The Solo Travel Blues

It's hard to imagine not enjoying every moment of a trip abroad, especially when you recall how hard you worked to save your money and how carefully you planned your flight and accommodations. Even when one appreciates all aspects of his or her trip, a bout of homesickness or slight regret can manifest itself. I wrote this story sincerely, after suffering a depressive state on the road. Luckily, I was strong enough to pull myself through it and was able to enjoy the rest of my trip.

Click here to read my Feature Writer story on Pink Pangea.

Should New Acquaintance Be Forgot?

It's always been my dream to celebrate New Year's Eve in a foreign country.  I've celebrated in Las Vegas, colloquially considered by some people to be a foreign country, but that doesn't count.  I carefully planned my flight to depart Australia in January, so I would have the experience of the Sydney Harbour celebration.  I installed the informational app and studied the best locations for viewing the fireworks show.  I announced on Facebook that I was planning on attending this event, and a friend commented, "Anne, do NOT camp out all day!"  She suggested avoiding the crowds and barricaded areas in favor of crossing the Harbour Bridge toward a vantage point near Luna Park.  In true vagabonding fashion, I opted to prepare for anything and decide in the moment where I would watch the show.

The day started with a power outage in the apartment where I was staying, which meant a cold shower.  As I was dressing in my most festive frock, I saw a spider with tiger like stripes on the wall.  It looked like it was rubbing its two front legs together in malice.  I mustered up the courage I'd acquired after living alone for so long, grabbed a magazine, and smacked it.  It fell to the ground, crumpled in death.  Great, I thought, two bad omens, and hopefully not a harbinger of the remainder of the day.  I packed up my backpack according to the photos I'd studied and the information I'd read:  towel, sweater, umbrella for sun, water bottle, snacks, book, camera (iPhone for nighttime shots), and money.  I'd thoroughly applied sunscreen and thought about bringing a hat, but didn't want hat hair for midnight.

10:45 A.M. ~ The day was lovely, about 75F, as I walked to the convenience shop, purchased my bus ticket, and waited at the bus stop.  Bondi Beach didn't even seem too crowded.  If the girls who live in the apartment where I was staying were any indication, many Sydneysiders leave town for the New Year's holiday.

11:45 A.M. ~ The bus trip took about an hour to arrive in the CBD near Circular Quay.  I alighted at Young Street and walked down to the barricades underneath the train station.  I read that all barricaded areas would have bag checks, looking for glass and firearms, I suppose.  I approached the bag checker, he patted my bag as if lightly fluffing a pillow, and I was through.  I noticed some people, a mix of singles, couples, and families, camped out with provisions to last until midnight, if not longer.  This area was denoted as East Circular Quay on the app viewing location map, with a capacity of 8000 people.  I continued towards the Opera House and passed through another bag check.  This time, I was ordered to open my bag, remove some items for clearer inspection, and I was admitted.  If the more thorough bag check was somehow correlated with the safety of the viewing area, I opted for the Opera House, even though its capacity was 4200 people.  I walked around the area, observing hordes of people who had obviously arrived closer to the 6:00 A.M. opening time.  People brought tents, coolers, beach chairs, blankets, shade structures, makeshift shade structures, and umbrellas.  The food stand and bar were already open.  Beach towels were laid out, and people were even wearing swimsuits.  That's one thing I've noticed about Australia.  People seem to be perpetually prepared for the beach.  It's not evident that they are all wearing swimsuits, but they will stop in a park when the mood strikes, remove their shirt and pants, and soak up some rays. 

12:00 P.M. ~ I walked all the way past the Opera House and toward the Botanic Gardens.  The gates were locked and a security guard was standing there.  I turned around and walked up the Opera House steps, discovering the view of the Harbour Bridge, essential for the show, was completely obscured unless you were at the edge of the railing closest to the bridge.  There, early arrivals had already set up their tripods on the steps.  I walked back to the entrance gate, and thought about exiting for a while to possibly return later.  As I passed a security guard, I heard him say they were almost at capacity and would close the gates soon.  People would be able to leave, but not return. 

12:45 P.M. ~  I decided to stay inside the gates, at least for now.  This could be exciting, I thought.  I've never camped out at the Rose Parade, waited in an early morning line for concert tickets, or spent the night outside Best Buy in anticipation of Black Friday.  For the record, I think camping out at the Rose Parade could be fun, we purchase concert tickets online now, and the last example is something that is outside my realm of consideration.  As I was looking for a spot just at the foot of the Opera House steps, the security guards began moving the barricades around and I found myself cornered with a perfect view of the bridge.  A few other people were in the same position.  I asked one of the guards if we could stay in that spot until midnight.  He replied, "It's alright with me."  People were already scrambling to claim their spots.  I quickly pulled my towel out of my backpack, folded it in half to make a square, and my camp was set up for the day.  I estimated that my spot was a little less than nine square feet.  My spot was prime because I could lean back against the barricade.

