Musings on travel #1

From Australia to Germany ... a travel bouquet

Image: Nils Nedel

Dear Creative Soul,

Tomorrow I return to my day job after travelling overseas for a month. I feel the inevitable turning of my mind to responsibility and routine - and the summer heat, the glaring sun leaves no doubt that I have travelled 14,000km, away from winter cold, to be in this moment, at this desk. And yet, my mind is not ready to let go. Still, it lingers in that liminal space where the recent past meets present: Germany, France, Christmas markets, mulled wine, towering Alps, bustling cities, snowflakes kissing my skin, thick morning fog, rainy day walks.

Yesterday, walking around our neighbourhood in the golden hour of a late summer afternoon, my husband and I talked about post-travel blues. The sadness that something we planned for an entire year is over. The reverse culture shock, the loss of freedom, the strange sense of sameness that’s replaced excitement and adventure, the nostalgia.

Mostly the nostalgia.

For me, nostalgia is what lingers most - in my voice as I share stories with friends and families, in the small sigh as I look at photos, in the words I write. I’m not ready to let it go. Not yet. And so, I must write and preserve those feelings and memories - the big and the small - while their presence has its strongest hold, before they fade like photos in an old photo album.

Travel bouquets

We check in our luggage, wondering aloud whether our Munich-bound flight will be affected by current flight cancellations due to heavy snow; a Singapore Airlines flight attendant smiles and tells us, “The unexpected is what makes travelling an adventure.”

I am eating a ripe banana, the sugary sweetness lifting me from the foggy boredom of long-haul travel long enough to realise I am suspended in space somewhere above Türkiye, my life in someone else’s hands.

I squint at earth-lights far below and muse about “sonder” - all the complex and vivid lives being lived beyond the landscape of my imagination. And I think about all the mechanics and behind-the-scenes miracles that have brought us to here and now, the people whose job it is to make the transition as smooth as possible, and offer up a silent thanks.

Three rows ahead: a baby squeals in joy when the overhead locker opens. We smile at each other - "how cute” - unaware that in the cockpit landing negotiations have failed and our plane is about to be diverted to Frankfurt.

The rising sun colours the sky fluorescent pink; the wonder of it makes me forget that our plane has been sitting on the tarmac at Frankfurt Airport for two hours. As the plane taxis down the runway, Munich-bound once more, I fix my eyes on the rose-coloured sky, on what the flight attendant said about adventure.

The pilot tells us it is minus-12 (celcius) at Munich airport; my fatigue-heavy eyes widen - I am pathetically aware of how unprepared I am for this level of cold, but I cannot wait to get off this plane, this metal vessel that has morphed from transport to prison. Ground staff shift from foot to foot, as we bone-weary passengers clamber onto buses that will take us to our next destination - the inner sanctum of the arrivals terminal. My fingers rest on the window; the stirrings of adventure seep through the frigid glass.

Images flash past: a worker shovels snow from the roof of a lorry, a line of planes weighed down by snow, their noses reaching for the sky. Our Australian gaze flits around like the silver honeyeaters that visit our garden, taking in these unfamiliar sights with wonder and the faintest apprehension about what lies ahead. We have missed our connecting train to Berlin. We are not alone.

We are at Munich Hauptbahnhof, lost in a heaving crowd of people who seem to know exactly which path they are on. We don’t know where the long-distance trains are. We don’t know if we can jump on the next train without reserving new seats. We don’t know … cold air funnels down the platform, tears sting my eyelids as vulnerability and exhaustion takes hold. We have been travelling for thirty hours and it’s not over yet.

Coming next: Berlin.