About the landing preparations

I dreamt about the San Francisco.
It looked more like New York city encompassed with the dense Hong Kong mist.
It looked like some place that San Francisco is not, but I knew it is,
I tried to take my mother and a dog out to walk a bit around the golden gate, she said no.

Why can’t we go and walk a bit around the golden gate bridge
Why can’t we

My mother was busy, so was my father. Busy was my sister, my cousins, grandparents, aunties, uncles, friends from school, university, kindergarden, the friends I missed and loved.
My dog wasn’t my dog. He looked different, bigger and more polished, and not like my dog at all really.

Come, let’s go see a world, we’re in San Francisco! We are not here forever. We’re only here for a while. How can you know we will not be in a whole new place by tomorrow.

Let’s
go
and
see

But everybody was too busy.

So I took a metro a couple of blocks away from our San Francisco house, the one looking just like in the Mrs. Doubtfire and went to the Golden Gate park. I sat by the river and looked at the tones of red lines and cables, rapid waters of the blue river. There was nobody else just me and the dog that didn’t remind my dog in any way, the endless lines and splots and contextures, the red of it, the metallic.

The intimidating beauty, and the power, and the time, the cold wind smacking my face, tearing my hair, pulling it, ugly, the face of the dog I didn’t know, faithfully smiling to mine

And so I cried

I cried because I have never felt more lonely in my life. I cried because it was me and the powerful intimidating beauty surrounding me from every angle while everybody else was gone. How powerful the world felt by just surrounding me, the world created and remained, forgotten and dismissed.

Everybody else was too busy.
People got to work you know

I dreaded whether they would see what I saw? How I could I know they wouldn’t say

SAN FRANCISCO IS FOR JUNKIES.
YOU NEED MONEY
MONEY IS IMPORTANT
YOU WILL MISS THE MONEY
IT BUYS YOU A BIGGER HOUSE
YOU NEED TO PAY MONEY TO OTHER PEOPLE WHO NEED MORE MONEY TO BUY A BIGGER HOUSE
YOU NEED MORE MONEY
YOU NEED MORE MONEY
WORK
WORK
WORK
WORK
WORK
WORK
WORK
WORK

But I just sat there. I sat on the grass, green minty grass and I felt what I saw with every bit of my soul like I looked at it through a little piece of a pink glass.

*

Two years ago on the sunny friday morning of October I launched the Apollo 13 from the small ugly Warsaw airport. I waved to my family and friends and the love of my life, I pulled the blue pulsating heart out of my bleeding chest, put it inside the big metal, flying Apollo, and launched it. Since I have done it, two years, seven hundred thirty nights and days of comparable length has passed on the planet earth, the third planet from the Sun, the densest planet in the Solar System, the largest of the Solar System’s four terrestrial planets, and the only astronomical object known to accommodate life. My mum, dad, sister, grandma, grandad, aunties and uncles went to bed around seven hundred thirty times and saw around seven hundred thirty sundowns.
I feel like all these days I have been in a different galaxy. I escaped time as I knew it.

I left earth in Sydney on Friday night and I saw it again, twenty hours later, in Dubai on Saturday early morning, just to leave it again with a repacked suitcase to see it again in London
I like going west, because it makes your day last forever. If you drink coke and coffee you can do with it anything you want.
You can get a little cute wrinkle throughout the day.

Can a fly live the day longer than me?
Does it make me the ambassador of the inequality of days and nights?

I’m so lonely
but that’s okay
I shaved my head
and I’m not sad

Some of my beloved friends has fell in love throughout these seven hundred thirty days. I am so happy for them. Some has changed their style and career, moved to another city, broke up with their boyfriends, got a big pretty tattoo, some stopped smoking and finished universities.
I just fly and fly, just ride you know,
keep on rolling like there’s no tomorrow
jump from one island to another, oh what the world is but islands, making passionate love to the Empire State Building in the May sun, in December nights.

I cried when it started raining in Coventry and I couldn’t explain why. I think I cried because it was so beautiful. It sounded so pretty, like little twinkles on the window sill. It felt so clear, so simple and normal, it felt like my soul has been taking a little shower, so I sat down, with my face wet in raindrops and cried.

I saw a grizzly bear. He has been eating a plant on the side of Canadian Highway number one, the longest Highway in Canada. He could kill you with a paw, but he ate the little green plants.
It was beautiful. I couldn’t take my eyes away.

Why do we underestimate the world so badly? Why do we let the system close us in the box, why do we let it make us breath the fake filtrated air and make quick unpassionate love to the computer screens.

It’s beautiful.
It’s wild.

