We're Long Haul Pros

At least once a year for the last 10 years, and sometimes twice, Marc and I have flown to the other side of the world -- the far other side, Southeast Asia. From NYC, it's 16 hours to Hong Kong, and then however many hours to the next destination, usually 2 hours-ish. Flying for 16 hours is weird, tough in many ways but mostly just weird. We always leave NYC around midnight, and an hour or two into the flight dinner is served and then the lights are turned off. Window screens are required to be down. At periodic intervals, flight attendants circle through with an offer of noodles, tea, and at longer periodic intervals the lights come up and another meal is served. Breakfast of some kind. Because of the lighting situation, the window screens down, the meals at upended times, and then of course the time changes and the hours flying, I never know when it is, what time it is, what day it is, and there inevitably comes a moment 10 hours into the flight when I realize there are still EIGHT to go until we get to our hotel and my mind kind of sags.

I never get up once. Marc gets up, walks around, goes to the restroom, stands around, but not me. I'm in my seat, strapped in, and that's that. Really not good! Really, really not good. I know this, and yet for some weirdo psychological reason I think I can't get up. I know.

After the first few trips, we learned all the tricks we'll need. I always know exactly where my passport is, because I keep it in the same place. I have a little bag that stores the things I'll need during the flight -- lip balm, ear buds, a charger, a hair thing or two, mints, and the pills I'll take during the flight. It's cool and perfect, because I can hang it from the little coat hook, store my glasses in it while I sleep, and it's light and small. [bought at Baggu, where I buy all my nylon bags] Kindle stashed in the pocket in front of me, and iPhone there too.

Hair? In braids, easiest to deal with. No hair in my face while I try to sleep, comfortable to lie on, and easy to repair. Slip-on shoes with footie socks for the security check process, and a thick squishy pair of socks in my backpack to wear during the flight. I always wear the same shirt, and Marc has his own traveling outfight -- jeans, a T-shirt, and a pale blue Oxford cloth shirt with a breast pocket. Actually, whenever I see that shirt I feel the travel itch.

Marc has his own onboard routine that importantly includes the wonderful sandwiches he always makes us, bags of chips, and bags of sweeties (M&Ms, usually, and some kind of cookie). Empty bottles to fill with water once we're through security. When we get to the gate, I always sit down and read and he paces around the terminal, around and around and around and around. The same, every single time.

I always use the same backpack I bought when I started college in January 1994 -- what an endorsement for Columbia backpacks! [They don't sell mine any more, imagine that, 25 years later, but here's their current assortment.] I always put the same things in each of the three sections so I can immediately put my hands on what I need without having to poke around. In the second section I put my folder. Marc always makes us each a folder with our schedule on the front, confirmations and maps and transportation details inside, stapled together by location. When we went to Myanmar in 2012, our contact organized our travel information in this way and it was so brilliant that Marc adopted it too.

My suitcase is always small and Marc's is larger because all I pack is my own clothes, shoes, and personal stuff like toiletries and my one-cup coffee maker with a bag of filters. Since we always go somewhere hot and steamy (with the lone exception of Norway), my clothes are thin and lightweight so I'm always significantly under the baggage weight limit. Marc packs everything else we need -- all the electronics, lots of food, plastic bags, who knows what all, but I'll tell you this: he always seems to have whatever we need.

And so I'm packed. I take a small puffy coat for the JFK-home trip each way, and I can use it as a pillow during the flight and then flatten it and put it in my backpack or suitcase when we're there. We have a system for our house and car keys, a system for parking our car, and every step of the process is as familiar as going to the market on the corner. We usually travel through Hong Kong and we know that airport like the back of our hands, now. For the last few years, one or both of us gets a short virus and we're sick for one very miserable day, and ever since we went to Indonesia for the first time, I always get these gigantic red spots on my tummy and legs, and recently on one eyelid, and they are visible the whole time we're there. They itch like mad and hurt, and they always but only appear when we travel to SEAsia. No idea. This trip I'm trying antihistamines to see if that helps, thank you dear Anne!

So today's the day, and my next post will be from Vietnam. That never fails to give me an electric thrill. Tạm biệt!