Peter and I had spent my last night in the UK in the Sheraton. It was the same place we had stayed when we had filmed the Holiday Showdown Series. A cube of rooms that faced either outward from the long perimeter corridor, towards the world, or faced in, overlooking the pool and trees enclosed in the huge centre covered courtyard. The room was large, the bed enormous, the bathroom luxurious. Flat screen TV, a safe, a filled fridge, hair dryer, iron and ironing board, as well as the usual comforts, lay strategically placed around the room. Films were available for a price, food was available for a price, anything and everything was available, for a price, and so we had a hot, hot bath, wrapped ourselves in large fluffy towels and played backgammon for an hour while consuming the bottle of wine and olives we had brought with us.
We spent the evening trying not to think about the following morning. We dined on pizza in the Sport bar, we drank more wine, we slept.
Neither of us wanted to face a final goodbye and so Peter dropped me at departures and without looking back, more than twice, I went in.
Three days previously, I had discovered that my incredibly well packed suitcase, was in fact too heavy. Having never travelled with check in luggage, the fact that they put a weight restriction on a case had never occurred to me. Peter had picked it up to move it to the corner of the room and said I would be charged for the excess. We went on line to find out how much. With five flights, each charging a set amount, the whole thing totalled about £500! I had to halve my belongings yet again.This had been done, incredibly slowly and painfully, over the course of the day. My final answer had been to put everything heavy, like jewellery, backgammon, books, laptop etc into the small back pack I was borrowing from Jec. The suitcase now weighed 22kg, the back bag 9kg, my handbag weighed 1kg. My life weighed 32kg and the suitcase weighed 5kg of that!!!
I approached check in. Would my case make it? As I stood patiently in the queue, I glanced up at the notices hanging from the ceiling. No knives, No gas, No explosives or guns, Hand luggage must only weigh 7kg! 7KG!!! How strict was this 7kg? My life had already been stripped and I had halved that yet again. 2Kg!, they would let me take 2Kg.... wouldn't they?
I looked around at the queue. Large people stood with even larger cases. They weighed more than mine didn't they? The people defiantly weighted more than me! They were carrying at least 8stone more than me onto that plane in blubber! I needed my things, no I wanted my things. If the truth be told, I could have walked onto that plane with hand luggage only, but I wanted my bits, my familiars. The queue got shorter.
The case was accepted without question, the back pack was stopped. Too heavy! “But my laptop is in there”, I tried. “OK, take the laptop out and you should be OK”. I breathed a sigh of relief and shouldered the 9kg pack onto my back.
The laptop went in, the laptop came out. At each check my heart pounded. At each check I was waved through. Final call for check in and I hurried to the gate.
“Passport, Check in slip, can I see your back pack please! Too heavy!!” My heart stopped. Tears threatened to over whelm, “My laptop is in there”, I tried.
“Take it out then, this bag is too heavy, it could kill someone if it falls!” I crouch to one side aware of the eyes on me. The laptop is pulled out and put in another bag, I remove the backgammon board for good measure and two books. I turn to the eyes, “Is this OK?”. She lifts it but does not smile. “Only one hand luggage” she says, “you now have Three!”
The tears are threatening, my stomach feels sick. Through darkening blindness I say “I can put the handbag in the big bag???”. She walks away. I put the bags together, pick up the two in one hand, to try to prove their lightness and clasping my hat in front of then, walk through to the lounge.
I am miserable! What should have been the exciting beginning of a new life is now spoilt. Peter is miserable, the children are sad. My bag is too heavy and I have five more flights to deal with. I want to crawl up and die. I want to call Peter and say forget it, I'm coming back. I want it all to stop.
I stow my bags in the overhead lockers and take my seat. I blindly watch the screen, eat the food, try to sleep. 12 hours is a long time to be alone with your thoughts.
Saigon
For those of you who ever wish to visit this amazing country, a word of advice. Book your taxi INSIDE the airport! I foolishly walked outside and was assaulted by voices, hands and rates. Before I knew it, I was in a vehicle heading for the bus stop and being charged $35 instead of the Airports $15. My driver was sweet though. He not only took me to the bus stop, but carried my bags to the counter, arranged my ticket, that I dutifully handed over the money for, and loaded me onto the bus! The fact that I was planning on catching the NIGHT bus never entered the equation and so I found myself in Nha Trang a day earlier than planned!
The guilt, that had followed me onto the plane, lingered in the back of my mind. It nestled into a place not far from consciousness but no longer dominated my thoughts. I called Kris and he came to meet me. Hugs and love flowed and the guilt took another step back.
I slept the night on his settee as it was too late to check into the Blue House. We had ended up in Guavas, reunions now being common place after my last visit a few weeks before. The beer had flowed, the laughter abounded, Kris had described his new plan, Steph had gone to bed early!
And so my new life has started. Kris is working on a plan to get me extra weight allowance as a diver, the heat is intense, I have spent the day doing yoga, reading, writing. What comes next? Who can tell?
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