Sylvia's Journal

I lost all track of time of day as I hop scotched in 6-hour flight segments across the globe in an easterly direction, swallowing whole hours at a time. I have to take pills at bedtime but I can’t figure out what is bedtime. This is when you realize that time is an abstract and fluid concept and not the hard and unbending resource I take it for, sometimes obsessively, when I am at home, fixed in one time zone. It’s my second night in a plane. Or is it actually night? Dubai airport is as busy as any downtown at lunch hour, with people from all corners of the world carting their heavy (too heavy) hand luggage around and accumulating ever more ‘Win 1.000.000 (somethings)” filled plastic bags that entice you to buy raffles for a fancy car that you can touch right there in the duty free shopping area – as if there is much duty in this part of the world (no personal income tax and, as advertised, the lowest tax rates in the world).

I passed through Holland incognito, apologies, I did not call anyone. I will do that on my way back. I was trying to get into the mood for my next assignment which is a little loose, the final agenda not quite established. It’s a ‘winging it’ sort of assignment I’ve decided when the preparations didn’t quite do the trick.

The plane to Dubai was half full, as the one to Amsterdam was. Still, it was my luck to be in one of the few rows that had three people squeezed together, a huge man in between me and a grandma from Vancouver. He asked for an aisle seat which he got promptly (and to our great delight). His big arms had spilled over our common arm rests; eating our dinner would have been tricky for all three of us.

Grandma Vancouver is visiting her daughter, husband and their two year old child and is excited about having the toddler to herself for two full weeks. I am sure mom is also excited about that. Being in Dubai, in a warm place is a bonus; Vancouver has been unusually wet and snowy this year. It’s a nice winter escape, 68 degrees as we land at about midnight.

The flight to Dhaka was full in economy class and all I could get was business class (sigh!). The best part of this is access to Emirates terminal 3 business class lounge which is a city in itself, serving elaborate meals, cooked freshly by chefs you can see at work behind glass. There is Lebanese mezze, poached and smoked salmon, pastries, finger sandwiches and even a real restaurant to take your plate to, and never a bill presented (and all this in the middle of the night). I had to wait three hours before boarding my flight to Dhaka which is scheduled to leave about 4 AM. I killed the time with a shower, blogging (there’s so much to write about), dinner, reading the New Yorker from cover to cover and watching people. I find it a bit more difficult to make up stories here, especially about the women who are entirely wrapped up, giving me no clues about a possible story.

I am frontloading my blog. I have no idea whether I will have any access to the internet after we take off from Dubai; hence the three entries in 24 hours and then possibly nothing for a while.