Ivan Musoke

Hello World…Again.

Calgary, AB
04.07.2019 AD

Dear Diary,

It bothers me that I have not posted anything on my blog in while, but I may have figured out a way to jump start things – using diary entries. I’m not sure I’ve done this before, but the logic here (if I can so liberally use the word) is that I will feel that I owe it to you to check in every so often. In a sense, I suppose it means you will kind of be holding me hostage which, the more I think about it, is not the most appealing way to kick off a relationship.

And as everyone knows, the best foundation for any relationship is full disclosure. So here’s a picture, Diary.

There go the frequent flyer miles.

Anyway, Diary, I got here yesterday after a so-so flight from Amsterdam. If truth be told there was little in the way of spectacular to report – the guy in the seat next to me asked whether I was a light sleeper because he had a knee injury and would have to keep getting up and walk around.

He volunteered that he’d tried to book an aisle seat and failed, since we were connecting, I thought I would share that I’d also hoped to be bumped up to KLM’s Business/First Class, but ended up here. You can’t always get what you want, I suppose.

My sister called BS on the whole knee thing and said he should have presented some proof – making me wonder whether I’d come off as a dick if I asked to see this damaged knee. Anywho, for the entire 8 plus hours in the sky, he only got up once. ONCE!

Understandably this riled me because I’d decided to stay awake lest I got in his way – resulting in infra-red tinted eyes (bloodshot sounds a bit like an exaggeration) and a deeper, unwarranted and unnecessary appreciation for struggles of intelligent machines; I watched Bumblebee and Alita; Battle Angel.

In retrospect, I might be shortchanging you, Diary. I haven’t told you about the layover in Schiphol. The highlight of that particular experience was the hunt for an affordable shower. After going back and forth (back to where I’d seen showers in a washroom sans towels) I settle on Yotel where the bath cost me 17Euros.

It may not have been the most expensive way to take care of personal hygiene, but I was not going let any penny go to waste – So I stood in the shower for a while, employing various poses; The Thinker, The Jilted Lover in a music video, The “Feels So Good” guy from internet memes (see below) and, finally, the guy whose just endured a flight from Uganda-Kenya-Amsterdam that desperately needs to shake off the potential perception that he marinated himself in his sweat.

I also used the hair dryer for good measure… on my pants, seeing as I’d gotten a haircut hours before I set off for this trip.

Oooooh, it feels so good

I also used the hair dryer for good measure… on my pants, seeing as I’d gotten a haircut hours before I set off.

Back to Calgary.

Everytime I’ve flown, there’s a PA announcement about opening the overhead compartments carefully because things may have moved around as we descended/landed. I’d always put this down to ticking a box, because it never happened…until yesterday. In a previous life, the pilot must have been a mixologist given how much we swayed and rocked during our descent – no lie, I think my internal organs have been re-aligned.

The clearance bit at the airport more than made up for it – taking the shortest, most pain-free amount of time I’ve endured in a long while. It’s a little disappointing that no one dwelled on the snacks I’d brought along for my host – I suppose fried grasshoppers are not such a big deal after all.

Calgary’s not as cold as had previously been suggested (thanks a lot, AccuWeather, any more layering and I’d be a bonafide mummy), the jacket I was wearing was more than sufficient.

I dropped by the mall to pick up a SIM card, and the only incident of note was being accosted by a guy with free samples of whatever tooth violating pastry he was handing out.

We were supposed to go shopping and exploring the neighbourhood a little after I got to my host’s place, but the moment my body met her couch, plans changed. Bless her for not coming between what God had brought together.

The slumber was short-term though, Diary, because, well, Jet Lag. I expect it will wear off, but for now, I think I should make the most of it.

It’s often been said that nights are incredibly bright during summer, but it’s a thing to behold. 10pm was well lit and totally threw the Iris status report off – that’s Iris, my daughter. She who loves to ask me whether it “is day there” when I travel, amused no end by the time zone machinations. I settled for ‘telling’ instead of ‘showing’ that it was night, lest I undid all she had learnt in school.

Who knows what the day has in store for me… or the weeks ahead.

I’ll keep you posted.

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