Thoughts From 30,000 Feet

3:30am Tuesday 30th October 2012

I am not a particularly religious person as those among you who know me can affirm. But I sometimes find prayers, psalms or scripture has the right sort of sentiment and says what you want a lot better than you ever could. It is comforting somehow. Perhaps because of the presence religion played in my childhood I don't find it intimidating or infuriating just because my philosophy is not totally compatible with any one part of it. This is why my grandmother’s gift of a pendant of St Christopher, protector of travellers, now lies under my clothes, suspended on a pearly white piece of that plastic wrapping ribbon which curls up when you pull it along a blade.

My Pendant from nanna

 Perhaps this is also why, as I embark on this epic journey I whisper this mantra under my breath:

O God, You called Abraham Your servant out of Ur and kept him safe and sound in all his wanderings. If it is Your will, protect Your servants. Be for us a support when setting out, friendship along the way, a little shade from the sun, a mantle against cold and rain, a crutch on slippery paths, and a haven in shipwreck. Bear us up in fatigue, and defend us under attack. Under Your protection, let us fulfil the purpose for our trip and return safe and sound to our home. Amen

Soooooo if anyone fancies doing all those things for me that would be great. Let me know in the comments section :D

13:00pm (or 15:00- more on that later)

The plane is rammed. I think it is because they have amalgamated the flight from yesterday and this morning's into one. I have been on this plane for a couple of hours and it's now just coming up to 1pm. But my day started far earlier than that.

I woke up at 3:30am and, having debated its merit for a few days, Brian decided he would join Joseph and I on the ride to the airport. I had been worried that if he came I would loose my bottle and make a scene, but actually the morning passed relatively serenely.

I had a little panic when at the check-in desk the woman at the counter said that since I was traveling to Madagascar for longer than 90 days I was supposed to have acquired a visa in advance. After extended deliberations between various members of staff they decided this was not the case after all and let me on the flight. I am still a little nervous though that I will encounter such issues when we land, but I guess we shall have to see. When I told me dad about this concern on the phone before takeoff he gave me my final goodbye prezzie: a new word. He says it was made up by Susan Sarandon and refers to the feeling when the world is on your side and you feel like everything will work out fine. The word is  'pronoia', like the opposite of paranoia, and my dad says I should swap my predilection with the latter for an effort toward the former which is much more appropriate to my own experiences.

  

Do not think it is an accident that I have skimmed over recounting my goodbyes this time. Brian and Jojo came to wave me off, and for that I am so gratefull, but I will not risk making a scene on the plane by hashing over this memory now and getting all morose. Instead I will fill you in on more pragmatic aspects to my journey thus far.

The flight to Paris was relatively uneventful, although I did sit next to an adorable 6 year old girl on her way to Disneyland who was quite entertaining. At Paris CDG my flight transfer went smoothly and I arrived at my gate just in time for boarding. I wanted to break big money into small so I bough a bottle of water, a packet of gum and a small tower of macaroons... all in different shops... all with 50 Euro notes. Not the most popular girl in the airport after that but hey ho.

My snacks made me unpopular at the airport

 The plane is one of those big ones with three rows of seats and I am in the middle row in the left hand isle. I happen to have sat in a seat where the headphones won't plug in so I have no access to the Air France in-flight entertainment, but I have plenty of my own so I won't complain.

The overhead lockers caught my attention before takeoff- the handles sort of pull the compartments down out of the ceiling of the plane, rather than opening a kind of cupboard like in the ones I am used to. I am sure this is to save space but it seems to be wildly impractical to me. The nature of the system means that when the flight attendants (air hostesses? cabin crew? I am sure I am being frowned at for political incorrectness here as I can't remember which is right) have to close the overhead compartments they are pushing all the weight held therein back up into the ceiling. Needless to say this was more than a struggle and they kept having to ask strong looking gents in the adjacent seats to help them push. It would have been funny if it weren’t so bizarre. It also means that when you undo the catch the weight of the baggage within propels the compartment down toward you threatening to slide its contents on top of you. Weird. Anyway I am trying to avoid having to open one of these monsters mid-flight to save from decapitating anyone or having to suffer the embarrassment of not being able to shut the bloody thing, but with VISA application forms on their way and my passport and vital info in my bag I know this time is fast approaching.

I have finished my lunch which I have to say was delicious. I am aware you are not meant to admit that about airplane food but nevertheless is was lovely. There were also 4 courses of it, including a pasta salad, followed by chicken in a sort of sweet and savory marinade with mixed grains and pulses, then there were two perfect French bread buns with posh butter and camembert cheese and an apple custard pastry with coffee. This came with a bottle of French Merlot, which I had a taste of but largely avoided. I felt strangely as though the meal was medicinal and that I should eat it all up like a good girl to avoid getting fatigued, dehydrated or grumpy on the plane.

