Estimated departure time

I was watching the movie The Second best Marigold Hotel on the tiny screen of a Dragonair plane. It was the last of the flights of my long, long trip from Helsinki to Shanghai. In the movie, elderly European tourists were landing at their Indian retirement home, ready for the "final departure"  as was jokingly yet poetically said. I also  want to retire in India, that is for sure, I thought. After I just make this trip, and most propably some other trips too. Anyway, sitting there on the fourth day of traveling and wearing the same clothes the idea ot going back to something familiar was very soothing. 

Old, familiar, repeating. At some level I related myself to those old characters in the movie. During the three weeks I spent in Finland I had started thinking about getting an anti-age serum, the hottest thing on the cosmetic market as far as I know. I was testing the serums and even collecting different samples. It was weirdly fascinating. The plan was to enjoy the testing to the fullest and wait for the purchase until the airport and then. Leave the country with a little new.... something. And there I was in the plane,  with a bottle of that magical thing in my bag.

After leaving, I had spent two days at the Hong Kong international airport, as my connection flight and all the other  flights to Shanghai were canceled or delayed for unknown time for a reason no-one seemed to fully understand. Those two days were bizarre. I had nothing to do but to wait, walk around the corridors and do the things you can do at the airport. For one reason or another I kept returning to the same food counter to buy almost the same salad and sushi whenever I got hungry. Repeat, repeat. The serum advertisements kept haunting me, they were all over that airport as well. There would have been two unexpected extra days for choosing the right serum, making even a better decision, who knows.

The estimated departure time appeared over and over again on the big screens, being always far enough in the future. Like five hours. So you would think it's coming but there's plenty of time to enjoy the in-between place and kind of a parallel reality at where you were not supposed to be. Through the big waiting hall windows you cold see the mountains spreading  on both sides. How amazing is that! The view was attractive enough to make one think that the unexpected waiting time was something special.  

At some point the estimated departure time disappeared. Flight number, destination and then nothing. It was never a promise, but always just almost-a-promise. Then at some point it appeared again, and disappeared. 

At first all the delay didn't even bother me. At night I was sent to a very nice hotel in a taxi. It was too late to 
really enjoy the deal to the fullest but I have to say the hotel of the first night was pretty amazing. And when I was 
sitting in the taxi, I got to see something I otherwise would not have seen. Maybe I wouldn't have seen all that either, if staying in Hong Kong  would have been part of the travel plan. Unexpectedness can really open your eyes, for a while.  

All those hundreds and thousands of little windows of the big city buildings behind the taxi window. Each of them shining their own light, in a little different shades perhaps, looking like a nicely organized sea of pearls. In between waiting and getting frustrated I felt I was given some more extraordinary moments.  

By the next evening, the hopes of departure turned into tiredness and desperation. Hopes got bigger as the departure gate was also given, for the very first time during the whole delay circus. People got more and more restless, angry, rushing, even shouting. Everyone was ready to fly. Then the screen went empty again, estimated departure time changed to next morning. I started feeling devastated. Like a plane full of people was dropped out of the game and forgotten. 

Then through immigrations to a taxi again. Speciality got killed by repetition, the mind started taking over. Whereas  on the previous night I had been delighted to see the hotel, this time I felt like bitching about the service and facilities as the quality of this  hotel was not as high.  There was nothing wrong with this one either.  The shining little windows were still  there during the taxi drive, but instead of just admiring the beauty I heard my mind reminding how late it would be before I would hit the bed. I  already knew the driving time to the city center. And as I already knew or thought I knew, there was less space for wonder.   

Next morning I was flying again. Watching The Second Best Marigold Hotel. See, even the movie was a volume two. A hoped-to be a pleasant experience of something familiar. Oh, the balance between the old and the new. I opened the serum bottle in Shanghai. There was definitely magic in the air, but it was other kind of magic. It was the new territory kind of magic that no serum could ever beat. And I knew I would have plenty of time before anything in that place would feel old and usual.