Its been 10 years since I’ve done this familiar ritual in anticipation of my seventeen hour flight to South Africa. Packing and repacking, butterflies multiplying in my stomach, consistently reaching to ensure the sleep-induced hormone (melatonin) is still uncrushed in my pocket (yeah, it’s a long flight), first in line at the Delta Airlines International check in desk – three plus hours early, anxiously awaiting to board the gateway to my personal Paradise, “home”. Besides South Africa being a gem to behold, travelling to city you grew up in as a child has a unique set of characteristics. There is a certain confidence of knowing your way around, yet simultaneously a daunting unfamiliarity. Besides activating the windscreen wipers instead of the indicators while driving, I seem to recognize what I am seeing but also realizing nothing is in focus. Emotions from both extremes of a continuum pump through my veins. Like Bill Bryson in his book "I'm a stranger here myself", I had to orient myself to things which should have been familiar. It is disconcerting to find yourself so simultaneously in your element and yet out of it. My coping mechanism....