That girl said i want to be like you
And who is that?
Red hat?
Glamorous lifestyle, the big glass doors of the beautiful hotels
London New York Paris oh baby
Tones of make up, red lips, sad eyes

That made me sad.
Can’t you see that’s everything I am not?

I worry my Apollo 13 will crush when touching down. I worry the atmosphere will torn it apart into million pieces, breaking my heart, turning it into something ugly.
I worry I will come back to all the busy people who couldn’t go to the Golden Gate park that day with my arms opened and it will not change a thing. I worry I will leave you, Empire State, to hear no sorry, go by yourself

That go by yourself I dread the most

And so I went

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SYD, Australia

I was planning to write about Sydney since a while.  While it comes relatively easy to write and talk about faraway places that are so so different from all you know, it is not an easy task to write about Sydney and to show it the way I want to. The places like China, Sri Lanka, Nigeria, they shocked me. I loved them just like I love Sydney, but that was a different kind of love: a love to something new, shocking, unpredictable. In Asia people eat bugs on a sticks, in Nigeria sell shoes on the highways, Sri Lankans ride these crazy three-wheel vehicles on a busy roads: you cannot believe what you see, but it’s a fact, it’s a thing you can’t deny. Nobody eats bugs in Sydney (at least this is what I hope for), and all the cars look pretty normal. You get your shoes from topshop or h&m and there’s no much fuss about it neither.

Being a cabin crew gives you some new, different perspective. You go and see places, but you don’t live any of them. Most of the places don’t become anything personal for you. You get a general definition, but you see them from some kind of distance. I suppose it makes it much easier to write about them. I guess I’m able to tell you in few words what is Bejing and quite probably I will hit the nail better then a person who lives there for years. Does it mean that I know it? Not at all.

Believe it or not, but this 24 hours distanced perspective I get makes it much easier to describe and compare what I see. Have you ever noticed that the look of people faces in the certain places are so much different? Some places are made of proud faces, some of the tired ones, some ashamed. Living in one place makes you loose the ability to see that. Living nowhere makes you see it black on white.

In a way Sydney became my home for three nights and three days; even if the timezone change made nights the days and the other way round. Anyway, this most faraway place I will probably ever get to see, was not faraway at all.

In fact, it was so much  n o t  a faraway place that in the beginning I felt a bit confused. After a 14 hours chasing the sunrise flight, switching your watch to some crazy timezone in which you message your boyfriend saying “goodnight” in the morning, you do expect something shocking. More specifically, you expect to open the doors and get out to Narnia or something like that.

But Sydney just looks like it could be home.

I suppose it is shocking in a way. It is a place that comforts you. It is a place where older people hold hands walking in the park, where dogs look like they were smiling at all times and their tails go left and right, left and right. There’re no prices in the local grocery stores so after a while you decide to stop bombarding the shop assistant with billion of questions and just buy what you feel like. Massive buildings are surrounded by the parks where parrots chase you for a biscuit, people lie on a grass or go on a beach to say hello to the seagull. Maybe you’ll see some young couple getting married near the Sydney Opera House with all the strangers standing around, smiling and taking photos, just like they got a special invitation. People don’t seem to worry much in Sydney.

Time zone makes me wake up really early and really hungry, so I’ll go out as soon as the Sun comes up. I’m feeling restless in bed. I like these busy week mornings in a city a lot: people wear smart suits, they talk on the phones and walk fast. The sound of heels mixes up with the honks of the cars and seagulls singing, it wakes you up better than a coffee.

At the same time there’s a different reality going on five minutes away on feet. The high fence surrounded by the trees full of singing birds separate the busy, crowded Sydney from the Sydney of people holding hands and babies chasing the parrots. And I think this is my favourite one. Doesn’t matter how many times you go to Botanical Gardens: every time I get lost or find a path that didn’t know about. There’s a field full of birds not bothered about photographers, there’s a spices garden that makes your nose go funny, there’s a path next to the Sydney river full of boats going there and back, a small Greek garden and a palm house. And in all these places children run, people smile and dogs get their tongues out looking happy.

It does sound like a dream, and it does look like one too. But this dream has its price too.

There are no prices on the grocery stores and it’s okay coz I just buy a small coconut water. It’s relatively cheap, but still the most expensive I had. On a flight back I talk with the couple of European immigrants. They told me the Sydney gets more and more expensive. It was their heaven on the earth, they said, but they can’t afford this heaven anymore.

Is it the way of not getting the heaven overcrowded? I suppose so. I’m pretty sure there are more immigrants in Sydney than Aussie people. It may, or may not be a good thing. And as much as I’m trying to be objective and distanced, I cannot blame anybody who moved the half of the globe to spend there their life. It just seems like a right thing to do.