January 06, 2008


I've never really been a fan of window seats. I find that the aisle seat is so much more alluring-- it offers the freedom to roam the plane, to use the aisle as extra leg-room, to quickly jump off the plane when it lands (quickly, of course, being a relative term...) and it offers the power to decide whether or not someone may go to the restroom! It's the power seat on a plane.

But, as we head towards Santiago, I feel blessed to have the window seat. The sun has descended behind the wing of the plane, and the sky has become its own landscape-- there is a thick layer of clouds rolling and splashing like waves. Above them, dark clouds have loomed ominously in the distance, no unlike the Alps as one flies over Switzerland. Now, the plane has begun to kiss just the edge of one such mountain and it has proven itself to be more of a soft pillow. And the colors! The rust horizon underlines the purple sky and the fluffs that trail the Alpine clouds alternate between pink, orange, yellow and blue, depending upon their position to the sun. It's amazing.

My seatmate, Rob, just photographed it, about ten minutes after I took these pictures. In his photo, there is a thick band of fire- filled color surrounded by darkness. Stunning.

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