In which she makes the journey to India (and talks in the third person, just because)

(She writes in the third person here because she is always very distant from herself when travelling.)

Someone (probably Brendan) told her that when Greg was flying to Germany, he got to the point where he wished the plane would crash just so the flight would be *over*.

This is what she thought about while packing (the night before of course) for a trip that was more than twice as long.

There were issues checking in at the airport due to overweight bags and only being about 80% organized. Flying out of Montreal in the dark and the rain, which was absolutely heartbreaking. On that flight she was able to sleep most of the way, waking up for food and part of X3.

There was a layover in Amsterdam between flights, which was longer than expected. The airport there is unnecessarily awesome. She spent most of that time wandering around, checking out the art gallery (only the Dutch would put a gallery in their airport), and stopping for a snack (figuring this was her last chance to eat brie).

The second flight was longer and contained more people. Almost as if to make up for the length of the flight, the staff continuously fed the passengers and offered that neat little luxury of personal video players. Too well rested from her first flight, she spent the time writing and constantly watching movies that she hadn’t seen yet (A Prairie Home Companion, the second Pirates of the Carribean, and most of Nacho Libre). Despite the cinematic action, she couldn’t help watching the landscape rush by underneath her, wondering what country or body of water she was over. When the light pollution became dense again, she knew she was about to land in India, later than she was supposed to.

After waiting in the longest line ever (and spying on middle-aged Europeans) to get though customs and claim her luggage, she walked out after midnight and found someone waiting for her with a sign. The journey to the car was filled with beggars, stray dogs, and really cute black taxi cabs.

The drive to her new home was an adventure in itself. Drivers in India are a whole new level of crazy. No signaling, driving between lanes, and constantly having to avoid pedestrians and stray dogs (on the highway). Still, they made it to the theatre safe and she was deposited in her cottage.

Once there. She made tea, unpacked until four in the morning, and fell into bed, just happy to have a bed to sleep in and to be on solid ground once more.