1:00 P.M. ~ The first three hours were the most painful.  We settled into our respective activities.  Some people were napping, others were eating, giving massages, or applying sunscreen.  I held my umbrella in one hand to shield myself from the sun, and my book in the other hand on my lap, reading intermittently.  My neighbors to the left, two sisters and the older sister's husband from the UK, fully reclined, using their backpacks as pillows.  I was lucky that I was at the edge, up against the barricade, and could use it to lean against when my back began to ache.  The German couple directly in front of me had nothing to lean against, and kept shifting, trying to lean against each other.  A pink "My Little Pony" child's tent was set up to the right of me, with a man resting inside.  I felt relieved when his wife and child arrived to join him.  An eerie silence settled over the area, as we tried to preserve our energy that would be necessary over the next several hours.

4:00 P.M. ~ As the fourth hour commenced, the silence began to subside, our fate was accepted and mutual, so we were more communicative.  "Do you want us to watch your area while you get some more water?  I know it's hard being alone," one of the sisters offered.  I didn't want to contest her comment about being alone, and I knew she was merely being friendly, so I replied, "That would be great.  Do you really think someone would steal my spot?"  I figured if your towel was laid out, that was enough to claim your area.  Maybe she was more familiar with the intricacies of this type of activity.  "I don't know, but I thought I'd offer," she said.  "Thank you.  I'll be back in a few minutes," and I headed to the filtered water station.  The filtered water station was a four sided trough with two spigots and two drinking fountains on each side.  Another fun fact about Australia:  filtered water stations are ubiquitous, though they usually only have one spigot and one drinking fountain.  People carry around their reusable bottles and are never at risk of dehydration.  I approached the line, noticed it was about 20-30 people deep, while no one was at the bar.  I ordered a couple of ciders to pass my time waiting in the water line, then returned to my spot to continue reading and people watching.

7:00 P.M. ~ Once again, my neighbors obliged in watching my spot, and I left to check out the food stand and use the toilet.  This wasn't the first time I used the toilet throughout the day, but I'll take this opportunity to describe its beauty and efficiency.  Four huge blocks of portable, chemical toilets were arranged underneath the Opera House steps.  Smart move, keeping people and the toilets out of the sun.  However, never was I required to wait in a line for these toilets.  Inside each stall was an ample supply of toilet paper, plus a sink with soap!  Attendants were constantly in and out of the stalls, cleaning and replenishing supplies.  Just another example of Australia's efficiency.  I stood in the short line for food, deciding that I would order the fish and chips, but no drink to save money.  As I got closer to the counter, I saw that they had an espresso machine, and my coffee addiction began gnawing.  Marvelous!  Typical Australia.  I can honestly say I've never had a bad cup of coffee here, because it's never brewed in a pot.  Even in the homes where I've stayed, no one has a Mr Coffee.  They always either have an espresso machine or a French press.  Classy!

8:00 P.M. ~ One hour to go until the family fireworks show!  I learned from the sisters that there were three shows scheduled:  9:00, 10:30, midnight.  We were standing in our areas, chatting, when the clouds rolled in.  It wouldn't be a proper Sydney event if it didn't rain.  We hoped the clouds would pass, but the raindrops began in earnest.  Out of the six of us, I was the only one who had brought an umbrella.  My original intention was for sun protection, but I also know that you don't leave the house in Sydney without your umbrella.  I invited the group to huddle under my umbrella, and the six strangers got a little too close for comfort.  We were astonished that so many people packed up their belongings and took shelter under the Opera House steps.  After all this time!  The rain lasted for about 15 minutes, after which we had to reposition our towels and blankets, picked up during the rain.  The sisters, husband, and I reclaimed our spots, but the Germans' spot was overtaken by some people who took the opportunity to move up.  We all invoked our inner territorial animal, and muttered, "We have been here since TWELVE FORTY FIVE!!!" That became our amusing refrain for the evening whenever someone with a hopeful look on their face began to invade our territory or whenever tall people began congregating on the service road, obstructing our view.  I spread out my towel, unfolded this time, and pushed it as far up against the barricade as possible so the Germans would have a seat.

9:00 P.M. ~ The family fireworks show lasted less than ten minutes, and the bridge wasn't involved in this display.  I noticed more fireworks on the east side of the Opera House, so I ran up the steps.  Very few people were up there, which I couldn't believe.  It was an incredibly clear view, even of the moored boats.  After the fireworks, some families left, so the repositioning began again.  "We have been here since TWELVE FORTY FIVE!!!" At this point, we were only saying it for our own amusement, and it indicated a touch of cabin fever.  It was too dark to read, so the six of us compared photos.  The wind started to pick up.  I had my sweater on, and sitting on the towel surrounded by people seemed to block the chill.  

