The first thing I noticed? Everything was floating. Absolutely everything. My pen, my notebook… and, unfortunately, my dignity too.
Breakfast in space sounds romantic, until you realize that jam doesn't respect gravity. I carefully opened my packed lunch. Bad move.
My sandwich decided to become an astronaut in its own right and floated towards the ventilation system.
"Houston, we have a sandwich problem."
Three minutes later, I was drifting after my breakfast like an elegant whale in slow motion. Finally, I caught it with a tea towel. Victory tastes even better at 400 kilometers.
You have to train every day, otherwise your muscles turn to jelly. So there I was, strapped to a treadmill, supposedly "walking." Walking without a floor remains a strange concept.
A fellow astronaut floated by and said dryly:
"Nice pace."
To which I replied:
"I personally run a marathon around the Earth. One lap every 90 minutes."
Because yes, every hour and a half you see a sunrise and a sunset. At one point, I didn't know whether to say "good morning" or "goodnight." I solved it with:
"General cosmic hello."
In the evening, I floated to the dome window. Below me, the Earth continued to rotate peacefully. Oceans, clouds, city lights… everything seemed so peaceful.
I gently tapped on the window and whispered:
"Take it easy down there. I'm just keeping an eye on things upstairs."
And there I was. No traffic, no traffic jams, no lawn mowing. Just silence, stars, and a man who had finally won back his sandwich.
Conclusion of my stay?
The space is impressive. Weightlessness is hilarious.
And sandwiches… you should never underestimate them.