QUICK.POST. (ok longer than i thought)

I finally arrived.

I can tell you, a 25 hour trip is not one to underestimate. Although everything went very smoothly (no touchy touchy at customs and no lost luggage), it wasn't always that easy.

First of all, there was the goodbye-part. Some of my very dear friends, and my parents and dog, gathered at the airport to wave me goodbye. Although I kept it together the whole time, I did manage to break into tears the moment right before entering the terminal. Emotions are a bitch.

Anyway, of course I immediately found a way to cheer up my mood: DUTY FREE. I bought the new lancome 'rouge in love' lipstick, very happy with that one! 

The first flight, to London, went very quickly, an hour and a half at the window, gazing out and just thinking "omg clouds seem so fluffy I wish I could roll in them". Ofcourse my rational self would then immediately interfere and say "you silly, you'll just fall to death." (dreams scattered)

In London I had 2 hours to spare, so I ate something at the prêt-à-manger (oh nomnom), I wandered around (that terminal is HUGHE), I discovered a Zara (yey. Only summerclothes.) and then it was time to board my final flight to Melbourne.

Remember how I, in my last post, gave you and myself some very helpful tips about seats in a long distance flight?
Well, this is how it turned out for me and what I learned:

1. Online check in sucks. It just doesn't work. Period.
2. Discovering that online check in sucks, a few hours before you have to depart, also sucks. Panick attack garanteed.
3. I didn't get the seat I wanted, obviously, what I did get was this:
- A set JUST NEXT TO the toilet. Bumping limbs? Check. Chatty people almost sitting on your lap? Check.
- But just to clear this up: it doesn't smell.
- A seat JUST NEXT TO a child. Oh wait, two children. Luckily for me they were quite cute, although the little girl couldn't stop staring at me. Creepy. (she's lucky that she's too cute to be really creepy)

- A seat on the aisle. And on the wing. NOT at the window. Taking pictures? Forget it. (Oh well, it was night most of the time anyway). But I think me, my constantly-hydrating self and my fairly small bladder were quite happy with this seat, in the end.

I managed to get some sleep for a few good hours (in fetal position, back to the roots), so when I touched ground in Melbourne, I was at least not too groggy so I could pass customs without many questions. 

(Btw, what a coincidence, I entered Sydney 3 years ago at exactly the same day!)

The only bummer what the pick-up service.

My University had arranged for me that I would be picked up at the airport and brought to my hostel, all free of charges. GREAT, i thought. Yeah, not so great.
I mean, I got there, eventually. After FOUR hours.
I came out of the airplane first, and still they managed to drop me of last, in Melbourne Central, although my hostel was closest to the airport. We drove to the middle of fucking nowhere first, before driving back to Melbourne. And all the while, the 65 year old driver told me his life story, how his grandmother knew Ghandi, his mother was Egyptian, his father Italian (and oh man the Italian culture is going down, he's not proud anymore!), how he nearly bought half of Melbourne in real estate, used to be a professor at VU, traveled to America (twice, once in a rolce royce and once on a Harley Davidson), and many, many more. I just nodded and looked outside, because, occasionally the view was stunning.

 

Man, was I happy to arrive at my hostel. Clean, chique, everything I hoped. Although I wasn't able to check in yet, I could take a shower, check my emails... Nice people, those ozzies.

Good, I'm done rambling now. I'm off to meet some very familiar faces.. 

Cheers mate!