on us, busy humans…

I will probably never stop being fascinated with airports. I’ve always loved airports, when I started flying it felt like airports were the nicest places on earth to be in; the glass and steell gateways to the skies. Not counting Bucharest, my first international airport was the Amsterdam Schiphol. It felt as if for the first time I was actually aware that there are so many different cultures in the world. I could not take my eyes off a group of Indian women which were dressed traditionally, something I have only seen on TV before. I could also not take my eyes off two wonderfully colored dressed African ladies that spoke in a language which seemed nothing similar to anything I knew. And then the contrast with what seemed to be a bunch of Scandinavian girls (if you were to believe the clichés) tall, blond, whiter than white tones of skin. These are just some recollections, and I do remember that I was so struck by finally meeting these people in flesh that I could not stop staring at them (which of course by now I know it’s far from being polite). The reason I did it, was just because they were all so beautiful. And it was so new to me to see them and hear them and watch them move. As I am standing now in the Frankfurt airport, I see the same diversity. People from all over the world, some wonder around looking at the shops, some write on their laptops or speak on their phone, some sleep on the benches. By some wonderful coincidence, we are all here, breathing the same air. I need to take a moment to stare and wonder. How come we all get along so well in an airport? I’m speaking about the unwritten code of good manners that everyone without failure finds the time and the patience and even the pleasure to respect in an airport; we all seem to find it natural to respect each other and gracefully excuse ourselves if we happened to hit someone by mistake with our carry on.
This takes me to a different occasion when we all seem to be in peace with each other: the celebration of the New Year. Pretty naïve of me to ask but still, how is it possible to have just one single day or night in a year when everyone finds something better to do than stress out, complain, argue, fight, something that puts on hold the daily disagreements and allows for celebration. Mind you I am not saying everyone; I’m just saying many, many more than any revolution would take to make any other point. And the question is, who decided that the rest of the year we should all be so busy with ourselves and our routines, and worries, and troubles, that there can only be one day or night where we can all have fun together?

just wondering…

About Guvidissima

I love writing stuff on pieces of paper. My little brother thought I should write this stuff down on pieces of cyberspace. He gave me my own little website. I discovered blank cyberspace looks just as frightening as a blank piece of paper and I decided to take it slowly. The title came after a while, as I was taking a test on numbers, dates and personalities. Yes, I am an enthusiast. I like to believe there’s more to it than what we think there is. And I made a quest out of this. One of my friends a while ago told me I have a serious case of colorblindness, I can only see pink for some reason. Even if that’s not as true as I’d like it to be, this blog is written in a pinkish light: there is something magic about us and life, it might not be the holy truth, nor Darwin, nor the politics or the economics of demand and offer; as a very inspired Indian writer put it, I think it is the God of small things.
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