Planes

I have flown on many planes in the past few weeks. Which means I sat in many different seats. I’ve always liked aisle seats best (room to stretch), but I’ve also grown to like a good pillow and the window on medium length flights (14 hours is too much time to be cramped). I’m definitely a fan of seats with individual movie screens—though the pitfall is watching Blades of Glory and laughing out loud at Will Ferrell while everyone else is sleeping. I really like it when no one is seated next to me and I can stretch out. And the worst seat I had in the past few weeks—in the last row of the plane, by the window, next to the engine—was made better by the fact that an ex-teen heartthrob (Zack Morris, Saved by the Bell) was seated just across the aisle. Apparently missionary-types and actors both fly coach now.

All of this flying has made me wonder if I’m getting better at it. I’ve flown alone a lot in my life, so I’m used to entertaining myself, making awkward conversation with those next to me (most recently with two Korean men; not many words were exchanged), and trying to convey to the flight attendant that I really only want the drink and the dinner roll with my meal. I’ve figured out that in Hong Kong and Seoul they list local prices but accept American dollars, and that US airports are sadly lacking the Chanel, Burberry and other high-end stores to be found throughout Asian venues. Mostly, I’ve become comfortable wandering (sometimes rushing) through different airports, looking for my gate, hoping I haven’t missed the flight.

What I’m not good at yet is transition. Since I’ve been back (all of two days), I have realized that jumping from one culture to another is a little harder than I thought it would be. In my arrogance, I thought I could bounce into the US and encounter all the everyday people and things I left without any trace of longing. I anticipated waving farewell to America with glee and heading back to Cambodia in a spirit of anticipation and excitement. I’m better at flying, but not at leaving.

I had an amazing time in the US. I spent time with friends, I saw my family—nearly ALL of them, a small miracle—watched my sister walk down the aisle, and ate my weight in Mexican food. I stepped back into a life I deserted only a few weeks ago, and found it to be mostly the same. It is easy, that life. I know how to get to the places I love. I can navigate Los Angeles without flinching. I speak the language, most of the time, and am understood by the people I know there.

The contrast to Cambodia hit me quickly when I arrived here. I didn’t return with the sense of adventure I felt upon moving here. In fact, I got here in the dead of night, to existing responsibility and duties. I had appointments and tasks the next day. The comfort and ease of the States was gone in the blink of an eye (okay, more like 16 hours of travel). This is hard for me; to jump right in, to be in charge, to do things in another language. Cambodia is familiar, but it is not comfortable.

Yet maybe what I’m after isn’t comfort. On these many plane trips, I realized that I would never be truly comfortable. There were moments when I slept, deep sleep even, and times when I didn’t notice that my legs were crunched awkwardly under the seat in front of me, or that my neck was in a position that I would later regret. Maybe that’s what I can expect from Cambodia right now. Sometimes it will pinch, sometimes I’ll want to stretch my legs. In the end, though, the plane is important—it’s the journey, the way to get where it is you’re going. So a little discomfort is worth it when you touch down and see friends and family. A little pain seems like nothing in the face of spending time with those you love. I guess I’ll just have to keep flying, keep waiting, until the pinching is less noticeable and the friends and family are not just in the US, but in Cambodia as well. In the meantime, I guess I keep watching for the rest of the Saved by the Bell cast on my flights.