My room is a mess. Underwear, socks, shirts and toiletries are strewn across the floor and bed. Plastic bags lie like beached jellyfish on the carpet. I am slowly, but surely, unpacking my memories.
I always feel blue when I return from a trip. The sights, the people, the food, the freedom, the friends. As soon as the plane took off from Singapore, I knew they were lost to me. I was going back to the mundane. Back to the prison we call everyday life!
I didn't get past blogging about the first half of the first day of my trip. All along I wrote little notes in my head on how I would recount this or that ('...the bus driver pointed at the machine agitatedly and shouted, and for the life of me I couldn't understand what he was saying!'), but now that I'm back I've entirely lost the motivation. Oh well - maybe later?
For now I will bathe in the ephemeral warmth of my memories.

Day 1: Takeoff

My brother drives me to the airport before the sun rises, the sky still the colour of diluted Ribeena. In the silence of the car I run through in my head a checklist of things-to-bring (well, things I should have in my bags already): passport, plane ticket, shaver, toothbru... oh shit. I've come to realise that no matter how far in advance you've packed, or how thorough you are, there will always be something you forget to bring. Or maybe that's just me.
After a surprisingly quick check-in, I proceed to the departure lounge. On the way I am screened for knives, AK-47s, Tomahawks, and yes, even my hair gel is scrutinised suspiciously.
Soon it is time to board. Walking down the gangway, I suddenly have an image of myself as an astronaut striding solemnly in slow motion, the camera panning from around the back to the front and then zooming in on the white lights reflecting off the glass of my helmet. I arrive at my seat next to the window, and duly strap myself in. The air hostess, who is so beautiful she must be from another planet, goes through the safety procedures. 'If the warp drive should disengage unexpectedly, please use the oxygen masks....'
The plane taxis down the runway. The whine of the engines crescendo into a roar, and the plane accelerates over the tarmac. Rising like a large majestic bird, the world below me grows smaller and smaller; a new world awaits for this intrepid adventurer to explore.

Day 1: Touchdown

TBC.

My last day at work brings with it a list of other 'lasts':

• Last time raiding the fridge on Friday for Tim Tams, and then going to the level upstairs to steal more.
• Last time walking up to JR and saying: 'Yo, wa'sup homo!' (JR: 'Stop calling me homo!').
• Last time listening to Ernesto talk about his dreams of quitting the IT industry (Ernesto: 'Damnit IT is shit!') and starting an investment company.
• Last time stuffing my face with cake on birthday parties.
• Last time listening to Sean rant about how he almost scored a goal in soccer on the weekend ('...if I had just kicked it a fraction to the left...').
• Last time playing chess on the lounges downstairs.
• Last time laughing at Eddie and his pink jumpers ('It's called Fashion, Aidan, Fashion').
• Last time pretending that Ross has taken my wallet (he has the same cool folding wallet that I have).
• Last time boxing Jake in the face.
• Last time leaving weird and nonsensical voice messages on Nick's phone, like 'Hi...I just wanted to let you know that - wait, hold on...' [sound of rustling paper, continues for more than a minute].
• Last time staring across the harbour.
• Last time, last time.......
  

Sigh. Sentimentality always gets the better of me.