Travelling alone, me! Seriously…this is dangerous. While I might appear confident it’s because I keep forgetting that I’m not. I forget serious things, like bringing my credit card, organising a party and forgetting to invite the guests, rocking up to a school dance on the wrong night, calling the police reporting that my bike was stolen when I forgot mum had driven me to school. And I lose my phone a million times a day. Seriously…I have history.
This trip though, I’m all organised and then… With just 24 hours before departure…The Irish Department of Foreign Affairs decides to conspire against me. Firstly while my sponsor has acknowledged I am who I say I am my Irish passport will now take another four weeks. But I won’t be here and nor will John. Oh just go to the Post Office and get a letter of Authority. I go to the Post Office. Oh you do that online with the most convoluted, difficult, disastrous App ever made- Australia Post App. Oh and then, that night, the dfa.ie send me an email telling me the photo I submitted (six weeks ago!) is not good enough because the background is not white enough. (Ummm dangerous territory!!) After much angst and aggravation – no selfies mind, a neutral expression, no shadows – Oh the list goes on and it is never flattering! A thousand photos later John nails it and I am forever grateful that my soul mate is the most patient and generous human alive.
John drops me off at the airport in plenty of time and we exchange hugs and get all sentimental and agree that life is too short to be apart for three whole weeks. We’ll cope!
I’m settled into the departure lounge amusing myself figuring out where the passengers are going, avoiding the retail stores, struggling with compression stockings and deciding that the airline uniforms are a bit ‘vintage’. If everyone else wasn’t looking like they were ready for cuddling up on the couch for a long binge session I would have thought I had skipped back to the 60s. They come in waves as does the wash of passengers following their leaders.
The call came and I lined up with all the others in cattle-class when I met two women who were going to judge at a dog show in Vladivostok! I really wished I had more time to chat. They seemed so interesting but that is the thing about travel these moments can be so fleeting.
I arrived at my seat to find it occupied. The couple got up to sit me by the window but I had an aisle seat. The steward immediately rectified the situation and the man (I use that term loosely) grumbled as he took his middle seat. I suggested that the staff were amazing and would organised something if they could. I think the steward overheard me sing their praises and offered me another seat which fortunately I took as it was an entire row!!!! I was very happy!!!
I have to say the Singaporeans really know how to do airport- the signage, the catering, the myriad of lounges, retail, inter-terminal transport…it all just works. Seconds after being disgorged from our aeroplane we scurried around the corner to the Skytrain to reach T3 where seemingly so many of us needed to be for our connections. Passengers stood patiently beside empty seats. The last thing anyone wants to do after a nine hour flight is to sit down. Everyone is tired. Times like this I envy small children who cry and misbehave unperturbed by their lack of social graces.
It was time to call home. 11:30 my husband the night owl would be awake. I found the wi-fi and called on WhatsApp. There are times when I love living in the 21st Century.
Despite having the entire row and being horizontal for most of the flight I am just so tired. At one stage I put the timer on so that I could have a half hour sleep here in the terminal but I just don’t trust myself. I have slept through storms, cyclones and car crashes so I am not confident that I would wake up.
Munich: Exiting the terminus and finding the bus stop to Erding was relatively seamless. I struck up a conversation with a self-declared ‘mixed’ family. He was Belgian and she Slovenian. No idea where the children were from! They had just returned from holidaying in Cairns. They were particularly struck by the contrast between the happy-go-lucky smiling Australians and the surly, sad northern Europeans. I explained..’it’s the sunshine!’. A couple of buses went past with our number and we were mystified. So not German!! They are always organised. We were finally enlightened by a crane driver that the bus stop had been moved a bit further up the road. Road works. The signage lied! I ran to catch the bus and realised the smoker on the footpath was our driver. No hurry! I thought I could tap on. I was waved away. I found a spot and asked one of the young passengers if I could tap. I had to buy a ticket from the driver. I attempted to do this at the next stop but again I was waved away. OK…free ride! Good start.