Landing Down Under

So I've finally arrived. And just like the first time I touched down on Aussie ground, it felt uncannily normal.

Like I'd always been there.

Like the 8 hour flight (it'll be 7 hours next month; AirAsia would have finally obtained the licence without which they'd have to fly an hour away from alternate airports - think connect the dots) was just an extended bus trip.

And holding X, after an 11.5 month separation - I just fit right into his arms and it was just as if I'd never left.

My departure, thankfully was free of drama. I'd forbidden all my friends for the send off; I have a Pavlovian reaction to the word "goodbye" - I cry.

So we had a slightly teary family prayer back at home, where I snapped photos of the living room and bedroom - by the time I get back in 2 years, my family would have moved to my brother's new house. The apartment would have been sold.

My brother had on, of all days, fallen sick with chickenpox. We stopped by his house to drop off Mum's soup and I only managed to wave at him over the gate (I'm unvaccinated). We'd stopped by earlier at my sister-in-law's family home, where she'd moved in temporarily to avoid Matt catching the disease.

I had excess baggage of 17kg and paid up a fine of MYR255. I was relieved at the sum, having heard various horror stories about people paying up in thousands. Check in time was an hour before departure, so my parents, godparents, cousin and I sat at Mc D's to make use of our finite time together.

At 8.30pm, I gave everyone final hugs and walked through the gates, suppressing tears. After chatting to some friends and returning other calls, I boarded the plane.

The flight was ruined by the ugly Malaysians that seem to be growing in expolation. There was the family with a screaming tyrant infant. Like you know how babies cry for food and diaper change? This one was SCREAMING, not crying. For at least 4 hours, we would hear prolonged "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!"s followed by shushes from other annoyed passengers and the unsuccesful maternal attempts at pacification.

The seat to my left was thankfully, empty. Beside that sat an elderly gentleman, who routinely switched seats with his lady companion. We shared the use of the empty seat, occasionally to stretch our feet, or rest our possessions. They were nice, quiet people, the ideal flight neighbours.

To my right across the aisle however, was the stereotypical nosey-parker Chinese aunty (also know as the Ah Sou). She talked and talked and talked and talked throughout the entire red eye flight. She switched on the reading light while everyone was trying to sleep. Her equally nosey-parker Chinese husband (also known as the Ah Pek) who sat behind me, kept kicking my seat and routinely got up to talk to his wife. With his ass facing me (I was sleeping with my head leaning on the armrest). Another reason to dislike him - he wore a grotty fanny pack with a shirt tucked into his black slacks (yes, I am that shallow)!

Needless to say, I didn't sleep a wink.

The cold, windy Coolangatta air was startling to my sleep deprived senses. I had no trouble with immigration, unlike the unfriendly folks at the Brisbane airport. CHARLIE CHAN (don't you love the alliteration? I wonder if it's a pseudonym) did not smile at me, but neither did he single me out as a drug mule/ hooker/ terrorist.

A cute Ronaldo lookalike did check my embarkation form for goods to be declared but cleared me quickly. My checked in luggage to ages to arrive. Everything was damp, fueling the suspicions of the customs officer who asked me, "So you speak English?"

I paused for a beat and wisely chose not to say, "Yeah, yours isn't too bad either", and nodded.

I'd gotten into the baggage-dissection queue, which turned out to be a mistake on their part and got to cut into the baggage-X-ray line. Thankfully, they didn't confiscate my ancient (ranging from 15-20 years old) stinky bolsters and pillows, laying all my worst fears to rest.

The automatic door at the OOL arrivals lounge wouldn't open! Looks like I was shaking my fist at it, but I was really just waving at the sensor.

So I'm finally at X's place, all in one piece with none of my baggage missing, just unusually damp. And apart from banging my hip on the sharp edge of the bedframe, stubbing my toe on the coffeetable at the surf club and burning my cheek on a saucepan (X was trying to pan fry a tuna sandwich on low heat and I was leaning in to hear for a sizzle - I was sleep deprived!), I'm alright. It feels just like any other day, just a rather long one.