Air: ports and planes...

After now flying for what seems like a millions hours, and in reality is a whopping fourteen, I am finally in beautiful Mexico City! Leaving Oslo at seven in the morning, however, meant awaking at the early hours, beyond early really, at four am. But as I sit here, on my grandmother’s sofa, listening to her play the piano, I cannot help but feel that I am seven inches away from heaven. You see, my grandmother, aged ninety four, is in incredibly good health (knock on wood). Yes, her memory has started to go, but she does her exercises every morning, eats very VERY healthily, and most importantly, has tequila. Every day.

On the plane ride over, I sat in the luxury seats that I was graced with by BA, and felt every inch of my being tickle with excitement. I had intended to write about people at airports, but whilst at Heathrow I was so tired I couldn’t really focus on what was going on around me, (although, there was a very rude man who saw me through the security check. Poor fella’ I actually felt bad for him, because he bossed people around as if he was some sort of God, when he obviously had an inferiority complex. I smiled at him politely, and cursed him viciously under my breath (of course!) Flying with BA has always been so lovely. Especially when crossing the ‘pond’. Everyone is so polite. I was lucky enough to change my seat for one where I was the only one in the row. Heavenly. I do find it very amusing that the meal they served was a curry. I mean, how impractical?! The whole plane stank of curry! Now, I am not a great curry eater, due to my very sensitive disposition, but alas, I ate it. Every last piece of curry powdered chicken and dry rice. And then, oh yes, I ate desert too! I slept like a baby, and then watched some Julie Julia, a wonderful film, which made me hungry for something other than a curry. The sandwich that was served later on (coronation chicken….a theme?) was not satisfactory, but it was eaten. I felt that since money was spent on the ticket, I MUST eat the meal! Ridiculous, I know, nevertheless, how I felt.

When I finally arrived in Mexico, after flying for twelve hours from London, I was, as you can imagine, ‘pooped’. I had managed, however, to sleep on the plane so I wasn’t that tired. There is something soothing about sleeping in a plane, don’t you think? Especially if you have space to stretch your legs! I love waking up, and peeping out of my sleepy eyes, and seeing the clouds below, all white and poufy. I used to believe that planes flew above heaven when I was little, and would try and spot my grandparents. I have never told anybody this, so there you go. Wouldn’t it be nice if that was the case? That planes flew over heaven, and those you knew (lucky enough to be in heaven), would wave at you from afar, munching on bagels smeared in Philadelphia cheese, and eating ice cream. What I do not find soothing in a plane is going to the bathroom. Yes, you heard me, number two. The plane shakes and you feel that your last moment on earth (well in the air) is going to be sitting on an airplane toilet seat taking a shit (pardon my French). If the plane were to drop, would all the ‘matter’ in the toilet bowl fly up into your face? What if you lose your balance and have to steady yourself by accidentally placing your hands in the bowl?! Oh the horror! These are the distressing thoughts that I ponder as I sit there, wishing I could go, and so of course I don’t. When I was little I used to fear flushing the airplane toilet, because, let’s be honest, it sounds like a violent cookie monster is singing out of tune! Whilst eating what you have just gotten rid of! Horrific! For a child this can be traumatizing! In fact, it still scares me, and I never fail to jump a little when the horrendous flush bellows out of the jaws of the toilet throne.

I stepped off the plane, and for the first time in my life, I did not feel the altitude. Usually I feel it, I feel like I am about to faint! But not yesterday, I literally skipped off the plane, ready to commence what I know will be an important part of my life. I got my suitcases relatively quickly, despite being approached by a guy who was very nice to talk to. Very nice, until he asked for my email, or number. You know what? Why. Why did he have to go there! I was very clear that I was not interested, and he had to destroy our brief encounter by asking for my contact details! I am too emabressed to say no, so I gave him my email, knowing that I can always delete and block him. But, what does one do in those situatins I ask you? Just say no? But why? He was not a creepy man, he was just nice, and to be honest I am flattered that he was interested in me. Despite not being hansom, or especially interesting, it is flattering that someone finds you appealing isn’t it? One day I won’t be approached anymore, and people may even run away from me, weeping and screaming. So, I suppose I enjoy it whilst I can, no?

Anyways, I got through customs easily, and there was my uncle waiting for me with arms wide open! Off we drove home, and had a lovely ‘cena’ (evening meal) with my grandmother and cousins, simply divine! I awoke today with a broad smile on my face, and I feel at home.

I haven’t been out and about yet in the city, although I did walk with my grandma to the supermarket today to buy papaya. The weather is warm, everyone told me it would be cold, but as I am used to coming in the summer, the rainy season, I am used to the awful humid cold, now it is dry, and I love it! On the way to the supermarket we passed the fruit markets, and I waved at the ladies selling fruit. I love how gentle they are. How they know my grandma, how their plump little bodies fit carefully under the hand woven aprons, how they are missing a few teeth, and how they smile with their eyes.

I am off to eat tacos tonight.

All my love,

Aynanita