The Incredible Journey

I got on the plane in Mumbai and prepared myself for a red-eye flight to Malaysia. I was still sick and started one of my wonderful phlegmy coughing fits which had been plaguing me for the last two weeks.

With my scarred up legs, my tattered clothes and my killer cough, I was something to be reckoned with.

At least the germ-phobe Indian couple beside me thought so and desperately flagged down a flight attendant, said something in Hindi to her while gesturing to me and then got moved far far away from me.

I just coughed in their general direction after that.

It was freezing on the plane and I curled up under the heinous purple and grey Malaysian Airlines blankets and tried to eat the disgusting chapatti, spinach/corn stew and curried mutton they put in front of me. They threw a pack of Indian pickles at me and goodness knows why but I figured I'd give the disgusting things one last shot. I'd been trying all summer to like them. Goodness knows they gave them to us EVERY meal.

I opened the pack and took out a miniscule chunk of what looked like a piece of pickled green pepper.

After nearly gagging and puking up all the white rice I'd just downed, I decided maybe I JUST DON'T LIKE INDIAN PICKLES.

Finally, they shut down the lights and I curled up to sleep. I'd need all the rest I could get- when I landed I'd have to barter for a flight to Sydney.

What seemed like two seconds after i'd shut my eyes and finally stopped coughing, we landed in Kuala Lampur.

I forgot how gorgeous their airport is. THis was also where I'd lost my passport the first time this summer. I guarded it with my life.
I took their crazy airport train to the baggage pick-up and as a gesture of good faith, tried changing my rupees to Australian dollars.

I barely had enough to make 30 Australian dollars and the foreign exchange dude only had Australian 50's and hundreds. "BAH! Just give me Malaysian Ringgitts!!!!" I said.

This was not a good sign.

I wheeled my bags through security with only minor mishaps. "Madame? Taxi? Hotel? You need Hotel?"
"HOTEL MADAME! TAXI?"
"TAXI HERE! Let me take your bags!"

There was a barrage of touts standing just out the gate. Unfortunately for them, after a summer in India, I was used to their kind.

"NO! NO THANKS! BACK OFF!"

I wheeled my cart straight at them and went fast to show them I meant business. A few of them dodged and clung on to other tourists.

I got to the Malaysian Airlines ticket counter and there was an actual queue with actual ticket numbers and stuff. "What? You mean you don't just elbow and shove your way up to the attendant? What is this organised, polite queuing business you speak of?"

I got to the front of the line eventually and breathlessly asked for the first flight I could get to Sydney.

"There's one seat on the 9:55 flight to Sydney." said the gorgeous Malaysian airlines counter lady.
I checked my watch. It was 6:30am. A flight in just three hours was too good to be true. I'd been preparing to hang around KL international airport for at least seven hours. Too good to be true. I had to double check.

"9:55 this morning? You mean this evening right?"
"No, 9:55am."
"Sweet! I'll take it! Oh, and could you help me sort out my other flights back to North America right now? I don't want to backtrack to Mumbai later and I want to elave straight from Austr . . ."
"You want to do that NOW? Your flight leaves at 9:55!!"
"Why? It's 6:30am."
"Um, it's 9:03am right now."
"F*CK! TIME CHANGE BETWEEN INDIA AND MALAYSIA! But-but that means I leave in like, under an hour!!!!"
"Exactly."
"ah! gotta go!"
"Good luck! You depart on the third floor! Elevators are to your left!"

I bolted out of there with my bags, my passport and my brand spanking new ticket which was leaving for Australia in less than an hour.

I wheeled myself to the elevators, missed the first two as they were all full, hopped around in front of them like I had to pee really badly until the man in the queue for the elevator beside me took pity and let me go first (chivalry. a sure sign I'd made it out of India). Then I finally made it up to the third floor.

I zoomed past random families and tourists and got to the counter and shoved my ticket at them.
"Did you pack your bags by yourself?"
"Yes."
"Are you aware of all the contents?"
"Yes."
"OK. Here's your boarding pass. have a good flight. Oh, and you'd better run. Good luck!"
"thanks!" I shouted and bolted for the aerotrains which would take me to the departure gates.

I missed the first train. 9:28am. I was cutting it super close.

Ten minutes later, I made it to the departure terminals and started booting it to my gate. People stared at me as I walked past and I heard some guy in Cantonese say, "Wha! Why is she running so fast?"

But I didn't care and I kept running.

In the distance, I could see the group of sunburnt Australian tourists getting loaded into the plane. I joined them just in time.

I handed my ticket and passport to the flight attendant and tried to wipe the sweat off my face.
He was about to let me pass when he stopped and looked hard at my ticket and at me and then at my passport.

