I am sure that anyone who’s read a couple of my blog posts may have realised that I am struggling with the concept of home. I realised it a while ago but travelling back yesterday sort of, well, brought home the point to me. I met a handful of people while travelling (I am trying to be a little more social, i.e. break out of my comfort zone, and make a some small talk with strangers) and all of them seemed to eventually have one question/comment – it must be great going back home. And that’s when I seem to lose them, because I could just lie and say yes and keep the conversation going but I could never really bring myself to. It’s just something about the lifestyle and priorities here (not to mention the weather) that I don’t seem to be able to re-assimilate with. You might think it’s stupid given I’ve grown up here but I don’t know how else to describe it. I just don’t know where or what home is anymore.
In other news, travelling yesterday actually other than being tiring and more emotional than I thought, was not too bad. I cried at the airport when I said bye to my sister and my little nephew. No more little cuddle bunny for me. I started crying at the airport and only stopped probably half way into my first flight when I suddenly looked out the window and felt a really strange sense of calm looking out at the clear blue sky. The further I got away from Canberra, the more numb I felt. I left Australia once before back in 2008 but at that time I was naive, hopeful and really excited to be going back. This time, I wasn’t very excited at all.
On the international flight, I watched 3 movies. Not all were good. Captain Phillips was amazing and if you read up how the actors of the part of the Somali pirates were cast that’s a really interesting story too. I hope Barkhad Abdi wins the Oscar. I also watched the Smurfs 2. It was alright but the best part of the movie for me was Grouchy. When he tries to become positive instead of getting frustrated and annoyed, it’s exactly what I am trying to do now. Not very successfully though. Not very easy to turn off the bitch. And then I watched Las Vegas. Honestly, it wasn’t great. But at the end of the movie (spoiler alert) when they are at the airport and are happy that they at least have each other, I felt like crying. I am not sure at 70 I will have a group of friends to go on a crazy weekend trip with it. I will probably be in a room somewhere, semi-senile and still blogging. That is, if I’m not dead by then. I am not sure though whether it was that realisation or the fact that at that point of the movie, the plane was making it’s final descent and was about to touch the tarmac at Changi airport, that actually made me feel like crying.
Do you ever get the feeling when you leave the house, especially when you leave for travel, that you left something behind? I do a lot, and most of the time it’s just me being paranoid. So this time when I had that feeling, I checked and re-checked everything a few times and nothing seemed to be amiss so didn’t think too much of it. When I landed and was waiting for my bag though I realised that I actually did leave something behind this time, my heart.