Honey, I'm Home

My dog remembered me when I got home. Jazz, pictured in the last post, didn't forget who I was, or how I smelled. She was all jumpy and licky and then she was over it and fell asleep. My other friends haven't jumped on me or licked me, but they didn't forget me either. Some moved really far away just before I got back, which may or may not have been coincidence, and others were waiting to catch up. Sure, I missed a few get-togethers but there they were, still there for me and ready to hear my stories over a glass of Alicante Bouchet.

The real problem is I've returned home as a broke, jobless graduate. Other friends from my program still have a semester or two to complete, so they're back studying while one friend and I hunt for jobs. I have an interview on Wednesday that would be my ideal job right now, so fingers crossed for that. As for my friend, she's facing the good ol' Catch 22 - graduates who need experience to get a job but a job to get the experience. One Marketing Assistant job we heard of received 250 applications - that's some serious competition. We're trying to figure out how a year in France is going to help in this current situation. In the meantime, we do what we can to get by - I wait tables at a restaurant I used to work at, and moan about how Australians don't tip like Europeans.

There's also something called Reverse Culture Shock, resulting from the psychosomatic and psychological consequences of the readjustment process to the primary culture - or in other words, how coming home can feel kind of crappy. I've read that knowing what to expect can help lessen the re-adjustment process, but I failed to keep up to date with a lot of Adelaide Life, and as such was shocked to discover the following things:

• My bus now comes at 5.23pm instead of 5.28pm,
• Muzz Buzz, the stupid drive-thru coffee at the end of my street, is still in business,
• Julie's Dumplings had a 50c price rise on their Lunchtime Special, and
• my cousin's 3 year old is now 4 and knows the difference between a Dromedary Camel and a Bactrian Camel.

I was not shocked to learn that the following were still the same:

• The Central Market is busy on a Friday night,
• when it is summer it is really freaking hot, and
• Mum and Dad want to charge me rent again.

Maybe I'm making light of a serious problem for many travellers, but I honestly can say I enjoy being home right now, and that it's not too hard to accept my immediate conditions. Being home with my parents isn't even so bad - but I'll admit that paying board is about at attractive as the brown carpet in my old room and that my own space again is a dream I hope is not too far away. Last year was a step in a good direction of personal growth that I intend to pursue.

Adelaide is certainly different to Europe but I'm not worried. It won't take long before we're uber cosmopolitan and I feel like I'm back in some exotic capital. For example, I heard on the radio today that by 2013 we are going to have "Smart Cards" that you charge with a value and swipe on both the bus AND the tram to get around. Talk about fancy! But for now, I'm liking where I am and busy myself by working out how much of my future salary I need to save for the next trip.

There's no place like home, right?

Why Home is Nice #21

Good Morning Australia

I've only just finished unpacking but it's actually been nearly 3 weeks since I woke up in a Melbourne bedroom at lunchtime, a little dazed and confused after a 26 hour journey and a 3 hour nap to get me through Arrival Day. The whole Dubai thing meant I had to land in Melbourne instead of Adelaide, and what better excuse to spend some quality time with my I've-Been-Home-For-7-Weeks boyfriend.

I don't think there's much to say about the journey home. On the plane, I made friends with Newcastle Joe next to me, whom I originally mistook for Irish Joe and then Scottish Joe. Conversation was sparked on account of him reading the same book as I was. Lo and behold, the woman next to him also had it on her lap, so we all discussed whether The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo was a book about tattoos, as Newcastle Joe has suspected. It is not.

I will say that Emirates is a fantastic airline, not least for their pre-flight service, which I've mentioned, but they also have electricity plugs in Economy. Newcastle Joe assured me he's seen it before on other airlines but I sure hadn't, and so I had plenty of laptop juice to get me by when I got sick of the 46,000 movies and TV shows they had. I like to think I appreciate the small things in life.

Being a small and somewhat flexible person, I can usually find some sort of obscure yoga position to sleep in, as is required in Economy. For whatever reason, this position eluded me and I barely managed a few winks before arriving at Melbourne International the following morning. I dragged my things through Customs and smiled at the Customs Officer wearing a Spiderman Mask, a small reminder that although we have some pretty strict immigration and import restrictions, home-grown inappropriateness has still managed to infiltrate every government department.

At the Arrivals Hall, there was a very smiley young man with a self-made haircut and a SwedishWifeFinder.com sign peering eagerly at the crowd. He looked like fun, so I went up to him and asked for a lift into town. He turned out to be Grant, which was convenient because I was staying at Grant's house.

Grant and his family took me in and nursed me back to sanity, which, surprisingly, didn't take too long. I was spoiled rotten and I loved every minute of it. At this point, I think it's good to mention that going straight home to my own house might have been more of a shock to the system. When you go back to your own country after a year away, it's worthwhile going somewhere that isn't your hometown first. That way, things are just different enough to ease you back into comfort and the reverse culture shock is toned down. You can stay in tourist mode a little longer, but now you can read the bus timetable and stop converting the price tags in your head.

Ok, so I was converting Australian prices back to Euros and thinking "Wow, that's cheap!"

So I was back on home soil. It was just enough like home, but still a step away. I wasn't sure if Grant's Mum was saying "graff" or "grarph", but I didn't really mind. I woke up after that first nap and listened to the Magpies warbling outside the window, then lay in the hammock on the back lawn and ate half a box of Barbecue Shapes. It certainly was nice to be there.

A Desert Safari

With winter pretty well covered, it was finally time to make my way home. I had a defrost layover planned in Dubai and so it was with a heavy heart I packed my 48kg of luggage into 30kg of baggage and made my way to Heathrow Airport.

Again, and I cannot stress enough how thankful I am to everyone who took me in this year, I was fortunate to stay with a friend who showed me some of the best the city had to offer. This is one of the best things about travelling - the people :)

So, merely days after it was officially opened, the Tallest Building In The World stood towering above the Emirates as I flew in over the Gulf and landed in some very welcome sunshine. I took the Newest Metro In The World and after putting down some bags, took a taxi to the Most Expensive Marina in the World. I navigated the Most Non-Existent Footpaths In The World, and after crossing an 8 lane highway, walked past the Royal Palace and the Biggest Fake Palm Island In The World to the Most Expensive And Exclusive Hotel In The World.

Later that night, a very friendly friend of a friend came by to take me to the Biggest Mall Outside The US, which is home to the Biggest Aquarium Inside A Mall. Outside, the Tallest Building In The World was lit by millions of lights and if that wasn't enough to get your attention, at it's feet was the Nicest Water and Light Show In The World. Just because.

The next day, with nothing planned and a slight feeling I was missing out on something, I began to trawl the internet. What to do in this most strange city, built on sand? Why, take a 4WD safari trip, that's what! At 1.30pm, I organised a pick-up at my room at 3pm, and the next 6 hours were filled with about as much sand as I could handle.

That night, with a belly full of Arabian BBQ and my henna tattoo staining the sheets, I lay in bed and thought a lot of thoughts, some of which I still haven't figured out.

And the next day, I went home.

The Airport Prayer

Our Hostess, who art at Check-In

Hallowed be thy scales.

My clothes have come.

My shopping done,

my shelves as they are in retail.

Give me this day my boarding pass.

And forgive me my excesses,

As I forgive you for not upgrading me.

And lead me not into Customs Inspection,

But deliver me from baggage charges.

Amen.

I am simultaneously disgusted at and proud of myself.