"Uh, ma'am. What was your business in Malaysia?" he said while holding up my Canadian passport to the light to make sure the hologram was real.
"What? I'm just in transit here. From Mumbai. I'm trying to get to Sydney."
"Are you studying in Malaysia? You live here?"
"No! I was just here for a few hours. I'm Canadian. Honestly!" I anxiously looked ahead and noticed almost everyone else was on board.
"You've only ever been in KL for a few hours?" he asked me suspiciously.
"Well, I was here earlier in the summer for five days and that was it. Why?"
"And you were in India? But you're Canadian?"
"YES! WHY?!"
"I'm afriad I'll need to see some Canadian ID."
"YOU'RE HOLDING MY CANADIAN PASSPORT!"
"I'll need some Canadian ID."
"I don't have my driver's liscence with me. I have a scuba diving card. That's all the other photo ID I have! Look! It says I live in Calgary, CANADA."
"Nope, I need something better."
"Like a passport?"
"Yeah. Like a passport."
"THAT'S WHAT YOU'RE FREAKING HOLDING!"

I felt like smushing his head into the heinous purple carpet but instead, at the last minute, he called over another flight attendant and a security guard.

"Ma'am. We'll need to see your flight ticket from Mumbai. And your previous flight to KL."
"What gives?"
I pulled them out and showed him. "You only bought this Mumbai ticket . . . yesterday."
I explained to him about my predicament and how there were no through flights to Sydney and how I thought I'd chance it and just come to KL and book a last minute ticket here.

The three of them listened intently as I explained to them about Gabe, Joanne visiting from England, the hassle getting out of Mumbai and so on. They couldn't believe it and lots of, "So let me get this right . . ." and "you mean . . .?" later, they looked at my tickets again.

"But your flight to Sydney is from . . ." he looked at the ticket in his hand.
" . . . oh. You just booked this . . . an HOUR ago?!!!!"
"Yeah."
"Well, alright ma'am. enjoy your flight . . . and good luck."
"thanks." I said and fled to the plane.

I got on and we took off. It would be a seven hour flight to Sydney. I realised I had yet to call Gabe to tell him when I'd arrive. He knew I was coming, but not how soon. I'd had no time to call him in all the chaos in Malaysia.

I had finished reading all my books while I was in the Mumbai airport so I amused myself with the video games and cool Asian movies on the little screen in front of me. I ended up watching this really cool Korean movie called "Daisy" which I highly recommend to anyone who's ever been an artist, a cop, a hired assassin or a daisy. Ha! Actually, it's just a good, sappy, gorey love/assassin movie. It features the chick from "My Sassy girl" and the scenery of Norway or some other cool European country with lots of cobble-stone squares and pigeons.

I also wasted a few hours of my life on this Cantonese movie which isn't even worth mentioning.

The rest of the time, I tried to beat the computer at hangman and tetris.

I was also exhausted by this time, having not really for slept two nights in a row, and I zoinked out for a good few hours.

I woke up to the captain telling us all to buckle up for the landing. The flight attendants were going up and down the aisles doing that annoying aerosol disinfectant misting thing they always do before you land in Sydney. Damned Australia and their biological sensitivity.

After they'd finished misting, I had another coughing fit which I'm sure rendered their aerosol disinfection obsolete. Before I'd left, my travel group and I had been joking about how I'd contracted TB from the evil monkeys that kept running into our hotel rooms. I wasnt so sure that didn't happen as my cough was getting worse. Well, I'm sure the two sleepless nights all the travel didn't help either.

I got out of hte plane. I was finally in Sydney.

I made it through immigrations no problem. It was as I read over my landing card and handed it to the customs and quarantine officer that I knew I was in for it.

What could I do? Lie and say I wasn't in a Foot and Mouth Disease and Anthrax endemic country for the last two and a half months and say I didnt have soil and cow sh*t all over my sandals?

I coudln't very well lie about not being near farm animals or in a rural area in the last 30 days either. Hell, you walk down the most urban and busiest street you can find in Delhi and you come across ten cows casually eating garbage.
Heck, you can't walk around India for thirty days without encountering a farm animal! They own the place! The whole frickiin country is one giant farm animal land!!!

"Can you come over here with me ma'am. Can I see your passport and flight ticket please?"
I sighed. The vet and biologist in me knew that all this delay was necessary. The travel-weary traveller in me though was cursing that I'd be further delayed from making it to a phone booth and calling Gabe and making it back to normal civilisation (if Australia can be called that).

"So you were in Malaysia?"
"Um, no. I was in India. Malaysia was just a stopover."
"Can I see your Indian tickets playse?"
I sighed. Here we go again.

He called over some other quarantine officer who was supposed to take my sandals and flip-flops over to the station to get decontaminated.
"She was in India mate!"
"No way! Where were you India? Did you go to the Punjab?"
"Yeah! I went to the Golden Temple in Amritsar."
"Whoa! That's awesome!"

