I arrived at 4:00 AM. An all too familiar routine of shoes off, laptop out, arms up. After passing through security, I entered an eerily empty Laguardia Airport. Within seconds, a sense of comfort fell over me. Something I have yet to feel since arriving in New York.
I know this.
This is my comfort zone: an empty terminal.
The multiple food vendors had just begun putting out the pre-packaged, plastic wrapped sandwiches {all of which undoubtedly taste like cardboard}. The staff were yawning, but cheerful.
As my boarding group was called, I clutched my passport a little tighter than usual. It had been six months since using this little book full of memories. Six months since touching down on international soil. Six months of anxiously awaiting the next ride to the airport. Six months too long if you ask me.
What if I wasn’t ready?
What if somehow between flying out of Brisbane, Australia six months ago, and taking off at Laguardia on this day, things had changed? Well, of course things have changed. I’ve changed.
But one thing that remains is my passion for travel. For new places and new faces.
So, yes maybe it had been too long and dust had begun building in between the pages of my passport, but there has never been a better feeling than hearing an international stamp being pressed against those pages upon entry into unfamiliar territory.
In most cases, it takes almost everything inside me to walk onto a plane. Flying is easily my greatest fear {ironic, I know}. But in this moment, I was quite literally running passengers over to find my way to window seat 23F.
Admittedly, I have felt disoriented since arriving to New York City this year. And yet, sitting thousands of miles above the earth confirmed everything I have always believed about my restlessness. My lack of ability to remain in one place for too long. My time is better spent on the move.
So while it might not be the most traditional of lifestyles, it is the one that makes me feel the most alive. Most determined. Most successful.
Most, me.
As I arrived through the customs gates, I immediately felt recharged {despite my 2:00 AM wake up call that morning}. Signs were all displayed in French, my phone had zero service {and absolutely no data}, and the only directions I had were screenshots I had taken the previous evening.
But as always, I took a deep breath and smiled. I had no idea walking onto the Montreal city bus would be the start to an amazing {and more importantly, necessary} weekend.
I cannot wait to share my new found love of Canada with you. Watch this space for guides, reflections, and photos galore {obviously}.