My ID:  7:40pm, Saturday, 11 August 2007:  Doha International Airport

Qatar Airways flight QR52 from Washington-Dulles

My Initial Descent into the Middle East came by way of Doha, Qatar. Sent by my employer of the time for a business meeting, I wasn’t really sure what to expect on the other end of my 14-hour flight. I knew I was excited—a kind of excitement I had not felt since my Initial Descent into Asia a few years earlier. The feeling of embarking on a new adventure in a place completely opposite to everything familiar to me.

Qatar landscape

I remember following the course of the flight on my in-seat map, and noticing (as it would turn out later, in both directions) that we avoided flying directly over Iraq. I wondered if it was still some fallout of the political confrontation started by the United States. I remember looking down as we descended below the clouds and seeing nothing but yellow sand, stretching in every direction into eternity. I remember popping over a glowing sea of blue as we approached Doha, and seeing half-constructed buildings sprouting out of the desert like pine trees against the edge of the water below. And then I remember being on the ground.

The Doha skyline against the water

Doha skyscrapers sprouting like new trees

Funneling out of a massive, state-of-the-art 777, into a little bus, it felt like the airplane I had just flown on came from the future and the airport I was now walking into came from the past (this is very soon to change, as New Doha International Airport nears completion). I began to sweat immediately upon feeling the August desert heat (my boss had warned me about this), and followed the queue into a glowing white immigration hall. After clearing customs and collecting my duffel bag, I will never forget walking around the corner into the Arrivals hall and being met with a wall of men—all men—all dressed exactly the same. The men were different colors—some very light, some very dark, and some in the middle—but all were dressed in white robes and sandals, with headdresses that were either white or red and white. If I didn’t know I was in a different world from the view out the window upon landing, I definitely knew I was now.

Qatar Airways 777-300ER

My ID:  3:32pm, Friday, 23 January 2009:  O.R. Tambo International Airport (Johannesburg)

South African Airways flight SA208 from Washington-Dulles

Not for the faint of heart (or tall people in economy class)

Fresh off a 19-hour journey from Washington, DC, my first thought upon entering the terminal building at Tambo Airport was: “Shit, I can’t believe I left that in the overhead.”  As usual with me, I left something in the overhead bin, only realizing it after I had deplaned.  This time, it was something of sentimental value to me—my favorite knit hat.  (See below).  With a standby staff ticket, I could have transferred immediately over to Johannesburg’s domestic terminal for my the 7:30pm flight to Cape Town.  Instead, I gave up my seat on that flight and took my chances on a later one, trying in vain to get a hold of the crew, lost and found, and ground service staff of South African Airways to see if there was any way to reclaim the had I had worn every winter day for about 5 years.  I didn’t expect South Africa to be the most organized of countries to assist with such a loss, and when the first customer service agent laughed at my inquiry as to where the cleaning crew would turn it in, I knew I was really in South Africa J…Fortunately, it was just a hat.  I couldn’t wait to lay eyes on Cape Town, and my imagination ran away with the thought of how many lions, tigers and hippos my path would cross at 35,000 feet along the way…

Greeting everyone at the O.R. Tambo baggage claim

The hat I sadly lost in JNB in one of its better days

My ID:  3:28pm, Monday, 29 December 2008:  Beijing Capital International Airport           

Dragonair flight KA908 from Hong Kong

I had been to Hong Kong before, so my Initial Descent into China wasn’t completely foreign to me. But  yet while Hong Kong has a very international, Western feel, I expected Beijing to be much different. I remember being nervous upon walking to the immigration queue. In hindsight, the only reason was because of the Chinese government’s strict reputation and the hassle I had to go through to obtain my one-year, multiple-entry visa from the USA.

Minutes after arriving in Beijing, I realized that this country was serious about its modernization plan (the airport was immaculate), and that everything I had heard about the Olympics earlier in the year—from the facilities to the technology—was accurate. It was also a much more diverse city than I expected, with expats living here from all around the world. This was an example of how many preconceptions I had gathered, now I had to let them go to enjoy this place to the fullest.

My ID:  8:21am, Saturday, 03 October 2009:  Brisbane International Airport

Etihad Airways flight EY470 from Singapore

With sunshine reflecting off of royal blue Moreton Bay below, my Initial Descent into Australia was as beautiful and lush as I had expected it to be. Everything I had heard about this country was about its natural, physical beauty, and based on this first foray, I was not disappointed.

Customs, on the other hand, was a different story. Besides being just a few customs agents sitting in a room full of desks, leaving for an impossible queue, the authorities seemed intent on checking half of the bags coming through the hall. I had always thought Australians to be laid back and easygoing, which is perhaps why I didn’t expect the customs process to be more of a hassle than some of the US airports I’m used to, including New York City’s JFK or Los Angeles International. But that’s what I was dealing with, and I would find out within the next few days that my expectation of laid back and easygoing wasn’t really accurate even beyond the confines of a stuffy immigration hall.

Nevertheless, with a bright sun pasted atop a clear blue sky, I was happy to be in the Land Down Under for the first time!

MyID:  11:52pm, Monday, 29 August 2005:  Bangkok Don Mueang International Airport

Cathay Pacific flight CX709 from Hong Kong

As I embarked upon my Initial Descent into Thailand, I knew little else besides the fact that everything was going to be cheap. I just didn’t realize how cheap. When I landed at Don Mueang Airport (which was “BKK” before Suvarnabhumi Palace opened up a few in 2006), I was surprised at the ease of which I found my bus (which cost me all of $1.50 into the town), and of course the golf course that lied between the runways (literally—I couldn’t believe it still existed in the post-911 days).

Upon checking into my $20-a-night hotel, I realized that I had gotten exactly what I had paid for—a cheap hotel. But when I walked down the street to the Holiday Inn, which itself was still less than $100 a night—and five star—I figured I’d do it better the next time I came.

Those trees in the middle really are a golf course!

My ID:  7:46am, Monday, 03 June 2002:  Schiphol Airport

EasyJet flight EZY862 from Edinburgh

The first thing I noticed as my EasyJet flight from Edinburgh began its approach into Schiphol Airport was the sheer mass of the Port of Rotterdam, one of the world’s biggest and busiest container ports.  Having always been interested in transportation and logistics, I imagined where each of the containers below—just orange and blue specks—had been a few weeks earlier and would be in another few weeks.  A few minutes later I was walking through cavernous Schiphol trying to figure out how to get to Amsterdam, where I would first set foot around 8:30 on a lazy Tuesday morning.

After arriving at Centraal Station, I made a beeline for the most fascinating and surreal target on my list—the Red Light District!  I remember being shocked that some of the girls were “open for business” at all, being about the least social time of the entire week.  I didn’t have the best feeling, based primarily on my romantically idealized preconceived notions heading in, and I made haste to see target No. 2—Anne Frank’s House.

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:  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.