Chau Iquitos, It’s Been Real…

Hola readers!

Well, what a journey it has been. As I arrived at my grandma’s house this afternoon, she told me she’d been reading my blog, ‘Where in the world is Kerryn Kapitola?’ and we were able to answer – well, right now, at Grandma’s house!

… Australia.

Sorry for the failure to write during my last week in Iquitos, like I expected, time slipped away from me like an unwinding string on a reel and within moments it was Thursday morning, and I had possessions given away, bags packed, ticket in hand.

Saying goodbye to some of the awesome people I’d shared five months with was pretty yuck. Some I wondered if I’d see again; some I knew – with a fair amount of certainty – that I wouldn’t. My way of life, my existence in Iquitos up to that point, was finishing.

One last motocarro ride to the airport, a check-in, a last-minute visit from two amigas and through security. Chau Iquitos, it’s been real.

I stayed the night in Lima with the same family I’d stayed with during the Equipo Movil in October. They were very friendly, considering my contact had forgotten to mention that I was coming… there were a few awkward moments of like, ‘oh, you’re here, with your bags… hows it going?’ but they were so hospitable anyway.

The next day, I was back at the airport, big long itinerary in hand, backs full, nervousness mostly suppressed. I was convinced: nothing was going to go wrong with this journey home…

Handing the check-in guy my itinerary, he asked my where I was going and on what flight. After a brief slightly-daunting miscommunication about my first flight, we realized I was actually on it and I could book in for all of my flights home…

The thing was, I was booked into fly to Perth. Since I would receive no refund for cancelling my Perth flight, and they wouldn’t let me change the route… I didn’t cancel it. I decided I just wouldn’t show. I was planning on flying to Adelaide, after all. So there was this small worry at the back of my mind that my bags wouldn’t show up at Sydney International Airport for the customs run, but rather in Perth… where I wasn’t going to be for another two weeks.

Oh well, couldn’t help that.

Lima to Santiago. Waiting, waiting, waiting. Six hours in the airport, got cold by the end and hadn’t packed a jumper so out came the credit card. Now I have a fully awesomely over-sized and warm fleecy jumper. I’m pretty sure it’s for men. Oh well, you know the saying…cold, bored, Australian girls can’t be choosers.

Santiago to Auckland. Thirteen hours of FUN!

Yep, sure.

We went into sleep mode pretty early in, but really, sleeping on a plane with my body isn’t something that is going to happen very easily. I eventually managed a few positions akin to a faetus, so I managed to get just barely enough.

It was a long flight.

Auckland. One hour stop-over. Their airport is cool.

Re-boarded with a new neighbor – a New Zealander girl who acted ditzy but was studying her Masters in Economics… go figure. She liked to talk.

As we were about to pull out and FLY… the Captain came on and said we had some technical difficulties and had to go back to the gate to get them rechecked. Twenty minutes he said.

Twenty minutes, I had.

One hour and thirty minutes, I just barely had.

That what how long we were delayed for before our flight took off.

Cue: Sydney Airport and the notion that if I raced through, I might catch my flight to Adelaide in time.

Immigration, bags, customs, bus, check-in. Forty five minutes.

How strange that the things I thought would eat my time – immigration and customs – probably actually took less time, in total, than I had to wait for my bags. (Which for ages I had concluded had been sent straight to Perth… how to survive Adelaide without anything… hmmmm).

I jumped on the shuttle bus, arrived in Terminal 2, raced to the Jetstar counter…

“10:10…Can I still check in?”

“No.”

But she said it really nicely.

Good thing I’M SO DARN SMART, because I’d bought a JetFlex ticket, knowing that if any flight was late my connections would be tight, so I rocked up at the assistance counter and changed my flight to the next one. At 5:10pm. Another seven hours at the airport to kill.

Kerryn, you should have gone into the city and…

No.

Thirty-six hours of travel and sightseeing on the fly was not what I needed.

So, I waited. I talked with two Australian Federal Police, who smashed any stereotypes I had of them, and drank a milkshake.

Sweet.

Then, finally, I boarded.

My fifth and final flight in order to see my parents.

How was that flight? I don’t really remember. I was sleeping.

Then, plane landed, disembarked, walking the bridge and through the tinted glass of the full length windows facing the airstrip, I saw them.

Mum and Dad!

I may have skipped a step or two to get to them.

Reunions are great, one of the best parts of travelling actually. And my next three weeks will be filled with them. In two days I will see my NEPHEWS! (And my brother and sister-in-law). I’ve been seeing family over here in staggered formation and when I return to Perth, a whole new group of people will await me… family, friends… I cannot wait!

Jetlag’s not been so bad, mainly cos I was just so spent from the 42+ hours of travelling I’d just undertaken that sleep came easily that night. And the next. And now I’m here, day 3 of returning.

And I miss Peru. I do. I miss speaking Spanish and I miss the heat and I miss some of the great people I met. But Perth is my life too, and I can’t be in two places at once.

Because, really, if I had a choice, I’d be in five.

More to come when I regress to Perth, but for now, from South Australia, adios, chau, hasta luego and I’ll see you around like a rissole.

Kerryn.

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