Loving Luton Airport — An EasyJet Delay Consideration

My EasyJet flight to Prague having been delayed by several hours (at least), I'm back in the terminal and able to add one more quick post.

Every time I board an airplane I can't help but wondering if this will be the time it goes down. I assume I'm not alone in that. But I find myself thinking I should at least leave some note. But it can't be maudlin or overly emotional, as of course almost certainly all will be well. 

So instead of "tell my family I love them" or "tell the following people I'm sorry," I thought, perhaps, I should focus on something else. 

I've told a few people, recently, that this moving-back-to-Europe thing was empirically the right thing for me to do, regardless of the difficulties and problems I've encountered, from hassles involving getting Catalina over on the flight from the US, to problems finding a good apartment, to problems with banks, phones, and everything else, leading up and concluding with, of course, this unexpected and unwelcome exile.

Despite all that, coming back to Europe was absolutely the right thing for me to do. I had felt, during those five years in Arizona, as if I was spinning my wheels a bit, not getting any traction on what I wanted to be doing ... what I should be doing. It was fine — I made a number of really good friends, had a nice big apartment, played a lot of tennis, got Catalina, was able to travel, was in a good financial position, and was in good health. It was good.

But ... it was missing something important. It really did feel like I was adding days upon days, life upon life, without ever feeling like I was progressing. And the minute I got back to Europe I immediately felt I was.  Indeed, I think that's why I decided to come in the first place — every time I had traveled to Europe after moving back in 2019 I felt confident and happy, and as soon as I landed in the States I felt ... saddened, and empty. 

The problem was mine, of course — I couldn't unpack it any more if I tried. I suppose it has something to do with the lifestyle I enjoy so much in Europe — the neighborhood and communities, the general hope, the absence of the cruelty that I think we've all discovered recently has in some ways has been lying only just beneath the surface in the United States. I don't know.

In any event, since I got back, and despite everything that's happened recently, I feel more positive, more hopeful, more engaged ... and yes, like I have more traction. It's a good feeling. I'm actively glad I did this. All of this is an adventure — which doesn't mean it's all easy, or fun. But it's good to feel I'm adventuring, rather than waiting.

I keep returning to Ithaka, the poem by Greek poet C.P. Cafavy. I don't know what Ithaka is, exactly, in my life. It's not really Ann Arbor, though, in terms of the geographic port from which I set sail in my adult life, I assume that city could conceivably play a similar role. But I'm not interested in getting back to Ann Arbor, soon or ever. Or ... West Berlin, or Kansas.

I think "Ithaka," for me, would be the state of contentment, of stability/security, of purpose, I had in my childhood, and that I've rarely had in adulthood, and that at some point I still hope to recover. 

So, as I prepare to board this flight to Prague, please know that ... I've felt closer to my Ithaka in the past six months than anytime in the previous six years, and that, as Cavafy suggested, it's the journey that matters. I'm hopeful some day I'll be able to return to my Ithaka, but if not — if the Cyclops or the Sirens stop me on this trip home — that's ok. I've lived, and struggled, and fought, and loved, and laughed, and reveled, and cried. And I'm glad I found my way back to my travels. I'd much rather be brought down trying to soar than twiddling my thumbs.

Ithaka

By C. P. Cavafy

As you set out for Ithaka

hope your road is a long one,

full of adventure, full of discovery.

Laistrygonians, Cyclops,

angry Poseidon—don’t be afraid of them:

you’ll never find things like that on your way

as long as you keep your thoughts raised high,

as long as a rare excitement

stirs your spirit and your body.

Laistrygonians, Cyclops,

wild Poseidon—you won’t encounter them

unless you bring them along inside your soul,

unless your soul sets them up in front of you.

Hope your road is a long one.

May there be many summer mornings when,

with what pleasure, what joy,

you enter harbors you’re seeing for the first time;

may you stop at Phoenician trading stations

to buy fine things,

mother of pearl and coral, amber and ebony,

sensual perfume of every kind—

as many sensual perfumes as you can;

and may you visit many Egyptian cities

to learn and go on learning from their scholars.

Keep Ithaka always in your mind.

Arriving there is what you’re destined for.

But don’t hurry the journey at all.

Better if it lasts for years,

so you’re old by the time you reach the island,

wealthy with all you’ve gained on the way,

not expecting Ithaka to make you rich.

Ithaka gave you the marvelous journey.

Without her you wouldn't have set out.

She has nothing left to give you now.

And if you find her poor, Ithaka won’t have fooled you.

Wise as you will have become, so full of experience,

you’ll have understood by then what these Ithakas mean.

Cheers