Based in Sydney, Australia, Foundry is a blog by Rebecca Thao. Her posts explore modern architecture through photos and quotes by influential architects, engineers, and artists.

Baggage Claim

"Your grandfather would call this 'hurry up to wait'" said my mom.

We were past Passport Control. But the baggage conveyor belt hadn't started up. What was the point. Stand in line there, or wait for forever here.

Baggage claim was small. Only three belts. One was moving. Maybe it was the luggage from that British Airways flight. There were the usual black suitcases. Maybe blue if you wanted to get really crazy. But then there were these bags that I'd never seen before. Red, white, and blue plaid bags. Or red, white, and green. Clearly made out of plastic. There were dozens of them on the belt. People pulled them off the belt and stacked them up on their luggage carts. They had no wheels. And no real way of carrying them that I saw besides two thin handles.  Really they looked like big plaid cubes stuffed full, and very heavy. Some bags were getting stuck and falling off the belt. Or getting pushed off by the rest of the luggage, I'm not sure which. Workers ran around rescuing the bags and putting them back on. Actually they weren't running, they were strolling casually. 

(In my old age, I now know that they're called 'Ghana Must Go' bags, and they come from the 80's when Nigeria expelled the resident Ghanaians).

Dad recognized someone.

"Dave," he said, "good to see you."

They shook hands. Everyone was introduced. There was a boy about my age, probably in my class. A girl a little older than my brother, and a boy a little younger. They had already been here for a year, but they'd lived in an apartment in the city. They were moving to the new compound just like us.

"Come to our house tomorrow. We're 17," the mother said.

"Sounds great!", my mom replied.

They left through the automatic doors. Their baggage had already come.  Our conveyor belt still hadn't moved.

"It is always like this?" I asked Dad.

"Just be patient," he said. 

"I've been patient," I said.

"Five more minutes. Maybe ten," Dad replied.

The waiting was boring. I was tired. I just wanted get in the van and go to our new house. I wanted to sleep. Even if it wasn't my bed yet. Why did everything have to take so long.

First morning

Passport Control