Home?

Back again after my 10 glorious days of lazing in Jakarta. Cashing in my squillions of silly monies at the airport and getting back into a currency I know felt like coming home. As did the clean lofty lines of KLIA with it's ridiculous spacious optimism about the crowds to come... one day.. any day now.

My holiday was

white sheets of plump cosy hotel bed
city noise on the other side of my window
hey mrs you want to buy a pen, nice wooden pen?
ridiculously, deliciously drunk at middle of the day expat champagne-fest
reading, nap then swim then nap again, singing in the shower, day dreaming
listening to the Pixies loud in the car and playing spot the air tyre filling dude stalls and wedding palm-frond hangy decorations as little towns wizzed past our windows in the dark
being ferried around by a driver and seeing museums full of things so old and beautiful they made my brain hurt
the sweet joy of old friendship like the grey soft light at the volcano that makes everything look nice
hanging out with a mum and her teenage boys from Brisbane and relishing the cat yowling vowels and brash jump in say your mind no nonsense approach that some aussies have, that I miss


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