One of those rare and precious moments allows me to see and behold my entire home country of the Netherlands from a truly unique perspective: crossing the Dutch nation at 43,000 feet—just over 13 kilometres—above sea level, with the deepest blue above.

While the southern provinces are covered in a white cotton blanket of clouds, the northern provinces are laid bare on a beautiful Indian summer afternoon. As a four-engined, white Boeing 747 soars through the upper atmosphere like a metal sparrow on a mission, the country I've grown up in looks like a miniature version of itself.

The Dutch coastline and Frisian islands make it easy for any casual observer to orient themselves: my hometown of Haarlem is clearly visible, along with Zandvoort, IJmuiden, and Alkmaar—all too recognisable. I can't help but gaze out of my window, realising that millions of people down there are living their lives while I sit isolated far above, sipping my coffee and snapping a few pictures as I observe my fellow countrymen.
Passing Haarlem, I tune my secondary VHF radio to the familiar frequency of Texel Radio—the airport I still regularly visit with an aerial chariot a tad smaller than the Queen of the Skies I’m trusted with today. The familiar voice of my friend Ed de Bruijn stoically clears me for a visual approach on the grass runway in use, though I respectfully decline the invitation, knowing full well that attempting such a landing with a 747 would be a one-time-only experience.

In the silence of the cockpit, I take a moment to cherish this unique perspective, a reminder that how far I've come in the last three decades that started with a dream and resulted in an unconventional career. Sitting in the left seat of a Boeing 747, crossing the very country where I took my first flying lessons feels like coming full circle.