Behind me, the local agricultural club is discussing the length of the flight. There are various versions of what the French(Belgian?)-accented pilot said. No one has yet attempted the math. What I'm noticing most are smells: fresh moist towlette and stale upholstery and cigarette smoke on people's clothes. Also the man next to me in a lousy light blue suit. Where is the glamor in international travel? The film is Pathfinder -- the English-language version. What?
I am still waiting for excitement to overtake me. Perhaps I am too tired. I am also sitting next to the toilet. Will I look retarded working in my French grammar book? Pathfinder, it turns out, is the story of a boy on "the frozen planes" of Lapland 1000 years ago. It stars Mikkel Gaup and Ingvald Guttorm. I do want to go north. At least as far as Amsterdam. (Okay, I'm getting excited.)