It feels like we are already in the tropics in Sydney. Sticky, hazy days. Bulging clouds becoming evening storms. We might as well already be in Singapore. The Stamford Plaza Sydney Airport, where we are spending the night before departure, offers a Singaporean room service menu.
I had a poor sleep last night. Then a physiotherapy session for my shoulder. Work, last minute preparations, but we were pretty good at packing early this trip. No last minute rush. Not yet.
I drop B and Alex off at Padstow station and return home to catch the bus. It is hot and sticky, it doesn’t feel like travel weather.
In an effort to save money we are all catching trains to Mascot rather than the slightly closer but surcharged Domestic Terminal stop.
None of us has had lunch. B and Alex go straight to the hotel and dine at the restaurant. I, with only my backpack, buy a banh mi from Mascot and eat it as I walk. I need a drink of Coke from the bar by the time I arrive, perspiring.
Then I am reunited with the other two. A shower, and afternoon nap, as trains rumble past below, planes soar overhead as they take off from the small south-north runway.
Despite the late lunch, the others still want dinner. There is much debate. B wants a nice meal, Alex and I are happy to eat fast food.
The compromise is to walk to the Domestic Terminal 2 and pass through security to the food court. I make a mistake with Mexican, the other two order McDonald’s, which they could have had at the closer outlet across the road.
What makes it worth it is the wonderful golden light of late in the day, the cooler air. The airport is starkly, industrially beautiful, the aircraft landing and taking off suggesting dreams of travel.
I return to the room to catch a deep red sunset. Yes, we might already be in the tropics.