Flying from countries

Come to think of it, there were a lot of flying. It's much more than I would have thought, being on the air. Is this how wanted celebrities feel like when they have a concert to catch up in the next continent? Then there was so much time to waste just doing nothing.

But enough about flying. What about the places to visit? The glorious English land that I have heard so much. Ah, the British air, a little droplet of your blood through the traces of my own line of blood tingles. But alas, I am just a tourist to your land. My oh my, it is a busy little city.

Paris, the land of love. Of high dominating architectures such as the Eiffel, then the home of artists. Ah, Tour de France were certainly taking place while we were there. There's that cold rainy day, and we just simply ran into the sheds but enjoying every trickle. The environment is just admirable. But the tougne which knows no other seems so foreign, even to my tougne which has the knowledge. Maybe it was shy.

Then we were off to our baseland, my home country. Or, as ignorant as I was when I was small, the world as I came to see it. My eyes were immune to the trees, the high rised buildings that were not living up enough to the standards, the people all shiny and sweaty as they walk past. But bringing my Muscat self, a built and updated personality, back here opens up a new eye. How could I've been so blunt all these years. It really seemed different. It's like stepping into a different environment, another world really. I began to see the forests crowned with magnificent creatures, the people as helpful and trustworhty as ever, and technology building all over the place. Does it really only take fetching a friend from Muscat to break that naughty perception and ego that I have built everytime I come back home? Bless. I'm not afraid to show who I am to anyone anymore.

And now, back home again. Muscat. All the Air condition's broke, and it's even too hot to sit and write away on the blog.