Going North

First day of travel

Reading the recent biography of Diane Arbus reminded me of what might be ahead.  Her experience of traveling in Europe was often one of isolation, sometime welcomed, sometimes not.  I travel alone, which for me, lends itself to extremes of exhilaration and depletion. Today began with anticipation and accomplishment.  I managed to be packed on time, made the train on time, and got to the airport in plenty of time, much more, as it turns out, than I needed.

My plane to Montreal, which would have connected me to Halifax that would have taken me to Sydney, Nova Scotia, then, to St. Pierre was delayed.  Consequently, Air Canada rerouted me to Toronto where I waited for 10 hours for a direct flight to Sydney.  I called my hotel to alert them I would not be arriving until 2 A.M.  They had no reservation for me.  I had reserved the room for the 30th of June, not the 30th of July.  Mon Dieu.  But they pulled through and I had a place to lay my head for a few hours and allowed me a view of a waterway to the Atlantic.


All’s well.


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