I hate any kind of transport. I get sick in a car, on a boat, in a train. The only means of transport I have been always able to stand is a plane. As a kid, I would wander through the aisles, read books and love night flights. This hasn't much changed now, except for the fact that I earned a take-off fear. Once the belts sign is off, I am back to enjoying my flight. In order to overcome this take-off fear as I call it, me and Bachi (my husband) have decided to drive a plane on our own. This took place in Moscow, where I sat with a pilot-instructor, who told me everything about flying, showed me everything in the plane and then allowed me to drive.
Taking off turned out to be probably one of the easiest things in piloting; the turbulence is an absolutely normal thing - once you fly over the trees (which are warm) the warm and cold airs meet, it naturally causes jumps (as in turbulence). The hardest maneuver is supposed to be landing, which I could have never imagined - because I love landing most of all. It was great to drive a plane by myself. The emotions I had are absolutely unexplainable. Amelia Earhart, you say?