Live in Schipol

Schipol isn’t an airport. It is a total living centre.

Not 5 minutes after deboarding, I was chastised by a cheesemonger for denying his overtures to gouda. Glazed over I responded: “um, I need coffee and shower before I can eat.”

Clean showers in an airport are a novelty, which is why I had to pay for the right to feel like a human being after flight. Worth every penny to not be fogged up. I truly have no clue what time it is, but my body is smart enough to think it is late afternoon. (pats back).

Before boarding in Toronto, I met with Carolyn Dunn, CBC’s only Africa correspondent. How is it possible for one person to cover a whole continent? CBC news taught me the world. Patrick Brown reports from Asia and all of the other people. Apparently, with cutbacks investigative journalism and actual foreign correspondence are waning. This makes me sad. Before I met Ms. Dunn, I reviewed some of her Libya reports. She is a storyteller passionate about Africa and the news. So, I used the small window of conversation to learn about Libya via her eyes. I look forward to a day that we can learn more about the real Libyan people. The people she talked about who cleaned the streets, helped their neighbours and banned together to rebuild communities. She talked about the beauty of the people and the architecture. We are so caught up in the big name leader politics in 30 second bytes that these real snippets get missed.

Somehow I managed to find a university student studying GIS in Canada at the airport. Small world. She was returning to Nigeria for a visit. We got to chatting about mapping. I mentioned that I was in contact with a Lagos mapper who built http://lagostraffic.crowdmap.com/. I’ve connected them via email.

So far in Schipol: I’ve had a shower, been to a museum and had a nap in a bank lounge. Well, actually next to the bank lounge as I don’t have the prestigious VIP pass to get a leather couch. They do have swank lounge chairs with foot rests in the mediation area. (free) What amazes me about this place is all the space and quiet corners that you can hide and rest. Not surprising, I have no appetite yet. The airport is large enough that I was able to talk in a circle for about an hour and a half. This helped with the body crumbled feeling.

Shopkeeps are brilliant. I want to buy all the Dutch knicknacks and tulips for my Mom, kid’s toys for the nieces and nephew, some cheese and licorice for my Dad and, well, MAC cosmetics for myself. I don’t need anything and won’t buy, but they make it so attractive. I wonder what the books say about travel shoppers. I will garner that they spend, spend and spend. Everywhere I look hands are full of duty free bags. I was close to prey in Toronto. Lingering over The Shadow of the Wind for a bit, I contemplated buying it. Then, it struck me: I have this book because Mandy gave it to me. The copy has a different cover and is sitting on my table at home. The poor bookseller didn’t have a chance.

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