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Yes, I'm back in the land of green money, palm trees and smog. Though unfortunately I don't think I'll be leaving the airport this time. But that's OK with me; I seem to have developed a satisfactory love/hate relationship with them.
Managed to squeeze in a couple hours sleep in the LAX "hotel" last night. About 20 of us slept in the upstairs departures area in the intl. terminal; a funny sight to see. All the benches were taken when I arrived around 2a.m. and then when I returned from doing computersy stuff and making friends with a Chinese guy with the biggest bag of M&Ms I have seen in my life, the carpet spot I'd had my eye on was taken too. A group of 5 or 6 elderly Asians had decided to lay out plastic matting and sleep on it, but they left a spot in the corner which was big enough for me and my bags. It was an exhilirating spot to sleep in too, as sleeping spots go - I was right up next to the big window wall, with a great view of runway and lots of red flashing lights. Unfortunately turning towards it meant turning my back to my bags, an option which I decided wasn't really worth it. I got cold in my sleeping bag after a while so put on my sweatshirt which had been doubling as a pillow, and used my laundry bag full of [dirty] clothes as a pillow instead. Didn't smell so good (!), but with some earplugs in to block out the incessant announcements - in Japanese, English, Spanish and French, even at 4a.m. - I managed to get a couple hours sleep.
Besides turning normal everyday things into adventures, I also like airports for the people you meet in them. Met this amazing little girl in the Costa Rican airport yesterday. She looked like she could be local, so I spoke to her in Spanish and she told me she was going to Nicaragua. Then along came her dad and spoke to her in English; I thought I detected an English accent, so I asked her where she was from. Holland. I wasn't sure that I'd quite understood her correctly so I switched to English, and asked her what language they spoke there to verify I'd heard right: sure enough, Dutch, she told me and said she could speak that too. I asked her where her dad was from and she told me Kenya. Which explains her gorgeous brown complexion. But, left me even more confused, as to how the daughter of a Kenyan guy living in Holland speaks Spanish so well? Kids these days - how I envy them, their mutliculturality and bilingualness! (Think I may just have invented two new words. Ha.)
And then there's the people-watching. You know how they say owners look like their pets? Well, yesterday I saw a woman who confirmed this theory. She was an older woman, with platinum blond, permed hair and a lot of make-up. In her orange crocodile-skin handbag she was carrying a dog; a white poodle. Which pretty much matched her hair. Hilarious.
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