Looking Forward.

I’m even looking forward to the plane trip. Two hours in a cramped car with emotional best friends and excited parents, followed by two and a half hours of agitation in the airport, torn between wanting desperately to get on the plane, and get the adventure on the way, and wanting to spend every single last second I can with my favourite people. I’ll check in, make sure they’ve got my vegetarian meals and try and get a window seat, or failing that and aisle seat, or failing that, anything but a seat in the centre of the plane. I’ll pick around the duty-free stores with Dad and Jess, and Mum’s maternal instincts will override her anti-commercialism and she will panic that I haven’t packed enough underwear, jumpers, chocolate biscuits and buy them all for me. I won’t want to go through security until I have to, but I’ll also worry the whole time that I’ve left it too late and I’m going to miss my flight. Through the gates, and it wont hit me yet that I am on my own. That won’t happen for hours yet. Not til I am exhausted and hungry and smelly from travel and then I’ll just want the comforts and ease of home. It won’t be until I want it, that I’ll realise what I can’t have.

But back to the flight: for the first hour, it’ll all be very exciting: the take-off (hopefully watched through the window next to my seat) will keep me entertained for its duration, then the exploration of the radio and movie channels, and the in-flight magazine. My flight is a late flight, so I doubt it will be long before they hand out the blankies and the eye-patches and switch off the cabin lighting. I can’t tell yet which will be strongest – my excitement which will keep me awake, or my instinctual sleep mechanism that sends me into unconsciousness as soon as I board a moving vehicle. I’m hoping I’ll be able to sleep; time flies when you sleep.

Eight and a half hours later, I will land in Kuala Lumpur. This will be the test – seven hours in KL airport. Not long enough to actually leave, it is long enough to be truly annoying. But I am looking forward to this leg of the journey, too. I’ll arrive at 4.45am local time, just in time to find a cafe for a morning cup of tea and breakfast. I look forward to searching out the suitable cafe, settling in with a pot of tea, pulling out a journal and watching the other travellers go past. When I can no longer stand sitting still, I’ll take a walk around the airport to stretch my legs. Last time I had a stop over in an airport, I had a huge bag stuffed with carry on luggage. This time I anticipate having nothing but a small and light backpack, no trouble at all to sling over my shoulder. I will browse through the shops and allow the multiple languages to flow around me, drowning out my native, boring, common and egotistical English, no longer the all important only language. I hope to find an internet cafe, and leave you all long emails, telling you of my so small adventures in the hours since I left your side. Once I have nothing more to say, I will find a table in a cafe again, perhaps the same one, and I will have lunch and still more tea. In such ways I will pass the time in KL

The last leg of the journey is also the longest. Thirteen and more hours, in my little seat by the window (I am being optimistic here). And now all my tricks for self entertainment will come out. The long and trashy novel, the 150 hours of music on my personal music player, writing in one of three travel journals, whatever movies I haven’t already watched, and when all else fails, solitaire. Perhaps there will be someone interesting to talk to sitting next to me. And hopefully I will be able to sleep.

At six o’clock at night I arrive at Heathrow. After all the rigmarole of clearing customs and baggage collection, I have a trip on the tube to the centre of London. Here, I have a bed in a hostel booked for me, and three days in which to sleep, sightsee and adjust. Then it’s up north. Camping in the rain and searching for ancient Roman remains.

A month and a half ago, I was nothing but eager excitement, but now as the time approaches I swing from one state to its opposite: at times I am boldness and adventure and anticipation. At others, I am nervousness and anxiousness and I am missing you already. But as I draw nearer to the date, I am reassured by all the little pieces I have planned falling into place. I am calm now, and ready.

I am missing you already.