Monday, 10 June 2002; 6:51am; Paris-Gare de l’Est

Gare de l’Est

My Initial Descent came via the rails, arriving into Gare de l’Est after an overnight train from Switzerland. Of course I had expected to be greeted with the typical disdain for Americans that is so widely thought to be prevalent in France, but I didn’t find this to be true at all. “Excusez-moi…parlez-vous anglais?” I asked the person at the information counter at the station, as I needed some guidance getting to where I was going.

“Yes, a little bit”, she replied, and I knew immediately that the stereotypes were myth. The French don’t have disdain for Americans, just Americans who show up in France without a shred of respect for the local culture and who fail to make even a sorry attempted to learn a few words of French. Learn a few phrases, and you’ll be welcomed as warmly as anywhere else.

A few hours later, I had my first “I’m really in France” moment, sitting in the hallowed halls of Notre Dame cathedral, before the tourist crowds arrived. Taking in a morning prayer with people to whom this is a part of their daily lives, I couldn’t help but think that this we do not have a home…

My ID:  5:51pm, Friday, 07 August 2009:  Istanbul Atatürk Airport

Turkish Airlines flight TK1450 from Zagreb

Ah, the land where East and West meet…unfortunately I wasn’t in a necessarily conscious state to experience this Initial Descent.  While the flight over from Zagreb was only two hours and some change, I really hadn’t eaten much all day, as I was rushing to catch my flight.  I remember feeling extremely about halfway through the journey, started sweating profusely, and the next thing I remember was the flight attendant bringing me some water, saying I had passed out.  This all happened over the course of about 20 minutes, and I had restored my wits and sensibilities well before we landed at Atatürk Airport.  Still, as I was kind of dazed at what had just happened, I didn’t really appreciate the full extent of my descent into Istanbul, only really noticing the water below and a mosque in the distance.  Fortunately, I had a friend waiting as soon as I passed immigration, and I knew I was in Istanbul the second we pulled out onto Ataturk Boulevard, slammed on the brakes, and crept along for what seemed like hours…

My ID:  8:48pm, Sunday, 04 September 2005:  Seoul-Incheon International Airport

Cathay Pacific flight CX420 from Taipei

Descending into ICN

My Initial Descent into Korea came as part of a trip I was taking around Asia. Lucky for me—or so I thought—I had met a group of Koreans while I was in Thailand a few weeks before I was scheduled to get to Seoul, and they said they would be happy to meet me and show me around once I got there.

Dynamic Korea

I had no trouble finding the “limousine bus” to central Seoul (which, for the record, is nothing like a limousine, but efficient nonetheless). After I dropped my bag at the Sinchon guest house I was to call home for the next few days, the people I had met the week before in Bangkok were on their way to pick me up.

A girl named Soo Jin, who wanted to be called Sarah, was driving. We were headed first to a department store, and then across town to the trendy neighborhood of Apgujeong. I was impressed by the density of everything—I just remember being overwhelmed by…imagery. Buildings covered with signs, more buildings, signs and more signs. I thought about how someone had once told me that Korean was easy to learn to read, and at that moment I told myself I’d try to learn it.

Not amused with the navigation system

But while I was highly impressed by the Seoul I saw passing by out the window, I was equally scared for my life. This was in the early days of navigation, and Soo Jin had a console attached to her dashboard. It seemed the entire time that the directions were a bit slow, and so besides the fact that the console was positioned at the side of the dashboard and therefore here eyes were focused anywhere but the actual road, we also seemed to make a habit out of right turns from left hand lanes.

Made it to Apgujeong

Luckily, thanks to some observant and quick-reflex other drivers, we made it to Apgujeong for a fun night out. But when it was time to turn in, I high-tailed it to the Metro’s Line 3, not wanting to play navigation roulette twice in the same day.

My ID:  7:07am, Thursday, 30 May 2002:  London Heathrow Immigration

United Airlines flight UA956 from New York-Kennedy

Unfortunately, my Initial Descent to the UK wasn’t the greatest. As my first foray overseas, I knew nothing about immigration, customs, or the world’s busiest international airport. As such, I booked a ticket from London’s Gatwick Airport to Dublin, Ireland, for about three hours after my scheduled arrival into Heathrow. I had calculated that the time to get between the two was about an hour, so that would be plenty. What I failed to account for, however, was the full hour it took me simply to clear immigration at Heathrow’s Terminal 3. With most North & South American flights, as well as many European flights and even some Asian flights, arriving in the morning, I learned first-hand that Heathrow can be very congested during these times.

By the time I finally cleared customs and made my way to Gatwick, my flight was long gone. I had to purchase another ticket…only to be informed that it was a bank holiday weekend and everything was full (this was also my first introduction to the terminology of “Bank Holiday”). Fortunately, I was able to purchase the last seat on the last flight available that day to Ireland, but into Belfast instead of my intended destination of Dublin. I took it, and ended up meeting the couple on the flight that I ended up staying with when I returned to London a month later—funny how things always seem to work themselves out.

