Eleven hours of flying, 7 hours of airports, 2 hours left and silly me didn't even bring one meager book to read. My laptop battery got me through a Handmaid's tale and enough of Red Sparrow to really hook me in (seriously, watch it), but I'm 12 km high with plenty of energy and nothing to do but work on the new-and-improved-me travel blog. (She says as she orders a red wine from the cabin crew out of sheer boredom, ruing every extra dollar paid to Air Asia for this misery.)
By the way, all other aspects of this trip have been meticulously planned; I was too busy making my baggage weight work and surviving my week to worry about in-flight entertainment. Woe is me, I have experienced in-flight entertainment regret so many times.
I'm not really down for sparking conversation in very close quarters, the last time I said a friendly ‘hello’ back on this flight I ended up with a friendly head asleep on shoulder. Every time I look up someone makes eye contact above the headrests.
Honestly, the questions made me uncomfortable. ‘First time to India?’ ‘Travelling alone?’ ‘Got plans?’ Pleeease spare me. These are almost as bad as the questions I have been receiving for months, entirely not the fault of the questioners, but incredibly irritating.
‘So why are you moving?’ (how the hell would I know?)
‘So what's the plan for London?’ (probably the obvious ‘find a job?’ money doesn't grow on trees, honey)
‘So you got a job lined up?’ (how the hell would I know? Like I'm some great jet-setting professional or something - honestly you guys give me waaay too much credit)
‘So are you excited?’ (WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK?)
Excuse my sarcasm, it's entirely in good humour, but I can only answer the same question so many hundreds of times before I start giving tongue in cheek answers or more likely, plucking my retinas out.
On this note though, why am I moving?
The truth is I'm struggling. I'm struggling with routine. I'm struggling to stand still. I'm struggling to make a difference and thus feel fulfilled. I'm struggling with missing the family in New Zealand. I'm struggling because I've been the creator of my own ghosts in Melbourne. I'm struggling with the things I've lost and the only thing I feel will work, is to create more memories so that the grief of loss, while never truly disappearing, will be outshone by better memories. Besides, I've always wanted to travel more - honestly I'm surprised I didn't do it sooner.
So what is the plan? You may ask. As a professional planner and scheduler, I should really be able to answer this. But against all the unknowns and inter dependencies that interface my life, me scoping out a firm plan is next to impossible. I've tried and been disappointed before, and as a theist and dare I say, rationalist, there is so much in the universe we can't control. Things don't always work to plan. Study law - study politics. Move to Melbourne to become a journalist - become a project manager. Fall in love - develop a passion for Jiu-jitsu. Take on a foster cat - end up with nine cats.
I'm a firm believer in knowing the difference between what I can and can't plan. And the things that are better left as a surprise.
My plan is to have enough money for a roof over my head and enough love in my heart to learn about the world and my soul. I think it is safe, and achievable, to plan for that. But I will probably get some public servant job and travel Europe in the weekends. Original, huh?
Do I have a job lined up? I have never struggled to find a job (touches wood).
Am I excited? The excitement has been slow and steady, a better word and a better question would be:
Am I ready?
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