On Returning home.
Out of the bajillion of flights I've taken on this trip, the last one was the worst. It's a 4 hour drive from Sydney to our family home and so I decided to fly, rather than beg my parents to be waiting for me at 6AM in Sydney. I should have been on this domestic flight at 8AM and then glided in sometime around 9AM and been home in time for a coffee. Should.
With thanks to
ChinaAir for their tardiness, Sydney Airport for their exceptionally long customs and baggage line at 7AM in the morning(!), the Sniffer Dog for thinking my nail polish was delicious (thus requiring a search of my luggage for non-existant food), and a broken Qantas plane,
for making this not possible.
Instead my family went to the airport and waited for an unaccounted-for missing daughter (sorry! but I did try and call!) Heartfelt apologies to the any disembarking female passengers in the 20-24 age bracket who may have been swamped by a loving but foreign family.
Thankfully, they did come back and fetch me later that afternoon when I finally got in. Go here for my Mother's Side of the Story.
During the wait, where they shifted us between planes, buses and waiting gates I drifted off to sleep so many times. Each time waking with a shock and having to think about those essentials - who am I? where am I? why am i drooling? what am i doing here? why does everyone here have that strange accent?
Someone's gotta provide the entertainment.
But now, I'm home. Spending time with my fam. Shocked a lot by the local-yokel-ness of Australians. Finding myself out in the bush helping chop firewood (ok let's be honest, Dad uses his chainsaw and I collected the logs - why chop when you can chainsaw!?). Eating Mumma's food again. Taking family pictures. Freezing. Hunting down my old Uggboots. Catching up with friends. Baking Swiss bread --
What can I say? Old habits die hard.