The Portal To Another World Sylvia Eze   © Copyright 2026 Sylvia Eze

Image by Armin Forster from Pixabay

I said, “Six.”

The reaction? Immediate interest. Eyebrows raised. Respect upgraded.

“Which ones?”

And I proudly began: “Paris, America, Nigeria, France, Britain…”

The person paused.

First of all, yes — I said Paris and France like they were separate countries. In my defense, when you’re excited, geography becomes optional. Confidence was high. Accuracy was… flexible.

Then the follow-up questions started.

“Oh really? What part of France did you visit? What did you see in Britain? Is Paris not in France?”

And that’s when it became obvious… I did not have the detailed travel-blog knowledge they were expecting. No charming café stories. No museum reviews. No “the locals were lovely.”

Here’s my argument, and I stand by it: if your feet touch the ground of a country, you have been there. Period.

Did I plan to explore France? No.

Did I intentionally tour Britain? No.

Did my flights end there, and did I physically step into the airport? Yes.

Then I have been there.

You cannot tell me otherwise.

The person disagreed with me, of course. Apparently, “connecting flights don’t count.” According to them, if you did not leave the airport and post a picture with a landmark, it does not qualify.

That disagreement disturbed me more than it should have.

Because in my mind, I have traveled. I have suffered jet lag. I have dragged luggage across terminals. I have converted currencies in my head like a human calculator under pressure. That should count for something.

So I did what any reasonable person would do.

I went to research the definition of travel.

I know this story is about a travel trip, and I believe that as long as you have moved from one geographical location to another, you have traveled. That was my philosophy. Very simple. Very confident.

But then I thought about it deeper. What exactly qualifies as travel? My mind immediately went to my airplane history. My boarding passes. My dramatic airport walks.

So I looked it up.

According to the Oxford Dictionary, and I quote: “Travel is the act of moving between distant geographical locations, whether for leisure, work, or personal reasons, often involving transportation like planes, trains, or automobiles.”

Now here is where things became complicated.

If travel involves transportation like planes, trains, or automobiles… then technically, my airport experiences count.

But if it does not involve transportation means, it does not count as travel — it is just a visit.

And apparently, transportation via legs does not qualify.

So if I walk across a border dramatically with confidence and determination… that does not count?

It still does not make full sense to me.

Are you telling me that if I sweat, struggle, and cross into another country on foot, it is not considered travel because I did not board something with wheels or wings?

The definition felt slightly biased against pedestrians.

But to be safe, and to protect my reputation, I decided to shift the focus of my storytelling.

Instead of arguing with geography experts, I decided to write about airports.

Because airports? Airports are my specialty.

Anyway, I’ve traveled to America several times, and yes, it’s beautiful. But I’m not even here to talk about landscapes or culture.

I’m here to talk about airports.

I love airports.

There is something dramatic about them. The moment you cross a certain checkpoint, it feels like a slogan should flash above your head: Point of No Return.

Technically, you can turn back.

But for students like me? After paying for that ticket? Emotionally, financially, spiritually — you are going.

Airports are fascinating because they tell you a lot about a country. I love walking around and observing what they sell. The shops, the brands, the souvenirs — it’s like a preview of the nation’s personality.

Some airports are quiet and efficient. Others are flashy and luxurious. Some look like they were designed by architects with unlimited imagination and budget. Others look like someone said, “Function first. Decoration later.”

Do I buy anything?

Absolutely not.

Airport prices are not for the weak.

You will see a wristwatch and perfumes priced like it has a master’s degree and five years of work experience.

Some shops will look at you and say, “Invest in me.”

The only thing I buy at airports is food.

And even that requires deep emotional negotiation.

I once got so tired of airplane meals — you know, the mysterious pasta with an identity crisis — that I decided I would outsmart the system.

I bought two shawarma wraps and cookies, thinking I was clever. I felt strategic. Prepared. Advanced.

Security said, “That’s cute.”

My snacks survived.

But my drinks and shawarma?

Confiscated.

Apparently, liquids are the true villains of aviation.

I stood there watching my drink get thrown away like a fallen soldier. We had plans. We had a future. And just like that — gone. Plus, my sister, she was disappointed that I did not check the TSA guidelines for what is and not allowed in the airport check points

Anyways, they are getting stricter.

Other than food, I rarely buy anything. But fancy airports? They make me smile.

Especially when they have free Wi-Fi.

Free Wi-Fi in airports has saved my life more times than I can count.

Times when I didn’t have a card that worked in foreign currency.

Times when my phone line refused to cooperate.

Times when my siblings were busy and I needed to text, “I have landed. I am alive.”

Free Wi-Fi deserves an international award.

Airports are also emotional theaters.

People are arriving.

People are leaving.

Some are crying dramatically like they are in a music video.

Some are hugging like they have returned from war.

Some are starting new lives.

Some are running away from old ones.

And then there is me.

Walking confidently through terminals.

Analyzing architecture.

Judging snack prices.

Calculating how many countries I can add to my list if connecting flights continue to count.

Because honestly, whether the geography experts agree or not, if I have endured the stress of boarding gates, security lines, and overpriced water…

In my heart?

I have traveled.

Also, if you are wondering why I have been to this many places, it is because I use different airlines: Delta, Air France, British airways and many more that I will add to my list: truly an international traveler. And until further notice, France and Britain are still part of the countries I have been to, visited or travelled to, whichever one it is.