Monday, January 27, 2020

Day 1 - Departure

It’s been a long time since I’ve set off on a trip like this.
     No, I take that back.  I’ve never taken a trip like this before and I’ve taken a lot of trips in my long lifetime.
     I’m off around the world.
     I’ve had to get three visas.  Vietnam and India I could do on-line, but for the Chinese one I had to send my passport to D.C.  That was a white-knuckle moment.  What if it gets lost in the mail, coming or going?  But it’s delivered a long week later.  As my friend Melinda would say, “Thank you, Jesus!”
     There have been omens, both good and bad.  The last night in my own bed, I dream of my beloved Jean (John), who died 36 years ago, changing my entire future.  I haven’t dreamt of him in ages.  I hope it’s not a sign that I’ll be meeting him soon in the Great Beyond.  After all, there are fifteen flights on this circumnavigation of the globe.
     On the good omen side, at the airport the bottle of water I buy costs exactly the amount of change in my pocket.  I’m on a roll!

Now I sit at the gate, waiting for the first of those fifteen flights.  Behind me a young couple with a two-month old baby.  The dad takes my photo, with my gear, to immortalize this moment.  I have a carry-on and a small backpack... and that’s it for 1½ months of this two-month trip.  (When I reach Paris, I have clothes at my apartment there.)  Meanwhile there will be much hand laundry in hotel bathroom sinks.  But better that than me going to one destination and my bag to another, because I won’t be anywhere long enough for it to catch up with me before I set off to my next stop.
     I’m excited and scared at the same time.  And it’s time to board at Detroit Metro, an airport I know well.  I won’t see another I’m used to until Paris the last day of November.
     Bon voyage.  And fingers crossed.

*****

One flight down; fourteen more to go.
     I watched the flight tracker as we crossed the continent in the last part of the flight from Detroit, the names of the towns the airborne version of the lyrics from “Route 66".  “Gallup New Mexico, Flagstaff Arizona, don’t forget Winona, Kingman, Barstow, San Bernadino.”  Now I’ll have that earworm for hours as I wait for Flight Two:  to Tahiti.
     Because so far I’m only in L.A.  The sky was a vivid red at sunset, seen from the plane window.  Probably all the forest fires.  We landed at 7:30 and it was already pitch black, which is strange because at 7:30 back home it’s still a bit light, as we’re at the very western edge of the time zone there.
     I enjoy being vertical again, so I walk to the international terminal... a short walk, and outdoors.  I’m not shy about asking my way.  I have four hours between flights but still... getting lost would be counterproductive.
     When I find the right counter, it’s not open yet.  In line I talk with two Tahitians - complete with ukuleles (in their cases) - who have flown all the way here to spend ten days in Vegas!  Not on my bucket list.
     Finally, as I sit in the boarding area and wait, the names of destinations coming over the P.A. system sound strange to my ear.  I’m used to hearing Rome, Paris, London, even Tel Aviv.  Now it’s Auckland, Manila, Sydney, Bangkok and... Tahiti.  That’s me!  I’m off to the opposite side of the world from my usual stomping grounds.

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