In the air

There was a long snake of people at the customs barrier wanting to beat the 7 pm start of strike action. Nothing for it but to put on a poker face and let my mind wander. Several trips around the universe later I reached the head. Thought is so much faster than life.

At Abu Dhabi we got one of the new terminals instead of the old circular one. There were queues too, for the toilets and departure lounges. Capacity planning fail for the booming tourism traffic.

A couple of girls in departure wore neck scarves. Dead giveaway that they were Dutch and headed for Amsterdam too. Scarves are essential in a windy country.

A tail wind got us into Schiphol ahead of schedule. Getting cash out of an ATM and buying a transport smartcard went like clockwork. Before I could catch my breath I was on the bus headed for Haarlem. It's nice to be in a country when things just work.

I had to kill some time before my friend got back from work so I had a snack of a broodje met worst from HEMA and a kroket from a Febo automat, for nostalgia.

The muted greens of the Dutch landscape and the autumn cool filled my veins with calm. A long anticipated repose after 24 hours of travel.

The journey begins

I have the key to happiness: remember, be profoundly, profoundly, totally conscious that you are. I myself, sorry to say, hardly ever use this key. I keep losing it — Eugène Ionesco

E was right, I needed to turn away from looking inwards and re-engage with the world. I know this but time and again I forget that the universe goes on with or without me, and that I should be grateful for life's gifts.

A straightforward itinerary: first the Netherlands to catch up with a friend and a cousin, then Malta and Gozo. On the way home to avoid looping west then east, a stopover in Cyprus. Can you tell that I like islands?

I'm inured to air travel now. My standard armour: music, noise cancelling headphones, books, air pillow, and sleep mask. Depending on the destination time zone I'll stay up or sleep early to pre-adapt. A quirky film, especially European, can help pass an hour or two. I often watch with subtitles while listening to music.

For reading, besides my Kindle, Chilean Luis Sepúlveda's Patagonia Express for practice. It recounts the author's travels in South America during his years of exile. Its longer title is Al andar se hace el camino se hace el camino al andar, the path is made by walking, walking makes the path, a snippet from a poem by Antonio Machado.

For music, a collection of jazz, Latin and World albums, including the one that introduced me to MPB (Música Popular Brasiliera), Sérgio Mendes and Brasil '66, which launched the career of Lani Hall. I have always enjoyed her distinctive voice and on digging the Internet, discovered what I didn't know before, that she is the wife of Herb Alpert. When I re-listened to the album, the track Goin' Out of My Head prompted me to borrow the sheet music from the library. This turned out to be easy to play. I can make a medley of it with Can't Take My Eyes Off You which Jersey Boys prompted me to learn. Both songs have a satisfying bravura chorus but are problematic to end, and usually faded-out.

Blasting Tubular Bells on the amp while doing final checks. An edgy, intricate piece of music. A musician friend and I used to joke about appending atom bomb to the instruments that the MC enumerates in the mantra-like end of the first side, climaxing with the titular tubular bells.

Time to fly. By coincidence I was just getting the hang of playing Samba do Avião, a lyrical, wistful tune that eluded me until I reduced the tempo. There's a lesson there. Fortunately, unlike its composer, I'm not terrified of flying.