dimanche 3 août 2008
Two hours in Tokyo
Does anyone need more?
I'm sat in the Air France lounge which, might I point out, is like being on the set of Barbarella - it's a very sixties-inspired, space age, minimalist spot which serves good coffee, bad beer and things you would never put near your mouth (although I probably would). Anyway, I'm seeking refuge from the shops at the airport which are driving me mad, being as full as they are of things that I want. No, not want, things that I NEED!
I've already got three more bags than I started with and in the last 45 minutes I've managed to buy three t-shirts for various nephews, nieces and hangers-on, a pair of noise-cancelling headphones, a bottle of Suntory single malt (it's my birthday treat to me), a Hello Kitty biscuit barrel (ditto) and various foodstuffs for people at home who deserve better.
Jeepers, it's out of control. Or I am. I think it's me.
Anyway, having left Wives Nambawan and Nambatu to head back to the delights of Canberra (current high 12 degrees) on Friday, I got all day Saturday in Noumea, to sit on the beach, get some sun and generally wish my holiday wasn't about to end. And boy did Noumea deliver me a great day. I took the water taxi out to the ile aux canards (yes, duck island) and sat on the beach, contemplating my navel, my fate and my general good luck. The sun was belting down, the sea was clear and the little fishes came and nibbled at my toes whenever I went for a cooling paddle. Paradise.
I left Noumea this morning, travelling via the emergency room at the hospital to see if they could give me something to 'settle my stomach' for the flight. I seem to have picked up some kind of tummy bug in Vanuatu and the thought of 22 hours in the air was starting to worry me. Anyway, the lovely doctor (who I'd sign up for as my GP any day of the week) sorted me out. At least he did once I'd explained to him the consistency, frequency, content, etc. I'm guessing he was less enthralled by me than I was by him.
With the first 8 hours behind me, I can confirm that all is well and good in the stomach department. Just a small hop of thirteen hours and I'll be back in Paris and holidays will be but a memory.
I'll try not to cry. But I can't promise anything.