Sleepless at the terminal

To the frequent flyer, especially those who need to catch board meetings or trade fairs in some other countries, airports are boring time traps that may spoil a lucrative opportunity. But for those who travel with less money but more time to spare during transits, they can be fascinating places to kill time.

I am one such scrimping traveler who does not usually fly for business, so I wouldn’t mind waiting at the crowded terminal for my next flight. The modern airport now tends to look like a hotel, shopping mall, and terminal all rolled into one.

In other words, while some may look more chic than others, today’s airports tend to look the same. Or at least, they provide more or less the same amenities like duty-free shops, dining areas, internet hubs, toilets with showers, drinking fountains, and chairs that double as beds.

With all these conveniences, I can survive staying at the airport for days if I have to, like in that Tom Hanks movie. I don’t mind sleeping on chairs or even floor, with only my jacket and backpack for bed roll. I can eat at noodle shops if I ran out of food from home that I’d earlier packed. A Thai artist friend, a more seasoned traveler, advised me to just bring cup noodles to be filled with free hot water from some kind restaurant staff.

Twice on separate trips to China, I had to wait for 24 hours in transit at the Hong Kong International Airport. The first time, I expected it to be like a descent to Dante’s Inferno. But with friendly ushers who speak English (albeit in the nasal Sino-Brit twang) and with the terminal’s free brochure that provides a map of the huge Y-shaped complex, I was able to navigate to the cheapest noodle shops, free internet hubs, bookshops, art exhibits, comfy reclining seats, and, of course, my waiting lounge.

The hopia, dried mangoes, peanuts, crackers and chocolate bars I packed from home proved handy as they spared me from having to spend around HKD 50 (around P300) for another bowl of noodles or a hamburger. I refilled my water bottle at the drinking fountains and washed myself with toilet soap and paper towels. But I never went as far as that Chinese guy who stripped himself to his briefs as he washed himself with a hand towel at the sink, not minding us at all in that semi-crowded toilet.

I free-read at bookshops, picked international newspapers left by travelers, watched CNN, and checked my email at the free internet hubs. The airport provides instant models of all racial types, interesting for life drawing study.

Once, I became so absorbed at my sketch of the bearded Indian guy in a typical turban in front of me that I didn’t realize he was staring a bit threateningly at me. So, I stopped and moved near a group of wealthy Italians. If I were aggressive, I could have showed them my sketchbook or offered to make another drawing for a small fee. But I was just as shy as my models.

Aside from public sculptures installed at the lobbies, HKIA also features exhibits of local contemporary art. Showing at that time were a sampling of porcelain sculptures, fashion and industrial design.

In Singapore’s Changi International Airport, I was drawn to a dancing light installation near the escalators. The airport’s design itself, its sleek metal and glass structure with lights carefully place to highlight their basic geometric form, makes me feel like I’m inside a gigantic modern art sculpture.

In Bali, a huge gateway in traditional architectural style welcomes travelers who just arrived at the tarmac. The airport itself is designed in traditional Balinese architecture with Hindu gargoyles and deities serving as décor. The comfort rooms have aquariums, flowers, and more images of the Buddha or Ganesh, the elephant-god. Folk music is piped in to all areas of the airport. There’s no mistake that one has arrived in a different culture.

But upon leaving Bali at the Denpasar International Airport, we found no seats at our gate so we had to sit or lie on the floor right next to the turnstiles manned by the security guard and airline staff who would announce boarding time by shouting.

No wonder it was listed along with the Philippines among the worst airports in Asia, according to a recent survey. Responding to the controversy, all that the authorities of the Ninoy Aquino International Airport could say was that airports were not places to sleep to begin with.

But more than the lack of sleeping areas or hygiene in the toilets, our inhospitability continues the moment you step into a taxi, even if it’s the official airport cab. Local travelers too are not spared by the abusive and dishonest drivers.

No comfy reclining seats with dimmed lights are provided for travelers at Philippine airports but authorities are allowed to sleep on their job.