Wednesday, 4 April 2012

Fear of flying


plane

When I lived on the continent, I used to commute to university by train. I’d get up at the break of dawn, rush to the station and take an early train to be able to sit on an actual seat rather than on the floor right by the toilet. My 30-minute journey was the perfect opportunity to catch up on some reading. Sometimes I’d drive to uni, but finding a parking spot in the “capital of Europe” was such a hassle that I’d always end up regretting it.

Back in the days, shopping in London was just a two-hour train ride away. So were crêpes in Paris and tulips – yes, tulips – in Amsterdam (although I’ve never been, shame on me!). No need to book a plane ticket to enjoy a day at the beach in the north of France. Or to sip Glühwein at the Christmas market in Cologne.

Then I moved to the rock and the word “travel” took on an entirely new dimension. Gone were the days when I would hop in the car and drive all the way to Italy for a weekend break, singing Europop rubbish on empty motorways in the dead of night.
Now my choice in transport is limited to planes, ferries and catamarans.

On the rock there are over 400,000 cars – that’s more than one for each inhabitant. Traffic is a nightmare. Driving from one side of the island to the other – 23 km tops – takes forever during rush hour (good thing I don't commute). The air quality is, well… quite poor to say the least. When we want to catch a breath of fresh air, we head to Malta International Airport and board a plane – it’s like stepping onto a bus, nothing extraordinary. It’s just part of life.

Hubby-to-be and I had a long-distance relationship for about a year. That’s when I became a seasoned traveller. Planes were no longer a luxury, but a necessity. I must admit that even though I now fly several times a year, I still find it an unsettling experience. My hands sweat at takeoff and I say a quiet little prayer as we reach cruising altitude. I should thank National Geographic Channel and their “Seconds from disaster” series for convincing me bolts can melt mid-air, exposing parts of the plane’s engines and killing all the passengers in the process.

I have a few plane trips scheduled this year. Oh dear…

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