Oh my goodness. This is incredible. We’re in a helicopter, soaring out over Italy and onwards to Croatia. It’s a beautiful craft, cherry red and as sweet and round as a bell pepper. I’m in the back, next to Mark, buckled firmly into my seat by an X-shaped belt and with a pair of headphones that block out some of the engine’s roar yet still transmit the conversation between Dubrovski, Mark and, occasionally, the pilot. I have a mic attached to my headphones, but I don’t expect to be using it. I’m too busy drinking in all the impressions I’m getting. This is my first helicopter ride, and it’s amazing. It’s not like being in a plane, where you look out on the outside world through those little oval windows, well insulated from the outside by the dense fuselage. I think this might be as close as it’s possible to get to feeling as though I’m actually flying. The view curves from above our heads to below our feet and the world seems astoundingly close.
