I’ve never been to Chicago, really. But my connection at the airport on my way back to Montreal from Asia was a complete 180 from my experience heading out through JFK in New York. At JFK I missed my connection thanks to the poor organization of the display monitors in the terminal where most of the American Airlines flights are located. Their partner airlines, however, don’t share the terminal but their flights are still listed on the display. Well, everything except the gate. So you wait and wait…and then all of a sudden the flight’s boarding in another terminal and you run and you there’s no way you’ll make it. And you end up sleeping in the JFK airport because American Airlines won’t put you up in a hotel since they refuse to admit it’s their fault. Japan Airlines, the partner airline in this case, rebooks you for free, though, and without a blink of the eye because it happens “all the time,” said the extremely helpful man.
All this to say I got to know JFK a little too well, à la Tom Hanks in The Terminal, and the massive airport is not a fun place to be.
At least Canada didn’t have a military coup. My beloved belle province of Quebec isn’t leaving anytime soon, and goodness knows the federal conservatives aren’t the type to get up in arms about anything if it involves effort…so I think I’m safe.
That was a very political paragraph for a yoga/gardening/organic/fermenter/pickler/tree-lover like me. I was planning on writing about yoga, wasn’t I?
Basically the last thing I expected to see after a day-long flight from Asia upon arriving back in North America was an urban garden.
What a miracle of hydroponics. It was so green! And the light coming in the giant windows. And the little shop selling all local snacks below:
And the food court with a Mexican restaurant that lists its purveyors. In an airport! And then…a yoga room.
I could have cried from joy. I could have jumped into Warrior 2 and then curled up into happy baby for life. The room is located on the second floor, on the far side of the balcony overlooking a large concourse.
It’s right next to the urban garden, of course, herbs from which are used in the restaurants below. Basil, parsley, sprouts, lettuces…all growing away.
I went into the yoga room and wondered where the cameras were. There are always cameras in airports. Who was going to be watching my bum in downward-facing dog? I figured it was some security guard’s lucky day, and only barely restrained myself from stripping to my sports bra. 30 minutes later I was stretched and re-invigorated like I hadn’t been in 2 days.
I sat down in the lounge area by the second floor garden, got on the wifi (which worked, if only for free for 15 or 20 minutes), and drank a green smoothie. So Chicago.
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