The voice of a female air traffic controller comes over the radio sounding a bit suspicious, and rightfully so. “Halifax Ground, Charlie Golf Zulu Papa Tango with information. I remember the first time I heard the rumble of a crop duster spraying the olive trees early in the morning around my village. For a time, the dream of becoming a pilot stayed just a dream. I wanted to become a pilot but the opportunities to achieve such a goal back then were few and far between. I became fascinated with anything that flew and the humans who flew were my heroes. A dream had been born, the dream of becoming a pilot.Įver since then, I have always looked up to the sound of an airplane. I would run out of our little house and climb up the olive trees, waiting for them to pass again so I can be closer to them. I was developing the travel and exploration bug, a bug that later in life brought me to many countries and exciting new places around the world.īut there was another bug I developed at a very young age that gave me purpose and changed my life: the bug of aviation. My friend Giannis and I would ride our bikes through the olive groves and sometimes we would even brave further up the mountains of Northern Messinia, gone the whole day with no money for food, eating cactus pears and wild blackberries on the side of the road. I didn’t have much, but I was lucky enough to have food and even a bike. Before immigrating to Canada at the age of 18, I grew up in a farming village full of olive groves in Southern Greece.
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