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Pink jacket in a storm

When I saw the Travel Companion’s  (TC) hideous pink/maroon/purple puffle-up jacket, I was sure of 2 things: either he was a bloody idiot for carrying something that looked like a foreign body emerging from a newly discovered species, or a badly-dressed immigrant who has illusions of grandeur. It was only when he recounted the story of him reading about a bad and extended spell of weather of a thunderstorm with 100km/hr winds hitting Western Australia’s coast that I silently and grudgingly admitted that I had indeed under-packed. The bright side was that Qantas departed and arrived punctually and without incident, to my incredulous amazement. TC’s stomach had been giving him...

The Perils of Getting on a Plane

This was right after lunch. The airport was in the opposite direction, about an hour away. His watch announced that it 2pm. Mine grumpily said 2:20pm. My flight was at 4pm. “There will be time,” so Sean, my chauffeur for that day (and friend too, of course) nevertheless insisted. “Tullamarine is not far now. 14 minutes away.” Princes Highway, Bolte Bridge, the Yarra, and Melbourne City whizzing past. We sped down the highway at 110km/h; I peeked at the speedometer and checked surreptitiously for the speed limits plastered at near every lamp post. (It certainly would embarrass me greatly should he receive a speeding ticket, even if I did miss my...

The Good, The Bad, The Cold and The Italians

“We are told that Franz Josef Glacier has many more things than Fox, ya see. There’s more to do there.” A Brit on holiday chirpily let on en route to the Glaciers, his girlfriend nodding her assent in response. They were caught on in the excitement of it all, prepping their camper van for the long journey north into Franz Josef from Queenstown and hence missing that incredulous look I was sure my face carried. Oops. How was I to know? For a brief moment it felt as if I were doomed to suffer the sweeping boredom that would descend over me in Fox Glacier, with the mantra of ‘there...