MARCH 1, FRIDAY

FLIGHTS TO ASHEVILLE

Anyone who has flown through ten time zones on their way somewhere knows the feeling of gradual complete discombobulation that comes with not knowing where you are or when you are. My Apple Watch couldn’t keep up with the time changes so I was in limbo.

It was after 8 hours of motor rickshaw and train travel and three hours of waiting that I took off for my first 9 hour flight to Paris and the second 9 hour flight to Atlanta and the 1 hour flight to Asheville. I was scheduled for waits in each place but because the Paris security check was so slow for those ahead of me and me, swabbing everything for explosives, I had no chance to even have a croissant in Paris, or even use the toilet, before being the last board the flight to Atlanta, and then in Atlanta when I went straight to my gate for a four hour wait I found a an earlier flight to Asheville in the final stage of boarding which I was allowed to board. I had brought two sets of sleeping pills, Albrazolam for short flights, Ambien for long flights, but I was so tired before I boarded the first flight that I slept soundly even after being sandwiched betweeen seats and being often woken up by my head flopping over and neck suddenly in pain. On the first flight for the first half hour I got to know an Indian businessman in Angola, Africa who ran an import clothing store for Indians in Angola, who was, with his wife, on his way to Finland to see the Northern Lights. On the second flight I sat next to a friendly young woman from South Africa who was high with excitement at the end of twenty hours of flying, on her way to spend time with her Alabama boyfriend. And on the third flight I sat next to a woman in the construction business who had a Chinese great grandfather and a Spanish grandmother who herself loved to travel and who showed me photographs of San Sebastián in Spain where I simply must book a flight to. And then I was home and Susie picked me up in a pouring rain. My first wish on arrival was bland American food. We stopped at 12 Bones Smokehouse and I had a had a half rack of pork ribs with brown sugar rub, and “damned good corn puddin”, collard greens and cornbread, all without chili and very unGujarati. And then I slept from 6:30 to 2:30 a.m., before getting up, refreshed and ready to go.