10:30 P.M. ~ The second show delighted us with a fireworks display of about 15 seconds.  I thought they probably did that to keep people on their toes, awake, and interested.  Around 11:30, people started to reposition again, some in front of our view.  "We have been here since TWELVE FORTY FIVE!!!"  The six of us conferred, and decided to move in front of the people, on the service road, in front of a maintenance cart that had been parked there for a while.  The unmarried sister and the husband climbed onto the cart.  I yelled at them, "You're going to be held in an Australian jail cell, deported, and miss the show!"  If any authorities noticed their positions, no one reprimanded them. 

MIDNIGHT ~ The countdown began from ten, projected onto the stone pylons that flanked the bridge, as well as a lighting display in the center of the bridge.  When it hit zero, there was no champagne toast, no kissing, no well wishes, no Auld Lang Syne.  Instead, there was the most brilliant, most spectacular, and most rewarding display of fireworks I've ever seen in my entire lifetime.  To mark the 40th anniversary of the Opera House, fireworks even shot off its roof.  We communally rejoiced with oohs and ahhs, shamelessly.  I'm still not sure if it was so spectacular because of all the anticipation or if it really was that extreme.  I think I'll file it as one of the most breathtaking moments of my life, up there with my first view of Sydney Harbour, my first view of the Pyramids of Giza, and my first view of Machu Picchu.  It really was that great.

12:15 A.M. ~ After the fifteen minute extravaganza, the six of us turned, stunned, and wished each other a Happy New Year.  The unmarried sister said, "Enjoy the rest of your trip!"  I bid her the same.  The three of them immediately headed toward Central Station to catch their 1:00 A.M. train to the Blue Mountains.  The Germans and I said farewell, then they left.  I stood transfixed for a moment, feeling slightly abandoned and realizing that we hadn't exchanged contact information.  I was reminded of that quote about people coming into your life for a reason, a season, or a lifetime.  Except for the people back home whom I wished I had been with on NYE, I couldn't have asked for better random, momentary NYE companions.  I guess they were part of my life for a reason, so I would have someone to share this moment with. 

12:30 A.M. ~ I found my bus, efficiently directed by audio and visual announcements, and arrived safely back at my apartment in Bondi Beach within the hour.

Set up for the long haul

No rain, just sun protection

My spot and provisions

Functional and colorful

Of course it rained.  It's Sydney.

9:00 show, with a prime view

3-2-1...

Happy 2014!

Longest Travel Day

In a tropical climate, you are constantly transitioning between humidity and air conditioning.  I think that's what saddled me with a head cold the day I was supposed to travel from Thailand to Australia.  I woke up congested, but had to shower and pack to be ready for my 9 am taxi to the Phuket airport.  I had already checked in for both flights online and my Airbnb hosts in Australia were expecting me.  I had to pull it together.  I thought, "I've gotten ready for work and taught all day in worse condition than this!"

I powered through, got all packed and ready, and went downstairs to bid my hostesses at the hotel farewell.  I had become acquainted with them over the past three weeks, and wanted to give them a nice tip.  I slipped a bill that was larger than all the others into the clear plastic tip box, and they were abundantly appreciative.  They presented me with a brown gift bag.  Inside was a frangipani soap and a photo they had taken of me for their guest wall.  They have a huge transparent glass map on their wall and said they would post the photo there, affixed to my hometown in California.  I looked at the map, and there had been no other guests from the US, or even from the Western Hemisphere.  It looked like Australia, Asia, and Russia were the most populated.  We said our goodbyes and I was off to the airport.

Online, I had secured the window seat in the last row of the plane, hoping I would have the row to myself, as I did on the flight down to Phuket.  No such luck this time.  Next to me was a woman who thought she was the one in the window seat, leaning over me, and gesturing across my face as she described the scenery to her husband.  I gave her a dirty look, she apologized, but continued the behavior.  I just thought to myself, "If I am contagious, there's her retribution."

After the short flight to Bangkok came the next hurdle of the day.  I had to navigate my way to the main airport in Bangkok, Suvarnabhumi International.  I flew an economy airline, Nok Air, to Phuket, but that meant utilizing Don Mueang Airport.  In my online research of Phuket activities, I noticed a mention of a free shuttle between the two airports.  I had booked an early flight out of Phuket so I would have plenty of time to investigate and then find a taxi if the shuttle myth was untrue.

I disembarked the plane, retrieved my checked bag, and followed the public transport signs downstairs.  I didn't see any signs about a free shuttle, so I asked at the information desk. Sure enough, just outside was a desk and a completely empty, full size bus waiting.  I asked if the bus really was free.  The guys at the desk, who were all wearing the same type of sunglasses for some reason, replied yes.  All they needed to see was my boarding pass.  Good thing I hadn't trashed it in the restroom.  I boarded the bus, along with a young couple, but that was it.  We took off with three passengers on the entire bus. 

