Diary of a tourist 8/10/2010

So I was cleaning my room last night (pause for applause) and I found the diary that I attempted to use whilst I was overseas. Admittedly it only lasted a couple of days (typical me behaviour) but I thought I would maybe share the first entry with y'all - just so you can scahdenfreude at my futile attempt to express the inner workings of my all-over-the-place mind:

"Wake up, it's a beautiful morning" emits through the little plastic sound holes of my earphones as I sit in Hong Kong waiting for my transit flight. Daylight struggles through the miserable looking clouds and tinted windows of the airport at 7am - I'm not exactly sure The Drums is entirely appropriate for this moment. Nevertheless, despite the gloomy weather that has promised itself to Hong Kong, after 9 hours of being cooped up in pretty much a 30cm radius and my sleeping travel companions for riveting conversation, I'm grateful for the stop, if only to freshen up and stretch.

How shall I sum up the last 9 hours? Four movies started and rejected (I'm a hard woman to please), two toilet trips, five attempts at catching shut eye, no spare vegan or even vegetarian meals (feeling peculiar movements in my stomach) and absolutely no success at getting semi comfortable.

And that's only one third of the flight over.. But hey, who am I to complain?

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So I'm back. Boredom  has once again set in during the flight from Hong Kong to London. After finally finishing a movie (the selection is something shocking), a chapter or two of lady Chatterley's Confession and finally a bit of a snooze, I find myself staring at voluminous, fluffy, pure white clouds (yes I scored the window seat). Earphones back in, waiting for the perfect song to make this the perfect moment. I'm so at peace.

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Flying over deserts now, still somewhere in Asia, the flight information on the little screen in front of me promises we're close to Xining, heading in the direction of Delhi, 8.5 hours still to go till London. Errrrrh!

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FINALLY, in London, only 3 more hours of flying left to get to Barcelona.

You're feet swell up when you fly, did you know?.

Ready for take-off

12 days! Eeek! My excitement is just kinda overwhelming right now, finally, FINALLY I'm venturing overseas to places far more exciting than the occasional cruise across the trans Tasman.. something I've wanted to do for so long and now it's only twelve miraculous-but-still-annoyingly-just-out-of-my-reach days away. It goes: Barcelona, Paris, London!

I think I'll lose my soul somewhere along the way...

Can it be?

Excuse me for one brief moment as my excitement builds and obsession strikes again! Let me set the scene: you're surrounded by London's greys and white's, the chilly air guides your frozen icicle fingers deeper into your coat's pockets, and you sniffle, suprised your mucus hasn't solidified. You hurry along the street careful not to slip on the wet ground, desperate, searching for that one place that can give you that moment of relief. Finally, you find what you're looking for. You are standing outside what looks to be one of London's trendiest bars.. you go inside. But alas, it is not the pint or martini that calls to you, nor the cute barman with his beatles cut that on anyone else would look a disaster. No, it's the lavatory. And not just any lavatory... egg-shaped toilet cubicles.

Yes. Yes. And in that moment you experience one of those rare moments in your life where you get doped up on natural ecstacy that not many things other than an egg-shaped cubicle can give you.

As an aside, let it be noted that I'm going to London in October and I am going to find this 'Sketch' bar and for the first time in my life be determined to use public facilities :)

As it is written, it will be done.