“Welcome to the Canary Islands, Miss Frazier.”

With a folder of documents, I boarded a flight to Madrid, Spain just a week ago. Upon arrival, it was clear how amazing our flight really was - the entire international terminal was closed and empty. Eerily empty. I was the first person off the plane, and let our small group of passengers through the massive halls of gates with no people or planes nearby. We boarded an airport tram that was completely empty, and exited into another massive hall, with one person at the ended announcing something to us in Spanish. I watched everyone around me pull out their phones or paper from their bags; I clutched my papers, hoping I had the right one they were about to ask for. We all went up an escalator and continued on through empty passageways. There was the EU citizens entrances to our right. I watched as almost our entire flight pulled their red passports and scanned them quickly and walked through. I and another family glanced at one another; we were the only non-EU travelers. We started to wonder together, unable to understand one another languages. Finally, we turned a corner and someone was waiting for us. We showed our passports to them and they pointed us to an unusual sight for customs. No lines, just empty rows blocked off for zig-zag lines that didn’t exist. We cut through to the two stations open. They both sat up from leaning back and sipping their coffee. I felt a little sweaty-palmed. This was it. I handed over my passport and yellow fever card…. STAMP and “Thank you.” That was it. No questions… no need for all the letters in English and Spanish in my hand. I was in. I was stunned. I’ve never been first in line at customs, let alone the only person in line. Then there was a row of tables. My temperature checked, my health QR code scanned, and my negative covid test within 72 hours of arrival looked over twice. Then we were all released into the domestic terminal of the airport. Finally, other travelers! One cafe con Leche and chocolate croissant later, I was set for my gate. As always, reminded of how well Europeans dress generally and especially for travel. My sweaty American self dawned in leggings and an oversized Yankees T-shirt and sneakers.

I feel like the last flight of any trip is the most boring. Thankfully I had the whole row to myself and was able to plug my phone in to charge. The meal was amazing. Three hours into our flight, we started to see more than blue waters below! Prepare yourself for the most beautiful “plane window” shots I may ever have to present on this blog. As we flew lower we circled the island, and it was amazing. Once in the airport, we were all asked for our QR code and covid test results again. Then we were all released into the baggage claim. Waiting and waiting and waiting. 45 minutes later everyone had gotten their suit cases but myself… The belt kept going round, but nothing came out. I started getting pretty nervous. I knew someone was outside waiting for me outside, and now I had to file a lost baggage claim. Right as I was walking towards my airlines desk, my blue suitcases came up the ramp. What a relief!!! Now, all three pieces of luggage in tow, I headed out of baggage claim. I glanced around looking for signs with “Mercy Ships” or “Emily Frazier” on it. I’ve never actually been picked up with my name on a sheet of paper, so I was curious as to how it all works. I finally saw a man glancing through tinted windows into baggage claim, clearly in a uniform, and holding a sheet of paper. I walked over and he saw me before I got to him. “Miss Fraizer?” “Yes! Thats me”

“Welcome to the Canary Islands, Miss Frazier!”

And we were off in a van, separated by masks and plexiglass. We talked about growing up, in Spain and I in Turkey. We talked about the Canaries and his past couple decades here. He asked me about my coworkers and the ship. It was around a 40 minutes drive, since I flew into the North Tenerife Airport.

And then I saw it! The ship… to be continued.