The Land Down Under, Part 13: Coming Home

 If you've ready any or all of the posts about this trip, you have a pretty good idea that this was absolutely a dream come true, and worth every penny, every tear, every minute of travel--even the long flight home.

I had found that the most convenient flight (there were cheaper ones, but they involved several hours layover in Asia and up to 25 hours of travel time) in my price range happened to be direct. United has a Sydney-to-San Francisco flight, clocking in at almost 13 hours. Considering I've flown to Europe on 11 and 12 hour flights before, this isn't terrible. 

I had to get up early to be at the airport on time, and I had hemmed and hawed about how to get there. Call for a taxi, or take the very convenient train?

In the end, the train won. The station is literally 600 feet (my phone said so) from the hotel, and while it was slightly uphill, it was not taxing. I still had money on my Opal Card, and this trip would pretty much finish that off. And a taxi would be four to five times the price. 

The train takes about 20-25 minutes to get to the International terminal, so it was an easy ride.

Of course, by the time I got to the airport, got checked in and through security (which was very efficient), my lack of breakfast and coffee was starting to show. With plenty of time before my flight, I found the nearest café and sorted myself out. 

The blue tail is my flight.

After eating, I did a bit of shopping, just to make sure any last-minute gifts were attained, and to get a fresh bottle of water for the flight. 

Didn't need these.

I spent some time walking, because I wasn't tired, and I knew I had a lot of sitting ahead. But time moved pretty quickly and before I knew it, it was time to board.

I had an aisle seat in the very back, next to a young-ish Aussie guy. We had no middle seat in that row, so it was nice in that respect. We chatted a bit--we're both musicians, turns out--and both of us were keen to get a picture out the window as we flew away from Sydney. You can see the Harbour Bridge and the Opera House, the buildings of Downtown, and all the way out to Bondi Beach (upper left-ish). 

What a beautiful, amazing place. 

As we reached altitude, I watched a movie, then eleven available episodes of "Abbott Elementary" (my poor seatmate was giving me some side-eye every time I let out an inadvertent, loud, "HA!!"). There were a couple of larger meals and a midflight snack. 

I didn't sleep at all, because my body on Sydney time figured it was just a full day. The flight left Sydney at 10:00 AM, so when I landed in San Francisco, my brain figured it was about 11:00 PM on Wednesday, thirteen hours later.

But in San Francisco, it was now 7:00 AM. I was basically starting Wednesday over. And I was getting sleepy. 

Wild.

And landing in San Francisco is "I'm home...ish," not a definitive, "I'm home!" (One does need to go through Customs, baggage claim, walk to the Air Train, ride it all the way to the long-term parking, haul stuff to one's car, load up, find one's way to the freeway, and then drive about two-and-a-half hours back to Sacramento.) 

Complicating things was our pilot's announcement as we approached the terminal. "Ladies and gentlemen, I've just been told that there was a power outage in the airport, and we cannot deplane until they give us the go-ahead. I'm so sorry. Hang tight."

A few minutes later: "Okay, ladies and gentlemen, I'm being told that the power is back on, they just have to wait for all the computers to boot back up." 

My Aussie seatmate and I got chatting with one of the flight attendants, and after about twenty minutes, we were all clear. It took a while to get off, of course, seeing as how we were at the very back, but no worries.

Customs was a bit mad--the power going out threw things into a bit of disarray, but to their credit, they were scurrying to open more booths and get us all moving through. I got through in under ten minutes. I had been hoping to answer the "where are you returning from" with a cheeky, "I come from the land down under!" but seeing the stress around me, I opted to just keep things simple. 

Baggage claim was another bit of chaos. Another flight, this one from Brisbane, was unloaded on the same claim carousel, and many of the people on that flight were not yet there to claim their luggage. Meanwhile, our Sydney luggage was waiting to be sent up, but they couldn't with the carousel still full. A group of very harried airport employees were hauling suitcases off to the side, and calling out as loud as they could, "If you just arrived from Sydney, these are NOT your bags! Those are next!" 

I felt for them. 

Finally, my suitcase was spit out, and I grabbed it and beat a hasty retreat. The Brisbane bags were still unclaimed, and the airport employees were still looking harried. 

All that was left was to make my way to the long-term garage, where I'd left Sylvie the 3 on the top level, straight out from the elevators. She was a bit dusty from being left uncovered for a week and a half, but otherwise ready to get me home. 

Only one wild thing happened on my way up I-80, but it was quite wild, indeed.

I reached a slow-down, as construction had narrowed the freeway from five lanes to four. We were all hitting the brakes, but not too hard, just your normal gotta-slow-here thing. I was in the second lane from the right when I heard the unmistakable sound of brakes...from a long-haul truck. With two trailers. 

Coming in hot...very near my car.

He did not hit me (you'd have heard about that by now, obviously). But he wasn't all that far from me as the brakes screamed and he slid sideways and slammed, hard, into a cliff (the road is cut through the hills, he didn't go over a cliff) on the side of the road. 

Meanwhile, as this was happening in the span of about five seconds, my phone rang, and my dad popped up as the caller. I answered automatically and said, "Hi, can I call you back? I need to call 911. OH AND I'M TOTALLY OKAY, IT'S NOT ME!!"

"WHAT?!"

"IT'S NOT FOR ME!!"

"Okay, call me back."

Traffic had never actually stopped ahead of me, so by now I was quite a bit ahead of the accident, and I could see a bunch of people pulling over to assist. There wasn't much for me to do at this point but keep driving so as not to cause an accident of my own. I took a few deep breaths, and called Dad back.

"ARE YOU OKAY?"

"I'm fine. Here's what happened..."

Dad had seen my text that I was leaving the airport, and called when he got back from his morning Veteran's Group coffee. Obviously, his timing was impeccable. 

You can imagine how lovely it was to reach my little condo. I hauled my things upstairs and locked the door. 

Being...me, I had thought I might use the time between arriving home and going to bed at the normal time to do some chores around the house, but jet-lag waits for no one, and the 17-hour time difference reared its head. I showered, passed out for a few hours on the couch, had dinner, and went to bed. Cleaning and laundry could wait.

Since I've been back, a couple of people have asked me, "What was the best part?" My automatic reply is, "The kangaroos!" And indeed, the kangaroo sanctuary was hands-down one of the best experiences of this trip, and of many trips I've taken. But I can't ignore Sydney--it's truly a lovely city. It is clean, pedestrian-friendly, entertaining, welcoming. There's plenty to see and do, great restaurants, beautiful walks, gardens, and excellent public transportation. I enjoyed it very much, and I will most definitely make a point of going back.