I am thankful that despite their best efforts, the vastness of the landscape outside Dubai dwarfs the ridiculous, glittering skyscrapers. The quiet, matte desert stretches out and then wrinkles up into mountains. A few skewed roads run through valleys between. Light and shadow create the only changes in tone—the unvegetated sand is a consistent non-color. Then, from time to time, without explanation, a valley holds dusty greens in agricultural squares.
A few hours and a few thousand miles later, the earth is a watery, snowy swirl. The air is clear, the shapes below are sharp. Vastness here, is cold and deep, blues and whites marbled together. There are no signs of people, of paths, or even of life. The world below is elemental and inchoate.
After this, the temperate Pacific Coast is generous and nurturing. Breaking white waves stitch the ocean to the cliffs in Mendocino. Small-scale towns blend in and out of hills and forest. I search for landmarks—Sea Ranch, Jenner. The geography of weekend hikes is suddenly clear as Point Reyes, Tomales Bay, Muir Beach, and Mount Tamalpais form a map below. Colors vivid with life—dark green oaks on grassy yellow hills, that big red bridge, pastel houses that chase up San Francisco streets—welcome me home.
The physical bravura of a sixteen-hour flight in a huge jet only heightens the resonance of the view below. These views that feels so precious and privileged are part of a twice-daily journey for one of many airlines on this route.
ps I'm sad to say I didn't take these photos myself, and they're not exactly what I saw out the plane. I wish I'd taken photos, but it was pretty nice just looking out the window too.
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