Arriving

Before I continue with my “then this happened, then that happened”- style of writing, I will intermezzo with an explanation to how I met Merinda Stewart, the girl I will now be meeting at the airport. Merinda’s aunt Robyn was the Librarian and Social Studies teacher at the ISB (International School of Basel, for all of you who don’t know that). About 9 years ago, Merinda (also nicknamed Mindy) came to Basel to visit her aunt, and spent some of her time there with me and my classmates. Since then we decided to be penpals, sending the occasional Christmas or holiday card and letters. Anyhow, we were now finally going to meet again. Customs at any Australian Airport, being a foreign immigrant, is never pleasant with all the questions you need to answer, and all the security you need to go through. But once you’re through, you needn’t worry no more. Unless of course you watch too much TV and realize that they even have a TV-show based on this topic of Border-Security, which can result in attaining a bad conscience. Merinda and her father David, met me at the arrivals hall about half an hour later than my arrival. Her brother Tyler and mother Kim were already at the check-in for Tyler’s flight to Hong Kong for 2 years of Boarding School doing the International Baccalaureate. After handing out the chocolate gifts over a coffee and a Hungry Jack’s Whopper (aka Burger King), we all said farewell to newly met Tyler. Finally arriving at Merinda’s student house, I could unpack a couple of essentials, prepare a mattress in the living room, and force my eyes closed fighting nature’s jetlag forces.

Flying

4 movies, 5 TV-shows, 6 Music Albums, 3 Computer-games, 20 drinks, 3 meals, 5 snacks, 4 toilet breaks, 1 phone-call, and 1 unopened Harry Potter book later, I arrive in Kuala Lumpur, or as the Australians abbreviate, “Kay El” (KL), to get off one plane and board the next. Or so I believed. With 1 hour of technical difficulties which were not only audible, but also visible on nearly all the inboard flight entertainment system monitors on the back of every passenger seat’s head-rest, KL-Airport, and the airline captain and staff decided to make a move-on. Lucky for me, or at least if I were a seriously practicing religious Christian, I was placed next to an Angel. Or should I just say Angel, for that was her name. Anyhow, I thus had (the) God(s) on my side, and needn’t need to worry about the airplane crashing anytime that I was on it. She was from Singapore, works at a trading company, studied international business in Brisbane to graduate 2 years ago, and was now reuniting with her college friends in Melbourne for a mere 4 days. Even though the company this flight round was more suitable for a long and intriguing conversation, I was overwhelmed by the fatigue which the previous flight had caused me, resulting in a mere 10 percent talk, and the rest sleep.

Departing

Leaving two thirds of my initially packed luggage at my brother’s new home, between his mountain-, kite-surfing-, and snow-boards, it requires us, Ilse and me, to take a bus and a train to get to the airport.

An emotional good-bye, which I cannot even begin wording, led me through the passport control and just in time to board the flight. This is when I can successfully say that I too, just like in books and movies, have felt an oxymoron of emotions conquering my soul.

Packing

My mind acts as its own food for thought… as I pack my bags, I simultaneously am excited / stressed feeling the dosed adrenaline flowing through my veins, and also relaxed as always letting the world come to me as I go. At an academic level, I know that this journey will offer me a full image of the world of design and how it is put to life in practice in one of the most active design capitals of the southern hemisphere, Melbourne-Australia. At a cultural level though, I am slightly crawling back into my comfortable shell of a home, knowing that I will be surrounded once again by an English speaking environment, and yet besides having visited the country and experienced the company of few Australians, I am also throwing myself in an unknown abyss of a situation, leaving my known home and continent… all alone. On an entirely personal level however, I am doing one of the most natural things many individuals only dream of, and that is giving myself a fresh start, clean slate, an illusion of starting a new life, except this time round I have the opportunity to detect the holes in the road I’m walking on.

As usual, I pack 3 times more than the average human being, and instead of reducing the amount and weight of it, I look for possibilities of transporting the luggage using a cheaper alternative method than having to pay 54 Euros per extra kilo on the Malaysia Airlines flight over Kuala Lumpur. After a bit of research and auto-contemplation, I come to the conclusion that I still have the opportunity to figure this out once I get to my brother’s place in Amsterdam.

Eventually, I leave the house about 6 hours later than I had wanted, 10 hours later than I had planned, resulting in a change of plans to meet and dine with my beloved counterpart Ilse and her sister Evelien in Amsterdam, as I had already delayed Evelien being back home on time. Encountered by a gift, a letter and a farewell halfway to Amsterdam, Ilse and I step onto the connecting train at Utrecht Centraal.

Arriving at Guy and his beloved counterpart Evelien’s apartment, I nearly faint from my session of malnutrition ever since the wonderful surprise farewell breakfast (at the Holiday Inn in Eindhoven) I had received from Ilse’s parents this morning (not to mention the Casio World-time watch and a letter in the form of a poem I had also received from my Ilse). And whilst I try to suppress my shaky hands and tendency to just fall of my chair during the amazingly tasty dinner prepared by my potential sister-in-law, Guy discusses the possibilities of luggage transport over an international call with my father whilst simultaneously browsing the net for answers. After approximately an hour of word-exchange, the only most simple, most convenient, concluding answer is to minimize my luggage to one third of the current weight. With the help of 2 experts in luggage minimization, Guy and Ilse, I even spare a mere 3 kilos from hitting the maximum allowed airline check-in amount, 20kg.

Exhausted and still mind-boggled, I dive into the Bordeaux-red Ikea futon-bed with my beautiful girlfriend.