boomtown baby!

Not to bring out the cliches so early, but it feels like a lifetime since I was standing outside the international departures gate in Tulla with my family and my wonderful boy Abdulla. Over the last 2 months the speed of my life had been increasing exponentially (if I remember my year 12 graphs correctly)to that point. All the rushing and hurrying around, trying to do everything and say goodbye to everyone, tying up all the loose ends. Then suddenly there I was, giving everyone the last hugs for 6 months.

So, so sad. As I walked towards the gate Leah and Georgia bade me farewell with the traditional Ginnivan Sisters Farewell Ceremonial Dance (basically a native-american influenced ringa rosie, complete with hollering). Then it was through the passport checkpoint with a trembling lip, and straight into the airside toilets where I locked the cubicle door and bawled my sweet eyes out.

Once I pulled myself back together again it was a rush to the Austrian Airlines plane. They had just started boarding. The rest of the flight I won't bother describing, because basically it was pretty uneventful (fortunately). I made my first friends. A big Greek papa with a mouth full of scary gold teeth sat next to me. The security guards at Singapore-Changi airport made the hair on the back of my neck stand up and I started worrying whether anything i bought could be classed as some type of death-worthy drug.

Stopover of death at Vienna, Austria, a place I personally know fuck-all about. I gleaned from the merchandise shop that it's the birthplace of Mozart and Gustav Klimt. Not that I went into the merch shops - i know they are a salve for the weak, so I spent the majority of my 8 hr stopover (count it) curled up like a bum on various benches. I was shouted a coffee by a friendly aussie.

Then FINALLY the flight to Copenhagen. I sat next to a bloke called Mang(y)us, a typical Danish glow-from-the-inside post doctorate smartass. He told me that the Danes don't use umbrellas because there is so much wind and they are pointless. I blindly followed his advice (because he was just so Danish) which brings me to where i am now, Boomtown internet cafe, sopping Chucks and wet jeans and the appearance of a drowned rat.

So far the culture shock has been minimal. Of course there's the crazy things, like the kiddies speaking in a different language, the driving on the wrong side of the road, the coins with the holes in the middle, the amount of Kevin Rudd lookalikes (you were right leah!) I got over jetlag very quickly - fell asleep at 7.30 last night after a delusional hours' walk around a Chadstone-esque carpark muttering in Swedish and cussing in English.

I am a bit worried that I really don't know much about Copenhagen. I feel a bit American in my level of ignorance. But I have been asking peeps at the youth hostel what to do and i've got some leads. Right now the hunger is biting me so I am going to go find a hot dog. Apparently the food of choice for us young things.

also thanks for your text messages during the last few days, and soz i couldn't reply. They made me happy in the pantals.

Laterz punks!