Sitting on the front seat of an impressive North-American car, I enjoy a cream bagel with a cup of coffee. After an eight hours flight, amplified by a two-hour delay and one-hour waiting time at the customs -to which you have to add the time difference- here is a drink to keep up.
Anyway, I have safely landed on Canadian soil. Behind the car’s widescreen, the Toronto’s skyline is slowly taking shape.
If the clocks in Toronto are showing 7pm, my mind is still on French time. In Paris, the hands of the clocks are moving forward six hours. As a new day begins in France, my own day is slowly approaching his twilight. Comfortably settled at the front of the car, my hosts are driving me towards my temporary home.