En route to London Heathrow--somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean--then one more flight to Nairobi and a bit closer to the belt of the earth (the equator) and what will have to be home for the next year.
Flight itself is a rather timeless experience, but I have been wrapping my thoughts within the idea of what it actually means to be traveling from one side of the Atlantic to the next. I leave at night and arrive at morning, despite only 6 hours of flight. Time zones are crossed and I am to assume that I would change my clock at each checkpoint so to speak. For example, this post will read that I posted it at around 10pm on January 10. However, right now it is more like midnight on January 11th or maybe 1am. Physically, I remain within the previous time zone, but physically I am not. Does time exist over the Atlantic ocean where only life dwells within the great ocean? Clearly the sea animals do not wear watches. Dark night and light day. For some reason this strange suspension of time and place has fascinated me. This may be a ramble amongst a plane full of sleeping passengers, but maybe a good exercise at trying to remain as honest and straightforward as possible.
More practically -
I have never flown British Airways from the US to the UK and I must say that it is wonderful. Not only did I get myself an emergency exit row with ample space, but the service is kind and the plane very nice. Touch screen video screen where I can choose to watch a movie (watched Vicky Christina Barcelona), a tv show (Flight of the Conchords!!) or make a playlist of music based on a decent selection of musicians (coldplay, kings of leon, fleet foxes). So far, A+.
More to come probably over Africa!