Day One 28 Feb 2011

Bren:

After weeks – nay – months – nay – an eternity of prep for our big move to Japan we are on our way. With a modicum of tears at the airport family farewell (Vicky) we’re sitting on a plane charging over Australia towards Changi, Singapore. Good-bye Wellington with your space and your breeze. Good-bye Auckland Airport with your surly smart ass “why are you talking to me?” service. Hello Mr. Unknown and your untraversed pathways.

We’re a couple of hours in and Hannah is asleep next to me. Her capacity for sleep is miraculous as she was out the second her head hit the slanty head rest thing (seriously). She slept through take off and all. I however am still here struggling to climb into the sleep zone (feel free to sing that in your head to the Kenny Loggins hit from Top Gun – good luck getting it out of your head though – Bam!)

Lies all lies

Revelations on flying I: Commando lied to me. The bloke sitting next to me was asleep when the supper service came around and the hostess made me wake him. This leads me to believe that Commando was a load of baloney - those waitresses would’ve woken that big dead dude with that straw hat before he landed in that hoki banana republic and thus the authorities would’ve been alerted well before John Matrix landing. I finally find a plot hole in that flawlessly screen written piece of art. P.s. “Don’t wake my wife – she’s dead tired”

Singapore’s Changi Airport: I love you. Seriously. It was like a little holiday between our holidays. Reclining beds here. Free movie theatres there. Swimming pool there. Koy fish ponds with fish bigger than my arm there – and most of it FREE. Hannah and I thoroughly enjoyed it. I still haven’t slept though. Hannah is over there on a seat snoozing - she's so cute.

Revelations on flying II:  You know what the worst part of flying is? It’s that bit when the hostesses brings around the paper work. You know those Customs and visa entry forms; the smiling herald of the new destination. It shatters the pleasant service driven vacuum of air travel. You’re sitting there stirring your whisky; or watching a new release movie; or chowing down on a continental breakfast; or trying to extract your stirrer from the sleeping bloke’s blanket next to you (I inadvertently slicked it on there) and then all of a sudden you’re being told to remember passport numbers and dates and times and whether or not you have 17 kilos of cocaine in your colon. Not a fan – bollocks to those forms I say.

We have resolved to add one new word we have learnt a day.

Bõkan - Adventure

P.s. Hannah and I are having a ball. Not literally - we're not giving birth to a ball or anything - I just meant we're having a great time.