Faster than a Speeding Bullet

Although I have been a frequent traveller for many years, the concept of plane travel continues to amaze me. As much as we all enjoy complaining about flights that last six, eight, ten, fourteen, or even nineteen hours, the idea of having breakfast in Brazil and then meeting up with a friend for coffee on Queen Street in Toronto the next afternoon, is quite astonishing. How strange it is to move so casually across the kilometres and over the oceans and flit between totally different worlds. Who, in that alternative little café, which apparently has the best almond croissants this side of the Atlantic, would have thought that a mere twenty-four hours earlier I was enjoying the salty seabreeze in northeastern Brazil? I sure didn't, and I am the person in question! All this to say, that I am safely back [having landed at Pearson Airport a mere fifteen hours after the Air France flight] from a twelve-day blitzkrieg five-stops-twelve-days-why-do-I-keep-doing-this-to-myself visit to Canada. In all, it was a good visit and I managed to see most of my family. Stories and photos to follow!