The comfort zone

Aaaah, a comfort zone. A nice cozy place to rest your feet and your mind. Comfort zones can basically be found anywhwere, but mine is certainly nowhere near an airport, airplane or train station.

So, my Covid test came back negative yesterday, which means I can leave my comfort zone – my familiar environment, the people and places I know – to expand my horizon. I hopped onto a train this morning, jittery with excitement and looking forward to the unexpected. But does setting out on a journey really have to be THIS uncomfortable? Who designed the seats in German trains and what on earth were they thinking? The train ride was only an hour, but by the time I got off, I was no longer excited and jittery, I was grumpy and aching all over.

I unfolded myself from the train seat with creaking joints and made may way to the check-in-counter, through the security checks, to the gate, where I slumped onto an inconceivably uncomfortable plastic seat, grateful to at least not have to spend the wait standing up. From there, it was straight into the next seat, my seat on the plane – equally uncomfortable but with even less legroom than the one in the train. As we sat in our seats, waiting for take-off, for over an hour and my back was already feeling sore, dread crept into me as I realised I would be crouched in this position for the next ten hours.

I somehow survived the discomfort of trains and plains, and finally drop into my hotel bed, stretching out my arms and legs. Pure bliss! It’s wide and plushy with soft pillows and a nice soft blanket. The crisp white bedlinen feels cool and smooth.

I’ll tell you all about the bunk beds in my shared cabin on board as soon as I get there, but for now, please excuse: I need to enjoy my temporary king size comfort zone.