And back to Miami

Thursday night, I went to the house of my brother Antoine. We were six: Antoine, his wife Marie-Hélène, his sons Adam and Cantor and his daughter Orlane. They were living in Seattle in 2000-2002, and I have not seen the children often since then. Orlane, the youngest, was polite and told me that she was remembering me. The two boys, Adam in first year at university of medicine and Cantor in equivalent of grade 11, being older, were remembering me very well.

Antoine was the sixth of my siblings that I saw during this trip. Sixth out of nine is not too bad. My mother was not in Versailles this week, so I did not have the opportunity to see her again.


Yesterday, Friday, I flied back to Miami, a ten hour direct flight. In the plane that was full, there was a group of around twenty teenagers. So, I expected the flight to be noisy. I said so to the woman on the next seat, and she told me that they were a group of high school students from Fort Myers, Florida. They were studying theater and/or French and they were coming back from Great Britain and France, where they had visited the Globe theater in London and la Comédie-Française in Paris. She was the theater teacher. She assured me that they will behave, and she was absolutely right. Later, one of the flight attendants commented to her that indeed her group of teenagers were exceptionally quiet.


I arrived at home at 16:45 and at 18:45 I was crashing, so I went to bed, after checking that there were no work emergency. I had a relatively good night. Of course, I was awake several times, starting at 2 AM, but I was able to sleep more than 8 hours in total. When we were living in Vancouver, it would take me more than a week to recover from the 9 hour difference. Here in Miami, with only 6 hour difference, I expect to recover in two to three days. Much better.