Yummy plane lunch

  

Lunch was served at 11:50am, which got me thinking about the strange nature of time on these flights. Although I immediately thought that ten to twelve was quite early for lunch, it could just have easily have been ten to two in the afternoon (as it was in Madagascar). I wonder how they work these things out on these long flights.

This all got me musing a little too much about how my watch dictates my behaviors nowadays, drowning out any small protests from my body. It is the hands of the clock which dictate when I wake, eat, venture out, or attempt sleep. These thoughts remind me of all those research experiments we studied in psychology where scientists locked participants, and sometimes themselves, in sensory deprivation chambers or caves and such like to explore the return of the endogenous pacemaker when exogenous zeitgeibers have been abandoned (correct me if I am wrong colleagues- I seem to have these phrases imprinted on my memory but they could equally easily be referring to some kind of medical implant or German pastry).

Anyway. After a few of those musings I decided to give up and read my book for a bit to distract myself from my own head. What I really want to do is watch Men In Black 3 or Snow White and The Huntsman like everyone else but I don't want to complain about my media center not working. The next best thing would be to get my laptop out and watch something of mine but that would entail an encounter with the deadly overhead baggage compartments and I haven't quite steeled myself to that yet... Sooooo another chapter of my book it is... or maybe a nap... 3 hours 15 minutes down, another 7 1/2 hours to go.

The book I am reading- not loving it, got to be honest.

15:15 (or 17:15)

How, but how is it only just quarter past whatever bloody time it is. Surely watch is not working?!? Surely I am dreaming and we are nearly there!?! Surely... oh bugger. Wish my media center worked now. Though still not desperate enough to forage for laptop.

Ps. Every now and again they come round with these tiny cups and pour you some water, then return a couple of minute later with a tray and you drop your cup back in it. Feels even more like refreshments are strange medicinal preventatives... keep imagining them breaking into 'A Spoon Full of Sugar' as they smile at you over the Evian bottles. Hmmmm... I must be getting tired.

17:44 (or 19:44)

My Bluetooth isn't working to connect my keyboard to my tablet. It has really frustrated me and I'm not entirely sure why. Perhaps its due to the fact that I don’t understand technology and therefore have no idea what to do if things go wrong so I frustrate myself by repeating what SHOULD work but I am already aware des not, leaving me infuriated at both the machine for not working and myself for personifying stupidity by perpetually repeating the same action and expecting a different outcome. Plus now I m truly bored and really sad my TV doesn't work. Too much time in my own head is both tiring and disconcerting. It's why I leave the TV or radio on when I'm alone, even when studying which people never understood. If there is nothing to distract me from myself I'll never get anything done. Better when I'm busy that’s me. A ruminator. Hmph.

There is an article in the Air France magazine written by our very recently replaced French Ambassador to Malta, Daniel Rondeau, who wrote a book in French about Malta as he approached his departure. I bought the book but it'll be a while before my French is good enough for that. Anyway, there are photos of the island plastered all over the cover as well as across 15 or so inside, accompanied by gushings about how wondrous my homeland is. Is this there to comfort or taunt me? Back to daddy's paranoia vs pronoia question again I guess...

I'm hungry. I really hope the feed me again soon. I've seen people with sandwiches but I think you have to go to the back of the plan to get them... people seem to be milling.

Have suddenly come to the realization that this is why I am angry- I'm hungry. I'm like an infant still; hungry, tired, cold or over-excited and I soon feel the gloom. Hmmm... Might venture to the back of the plane after all...

Thoughts From Malta International Airport

I was awake before my alarm this morning. Staring into space in the dark waiting for the buzzer. We were early to the airport, i always am, arriving at around 6am but my flight was delayed till 10am. I feel a bit nauseous, too much coffee and not enough sleep. Dad and I wandered round the bookshop together until he had to leave for work. I almost wish I had got the bus because the last goodbyes at the airport are just the worst and my tummy churns. In Malta airport you say goodbye at the entrance to the security que, like in most places I guess. Except that here, after you have been through security you have to go up an escalator past the check-in desks to get through to the departure lounge. As the escalator climbs there is always that moment when I wonder if my mum or dad has waited for me to go through the secirity checks and is standing, looking sad and small, holding on for a last wave and smile. Dad was there this morning holding his Madagascar Lonely Planet and waving. That made me cry so I walked through the duty free all weepy with a lump in my throat trying not no catch the eye of any of the spritzing perfume ladies.

Daddy waiting for the last goodbye

I always feel a bit odd when i leave the island, and being on the cusp of this next adventure and not knowing when I will be back makes it worse. It is like there is a tough old piece of elastic which connects the pit of my stomach to the yellow limestone and when you try and leave it pulls back and gives you a tummy ache. When I was 16 and I left Malta I had grown bitter and angry, a typical teenager pushing back against a small, traitional community, determined to never return. Needless to say as I have grown my feelings toward my home have changed and leaving the saftey, security and comfort of the island now feels like taking that one last deep breath before you dive off the ciffs, just hoping that you'll hit the water safely and surface for air on the other side.

