skyline photo by mezzaninemuc
Travelling on my dad’s frequent flyer miles (an apt metaphor for my life). The first leg from Colombo to Doha (Qatar) is always another world. The flight is 95% laborers, housemaids, etc bound for the Middle East. There’s an obvious class difference. Language, for one, and the literate dance of paperwork and manners that’s involved in travel. The flight attendants look frustrated, and Qatar Airlines, at least, seems to treat Sri Lankans differently as a matter of policy. As I was boarding my connection to Dubai the ticket agent saw that I was from SL and told me to sit down. All the Sri Lankans had to wait until the other passengers entered the gate. I asked if this actually was policy and the guy said ‘no, no’ and let us enter the gate. Rest of the flights were uneventful, saw Ocean’s 12 and some good movie with Topher Grace. Montreal is nicely cool, and the amount of beautiful women is still astounding. Talking with the cab driver in from the airport and my French is still functional, though I come up with Sinhala words when I’m grasping.
Bloody hate travelling. Already hemmoraging money and wholly useless without a cell phone. Just want to get settled and eat something.