The smell of socks and men’s cologne hangs in the air-conditioned room. Ten fluorescent bulbs dot the ceiling. Gray cement covers the floor except for a patch of carpet in the center, speckled by lavender and masala red triangles. The functional rug is suddenly pleasing amidst the room’s sparsity.
Where are the rosaries, copies of Al Koran, the Sudras on the wall? I ask.
I am alone. An engraved silver placard on the rug’s edge reads in Mandarin and English: This carpet is sterilized. On the other corner, another placard displays a compass denoting N-S-E-W for the faithful’s convenience. A small shower in the corner drips. Footprints evaporate on the cement, remnants of a recent pilgrim.
I shiver. The walls are stark white and slightly smudged. On one of them, someone has written the word Qibla and an arrow pointing to a phrase in Arabic. This post-modern house of worship is where I confess my sin. Here, in this room, I get religion on my layover.
The occasional jarring announcement startles me—for a gate change, or the last call to Bangkok or Budapest…in case I, the faithful, am too busy in prayer.
I grab my hangbags, Americano, and duty-free purchases. Outside, cell phones sing. Carryon wheels hum. The smoking room teems with passengers and fumes as I scurry to my gate.
photo by Chapman Chow on UnsplashP.S. If you’re itching to thoughtfully explore the world, check my video toolkit Pilgrimage to Any Country for Pennies. Here I lay out clear steps for how you can plan and create an affordable, meaningful international pilgrimage that can enrich your life and bless your own community.
