And Then There Were Three

Day One started as any good day should: with a good breakfast.  The easy-going morning was quieter than normal as the anticipation mounted, but it only really struck me when we were invited to commence boarding procedures in our little tin shed of an airport that we were well and truly leaving. 

It’s a confusing feeling, to be sad and incredibly excited at the one time – the physical outworking was a strange and entertaining combination of a few tears, more evident in the voice than anything, punctuated with incredibly calm comments and polarly excited exclamations.  Jemma was naturally more composed, albeit remarkably excited, and kindly left me to fill in the emotional gaps.  Tassie gave us an unexpectedly enthusiastic send off with a spontaneous hail storm as we were boarding the plane.  Thus began our long and somewhat damp journey as the Conryclan in Tasmania shrank rapidly (and temporarily) to 3.

At this point, kids, it’s appropriate to notify you of the impending entrance of a new character in our story!  In our first post we suggested that Jemma and I are a unit of two: that is false.  Since 2005 we have been a triple threat, our brother making up that third strand in the classic rope of life, and there is no distance or time that can change that.  Much to all our disappointment and pending homesickness Jordan wasn’t able to physically come on this adventure so he selected a suitable delegate to ensure he was well represented in his absence.  Enter Buster, the long-serving faithful teddy-dog. 

Smelling of what can only be assumed to be many years’ worth of infant saliva (Jemma thinks he smells nice and comfortable…character reference anyone?) and lacking any ability to stand up for himself, Buster is now our mascot and carry-on version of Jordan.  And so the three of us commenced our adventure, a title which has already been well-earned!

To kick things off in Melbourne, Jemma had an identity crisis and scanned my ticket instead of her own.  It followed that I was left with a machine loudly declaring “Already boarded!!” and a thoroughly confused flight attendant.  Thankfully we’ve had many years of hardcore training for situations of mistaken identity (particular thanks to Mum for that) and we survived.

During our layover in Singapore we were – Jemma would say accosted, I would say approached – by airport police and 4 military men kitted out with significantly-sized guns and other scary-looking equipment asking for passports and boarding passes.  Jemma was marvellously nervous – it certainly woke her up.  I just smiled at them, feeling very much at ease…until an impromptu phone call with Aunty Jayne informed us that we had been breaking the law quite confidently right in front of them during the exchange by chewing gum.  Are we fleeing state custody?  No.  Does it feel like we are?  Yes!  Golly, you guys are getting full disclosure, aren’t you…To clarify, we had no idea, and the offending substance went rapidly in the bin.

Postscript: We can now ascertain that chewing gum is no longer illegal in Singapore (Wisdom of Dad, 2019; other more reliable sources), therefore our reputations in the eyes of the law remain unblemished.

In lighter and definitely more insignificant news, we are now very well versed in a 14-second Chanel perfume ad that played on repeat for 8 hours in front of us during that time.  If we start spouting nonscents in the near future, that’s why.

Notably, all our aeroplane seating buddies were lovely, thanks Emma and Eugene.  We particularly appreciated the non-existent seating buddy on our final and longest (13 hour) flight following our long-awaited departure from Singapore.  The aeroplane was so empty that both of us and many others claimed 3 seats to ourselves, enabling the blissful ability to lie down.  A sleepless 14 hours in Singapore, 7 hours from Melbourne, 2 hours in Melbourne and 1.5 hours from Hobart, all starting at 3pm in the afternoon, is reason enough for anyone to be thankful and we certainly were. To explain the level of exhaustion that we’d reached, I can only say that never before have I slept more than maybe 2 hours on an aeroplane, but here we both slept for close to 7.  Absolutely glorious!  We would have kept going but we landed at 8:30pm local time in Frankfurt and didn’t want to be wide awake the whole night, hence forced the eyes to stay open and the brain to remain functional until we’d reached home base.

We were collected from the airport by Mum’s cousin, Kai, and arrived to potato soup and sausages at Moni and Siggi’s house.  Goodness me the smells!!!!  German winter air, every different room in the house…memories come flooding back from 4, 6 and particularly 10 years ago.  If only we could share those with you.

Here’s to destinations that make sleepless travel worth it!

L&J