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.
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| My Pendant from nanna |
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
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 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.
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| 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.
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| 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.
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