I arrived at Suvarnabhumi with two hours to spare before check in for my flight even opened.  I wanted to get past security to eat and rest, as I was still feeling under the weather.  I found a spot near some monks, careful not to accidentally touch them as I walked to a seat in their row.  Vit, my Thai tour guide, is a former monk, so we were schooled about proper, respectful behavior.  I worked on my journal and people watched until it was time to check in.

I approached the counter once I saw on the screen that check in had begun.  I really just needed my boarding pass and to check my bag.  I had booked the flight through Qantas and flew Qantas on the way up to Bangkok, but for some reason Emirates was operating this flight.  The agent ran my passport and asked, "Do you have a ticket back to the US?"  I'm sure Australia asks them to confirm that information before issuing boarding passes.  I didn't have a printer to print a boarding pass anyway, but at the end of online check in, a message popped up that told me to see a ticket agent for my boarding pass.  That message gave me an uncomfortable feeling.  "Yes. It's on January 8th." "May I see it?" asked the agent. "I don't have a paper copy, but I have the email on my phone. Would you like to see that?" I asked, nervously.  I can usually pull up emails without wifi, but of course it wasn't working at that moment.  I couldn't get on the airport wifi until I was past security.  I said, "I'm sorry, but it's not working.  If I can use a computer, I'll find it for you.  Or, you could possibly look up my flight with my frequent flyer number.  Or, maybe you could run my passport.  I have an electronic Australian multiple entry tourist visa that will pop up for you."  She stared at me for several seconds.  I don't know if she didn't understand what I said, took my word for it, or felt sorry for me, but she said, "It's okay" and printed the boarding pass.  What relief I felt!  I had read an article about a man who had been detained at the Bangkok airport and just imagined myself stuck there.  I thanked her profusely and proceeded to security.

I'd anticipated this Emirates flight ever since I booked it back in August.  I'd heard nothing but praise for the airline, and it's all valid.  I'm referring to the amenities rather than the service, which was rather bland.  I was dazzled by the large personal TV screen, the plethora of film choices, the personal electrical outlet and USB port, and the complimentary travel kit.  When it was time to sleep, the ceiling transformed into an astronomical wonder of twinkle lights.  I had chosen the last row of the plane, with the hope of having extra room.  My hopes were met, with practically a foot of space between my seat and the window, plus ample room to recline my seat.  I felt like the personal guest of the Emir.  Highly recommended!

After a stunning sunrise over the Australian Outback, we landed in Sydney.  I disembarked, retrieved my checked bag, and queued for passport control.  As I stood in line, an immigration officer approached me from the side. "Where are you coming from today?" he asked sternly. "Bangkok," I replied.  He looked at me for a moment, then asked, "Were you in any rural areas? Any farms?"  I thought for a moment, breaking eye contact with him.  I tried to recall all of my destinations over the past six weeks.  Was the elephant camp considered a farm?  What about the rice field we briefly walked through?  I wasn't sure, and I was taking a long time to answer his question.  Hadn't I just answered this question on the customs form?  I know he was concerned about soil, and my shoes had been thoroughly washed.  "Um...no," I said.  "Any wooden souvenirs?  Food?"  I looked away again to think, shifting my eyes.  Did I buy that wooden Buddha I was contemplating?  Did he say any souvenir or just wooden souvenirs?  I'm standing here wearing a Singha beer T-shirt.  Is that what he means?  My head was still congested and my processing was faulty due to lack of sleep.  "Um...no." He stamped my customs form and wrote a secret code near the stamp.  That hadn't ever happened before.

I proceeded through passport control, and was nearing the final exit.  The officer there looked at my form, looked at me, and said, "Row 5."  I figured I would exit with everyone else, but I followed the barricades to another station.  There was a large carpet area in front of me.  A female officer appeared...with the DRUG DOG in tow!  Oh come on, I thought.  I knew I didn't have anything contraband, but was nervous nonetheless.  I guess I did take too long to answer the customs officer's questions.  I was ordered to spread my two pieces of luggage out on the carpet and step back.  The cute beagle sniffed my suitcase quickly, but then lingered on my shoulder bag that had accompanied me wherever I went in Thailand.  What is he doing?  Why is he taking so long?  Do I still have a cookie in there from the first flight?  I recalled my arrival to LAX from China several years ago.  The drug dog went crazy over some beef jerky a man had in his bag.

"Okay, thank you," the officer said.  I was clear!  I grabbed my bags and hightailed it out of the airport.  I understand that it's their job to exercise caution and be thorough.  I guess that's the chance you take when travelling to a country known for its contraband.  I finally arrived at my Airbnb location in Newtown, took a rest, and felt an immense sense of relief.