|
|
<$BlogRSDURL$> Archives
|
And it suddenly became real. Everything about arriving in Copenhagen was confusing; the language was unknown either when printed on a sign or spoken by a passerby. I definitely wasn't in America anymore.My connection was ontime, but still made it so I had more time than bearable until my next flight to my final destination. I pass through customs but not without being eyed by the two officers behind thick glass. I was sure they were mafia. Maybe they were talking about how horrible my hair looked, or that my make up was smudged from sleeping on the plane. Maybe they were plotting ways to mess with me seeing how I was just a girl in a new country, looking lost and tired from my 9 hour flight. They finally let me through, but not before I was able to throw in the word "eh" into a couple sentences when they asked me a question. Copenhagen was beautiful. I was sure of it. If the people were any indication of how beautiful their country was, this was the place of Gods and Goddesses. It was cruel and unfair to throw me into this. I was an obvious outsider with my striped blond and chestnut coloured hair, fake tan and Canadian bag strapped to my back. Maybe the advanced hiking boots indicated it to them too, I was so blinded by the blue eyes and blond hair that I hadn't had the chance to notice what they were noticing on me. A sample of Britney Spears' new purfume "Curious" was handed to me by a petite Asian girl. She definitely wasn't Scandinavian, she had the accent of an Asian. I was on to her. I took it from her and thanked her; she bowed. I left. The next store had a sign in the window indicating the rules of purchasing the fabulous rattle snake skin pumps: "Not legal in these countries: Italy, United States, Canada, France, Britian". I gracefully took the hint, I wasn't purchasing shoes in this airport. Besides, my feet would most likely have not fit in them after all the walking through the airport in my hardly broken-in hiking boots. Chocolate coloured hardwood floors were laid throughout the whole building. It was stunning; in fact I was afraid to walk on it. It was modern, new and easy on the eyes, everything Ikea is - but better and more reliable. Windows offered views of a hazy outside. I had the option of leaving the airport to see the city and enjoy Denmark for four hours, but decided to purchase the postcards instead. It was cheaper and probably photographed better. Besides, I helped the economy a tad with the swipe of my Visa. I stood waiting in the central part of the airport for my next flight information to appear. It was situated in the intersection of 4 shoppes: a bar serving delicious looking apple green drinks, the convenience store where I purchased my postcards and a bottle of Cocca-Cola (I hadn't eaten since leaving Seattle. My appetite left me when I saw the three year old child beside me lose his chicken cordon-bleu being served by the flight attendants), a store similar to Marks and Spencer where I was bowed at, and a tie kiosk employing three of the most sickingly beautiful people I had ever seen. The flight information appeared on the screen and I was out of the intersection, avoiding a collision with the other travelers at all costs. The waiting area for my next SAS flight was grim and bleak, an extraordinary change from the main airport. Although, I was graced with a sudden influx of Italian speaking people. My heart skipped a beat as various men passed me; it was a real Italian really going to Italy. Of course, there were older men gawking over me and the single state I was in, but the older women caught my eye. They were so old yet so full of life. They talked to one another as if it was their last flight and they needed to tell each other everything they knew from their life until now. The boarding line began and I joined them. Although the offer of 300 Euros and a flight to Milan on their next available flight (roughly seven hours from my boarding time) sounded appealing, the thought of being in Italy was even better. Besides, it wasn't my issue they overbooked the flight... Posted by Bella at 7:56 AM# 0 Comments:
|
