The Flight

Well, where do we start. I guess Brisbane is the best place. Goodbyes are always so difficult.

Brisbane to Singapore could have possibly been the worst 8 hours of my young adult life. Until we arrived bleary eyed and cold footed into Heathrow. There is nothing like being awake for 24hours and literally the only thing stopping you from entering the country is 4 questions that you answered in a tired, possibly void way which made the Immigration Officer decide to detain us, or the fact we had no returning flight booked.

Told to take a seat, given a piece of paper so we at least felt in the loop and with passport and all identification 'held', we sat. Possibly sat alittle more, then we are told that we are going to go collect our lugguge, so it can be searched. Was slightly disappointed. After watching my bag ripped open and gone through, answering question about my personal belongings and having my personal diary and presents confiscated for investigation I was devastated. Even medication that a certificate from my doctor stated it was to be taken, I was not allowed too, I had to be examined by a complete fuckwit first. Then, bags in hand we are searched, photographed, and put into holding to await an interview which would decide our fate.

Interviewed separately we were unaware of how the other was treated. After being told that my diary was read, and in fact, used against me during the interview, I had felt both violated and beyond contempt. Although unscathed Shelley and I managed to charm the lady and we were finally let through after 4 and half hours of what seemed to be nothing more that a ridiculous amount of fuck-a-round.

It was one of those enlightening awfully objective experiences. You are tired, jet lagged, sick, and then someone tells you because you do not have a returning flight, you may not be given entry and infact, forcibly booked a flight home on the next available. And we thought the plane flight was going to be the most difficult part.

All that aside, England! That land of no please's and thank you's, packaged food (and I mean almost everything) and girls wearing tights when it is ridiculous to consider wearing anything other than the flames of hell in weather sitting at a cool 1 degree. Now, I sit in a tiny flat, seemingly made for someone of my height in Cardiff, Wales. It is getting dark at 4:30 in the afternoon and apparently today sported some blue sky, a rarity amongst this land shrouded in an overcast haze.

Enough from me, this has been a terribly written, jet lagged brief account of the last 30 hours of my adventure. To get here was easy. And, just found a flight to Germany for 4pound, who can complain??

And we are almost there...

So we have reached almost the pinnacle of the departure. The two week nerves. The party has now been and gone and we are upon the final chapters of closing the loose ends, of saying goodbye and of finally getting around to all the things we procrastinated over for the last 4 weeks while we weren't ready to deal with leaving.

Many things have changed, relationships, personalities, reactions. It leaves you alittle in awe of the situation that is now slowly creeping and creeping closer. Two weeks. I will be up in the air in two weeks, flying over Brisbane as we are FINALLY on our way to leave our senses and sensibilities at home while we pave a new path.

FUCK YES.

The Shedding

I think for any successful trip to function well, without leaving behind the tangled mess of all those bridges you tried to burn down before leaving, it is important, as one of those vital steps to leave a clean slate. Whether this is by your hand or not, a clean slate I guess is the best way to leave things behind, and also to take with you on your new adventure.

This process, I will call the shedding. Normally the things involved in 'the shedding' are:
1) The Job - Check
2) The Debt- Check
3) The Lady - Check
4) The Home - Check
5) Your inhibitions? CHECK

Those are probably the 5 slates I wanted to wipe clean before I left for my adventure and I feel I have successfully managed, whether by my choosing or not (yes thats right, fuck you JOB/LADY) you manage to leave with an eliviated spirit as all those worldy burdens will shed off your shoulders as you are so completely removed from your comfort zone, you are mistaking your head for your arse.

So the shedding has occurred, my slate is as bare as the walls I have now shed of anything personal. My poor poor bare walled room, how much character you have lost! How much soul!

Now all the character comes from the speakers I faithfully left unpacked so my iPod and it can be become acquainted again. I have spent the last two months in a house other than my own, but even these bare walls are so much more homely and welcome me back with open arms. I have to love my door that closes itself!

The First Step

It was probably the most crucial of all steps I took, the first. When it came to traveling, I had dreamed and dreamed. I had scoured over maps, seen the documentaries, fallen in love with David Attenborough and lost my mind a few times since my last adventure overseas. Many a plans had been made and come to naught, falling through the cracks of a life that changes paces and a mind that changes focus. But to book the ticket, to sit down and say 'Fuck it All' and to finally see those glistening numbers on the screen of YOUR flight, to any destination of your choosing. It is truely a magical moment and you literally feel the ground shift below your feet and now begins the race to catch up with your wildest fantasies.

So as I sit here, amongst the rubble of a room I have kept my own for the past 2 or 3 years, I contemplate far too many things to keep to myself. All those stupid things that you store in your room and to even comprehend how to put it all on your back. What to take? What to throw? What to treasure to make sure that it, like the plans you have made in the past, don't fall through the cracks of a busy life. Alot to take in sitting on the floor of some 1970's esque house, with the grooved wall paper, diamond studded roof and carpet that holds so many secrets I would prefer to sit on a blanket than feel it against my skin, and all this with the stifling heat that the house holds. I new today was one of those 'I will do it tomorrow' days.

So much to take in, and in anticipation of so many thoughts running through my head on my adventures I am going to blog alittle about my trip and experiences. Whenever I can find a computer or hold a sentence together in a reasonable fashion.

It is 25 days and counting. My room is packed, my bag is not. My friends I have not said goodbye to, mostly because I am scared to admit how much I will miss them. My loose ends have not been tied up, and all I can do is sit in excitement. I am going to freeze!