Much chatting later, he took my shoes away. And my Tibetan wooden flutes I'd bought for my cousins, the little wooden crab I'd bought for Gabe, the wooden daggers I'd bought for Gabe's brother and many other things. I was promised they would all be cleaned and returned to me in a bit. He dug through both my bags and pulled out my dirty laundry, including my dirty underwear. THen he cut open all my packages and unrolled all the art and paintings I'd bought. "Nice!" he said when he saw the tiger paintings I'd got for my dad.
He opened up all my packaged saris, checked out my toiletry bag, opened up my mosquito netting, and essentially unpacked and laid out all my stuff in the Sydney airport.

Meanwhile, the officers wanted to know ALL about what I was doing in India.

An HOUR later, after I'd finally told him my whole story and then some, he finally understood. "Whoa! that sounds like heckuva summah mate!"
"It sure was. Say, are you making sure you're cleaning my sandals in vinegar? that's the only way you'll kill the Foot and Mouth Disease. Bleach won't do it."
"Oh I dunno. They'll know what to do at the office ova there. So like, have you learned about this one disease in sheep yet? I heard about it on the news."

He started asking me some vet questions about sheep. Can't get more Aussie than that.

Seriously, an hour and a half later, I was finally allowed to repack my bags and get through. "There's a flight in from Lebanon in a bit tonight. Can't wait to talk to the folks off that plane." said the first quarantine officer I'd been talking to.

I guess it's a boring and lonely job sometimes, being a quarantine officer. My guess is that he just takes in random interesting-looking people or people who have interesteing flight itineraries and interrogates them. I suppose my flight itinerary seemed pretty far-fetched.

Anyhow, I made it to the phone booth and dialled Gabe's cell.

"Hello?"
"Hey Gabe! It's me!"
"You're at the airport now?" he asked calmly, as if it was the most normal thing in the world.
"Yeah, how'd you know?"
"Duh, I read your blog too." he said.

Forty five minutes later, he was there. I walked out of the airport into a mild Australian winter night. It was +16oC.

"HOLY F*CK IT'S F*CKING COLD IN THIS COUNTRY!" I shouted. I remember last year, I was laughing at the locals for wearing Ugg boots and wool jackets when I'd been walking around in shorts and a t-shirt in this weather. India made me go soft.

Gabe gave me his jacket and chivalrously offered to stop in at the McDonalds after he noticed me drooling at the pictures of REAL BEEF cheeseburgers (they don't serve beef in any of hte Mcdonalds in India).

Many cheeseburgers and chicken Mcnuggets later, I was exhausted and collapsed into bed. I didn't get up until 3pm the next day.

Since then, I've eaten a big beef steak, Thai food, sushi, CHINESE FOOD, pasta, TIM TAMS, lots of cereal and a candied apple. I have great plans for beef noodles soup but not until my GI heals up from India.

It's been a bit of a culture shock being back in civilisation. For one thing, no one really honks at anyone in the street (but how are you supposed to change lanes or message to the guy in front of you that you want to pass him?) and everyone is so well organised and polite. It's also clean. I joked to Gabe i could eat off the sidewalks here and not be the worse for it.
"Uh, I wouldn't exactly do that honey." he said worriedly.

So how am I doing now? Ok I guess. Must have been something I ate in Mumbai but I've had bad diarrhea since I got here (there's always that 24 hour lag period. that and my system's not used to good food yet) and I thought for a bit I had malaria as I'd have cold, then hot chills then super fevers then be sore all over.

And my monkey TB hasn't left me yet so I'm coughing up a storm. I feel sorry for Gabe and his brother as they're both germ-phobes and I'm sure it's driving them nuts to be living with a living, breathing cesspool of germs like me, but it can't be helped. I coughed all over the Tim Tams so at least those are all mine MWAHAHAHAHAHa.

In the meantime, I've been having a hard time booking a flight back to North America any earlier than August 5th. I phoned Malaysian airlines and the guy told me I'd have to go into thier downtown Sydney office in person as my tickets are so convoluted that he didn't understand me on the phone.

I went into the office and the lady seemed super b*tchy at first and then I told her my story and she got all super nice on me.
" . . . so you see? I really wanted more time with my fiance but my twin sister is coming home from England for only ten days!"
"What were you doing in India?"
"I was volunteering with animal shelters and wildlife groups. For the animals. You know. And I just got homesick and I missed my fiance."
"Awwwwwwwww. Here. I'll do my best."

She's been calling me every day since to tell me the update on my wait list ticket. Bless her heart. she can get me as far as KL but I'm on stand-by to get a ticket to LA and then to vancouver then Calgary.

