The real revelation that I’m heading back to Mongolia always hits me as I arrive at my gate at Incheon Airport. The global nature of the travelers passing through Seoul immediately narrows. Rounding the corner to my gate I’m greeted by the familiar sibilance that’s characteristic of the Mongolian language. It’s a language that, like so many aspects of the country, can feel harsh at first.
During the very early stages of the ongoing pandemic, I set out to capture Airport Blvd—6.6-miles of pavement that intersects a large swath of greater East Austin, passes through an airport turned mixed-used development, and across I-35 where it comes to an end.
It’s one of many corridors in a sprawling, Southern city—a city in which access to transportation becomes a prerequisite to accessing employment, food, health care, education, and entertainment.
