Michelangelo sibyl from the Sistine Chapel

 

day one

Here I sit staring out at the top of the clouds. Besides the clouds I have no idea what lies beneath me. It might be Canada or it might be Michigan. I can't be sure.

Flying is still a magical experience for me. Only a hundred years ago, what I am doing now wouldn't have been possible. I can't understand how a person couldn't enjoy flying. Maybe if it was my job, it would lose its appeal.

I feel free. I am still me, but the usual things that define me aren't here. My job and house are far away.

I wanted adventure and I got some right in the very beginning of the trip. We sat on the runway for half an hour before we were cleared for takeoff. The plane that I was in was the smallest commercial flight I have ever taken. Only four seats to a row, two on each side of the aisle. There were only two rows behind me and I was in row eleven right by the wing. I love the surge of power when the plane takes off.

It seems odd to call myself a foreigner, but that is what I'll be for the next eight days. I am the stranger in a strange land and loving every minute of it. I am free from all responsibility. All that I have to do is observe and I have plenty to watch. I love the variety around me.

I find it hard to believe that I am the only person wearing headphones. When I went to California, multiple people were listening to music. Maybe it is simply an American thing.

Customs was something new to me. They herd us on to a tram and take us to a new buildng complete with maze. Then since I was motoring through the airport, I was first in line.

Then there was the good looking customs inspector being cute. I thought that since I was an American she wouldn't be helping me, but I was wrong.

 
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