24 hours ago, I was aboard MH123 en route to Sydney, sandwiched between two guys–on my left was Paul, my Brit CD, and on my right, an unidentified young man from India. Suffice to say, I’ve had better flights. The Indian dude had his knees wide apart so they encroached my precious territory, and when it came time to sleep, his head kept sliding in my direction. Not happy. It was only when I ‘accidentally’ knocked his head that he awoke with a start and veered off in the other direction. But seriously, sitting in the middle really sucks.
Sydney’s colder than I anticipated. More precisely, I overestimated the ability of my fats to keep me at least functional. Just now, I very nearly brushed my teeth with my facial cleanser because my brains weren’t working. Logically, it’s not THAT cold (lowest is 10 degrees Celcius) but somehow, my body just can’t keep its own heat. I’ve been sneezing and hiding under terribly matched outfits, thanks to random jackets and slippers borrowed from my aunt. I’ve also had a glass of wine every few hours since I got here, but that ain’t a bad thing. 😛
Tomorrow I check into some cheap hotel in the City, a street away from where I’ll be conducting some research for work. What do I feel about being back in the land I fell in love with some seven years ago? I don’t know. I guess I don’t have the same desperate urge I had as a fresh grad cum idealist: to seek a destiny away from Malaysia; to live in a place where things work as they should more often than back home. Was told earlier tonight that if I want to apply for a PR, I should do it before I hit 29 so as to gain more points to qualify.