I know dad will be sad at work today and everyone wil wonder why he is being grumpy and snappy. And mum will go about her day with Pierre and be thinking of me and wondering if I have gotten on the plane yet, whether i have landed, if I have got on a tube all right at the other side. Their heaviness is in such contrast to the excitment I feel from Brian who will be jiggling his legs under his work desk, knowing that when he gets home later i will have already let myself in, unpacked and started thinking about dinner. It makes me feel better to think about what I am going to rather than what i am leaving behind this morning... I only hope I feel that way next Tuesday when it's him I am leaving and an expanse of unknown before me. I'd better swat up on all the lemurs that have their cute fluffy babies this month in Madagascar so i will have something to visualise the plane moving towards next week. Maybe I should print some pictures out... funny ones to look at if I get weepy. I hate crying in confined public spaces like planes, it just makes everyone so intensly uncomfortable.

Talking of lemurs, mum and  I went to see Madagascar 3 yesterday in 3D. We went at 2:15pm and it was being shown in the biggest screen of the cinema complex, the one with over 370 seats, and mum and I were the only 2 people in there. Mum kept forgetting and when I said something she'd look around worridly in the dark and shush me. It was her first 3D film and i wish I had recorded her. Every time something flew through the screen she'd yelp or duck. One time she jumped and put her hands up near her face but she was holding the popcorn so it flew into the air and all landed on the floor and seats of the row behind- thank goodness we were the only ones there! I don't know if the film was really that funny or if it was mum and her cinema antics but I didn't stop laughing for 2 hours, much needed for us both i think.

Mum in the cinema- before she spilled the popcorn

I am feeling like a propper techy as I write this blog actually, I am still waiting to board the delayed flight and I am using my new tablet (a nexus 7 from google) and a tiny bluetooth keyboard my uncle recommended to make typing easier (i hate the touchscreen keyboards). I know that technology is becoming the enemy of human interaction in many ways but more and more recently it has become my friend, a lifeline to myself. My aunt and uncle bought me a mac as a present for graduation and for using while i am away. Betweem that and this tablet thing I have not only got my skype, emails and now this blog, which make me feel so much closer to those I love, but also lots of e-books, films and series which can keep me company on those nights when I really feel lonely and have no interest in struggling to make small talk in my pigeon French at some cafe or bar. Who could ever fee lonely or sad when the entire expanse of Downton Abbey, The Big Bang Theory ahead of them or feel scared while being lulled to slepp by the lyrical tones of the one and only Sir David Attenborough.

Haha, this has turned out to be quite long. Points for all those who have reached the end. Struggling to decide who this blog is for now really, those of you who asked to be kept up to date while i am away of myself, as some wierd kind of personal therapy. Wonder if everyone has the internal monologue which follows me around all the waking hours of the day, and some non-waking ones too!

Thoughts Toward a Blog

Hello all, my name is Christina Lejman and I presume most people reading this blog are going to be my friends and family, in which case this first blog is probably going to be a bore. For all those who happen upon this and do not know the background to my story, here it is.

I am 24 years old and was born on the mediterranean island of Malta. My father is from Aberdeen and my mother is Maltese, although she was brought up in London. I lived and completed my schooling in Malta until I graduated senior school at 16, at which time I did my A-Levels in London. Since then I have become interested in the field of International Development and in pursuit of this I have worked in South East Asia, Cambodia to be precise, in an HIV orphanage and witht he associated medical ward as well as in Malta with refugees, including a 6 month internship with the UNHCR. In September I graduated from my MSc in International Development from the University of Bath in England and since then I have been preparing for this next great adventure... I will be moving to Madagascar to begin my first post-graduation job as the director of a new orphanage being set up by an NGO Foundation associated with my family. But this blog is not technically going to be about the orphanage, although I am sure it will work it's way in there, but about my transition to Madagascar and my own daily life, in order to respect the organisation with which I am working.

So to that end it is Sunday 21st October and I am sitting in my father's house in Malta, preparing to return to London on Tuesday to pack up my life, kiss my boyfriend and the rest of my family and friends goodbye and next Tuesday, the 30th October, I will officially become a resident of the 4th largest island in the world, off the South East coast of Africa. 587,041 square kilometers, population over 17 million, GDP per capita $800 (as opposed to $25,500 for the UK and $36,300 for the U.S.) and now the proud host to one over excited, terribly nervous and decidedly eccentric young woman with an obsession with wildlife and a passion for new experiences.

Here is to hoping some of you will join me on my journey of exploration through all the new sights, sounds, tastes and experiences of an fresh ex-pat in one of the best loved but least known countries on the planet!

Welcome to my blog, long may it survive (largely of course dependent on my motivation and the state of Malagasy internet).

PS here is a photo of me before I leave, it is one that was taken in Malta this trip out and so is very recent. That way you don't get a shock when you see me crop up in any photos or videos I expose you to from now on.