You stare at the sky, watch the planes flying overhead, and dream of escape. Of leaving the house with almost nothing, staying in a quiet hotel, then flying through smooth skies to a distant land.
Reality is usually so different. You end up packing more and more, made worse by a winter destination demanding snow boots, thick clothes, stinking with mildew from that trip to the Arctic Circle years ago.
Glancing at the weather at the destination, you see with horror that your arrival coincides with a prediction for gales of 45 knot winds. A cyclone is suddenly due to form and cross the coast along your route. Days of clear skies at take-off replaced by a gusty change over Sydney with clouds, rain and potential storms.
A pit forms in your stomach. You want to cry, to throw up, to scream, but you know you shouldn’t. You’ve done the course. You’ve flown the route dozens of times. It should be fine, you’ll survive. Your brain refuses to believe.
Speaking of weather, a heatwave has struck. When the time comes to leave the house it is 43°C outside. The car says 50°. You’ve booked a hotel room near the airport so there’s no rush on the day of departure. The plan was to take a bus to the station, then a train to Wolli Creek, before walking the remainder. It’s too hot for that now.
You’ve watered the plants, washed the towels, had a swim in the pool, filled it, washed your swim wear, hung it out. It is past 1 pm and everything is packed. Nobody can think where to eat. You suggest IKEA. It is close to the hotel.
Drive to IKEA. The restaurant is crowded with people enjoying the air-conditioning to escape the oven outside. You refill your drink several times. It is very windy outside. You don’t see many aircraft taking off.
Drive the short distance to the hotel. Check-in, drop off bags, farewell B and Alex and drive home by yourself. Most drivers are taking it slowly, you feel calm, listening to music as you go.
You stop to buy the sick bags Alex has requested, just in case. You hope you won’t be the one using them in turbulence.
You return home, do what you need to, more than you thought. Finally escape from the house, hurry in the heat to the bus stop, watch the bus arrive and depart ahead of you.
Half an hour until the next one. Where to hide?
Cross over to the local shops opposite. Buy a cool can of Pocari Sweat from the Korean store. Most cafes are closed, only the supermarket is air-conditioned and you don’t want to go in again.
You cross to the bus stop at the rear and discover that the next bus only goes to the next suburb and you’ll need to change. When it arrives the driver tells you it isn’t even going that far, but he’ll drop you off somewhere else you can change.
When the other bus arrives it is surprisingly busy, but the air-conditioning is a great relief. It takes you to the station, fortunately that train isn’t that far away.
The oven returns when you step off at Wolli Creek. You call the others and ask if there is anything they want, maybe you can save them a walk for dinner. You buy a bubble tea with ice for yourself.
It’s a dry heat, there’s a strong breeze and as long as you stick to the shade you’ll be fine. It’s a nice walk from the concrete canyons of apartments to the hotel, through a park along the Cooks River, past a cricket ground ringed with a white picket fence. You hoped they would be playing a game, but they’ve either finished or given up in the heat.
Is that a white goose amongst the ibis in the river?
You haven’t seen a goose in ages.
A couple of aircraft roar up into the sky nearby.
Finally you reach the hotel, hot and exhausted. The last time you stayed here, the hotel, long ago a Hilton, now a Novotel, stood alone, a lonely and isolated structure surrounded by houses, parkland and roads.
Now the hotel is surrounded by apartment towers. Your room does not have the view of the airport you requested, nor even of the parklands. Just hotel and apartments. It’s too bright to open the curtains anyway.
You greet the others and collapse into bed. Eventually everyone wants to go out for dinner. It is almost 7 pm. It’s still hot outside, but bearable. When you reach Wolli Creek you struggle to decide what to eat, eventually agree to try the Shanghai Dumplings shop.
You don’t feel like the strong flavours of dumplings or the Shanghai noodles that the others order, just ask for a pineapple fried rice. It’s hot inside the small, traditionally decorated restaurant. B remarks that it feels like you are dining in Malaysia and you agree. The lady brings you a cup of ice and jugs of water and you appreciate it.
The weather has changed while you were eating and there’s a strong cooling breeze when you step out. Unfortunately the freezer doors of the Asian supermarket next door are broken, but you buy a mango Weiss bar from the small freezer and enjoy it as you walk back in the dusk light.
It is very pleasant now, strolling in the cool air, the surface of the river rippling with the breeze, the sounds of the airport in the background. It makes you a little nervous about tomorrow, reminds you that you are flying.
Despite that, you do feel relaxed out here as you head back to your room for the night. This is the lonely hotel you came for. Tomorrow you leave for another land.