Not the easiest process in the world to go through…

My ID:  8:18am, Thursday, 13 June 2002; San Sebastian (via train from Biarritz, France)

(Image credit: Keta/Wikipedia)

The moment I walked into this nice seaside town, I felt a good vibe. Being by the shore with palm trees reminded me of Southern California, one of my comfort zones.  I was also much more familiar with Spanish than some other languages, so I felt more confident to be able to communicate. Also, being from America, there were so many times I had stared out into the Atlantic Ocean from Virginia Beach or Brooklyn and wondered what was on the other side. Now, here I was, staring back.

(Image credit: Wouter Homs)

I spent hours walking along the shore, and up a large hill to a statue of Jesus that overlooked the city. My favorite place was a rocky edge of the sea at the base of that hill, where the refreshing greenish-blue water rattled into a foam as if inviting me into a hot tub, with a strong smell of seaweed and saltwater consuming me. My friend said it reminded her of the Little Mermaid’s rock.

(Image credit: gospain.about.com)

The weather was overcast—all I could see was a westward haze as the sea blended seamlessly into the sky—but I felt relaxed. And welcome.

My ID:  5:23pm, Monday, 03 June 2002; just north of Bingen

A familiar sight around Germany

I am some three hours into my German experience, on a train from Koln to Frankfurt, where I will begin my experience of this country. I’ve been trailing the mighty Rhine River pretty much since I first crossed the border from the Netherlands. Already, the beautiful, steep, rocky hills sharply bowing down to the wide, windy, barge-packed river, adorned by towns on both sides resting comfortably in the river valley full of steeples and an occasional old castle built into the side or at the top of a mountain, are etched in my memory.

Introduced to Germany via the rails

I’ve heard Germans are timely, and my train connection in Koln was exactly that. And businesslike, too—everyone seems to be in a hurry. Even in the train station, there didn’t seem to be many people gathering, talking, laughing…just everyone going about their business. And while the Rhine River valley continues to wow me with its beauty, I am glad that I didn’t choose to study German in school—what an ugly sounding language!

(Note: I apologize about this, my German friends! But this is supposed to be a real, unfiltered account of first impressions, and this excerpt is straight out of the journal I kept from my first experiences in Europe in 2002!)

Approaching Koln

Easy connection in Koln

My ID:  10 September 2010; 9:00am; São Paulo-Guarulhos International Airport

Japan Airlines Flight 16 from New York-JFK; Seat 71A

My first time…

Having rested comfortably in the first row of the upper deck of a JAL Boeing 747 (no, I wasn’t in business class—this configuration for JAL had economy seating upstairs), I was excited to see the rolling hills of northern São Paulo, coupled with the pockets of colorful, tightly-packed houses dominated by red shingle rooftops during the Descent into Guarulhos. Upon landing, I was welcomed on the apron by a bevy of white TAM airplanes mixed in with some from Europe (most notably Air France, British Airways and Lufthansa) waiting for their turns to fly, and a pretty long queue in immigration!

Enjoying the upper deck of a JAL 747

As I found my bus towards the city, Airport Service to Tatuape, I remember being nervous about my things, and keeping a keen eye on everything around me while holding my bags close. This was because of a misconception I had of Brasil having just been exposed to films like City of God (Cidade de Deus) and Bus 174, but before the bus even reached its destination, I was quick to understand what a misconception it was and felt entirely comfortable with my setting and the people around me.

Initial Descent into São Paulo

I loved this sign from May’s Bun Carnival…a unique experience!

My ID: 14 October 1979; Fairfax Hospital; Falls Church, VA

My Initial Descent into the East Coast was certainly unique among all of my Initial Descents, because it was also my Initial Descent into Earth.

Tired after MyID

I was born in northern Virginia, smack dab in the middle of the East Coast. I don’t think anyone can honestly say they remember any details about their first few years, and the same goes for me. But according to the Baby Book my parents were so thoughtful to keep, it seems as though my first impressions of life on the East Coast were good—enough food, candy, cartoons, playgrounds and friendly neighbors to keep any kid happy.

Big Bro’s first look

But when it comes to the Initial Descent spirit of tracking people’s first impressions of a culture and the people they encounter within it, you’ll have to ask someone else when it comes to the East Coast. Or better yet, share your story—we’d love to hear it!

Christmas is one of the world’s most widely-recognized and celebrated holidays. From Europe’s Christmas markets to the USA’s holiday shopping frenzy, in some places it is difficult to walk down the street without knowing that Christmas is approaching. Nowhere, however, is Christmas a bigger deal than in the Philippines.

Here, you may start hearing Christmas carols as early as September, and you aren’t likely to see any Christmas decorations come down until the Feast of Santo Niño de Cebu on the third Sunday of January.

The peak of the Filipino Christmas season begins on December 16th, with Simbang Gabi. This term, meaning “night mass”, features daily pre-dawn masses from the 16th through Christmas Eve, a total of nine. It is believed that God grants the special wish of anyone who makes it to all nine.

In more devout parishes, these masses take place between 3:00am and 5:00am, although in some places (especially in Filipino-heavy parishes outside of the Philippines), the masses are held the preceding evening. Traditionally, attendees follow the mass by having coffee or hot chocolate along with traditional foods, such as bibingka (a cake made with rice flour and eggs) or puto bumbong (a sticky purple rice coated in brown sugar and coconut).

A poster advertising Simbang Gabi masses at a U.S. church