In the meantime, I have been borrowing Gabe's clothes as my India wardrobe just isn't cutting it here. Can't walk down the street in downtown Sydney in a salwar suit now can we? Doesnt matter how bright blue and pink it is. So I've been swimming in giant sweat-shirts and sweat-pants and essentially homey-G-ing it out. thank goodness for drawstrings.

There was once an article in In Style magazine about how, if you woke up one morning with nothing in your closet, "what 5 items would you buy first?" I think they interviewed people like Jennifer Love Hewitt and other girly celebrities like that. I read the article and always wondered what I would ever buy if that happened to me.

Well, I woke up that day at 3pm and realised I had nothing in my closet. And the first thing I bought was:
one pair of blue jeans,
one black tank top,
one white tank top,
a black rocker jacket
and the next on my list is boots or sneakers (flip flops and cow manured sports sandals aren't cutting it in the middle of winter down under) but I was kinda running low on cash.

That's one thing I'll give India (aside from amazing country-side scenery, fresh fruits and animals and people) . . . everything is so cheap. I've been like, "WHAT?! FOURTEEN DOLLARS FOR A TANK TOP?! That's ROBBIN' ME BLIND! I'll give you 14 rupees for two!"

So yeah.

Anyhow, another bout of delhi belly is going to hit me again so I'd best be off. Argh!

I am alive and safe and sound now. THanks to all for your e-mails and support and prayers. I'll be back in cowtown by early August (hopefully). If I'm not, at least you'll have my evil twin to entertain you for a while.

Salima, sorry I won't make it back in time to see you in cowtown! Boo-urns! Did I mention that half the girls working at the Malaysian Airlines counter in KL are named Salima? Gotta love Muslim countries! say, what address should I be sending your souvenirs to? And I CAN'T BELIEVE YOUR MUMMY IS SELLING THE HOUSE!

Thinh, sorry I didn't respond on messenger the other day! I was feeling super sick. Unfortunately, you and Hugh won't get your souvenirs for a while cus I ran out of room in my backpack so I sent them via sea mail to my house in Calgary so they won't be there for another month or so. Cool laser pictures on your flickr account by the way!

Joanne, sorry I didn't keep you updated. You can see it's been rather hectic here. I have some cool jewellery for you though from that Tibetan village and from Agra where the taj Mahal is. That ought to pacify you while you handle our wee cousins and our love-sick older sister on your own for a while.

Feroza, thanks for the e-mail. I will send you your souvenirs when I get to Canada. I think you already sent me your address way back when. How's it going in the states anyhow? How's the married life? I can't believe you're married. Holy crap! So when are the uber kiddy-kins going to start coming? Ha!

Sheila, thanks for the e-mail. I am alive and well! How goes George? I went to a bunny farm in India where they kill the bunnies for fur. I got very upset. I tried to rescue some, but it was impossible to smuggle them out. How's life in Vancouver?

Dani, thanks for checking in on me after the Mumbai bombings! I am alive and well. How's life in the 'toon? I'm actually kind of looking forward to heading back there. How goes the masters? Send me your address for a much-delayed post-card!!

Wayne, you going to the arctic parasites conference in Calgary in the fall? I'm not going to be in town for the tattoo conference but Sarah, the goth-girl I was travelling with, told me all about it and it sounds cool! She says it's a really big thing in the tattoo and piercing world.

Anh, thanks for leaving those wonderful comments on my blog all summer long! It's good to know that someone out there has the patience to read through my mad rantings! How goes it? I realise I've been spoiled cus I got to travel so much this summer but i'm still jealous of Jason who gets to go to all these cool places all over the world!! You should make him take you sometime!

Ngoc, thanks for your comments too! Your blog is my favorite to read when I'm travelling cus it makes me so homesick. You give such a good description of what good stuff I'm missing out on at home. Makes me feel like I'm there.

And finally . . . Gabe, is there heat in your apartment? It's frickin freezing in here Mr. Bigglesworth!

OK. Bowels are giving out on me (Like, I'm so sure you all wanted to know that!). Damned verms.

Peace out everyone!!!! More from me later!

-Vivian "the end is near! Can you FEEL it?" Lau

PS: I really do think I have verms ("worms" said in a silly German accent). My Delhi belly won't stop! And I can't stop eating. Well, that could be cus Gabe and his bro bought 5 boxes of Tim tams which are just sitting there in the cupboard waiting to enter my tummy.
PPS: I'm really worried about getting a flight home. What if all the flights stay full and I don't get my connecting flight from KL to LA? ah! I could be stranded in Malaysia for all of August! Hmmmm . . . more roti canai and tea tarek for me!
PPPS: i just called my mom and she said that Karen and her won't let me in the house until i'm fully dewormed and debugged. And until I've lysolled all my baggage. Nice. Very welcoming.