11,668 Miles

It’s 11:50 AM on Wednesday the 31^st of October 2012 and I’m sat in the Premier Inn bar on my own with two cups of coffee. I’ve just spoken to my Mum, Dad and Sister on the phone. I’ve just checked out of the hotel and I’m sat here with two massive bags. It’s all we own in the world right now, but it still looks like a lot. Mari has some last minute jobs to do and I’ve just met the letting agent so I could give the keys back and let her have a poke around…the flat, that is. We’ve enjoyed living here, but I’m already completely detached from it. It’s just an empty vessel now. Probably the cleanest this vessel has been for 10 years or so. The fruits of nearly 3 solid day’s labour.  

With such epic luggage in-tow, you always get asked where you’re going or where you’ve been. Invariably people are either incredibly jealous, or they want to tell you all about their time out there and the things you “have to see”; from the carpet-cleaner rental guy to the barman at the hotel. Everyone has something to say. Natural springs, mountain hikes, coastal drives and even an observatory open to the public. I’m not too proud to add every single one of them to my map. Ultimately we will make our own experience by beating our own path, but I would also hate to miss something unmissable as we pass through.

On the coach to the airport now and we’re saying goodbye to Bournemouth for the foreseeable future. Mari is already asleep and sporting her new neck pillow. I plug my headphones in and let the god of music shuffling decide. Canned heat – ‘Going up to the country’….Nice one shuffle. Nice one.




The scenery speeds to a blur and for the first time I feel a bit of sadness and nostalgia setting in. I’m sure I’ll get over that pretty quickly though.          

Pretty soon we’re airside at Heathrow, I’m drinking horrendously expensive Peroni and I’ve struck up a conversation with an engineer on his way back to work in Ethiopia and an older guy on his way to Brisbane to visit his family. “Where are you guys off to?” I actually love being asked that question. This encounter reminded me of what it’s like being a ‘backpacker’/’traveller’. All the social alienation of being British ebbs away and you find yourself being more accepting of strangers wanting to talk to you without feeling that at some point they’re going to ask you for money or your participation in a survey of some sort. It’s a great feeling.

I don’t really remember very much about the torturous 11-hour flight from LHR to HKG flight asides from the food being surprisingly good. I can never sleep in a chair. If I do pass out, it’s only for a few minutes, so yeah, I saw pretty much every movie and played every game that was on offer. I’m so incredibly envious of people that can just fall asleep and wake up on the other side of the world and not have any real perspective on how long it’s taken. When I was a kid I used to sleep on the floor in front of my parents feet on long-haul flights. I so wish I could get away with that now.

Four sketchy hours in HKG airport. Not long enough to go anywhere or do anything, but a bit too long to be sitting around doing nothing. I try to sleep on the floor of the waiting area, but there’s too much going on and I’m beyond tired now. This is a new level of exhaustion. I bought two coffees for $96. No idea how much that was, but it I couldn’t care less at that point. We're both amused by the nun getting in a bit of face time on her Samsung tablet and the pair of rabbis rocking as they chant through the glass to pray at the plane they're about to board. Half way there.

A similar experience on the next hop. Mari told me that I slept for 30 minutes or so. That figures because I suddenly felt a lot better, but that’s all I could manage. Not through a lack of trying, you understand. The last two hours of that flight were agonising. I so badly wanted off that plane. Grumpiness was setting in and Mari and I had a few near misses over something I can’t even remember now. I had set a timer on my watch so I could keep a countdown going. Every time I lit up my watch and soundbite of the clock from the series 24 played in my head, synchronised with the seconds counting down. I was beginning to become unglued.  

After having watched tv programmes like ‘Passport Control’ and ‘Border Security’ about Australia & NZ’s customs and immigration, I was really expecting an ordeal, but no. We got our visas, cleared customs and we were out in the fresh air within half an hour, despite our confession of possessing chocolate on our landing cards. I think they were more interested in the duck-tongues and powdered seahorse our fellow Chinese passengers may have been carrying.

We had a really chipper and friendly bus driver to take us to the general area of our hostel. A great introduction to the country. He couldn’t have been any more helpful. Getting off the bus we were asked by strangers on two different occasions if we needed any help/directions. We checked in to our basic, but welcoming hostel. We mindlessly gathered some supplies from the supermarket down the street and then finally got our heads down. I think I was asleep before my head hit the pillow. It’s 3pm on Friday the 2^nd of November. 11,668 miles. Done.