Speaking the Language of Home

Information: I currently work as a passenger service agent in a North American international airport.

I speak a few languages. Mandarin is my official mother-tongue, but I am more comfortable with English. I learned French for five years and have recently picked up some Korean from the sheer amount of their dramas and variety shows I've watched during the past three years. In Japanese, I know that "fragile items" are called "kowaremono".

Today was my first day as arrival-in-charge in training. My OJT trainer is a seasoned arrival-in-charge agent; he grew up in Hong Kong, went to college in Japan, worked in Hong Kong for years and is now working as a Japanese/Mandarin agent for an heritage Asian airline in North America. Thanks to his help, all wheelchair passengers were cared for, all unaccompanied minors were picked up, all bags were accounted for. Despite my nerves, the first two hours of my shift went by quickly and smoothly.

Back at the boarding gate, another arrival agent and I were conducting passport checks. Today's gate had glass walls around the waiting area and only one access point. Standing by that door, the two of us were able to toll 99% of our passengers.

One gate down was another Asian airline's flight, departing at around the same time as ours. It was usually rather easy to differentiate between our passengers; the main ethnicities matched the nationalities of each airline. As my colleague and I were discussing the adorableness of our passenger's baby, a man rounded the corner into the corridor of our two airlines. 

He strolled by, waving his hand, "Wo shi Han guo ren..." and walked towards our neighbouring gate.

I chuckled and replied, "Annyeonghaseyo!"

He laughed in surprise and left. I turned my head back toward my gate, and did a mental double-take.

A Korean man, in a Canadian airport, says to an agent of a Japanese airline, in Mandarin, that he is Korean.

It is so awesome to be in such a comfortable environment, where everybody brings their heritage to share and everybody understands each other, somehow. It's the feeling of crowding with friends before a hotpot or a bucket of fried chicken. I treasure this feeling a lot; it's still rare and less-than-complete in this world, but it's a little more abundant in the airport. At this intersection of cultures and languages, purposes and dreams, time zones and time, hugs and handshakes; I contently sip my Iced Capp, knowing that, above differences, we are all just trying to get home.

And as long as Earth is home, we're all getting there. 

for reference: OJT = On-the-job training

"Wo shi Han guo ren"  = "I am Korean" in Mandarin, pin-yin'd (romanized)

"Annyeonghaseyo" = "Hello" in Korean

Iced Capp = blended coffee-slush drink of choice of most employees at our airport, sold at the chain's five locations in the terminal