In October, Full Sail University sent me to India as part of a global exchange in cooperation with Chitkara University. This is the story of that adventure. All opinions are my own and do not reflect those of Full Sail.
Day 1 – Tuesday, October 16th
I didn’t sleep last night at all. I’m a lot more nervous and anxious about this trip than I expected I would be. The desire for adventure has been overtaken by the fear of the unknown. What did I get myself into?
1 a.m. I’m somewhere over Greenland and as expected—it is impossible for me to sleep on an airplane, even if I haven’t slept in 36 hours already. My seat-mate is a nice young UCF graduate from Venezuela who just got her citizenship a few years ago. She works with a friend of ours at the local Fox affiliate so we’ve talked over shared experiences in journalism and career goals. She and her parents spent more than a half a million dollars for the privilege of living in the United States indefinitely. Puts things in perspective as I start this adventure. Interesting to contemplate that if I were in her shoes, I wouldn’t have had the same opportunities.
2:30 a.m. I’m in the Icelandair International terminal in Rejavic, Iceland. It’s about 6:30am local time. It was sobering to realize I was going to have to carry my carry-on down a flight of stairs to a bus in order to get to the terminal to wait for my connection. First, I have about 3,000,000 pounds worth of camera and sound gear in my carry on that I’m bringing to drop off to my producing partner in London. That was a treat to lift into the overhead bin. Second, it’s COLD here! It’s 32 degrees and flurries are falling out of the pitch black sky. I got a window seat hoping to see the northern lights as we landed, but no such luck. Just the blackest sky and stars I’ve ever witnessed.
The terminal is incredibly nice and clean. It’s about 6am here I think so everyone is getting their coffee and breakfast treats. All the prices are in funny money and I’ve heard everything in Iceland is expensive, so I’m afraid to order anything. I choose a plain Skyr yogurt and a bottle of water. I’m still under the illusion maybe exhaustion will take over and I’ll be able to take a nap on the next leg to London. They do, however, have Flóki whiskey, which makes me laugh because he’s our favorite character on Vikings. The most shocking thing here though was in line to buy my yogurt.
There was a young mom behind me with a little boy walking around. She was pushing his stroller and trying to keep him in check. I noticed and smiled thinking how relieved I was not to be chasing a three year old around an airport in the middle of the night. The stroller had a pram style baby carrier balancing precariously on top of it. Inside was a baby dressed head to toe in what looked like Eskimo wear. This baby was ready to travel through Antarctica and was sleeping peacefully. However, as the mother turned to try to wrangle the toddler, the pram fell forward —away from me—off the stroller and flat—FACE DOWN—onto the floor. I gasped and tried to figure out a way to get around the stroller to help. Mom screamed “FUCK” and quickly flipped the pram over and picked up the baby off the floor who was LOUDLY crying at this point. The baby seemed okay. I have no idea as they quickly got out of line and scurried off. Crying is a good sign from what I remember of dropping my baby (story to come).
I picked up my things and went to find a seat to eat my breakfast. I took a window seat to try to catch the sunrise. Not going to happen. The sun doesn’t shine here apparently. At some point, I realize people are beginning to line up for my gate. I find my boarding pass but begin to flop sweat and panic when I realize I can’t find my passport. I know I have to have my passport to board the plane. I look everywhere. I empty my purse. I check every pocket of my wallet. I am taking deep breaths trying not to cry because that won’t help. I confirm with the gate agent that I need it, then I go see Icelandair customer service. I explain the situation and the nice woman takes a deep breath and says she is going to call someone to double check the plane I was just on. As she is making the call, I double my search and the other agent explains to me that if I can’t find it, I can simply live here in Iceland and work at the airport for the airline. “It’s a wonderful place to live,” she says. It’s oddly soothing. Finally, in a pocket of my travel wallet I didn’t know existed, I find the passport and show it to them. We all take a deep breath and I make my way onto the jet bridge to my second leg of this adventure.
Day 2 – 12:30pm Oct 17th – London, England
I’m in a black VW Uber with Ibrahim on my way to my producing partner, and friend, Alex Howard’s
house. I was able to gChat with my nine year old son, Bruce, while I had the Heathrow wifi and he was so cute. It’s cold and gloomy here and raining and I LOVE IT. I even spot some fall colors along the roadway. It’s about a 45 minute drive from Heathrow to Alex’s house, so Ibrahim and I have a bit of time to talk. We start talking about the camera on his rearview mirror recording traffic for his protection in case there’s an accident. He’s surprised no one in the US does it since we’re such a litigious country. He tells me how great America is and that someone like him, a Muslim immigrant, can be anything they want in America—whereas anyone who is not British has a much harder struggle and wouldn’t dream of being Prime Minister. Then he says, “but in America these days I’m very afraid of racism and guns.” All I can reply is, “You should be… you should be.”
Alex greets me at his house and I get to meet his little girl Lyra first. Fresh from a nap, she’s still in her
sleep sack and extra snuggly. Add the weiner dog “Sizzle” to the mix and it’s about the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen. Eventually I admit I need a disco nap and head to my room for an hour. Alex wakes me at four and I borrow some wellies for a walk from the high street through Highgate Wood with him and Sizzle. The woods are dark and damp and full of changing fall leaves. The air is cool and I drink it in like it’s the only bit of fall I’ll get this year because it is. I get a yearning to live in a neighborhood with businesses and restaurants and park nearby again. More of a city feel than our incredibly suburban lifestyle we have now, but there will be a time for that.
Back at the house, the rest of the family is home. The older girls and I do crafts involving water beads and manage to eat an entire bag of salt and malt vinegar potato chips and I am forever changed and crave them every day now. The girls are adorable and such a different experience from the boys. Even bath time is drastically different. I get the privilege of tucking Marli into bed and reading several books with her. It’s so snuggly and quiet and so much less wrestle-ish than hour bedtime routine at home.
Once the kiddos are tucked in, the adults have vegan tacos and wine and talk politics and guns and I try my best to explain the rationale of the 2nd Amendment to the English. The context of the Revolutionary War helps a bit, but I’m not very good at defending it in today’s context or the actions and perspective of the current NRA.