrush, earplugs, blanket, pillow, and eye mask. I am living the life up here.

It’s weird how strong my urge has been to discover one of these new wonders and immediately message a friend. But that’s what I do. When good things happen, I want to share them. This trip, it appears, will be a practice in less-instant communication. Even though I’m typing to you, you will probably not read this until I am already settled into my hosts’ home in India.

I can already feel the culture shock beginning. The shock in general began when I deplaned in Chicago and promptly discovered that although the screens told me that my gate was M10, there were no signs pointing me to the M concourse. It took me asking three workers, looking deliberately lost once, and an extremely kind man who took his break to show me to the train that would take me to concourse 5, apparently the international concourse, to locate my destination. I was then informed that I needed to re-check-in (where I smugly informed the man that no, I did not need to check any baggage) (but then he informed me that my flight was already boarding and I quickly transitioned from smug to slight panic). Through security I went, all the way to the very end of the concourse, where indeed my flight had already begun boarding.

But, I made it. And even though I was concerned that a very chocolate-y granola bar and dried edamame would be my only dinner, my fears were quickly put to rest by the wide movie selection.

I, rather fittingly, I think, chose a movie about Indian cuisine.

But! Back to the real culture shock. I now stick out, as a white, tall female. I now no longer speak the primary language of the airline or the other passengers. But we can still communicate in smiles and English that is everywhere.

This is my first time ever leaving the country without either my parents or a large group of Grinnellians who were also in shock and spoke English. It’s different. It’s good. It is thus far movie and surprisingly-good-airplane-food filled.

See you on the other side.