Ethiopia - Day 2 - Frankfurt

I swear by Robaxin and Ibuprofen.  Economy class.  Cramped. Flight Centre didn’t get the aisle seats I requested.  6 foot lanky, old, overweight and irritable.  9 hour flight.  The lovely non English speaking lady beside me leaned into me the whole flight.  As a good Christian on pilgrimage to Ethiopia I silently cursed her.  Meanwhile the seat beside me never filled. I could lean away.  The lady one seat over spilled onto that seat with bags and purses and muttered and fussed the whole flight.  When we landed the lady beside me smiling had me help her get down her bag and her cane.  She walked off ahead of me permanently tilted to the left.  God has a flashy way of showing me my immense character flaws. Judge not! Pluck the timber out of your own eye before you try to take the sliver out of your neighbours.  I didn’t even offer her a robaxin.  I’m sure she could have used it more than me.  We never know the inner turmoil of another.  

Now I”m in Frankfurt. I’ve always liked this airport.  I’ve been through it several times, very upscale, German efficient.  I tried to get breakfast at MacDonald’s but they told me they’d just stopped serving breakfast. 9 am and they stop serving breakfast. I thought of Michael Douglas in Falling Down .A short walk on was a German restaurant.  Tasty little Nuremberg sausages,scrambled eggs and toast. Coffee.  Everyone speaks English. I’m thankful.

I found out why I was setting off the alarms at the gate. I took off my cross and hung my high pitched steel whistle around my neck.  Completely forgot about it.  They hand searched my bag because of all the little bottles of Ben’s 30% DEET mosquito spray.  They interfere with the X-ray and I’m carrying all this tech besides.  

There’s an Air Canada Jet here amongst the half dozen Lufthansa planes.  A child ran by with a Toronto Maple Leaf sweater. I felt patriotic.  Being this far away from PM Trudeau makes me miss my country.  Like an ex lover. All the nostalgic good bits are coming back to me now. I’m thinking why didn’t I just go to Harrison’s. I love Harrison’s.  I’m looking forward to camping next month. Motorcycle season, the Duffy Lake serpentine run through the pine and spruce, snow capped mountains.  I forgot I hate CBC news. I focus too much on the negative and miss the incredible positives around me.  A critical slant. Steal the joy.  Now here I am feeling nostalgia.  Missing my dog, the cat, the friends. I’ve not even stepped foot in Africa. I read Lonely Planet Ethiopia half the night.  Looking forward to museums and monasteries and churches. But the people on the street sound like the Down town east side.  That was Milan and Rome too.  Pick pockets and con artists.  I’ll be a white face in a sea of dark skin.  The tourist prey.  

On the plane I watched the movie, the Accountant, with Ben Affleck liking it even better, the second time through, catching the nuances, seeing the connections.  

I’m tired and looking forward to the Best Western Plus Hotel I’m booked into. Lots of people sleeping on benches here.  Mostly young people.  It’s quite shocking but I’m the oldest person in the hundred or so within eye sight.  Ageism. My self against myself.  I used my electric razor. The young women are smiling at me as we pass.  Travellers. Jet setters.  A reason to get out of Canada. A break from the dominant victim mentality.  

When I first came to Germany, riding accross Europ on a bicycle I loved that the Germans were so intelligent, educated, science and technology and Goethe.  Before Merkel and the Brussels dictatorship.  Germany was alive then.  We were all so young too.  A college student summed it up for me while we played chess in Heidelberg.  “We lost the war. So we had to do something new. That’s why innovation succeeds here.  In the countries that won the war they’re still trying to do everything the old way.  For us there is no old way. The old way for us didn’t work.”   I don’t remember who won that chess game. I used to play chess,drink coffee and talk as young people did about politics, religion, science and arts.  We didn’t know everything like the activist prosyletizers today. We were explorers.  Sharing  thoughts and insights.    Before the fake news and echo chambers.  We loved to talk and listen.  The girls were all so beautiful too. Pheromes filled the air. When we weren’t talking we were dancing and making love.  

The U2 song, “I still haven’t found what I’m looking for” touched that time. Dharma bums.  

I used to sing to myself while I  walked at night.  My brother did too. Making up our own songs. Musical prayers.  Making music while we walked. A lightness of being.  Making music for music sake. Adding a  spring to the steps.  Now I’m smiling to myself.  Walking about the airport I’ve had nostalgic flashes. The Mont Blanc shop reminded me of the Mont Blanc pen I bought myself for graduation. I worried so much about losing it I gave it to my brother for his office in his home.   The Burberry Store reminded me of the Gallerina on Saipan. I loved buying small gifts there to send back to friends and family in Canada.    Touching the flow, the 4th dimension of Carl Jung, the trusting,  having faith,  knowing grace.  I’m half way there. This evening I’ll be landing in Ethiopia.   Then days of wonder and learning.