I pranked myself by booking a Salvador-Paris on April 1—April Fools! You’re about to lose 20 °C!

But honestly, I was okay with it.

I feel like I’m going home when I’m going to France.

It’s when I fly to Canada that I get nervous, sad, scared even. It took me a while to realize it. For years, I thought I was crying while packing because I was sad the trip was over. Well, now I know. I’m not such a drama queen when I fly to France.

I’ve been Canadian for twenty years now—what did I do wrong? Surely, I should see it as “home” by now?

And it’s not like anyone forced me to come to Canada. It was happenstance, not a lifelong dream of mine to move to Canada, but I embraced it. I made the decision alone, and in a way, I grew up as a young adult in Canada.

“I just can’t picture you in Canada,” a fellow traveller told me this year. “You like hot weather, streets full of people, colourful scenery and arts—why are you living in Canada?”

But in the early 2000s, Canada welcomed me and gave me work. Plus I had to live somewhere and France wasn’t even on the table with Feng. Ottawa was a home base between trips because our life revolved around travelling.

I don’t have any regrets. I still enjoy some aspects of my Canadian life and it’s a part of my identity… but it’s not home.

Salvador to Lisbon

My first TAP Air Portugal flight to Lisbon was at 11:25 p.m. so I begged my Airbnb host for a late checkout. It’s hot in Salvador, even if I stored my backpack somewhere, I’d need a shower before the transatlantic flight.

I went out to buy bread and snacks for the flight then I spent the rest of the afternoon packing.

I took an Uber at 6 p.m. and got to the airport just before 7 p.m.—perfect timing, TAP was just opening the luggage drop-off counter.

This time, I got a good window seat without paying extra for seat selection. I got lucky when I did the online check-in.

I kind of like TAP, it’s a good airline and I had a positive experience with them last year—everything is smooth, you get a free blanket and pillow, there’s enough legroom and meals are decent (a very Brazilian beef stroganoff served with real metal cutlery!).

It was “only” a 7 hours and 40 minutes flight so I tried to sleep as much as I could.

We landed in Lisbon at 11:4 a.m. on Tuesday, right on time.

Lisbon to Paris

I entered and exited Brazil with my Canadian passport but I entered Portugal with my French passport because I used the RAPID system to skip the long lineup.

I love Lisbon Airport. It’s a big hub full of Europeans doing European things like eating and smoking, it’s friendly and modern, and it’s pretty convenient.

I didn’t have to store away my Portuguese, it came in handy to order coffee and go through security. In a way, it was a seamless transition from Brazil to Europe except for the weather—it was dark and cloudy and it eventually started pouring in Lisbon.

I boarded my flight to Paris at 3 p.m. and started stressing out because there was no way it would take off at 3:25 p.m. as planned.

I desperately wanted it to land on time at 6:55 p.m. because the last train to Nantes was at 9:04 p.m. Would I have enough time to travel from Orly Airport to Montparnasse to catch it? No idea.

Last year I didn’t even try because of the ongoing protests, I slept at my brother’s place. But inconveniently, he and his partner have just moved out and they are currently travelling in Vietnam. My plan B was my sister, also in Paris, but she lives in a tiny apartment with her partner, my nephew and a grownup stepchild—we were both really hoping I’d catch the late-night train to Nantes.

Orly airport to Montparnasse train station

The flight from Lisbon took off late but somehow arrived on time. I rushed to the baggage carousel and reviewed my options while waiting for my backpack to show up. A taxi? Yeah, but traffic. Orlyval train, then RER train and subway? Probably more reliable.

I bought my ticket, jumped on the Orlyval to Anthony, then on the RER to Denfert, with my sister following my trip and offering Parisian tips along the way.

“What’s up with line 6?”

“The usual, don’t worry about it. Otherwise, take the 4.”

“I think I’m going to make it,” I texted my mum around 8 p.m.

And I did make it. I think my sister was as relieved as I was.

I eventually arrived in Nantes at 11:25 p.m. Feng called me just as I was hugging my mum, waiting outside the train station.

Not bad for a long transatlantic journey.