Plane

New Zealand part I - Posted On

Auckland Airport. Here we are in the huge miles-eater machine. We finally pass our last night in the country in the airport. Customs. Check and double check. Everything seems easy compare to what we are used to. Of course, when you pay with money you don’t pay with effort. But you don’t learn neither. So people do it for us. They bring our luggage for us, they seat us where we have to, they feed us, they entertain us. Well, I must say it is very relaxing for once. 

I love flying. Once the decision had been made to take the plane, I find it better choice to fully disfruit the lazy time of it. Who said 24 hours flying is tirefull? Must have been kidding! We have a coffee while rocketing over New Caledonia, and considering thoughtfully of how many days I had taken to go around by bike. In South Korea, Seoul, the airline company offers us a luxurious hotel nearby the airport, all-you-can-eat restaurant, sauna, bed bigger than ever experienced… We can’t believe it. We don’t even need it. It’s just too much. I learn the name of our brand new French president in the sauna from a naked Russian pilot. Things have changed in France. I left the country when Sarkozy came to presidency and I come back with the left wing on power. Apparently I have not missed much good things from what my friends tell us when we arrive. 

The feeling experienced is quite strange. We jump from country to country at an incredible speed. Seeing the plane going forward on the map is a philosophical experience. What Human can achieve is incredible. 

Strasbourg, Paris, names come up on the screen while the plane goes down. I welcome the ground of France under my feet after four years of exil. Colours, odours, way of starring, talking to each others, it’s so typically French. And then appears a face within all faces. 

Mum.