As I sip on my very chilled mojito made in Barcelona I decide to take in my environment.
An Italian couple to my right, sitting so close together their breathing seems in sync. The signora a is busy shoving biscotti or something down the signore’s throat. He eats with no protest.
*sip mojito*
Behind me another Italian couple both snoring whilst holding hands. I think they are travelling together with the biscotti eating ones.
Two seats in front of me are two only other Africans on the flight. I am rather excited to see people from the mother land. One wearing a maroon corduroy jacket with a matching scarf, the other had his flat cap back to front. Both wearing sun glasses so I quickly assume they are either from Nigeria or Congo.
*picks mojito..no sip…must take it slow*
The Africans start talking and I actively eavesdrop in the hope of catching a language I can understand. I move my head closer and closer and jolt up when I realise that my forehead is just about touching with the guy sitting in front of me. I pick Asia as his continent but yesterday I met an Italian GaoXian so I am not too certain on this one. He chose the middle seat yet both isle and window were empty. Who picks the middle seat on purpose? I wonder
*sip mojito*
I try another angle and I can catch bits and pieces of what the Africans are saying. Igbo! thank goodness! no wait sounds like lingala..or is it French? Dutch? I move closer, now on the edge of my seat. Portuguese? Shhhhhh I am trying to listen here, I say inwardly to the flight attendant who is yelling “pardon!” to those two Italian;Correction very hot Italian men hoping from seat to seat. One of them is a geek. I know because he is humming to a star trek soundtrack.
*sip air because mojito is gone and I don’t want to look like a fool*
Ouch my ears hurt. We are descending. I hate small planes. I must stay very still. I assume to crouch position and swear to myself that if I get brave enough I might just ask where they are from.
Cathy Aoll Rambles 