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Across the time

Strange impressi0ns last night, at Dubai Airport. I had chance to think about these huge movement of people around the sky that was taking place just in front of me.

While waiting for my next flight, I connected to the Internet and found many people online, as expected. I was in the middle of the night staring the Burj Dubai from the window and simultaneously checking the weather conditions in Bangalore, my final destination. At the same time, my friends in Rome were talking, during a Skype call, about their dinner and watching tv, before going to bed. Meanwhile, reading my email account, I found out that a new site has been launched that day and exchanged some emails with the people in charge of it, in Jamaica!

This means that I was dealing with “life” in a range of 11 time zones at the same time, from Bangalore to Montego Bay…

across time zonesThis incredible feeling to be “in between” while time zones are playing their game was fascinating, on one side, a bit too much, on the other!

I had a triple scenario in front of me: people from a time zone going to another one and vice versa, while life in Dubai did not take part to that game. We were outside the real life. We were living a life apart from those behind the walls: thinking about what we would have found the day after, somewhere in the East, and having the latest greetings with those we just left, in the West.

Is “disconnected” the word to describe, in a certain way, such a situation?

The night passed over my thinking. The new plane called me and I laid down in my seat. Next morning I woke up in Bangalore airport, with a different language and different faces around me. Everything was new and I needed to get the habit to it. But the doubts on this frenetic world which is moving but does not see, which is changing but does not understand, which is evolving but always forget, is still in front of me.

p.s. : in addition to those feelings, what Tiziano Terzani wrote in his “Un indovino mi disse” came back to my mind: travelling by plane is the worst thing that can happen to you if you want to get in touch with a place. By plane, in fact, you loose continuity, both physically and mentally, between the place you leave and the one you reach. Your moving is fragmented. You don’t really get into a place but you are thrown into it. And that makes a difference, a huge difference.

I feel this consideration to be deeply true and I experienced it. As a matter of fact, I’ve been twice in Istanbul. Once I arrived by bus with Camilla, the second time we flew there. My first contact was stronger and deeper.Much better, in a word.