Feelomaysia

And then, there was the time I landed in Asia.

I had not been too attracted by this part of the world before. I think it is because I like drier lands, maybe. Or perhaps in my previous life as a RAF pilot I have been shot down in this area and now I am afraid of going back to the region. Who knows, speculations. Malaysia here I went.

Everything started off as a full immersion in Malaysian-Chinese culture, courtesy of my friends whose wedding I came for.

Hospitality is sacred and the guest gets fed, pampered, driven around, paid everything, all the time.

Breakfast means noodles, spicy chicken, rendang beef, dim sum and honey lime. Not that lunches and dinners are any different. A wedding meal has 8 courses, including rice and dessert, and has to be celebrated with loud toasts "iaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaam seng" - or something like that - by the 400 or so guests.

Interesting to discuss with the locals and to learn that in their view western women are too submissive (i.e. forget about your Malaysian wife if passivity and obedience is what you are after).

And then there was Kuala Lumpur, KL, with its highways, its heat, its mix of races, its traffic jams and its breathtaking skyline.

Eat, Pray, L...

What an experience is to visit the Holy Land. Quite apart from the most serious manifestations of the Jerusalem syndrome, it is sort of unavoidable to find oneself caught in the mystic atmosphere of the Old city and to feel the intense spirituality of the place - well, if one manages to abstract from the hords of tourists snapping pics and of pilgrims rubbing all sort of clothes on every holy stones around.

And this even after a few visits, when you think you know enough to play the tour guide for your friends.

Not much partying, but the gastronomic side of the Holy Land was, once again, no less mystic.

Despite a well deserved special mention for the superb crabs from Chakra, the discovery of this trip was much more low profile: the Yemenite Malawach.

Almost the only food available to us on Shabbath, a fried pancake filled with hummus, tahini, tomatoes, peppers, aubergines, onions, spicy mix and zaatar (but you could further use your creativity), roll up and eat.

Tel Aviv knows almost no Shabbath (except for hotel staff waking us up because checkout time on Friday is at 9 am) but knows all kind of gastronomic pleasures. Our pick: Nanuchka, good Georgian food and over-excited customers singing, dancing and screaming all night long.

Over to Nazareth, the palm goes to Al Reda, in an old Ottoman mansion, facing St.Joseph's Church. Excellent muhammar, very helpful host, great views from the rooftop terrace, and a romantic loft for future needs. Note taken. 

And the "L" part of this story? Well, some Listening will do.

Minus 50 outside

Sitting next to the window, looking out. Daydreaming a bit. And completely enjoying the excitement of departure, of taking off, of feeling skybound once again, despite those more than 3000 km to go.

I wish I was there already and at the same time not there yet. I wish the irresistible "I'm flying" smile would be enough to overcome the fatigue of the journey.

And while it suddenly comes back to my mind that in the cockpit of a 737 the pilot cannot stand straight, contrary to an A320, I know I will always be grateful to who showed me what it really was like to be airborne.

And I wish I could pay back, that when I arrive at destination you would be able to see the world through my eyes, feel the warmth through my skin and the peace through my soul. And like it as I do.