On my fifth time crossing the Pacific - that intimdating 15 hour flight

of 11676 km - all I can say is thank god for movies & tv. The inflight

magazine and the book I brought traveling (A Year of Magical Thinking -

Joan Didion, thus far really good but that’s not suprising as it’s

Didion) are great but nothing passes time and helps you stay awake like

the bright glow of the digital screen. After already flighting for 5

hours and having been awake since 10am, my goal was to stay awake for

another 7 hours in order to fall asleep at 9pm Bangkok time. Having

successfully gone to sleep at 9pm bangkok time (9am Toronto time) I

then only slept 3 hours. Not even noise-cancelling headphones could

drown out the plane noise of chatter, loud headphone of other

passengers and ‘hushed’ conversations surrounding me. But due to my

years of training in university, I have the ability to function with

very little sleep. Eventually I just gave up and watched more movies.

Arriving in Hong Kong I felt like a wet dog. Even after a facewash and

wardrobe change in LAX the long flight took a toll. But the scenery

(and the free internet) kept my spirits high. I had a window seat next

to the whale-sized wing and as we descended I saw the mountain islands

that dot along the coast in Hong Kong. The first thought that popped

into my head was “This is familiar”. Washed in a misty fog, they looked

exactly as the do in many Asian paintings and drawings I’ve seen over

the years.

Strangely, everything in Hong Kong felt slightly familiar. The

Cantonese being spoken over the PAs never really registered as

different from hearing French or Spanish other than I wasn’t able to

decipher exactly what was being said. I chalk it up to growing up in

Toronto and hearing the language semi-frequently; taking the violin in

high school (the sterotype was true), hanging out in kensington market

(right next to chinatown) and years of eating dim sum at least twice

per month.

Thinking back I’ve never really experienced culture shock. Culture

fustration, culture exasperation and culture consciousness (in Germany,

France and Australia, respectively) certainly but never the feeling

that oooh so exotic and strange and different. There was never a lack

of affinity. I think this is in part because we now live in such as

globalized world. But for me it’ll be very interesting to see if all it

takes is a different alphabet to make me experience a disconnect.

All and all the journey, although a little trying at times, was great

and not too tolling that I was able to get up and go the next day.

Jetlag? What jetlag?