Showing posts with label quotes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label quotes. Show all posts

Travelling by plane

kids on the plane

There is not much to say about most aeroplane journeys. Anything remarkable must be disastrous, so you define a good flight by negatives: you didn't get hijacked, you didn't crash, you didn't throw up, you weren't late, you weren't nauseated by the food. So you are grateful.
The gratitude brings such relief your mind goes blank, which is appropriate, for the aeroplane passenger is a time-traveller. He crawls into a carpeted tube that is reeking of disinfectant; he strapped in to go home, or away. Time is truncated, or in any case warped. (..) And from the moment he departs, his mind is focused on arrival.

Paul Theroux
in "The old Patagonian Express"

I thought of that quote yesterday. After spending five hours in transit at Madrid's airport before boarding. A group of 150 seven-graders from Portugal boarded just in front of me, all excited about their one week trip to Rome. I loved their excitement and aggitation. Kids should have fun, so I put on my headset, and fell asleep the moment I got in my seat.
Only to wake up half an hour later, in the midst of a school play ground. The boys and girls were running up and down, even though the "fasten seat belts" sign was on, calling the flight attendants for yet another coke or Mars bar.

I thought we were already in the air, half way to Rome, but we had not moved an inch. And we did not move an inch for three hours, unable to take off due to traffic congestion, it seemed later. Not that the captain was eager to announce anything. We just sat there. Except for the kids. They were not sleepy as I was. True, I had just flown through the night, and had been awake for 36 hours, but then again, I thought they'd been settling down after a few hours. But they did not.

It was strange to see how the other passengers reacted. The noise was that of a kids' birthday party, and so was the agitation and the running around. Kids love kids parties. Adults not. So, most other people switched off. At best, some would get up to stretch their legs, still with a blank stare focused on the horizon. One guy started to play cards with them. Only two passengers got excited. "Che casino, questi ragazzi! Calma, per favore, calma!" shouted an Italian passenger. And it was "piu calma" for five minutes straight.

I was glad to arrive in Rome, where we got stuck for another hour waiting for the transit buses to arrive. And for the luggage to arrive. When I finally opened the door of my apartment, I sighed with relief. I can't wait until time and space travel finally becomes reality. We just step into a tube, and "zwoop", we arrive where we need to be. From the hotel lobby in Santo Domingo to my apartment in Rome. "Zwoop". Hopefully by the time we can warp into time and space, it will be immune to volcanic dust.

But probably the kids would not enjoy warping that much. They enjoy the travel. I envied them.

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War and Aid

Afghanistan tank

From the viewpoint of the warriors, the logic of the humanitarian era is simple: Without violence and devastation, no aid. And the more ghastly the violence and the more complete the devastation, the more comprehensive the aid.
From:
"War Games: The Story of Aid and War in Modern Times"
by Linda Polman

Picture courtesy Lionel Marre

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The Silent Twilight

Twilight in Lazio

Sitting in the silent twilight
The purple half light
Of the twilight

Wrap the night around me
Blanket of black on my back

I feel safe in the darkness.


               From "Purple", by Crustation

Picture taken from Parco d'Abruzzo, looking towards Lazio (Italy, 2009)

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Thought of the day: valleys and mountains.

The Sky is the limit

Have you ever noticed a train always drives through valleys, never over mountain tops?

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How travelling by train changed

Italian high speed train

As I was travelling on the Italian high speed train this weekend, I thought of what I once read:

That train was the one piece of life in all the deadly land; it was the one actor, the one spectacle fit to be observed in this paralysis of man and nature. And when I think now how the railroad was pushed through this unwatered wilderness and haunt of savage tribes…

R.L.Stevenson,
The Amateur Emigrant

Picture courtesy Railway-Technology

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Rumble: I love flying

Flying to Brindisi this morning We have become used to life being a series of arrivals or departures, of triumphs and failures, with nothing noteworthy in between…

There is not much to say about most aeroplane journeys. Anything remarkable must be disastrous, so you define a good flight by negatives: you didn’t get hijacked, you didn’t crash, you didn’t throw up, you weren’t late, you weren’t nauseated by the food. So you are grateful.

The gratitude brings such relief you mind goes blank, which is appropriate, for the aeroplane passenger is a time-traveller. He crawls into a carpeted tube that is reeking of disinfectant; he is strapped in to go home, or away. Time is truncated, or in any case warped: he leaves in one time-zone and emerges in another. And from the moment he steps into the tube, and braces his knees on the seat in front, uncomfortably upright – from the moment he departs, his mind is focused on arrival.


Paul Theroux, The Old Patagonian Express.


Just for the record. While there are people who feel exactly like Paul Theroux, I don't.

I love travelling, and I love flying. Even if it was just for a 45 minutes flight from Rome to Brindisi as I did this morning.

I get into the plane. Make my little nest. Put up a psychological curtain between me and the other 127 people in this space, take a book, read a few lines, doze off, wake-up, gaze through the window at the ever-changing world, and admire the skills involved in landing this metal box safely on a strip which looks no bigger than a handkerchief.

I love flying.

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Rumble: In the train, this time in Italy.

Italy by train

Last weekend, I travelled by train from Rome to Parma. By now, you should know I love to travel, even if it was for the sake of travelling. Just as the weekend before last when I took just a short train ride from home to Brussels airport, I could not but gaze at the scenery.

Travelling, scenery and a good book. What more can a person wish for?

Oh, and the book was about travelling too, travelling by train, actually:
That train was the one piece of life in all the deadly land; it was the one actor, the one spectacle fit to be observed in this paralysis of man and nature. And when I think now how the railroad was pushed through this unwatered wilderness and haunt of savage tribes…

R.L.Stevenson, The Amateur Emigrant.


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Rumble: I come from...

Sunset in Italy

I come from no country, from no city, from no tribe.
I am the son of the road,
my country is the caravan,
my life is the most unexpected of voyages.


From Leo the African, by Amin Maalouf




Picture taken in Orbetello (Italy, 2008)

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Rumble: The Way Home

Sunset on Orbetello (Italy)


"People elsewhere said how distant I was, and off the map, but no - they were far away, still groping onward. I was at last where I wanted to be. I had proved what I had always suspected, that even the crookedest journey is the way home."


 


From "Hotel Honolulu", by Paul Theroux


Picture taken in Orbetello (Italy, 2008)

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Rumble: Could we not have stuck with paradise?

Pebbles and shelves on the beach of Fregene

I hope I would get just a few minutes for a private conference with God.

I wanted to say, “Look I know you meant well creating the world and all, but how could you let it get away from you like this?

How come you could’t stick with your original idea of paradise?”

From "The Secret Life of Bees" by Sue Monk Kidd

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