The hardest thing about packing is getting your head around different temperatures and weather conditions in your destination. I was determined to do hand luggage only this time around. I was not at my most soignee as I was touting my three wheeled Bric suitcase. I love this bag for its squashy covering which lets you stuff more things in but it lost a wheel on a baggage belt somewhere last year. I don't even know quite when it happened as for a while I was thinking its tendency to topple over which was due to my unbalanced packing. It's perfectly functional on its three wheels - except for its drunken collapse if you leave it anywhere other than propped against something.
One of the wonderful things about travelling out from Canberra is that although the dash 8 planes are too small to take a wheelie bag in the overhead locker, they tag and take the bag from you at the foot of the stairs and then return it you on the tarmac when you land. (I once stood next to Peta Credlin and Tony Abbott on the tarmac while they were waiting for her bag. She is extremely tall. He offered to carry her bag and she briskly dismissed him. Despite loathing his policies and government, I admired his good manners.) One of the baggage handlers was desperately trying to get my bag to stand in line with the others as it threatened to topple all of them domino fashion. I realised it was my duty to save all baggage handlers from this humiliation and ordered what I hope is an identical bag in a different colourway from Peters of Kensington but it arrived after I left so the less than able bag is accompanying me on this swansong trip.
I also ordered what I hope is a grown up rucksuck from Tumi. Their prices are eye watering but this was on sale from amazon but only to be shipped in the US (I assume so Tumi can keep their giant prices up in Asia) so I had it shipped to my colleague who, I hope, has brought it with her. My goal was a rucksuck that looked business like and did not have tons of fiddly straps. In the interim, I am using my daughters Hershchel rucksack which does not look in the least bit business like but at least spared by shoulders as I lug my tech world around. Lovely as they look, large totes of any description wreck my neck and shoulders.
I saw my oldest daughter for 3 minutes at arrivals. Enough time for a big hug and to feel her soft cheek again before she had to rush for her domestic flight. My flight was uneventful (horrible cliche film with Pierce Brosnan and Emma Thompson, a better ensemble comedy drama which was remarkable for its obsession with Jane Fonda's breasts, 3 episodes of the Newsroom and 2 and a half episodes of Suits), I had a headache by the end but remarkably was off the plane, through immigration and in the taxi within 20 minutes of us landing. However, it is absolutely pouring here. I mean, buckets of water from the sky so the most important thing in my capsule packing should have been a mini umbrella.
After I checked in, I took the MRT to City Hall and met my colleague, S, who had flown in earlier from Hong Kong in a bar in Raffles where she was sheltering from the rain and waiting for the print shop to finish our job. The print shop was due to shut at 6 but since she had given them a job worth more than a grand, they were happy to stay open for her. We had gin and tonic and ate at the Halia bar. We both had this amazing smoked salmon pate which came in a little kilner jar. When the bar man opened the jar, a waft of smoke appeared. It was delicious and wish I had the forethought to photography like a proper blogger but we were too busy stuffing our faces
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