Off to an interesting start.  We showed up on time this morning for our 12:50 pm flight and were offered the opportunity to take the flight 12 hours later.  For this inconvenience, Cathay Pacific would give us vouchers to upgrade to business class on a future flight and give us each $400 in cash.  Well, okay.  With no connections to make, this just means we get into Hong Kong at 6 am on 11/7, instead of 6 pm on 11/6. We are already dropping into the elasticity of time that accompanies this kind of journey.  

It is odd when an extra day is given to you.  It feels like a bonus round. We drove back through the rainy day to Dawn’s house and had some deliciously strong Capricorn coffee.  The unanticipated time bought me a wander over to Mission Pie to meet up with Joyce for a tasty wedge of pear raspberry pie and some conversation, and a climb back over the top of Bernal.  It felt good to walk knowing there was a 15 hour non-stop flight ahead. Meandering past the verdant, vibrant gardens atop Bernal Heights in the chill November air, observation mode setting in, slipping into  that quality of exploration and shift in perspective that travel invites.

The feeling of departure permeated everything these few past weeks.    Planning for the weeks ahead while simulatenously orchestrating details for the world left behind was a dizzying cocktail – one part disorientation, one part excitement, one dash of overwhelm.  Three to four yoga classes a week for the month leading up to departure day were integral  to staying grounded.

Burnt the candle on both ends for most nights during the last week’s  countdown to departure.  Extra hours at work, visiting with friends from afar, staying up late to put together the India playlist for the nano (somehow seemed so essential and yet I’ve listened to it once for less than an hour), making the annual calendar (it will already be December when we get back), and participating in my first ever Dia de los Muertos.  

It is embarrassing, bordering on stupid, that this was my first ever.  This holiday honoring the the dead was happening in my backyard for a number of years when I lived in the Mission in the early 90s.  Altars, a procession, and steady-paced live percussion merge to create a dreamlike experience where the veil between the two worlds feels paper thin.  Twine is strung between trees so that participants can write messages to the dead on slips of paper and tie them to the line.  I was grateful for the opportunity.

Next stop, Hong Kong.

A good song for a day like today.