Ready To Hop Across The Pond
Trip Start
Sep 14, 2007
1
2
Trip End
Sep 28, 2007
Houston,
Texas,
United States
Friday, September 14, 2007
George Bush Intercontinental Airport
Friday Afternoon, Sep. 14, 2007
Strapped to my seat on the Air France Boeing 777 with a glass of wine in my hand, I look outside the window and see the preparations for departure underway. As soft music flows from the ceiling speakers, one passenger after another files in, some blocking the aisle with their repeated efforts to shove oversized luggage into the overhead bins. Sighs. Stares. Silent disapproval from the standing crowd. A scent of passive-aggressiveness wafts through the cabin air.
This morning has really been a whirlwind of non-stop activities from the workload in the office to my arrival at George Bush Intercontinental Airport. In fact, the last few days have been uncertain, tumultuous travel days thanks to the menacing specter of Hurricane Humberto looming in the Gulf of Mexico. In the end, the maritime tempest dashed to the east of Houston, just like Humberto's cousin Hurricane Rita two years earlier, sparing the largest US city in the South from imminent danger.
Pardon, pourrais-je avoir d'autre vin? I hold up my empty glass to a passing flight attendant with a bottle of wine in her hand and request for some more aperitif. Certainement (certainly), monsieur, is the reply with a smile. The service so far has been very polished. Compared to past experiences on other airlines from Australia, Germany, Argentina, Hong Kong, Russia, Taiwan, Scandinavia, New Zealand, Japan, etc., I am quite content with the service of the flagship airline of l'Héxagone, the nickname given by the French to their own country.
In about 8 1/2 hours and after 5029 miles, I will be landing at Charles de Gaulle International Airport north of Paris, a city that has drawn me back countless times. In fact, around mid-September 2006, I took a detour from my world travel to stop in the City of Light to hang out with my friends Sara, Ian, and Jana. I had rented an apartment, furnished with a piano, right in the heart of the 17th District, a stone's throw from L´Arc de Triomphe (Arch of Triumph), across from Parc de Monceau where Monet used to relax and paint his botanical masterpieces. The good memories of that September: the falling leaves, the outdoor cafés, the rustling breeze, the Eiffel Tower reflected on the Seine River. Now a year later, I will stop in the same city during the season of plentiful harvest. But this time, it's only for a connection, a mad dash to connect to a flight bound for Zagreb, Croatia.
And in Croatia, the beginning of an eco-adventure vacation awaits me, an itinerary complete with biking, hiking, kayaking, and swimming, and of course, a chance to converse with a local family during my homestay in Croatian, a language I have been avidly studying in the last month. Final examination time, perhaps, let's see...
TO BE CONTINUED
