Back to Oz

Vacation is over; I am heading back to Australia. I am flying the no-frills Tiger Airways from Macau to Singapore. After a seven-hour layover, I will be flying the red-eye on Qantas from Singapore to Brisbane.

Macau International Airport is a shiny and modern airport built on reclaimed land. With only a few small airlines operating out of it, the airport feels deserted when I check it. Within ten minutes, I have checked in, cleared customs, and am sitting in the departure hall. With almost two hours to kill before my flight, I occupy myself on the free internet terminal by the boarding gate. The sun beams in through the glass-and-steel eastern facade of the terminal, casting a warm glow on the lounge chairs, the shops, and the waiting passengers in this brisk morning. With a cup of coffee in hand, I stare out onto the single runway that appears to be floating just above the shimmering South China Sea. It is still close to an hour before my flight. My eyes look out toward the horizon; the outlying islands of Hong Kong seem to be faintly visible. My mind wanders here, there, and everywhere. This has got to be the most relaxed I have ever been when waiting for a flight.

A seven-hour layover is just too long to spend inside an airport, even for an excellent one like Singapore's Chang-I Airport. My friend Vignesh, who is a local, has the afternoon free. He meets up with me at the airport. We head into Orchard and the waterfront for a few hours. The tropical afternoon heat hangs heavily over the city; it takes extra effort to just walk along the street, as though we are trying to walk underwater. To revive myself, I have my fill of kaya toast washed down with that most delicious diabetes-in-a-cup: teh tarik. Before long, it's time for me to get back to the airport. I say goodbye to Vignesh, head into the terminal, and get ready for the eight-hour flight ahead.

I'd better get some sleep on the plane tonight. Tomorrow will be a full day of running around Brisbane, capped by a night flight to Sydney.