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Why flying is a pain in the neck

10/10/2012

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It was definitely a sign. The second one, in fact.
As I sat in the taxi, stuck in bumper-to-bumper traffic, I noticed a familiar design on the car in front of us: Sunshine Coast number plates.
I’d left the warmth of the Coast a few hours earlier and arrived in the congested, noisy, bright and cold environs of Sydney one Thursday evening, well past peak hour - and we’d barely progressed beyond the perimeter of the domestic airport terminal.

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Who moved the gear stick?

12/9/2012

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“Here,” said my uncle, passing his keys, “take your aunt to the supermarket.”
“Um… okay, sure…”
“I thought you said you can drive a manual.”
“I can,” I replied, “I just haven’t driven on the other side of the road..."

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A perfect day to walk on a glacier

6/9/2012

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Hine Hukatere was an adventurous young lass who loved climbing in the mountains and persuaded her lover Wawe to climb with her. 
Wawe was a less experienced climber, but he faithfully accompanied Hine Hukatere on her hikes, until one day an avalanche swept Wawe to his death. 
The broken-hearted Hine Hukatere cried and cried; her tears flowed down the mountain and froze to form the glacier, Ka Roimata o Hine Hukatere – the tears of Hine Hukatere.

Heavy tear drops continued falling from the sky, as Shaz and I stared disconsolately out the window. Rain was forecast for the next three days and we were literally grounded.

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When the officer ran away with my passport

15/2/2012

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The immigration officer stares at my passport.
He looks at me wild-eyed as he realizes it’s a foreign one. 
He stares back at my passport, looks at me once more and then runs away - with my passport.
It’s midnight. I’m on a train, somewhere between the Ukraine and Russian borders. It's June 1994.

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At the end of the road turn left

10/10/2011

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“Oh my gosh. Impossible. Turn around, please.”
Ahead, four near-empty traffic lanes stretched across Brisbane’s Gateway Bridge.
I continued driving along, ignoring the persistent voice.

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A glider, a winch and the ground

5/9/2011

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“Err… shouldn’t there be another plane in front of us?”
“No, we’ll be winched up.”
“How, exactly?”
“There’s cable attached to a V8 motor a mile down the paddock.”
Strapped into the glider, we sped down the grassy field, pulled along by the distant motor whirring at full throttle.

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I'm Vlad to meet you

29/8/2011

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“See you tomorrow,” said my Romanian host as she walked out the front door, leaving me with the key to her house.
I was spending my homestay night in Bucharest alone; an Australian backpacker entrusted with a stranger’s home.

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I hear voices

13/6/2011

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May 1994. I’m in Beijing, China, riding around on a rickety rental bicycle.
As I navigate around the hordes of fellow cyclists, I realise that I’m near the embassy compounds and on the spur of the moment decide to look for the Ukraine embassy.
A little voice in my head was telling me to sort out my Ukraine transit visa before I arrived in Moscow, as I planned to stay there only three days.
In that brief decisive moment, I have two choices:
  • I can ignore the voice in my head (can’t be bothered, I can deal with it in Moscow), or
  • I can follow its guidance (do it now, get it out of the way)

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​I acknowledge the traditional Custodians of the land on which I work and live, the Gubbi Gubbi / Kabi Kabi and Joondoburri people, and recognise their continuing connection to land, the waters and sky. I pay my respect to them and their cultures; and to Elders past, present and emerging.
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