Saturday, May 12, 2007

first word

We landed in Basel after an uneventful journey back from Ireland. On the way out to Cork it was quite a different story, as Ryan Air had changed our flight from London Stansted and we found ourselves with an unplanned four hour layover. This alone was not disastrous – we had no appointments waiting for us on the other end, no cause to rush. There are worse things that could befall a person than waiting at an airport with someone whose company you especially enjoy. Instead, I realized that the added security regarding liquids on flights in and out of London was still in full force, though there is nary a mention of the present regulations in the baggage restrictions listed on the Easy Jet and Ryan Air websites. (Apparently, one should now check the websites of the actual airports for such things.) I had finally found a bottle of the contact lens solution I use in the States in a pharmacy in Hannover – all other brands make my eyes frighteningly bloodshot for weeks after a single use – and the bottle was too large to pass security in my carry-on. I spent £8 on 100 mL bottles and we stood in the shop emptying the solution into each. Curiously, the problem is the size of the container, not the amount of liquid. This security measure was put in place after a plot to detonate a flight from London by mixing liquids in the lavatory nearly nine months ago was frustrated. Curiously, this was the same flight that S.’s sisters and father took after their visit with us in Switzerland last summer.

When we entered the Basel airport on our return yesterday, the first word to enter my thoughts was süchtig, the German word for “addicted.” But to my ears, the German word still connotes suchen [to look or search for, to seek], making it somewhat more appropriate as I tried to describe my compulsive urge to travel to myself.

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