Before I Was A Grownup,  Life in Australia,  Travel

Aaaah, Travel

December 13, 2005 /
Lyric for the day – in honor of The Mummy, and The Mummy Returns, which The Professor and I just watched in succession, because we are suckers for corny films:
All the old paintings on the tomb
They do the sand dance, don’cha know?
If they move too quick (Oh-Way-Oh)
They’re falling down like a domino

And the bazaar man by the Nile
He got the money on a bet
For the crocodiles (Oh-Way-Oh)
They snap their teeth on a cigarette

Foreign types with their hookah pipes
sing:Way-oh-way-oh-way-ooo-aaa-ooo
Walk like an Egyptian.

I step off the plane into the terminal, exhausted after 51 hours of travel.  60 hours ago I was performing my final show of my college years.  54 hours ago saw me driving to the airport.  51 hours ago, the plane was taking off and I was so excited I was sick in the lavatory.  46 hours ago I started to get over the whole being-crushed-into-a-5’x2′-airline-seat-that-pushes-your-neck-forward thing – my excitement began to dim.  38 hours ago I landed in Malaysia, and a few hours after that I was quaking in my hotel room while someone had an angry 2am confrontation outside my hotel door.  12 hours ago I took off from Malaysia and headed to Tokyo, and 11 hours ago the plane had some malfunction midair and I wondered for the longest 20 minutes of my life if we would crash.  1 hour ago, we began our descent through the late summer Sydney cloud cover, and 5 minutes ago we were allowed to remove our seatbelts and reclaim our overhead baggage.  The journey, the endless, 7 stopovers in 2 + days of flying, is at last over.
I leave the international baggage claim with a suitcase so large people keep referring to it as a “trunk.”  I have changed some money over, and I cannot get over how Aussie money is (a) colored, (b) plastic, and (c) all different sizes.  I also cannot get over how much they stiffed me in the exchange, but what can you do?
I roll my trunk down the international terminal ramp, into the airport proper, and see my boyfriend waiting for me.  I don’t know at the time that he will turn out to be an abusive, lazy, alcoholic, jobless drain on me – so I’m excited to see him.  He is tan and smiling, and leads me out into the sun of Sydney, and I take my first fresh breath of Australian air.
We catch a taxi, then a bus, then a train, then another bus to the Coogee Beach area of Sydney, where the boyfriend has spent the last two and a half months.  It’s a small strip of beach with blue-green taffy colored water and whitish sand, dotted here and there with lobster-colored Brits enjoying their working holiday.  I muscle my trunk up a steep incline, past palm trees, hostels, and gimmicky bars, and into the Coogee Beach Bay Hostel (or some such name), where I will stay for two days until my course of study begins.   I should sleep, but I just can’t while the sun is shining, so I step out onto the rooftop bar area of the hostel and just look around me.  At last.  At last, after months of saving, working, getting finished with school a semester early, at last I am here.  My adventure begins . . .

5 Comments

  • Amanda

    December 13, 2005 at 3:39 pm

    Bangles!!!! i never did learn all the words, it was pretty much a "la la la watermelon oh way oh cigarette ohwayoh, way oh way oh oh way oh way oh!"

  • Nice Girl

    December 14, 2005 at 11:15 am

    Ooooh! I can\’t wait to hear more. I\’ve always been curious about this time in your life…I\’m on the edge of my seat. Told Kristi W. about my moving plan. She seemed to have mixed emotions about it. I am feeling bad and guilty telling people. -sigh- Did you happen to come across any suggestions from your people about good places to live out there? We are still planning to go out there tomorrow for the long weekend of apartment hunting. Amanda 🙂

  • Kelly

    December 15, 2005 at 4:15 pm

    Hi Gillian,I left you a message on my space after your wonderful comments, but didn\’t make it too lengthy. I was getting quite long winded. For some reason, there are a few people leaving me messages because they think I\’m Hispanic. That\’s par for the course…I grew up in a Hispanic neighborhood, so I\’m pretty used to that. You gave me some wonderful compliments and I\’m still blushing a little! You are wayyyyy too kind.It\’s amazing that you bring up Harry Potter since I love it so much. Your point was dead on, too! I remember trying out the word \’nigger\’ with my black friends and it was NOT received well. In fact, they told me I wasn\’t black ENOUGH to use it. That devastated and confused me. Where was I to fit in, then? People thought I was Hispanic, I couldn\’t be dark enough, and I found myself in those situations where I heard these racist comments (that wasn\’t the first time). Talk about confusing!Anyway, this wasn\’t what my story was about, but it\’s touched a nerve. That\’s ok. It\’s one that needed to be touched. I really appreciated your thoughtful comments. You also touched on something that\’s bothered me my whole adult life: adults should know better. I\’ve learned not to expect too much and be pleasantly surprised when they behave the way they\’re supposed to. Much like the community of bloggers who have become my new friends.Take care…I\’m going to devote more time to reading your fab travels soon. I\’m really jealous! ;-)Kelly