I’m tired and I’m sleepy and my parents just keep calling me then hanging up the moment I pick up the phone. I guess that’s what you get for flying a few thousand miles south of the equator to a land populated by 4 of the 10 most venomous animals on Earth…all in a little more than 12 hours with about a little less than 24 hours worth of sleep.
Yes, I have taken a 3 hour nap. No, I have not eaten. Yes, I will eat later. Yes, I have taken a shower. No, I am not naked. No, I do not think he had a cute butt. Yes, I am sure. No, don’t even dare ask me again.
If there is one thing I got from all my time travelling back and forth between Australia and Malaysia, it’s this. Australian immigration is a seriously friendly bunch…given the fact you’re a very friendly bunch yourself.
I mean…it makes sense. Some people always have this impression that Australians are this bunch of racist, beer drinking hillbillies who wear cork hats and speak with a funny accent. I just think like any other country, they are their own people with their own culture which has nothing to do with being racist hillbillies who wear cork hats and speak with a funny accent. Beer drinking maybe, but definitely not the first part.
And like any other civillised culture, if you observe the correct protocols of being sociable and just be polite. You’re never going to get into any problems. Period. Even if you happen to have lost your keys to your bag which needed to have the food products declared upon customs. All you have to do is smile, apologise and just explain the situation and the kind lady would just smile back while coming up with this huge assed bolt cutter to cut the damn padlock. Go through a few minutes of small talks later, a couple of apologies, some ruffling through your luggage and bob’s your uncle…you’re done with customs.
Until today, I have no idea how some of my friends can spend 45 minutes being caught up with customs over some packs of instant noodles that they brought over. Not a clue in the world. Maybe you didn’t smile enough, maybe you couldn’t understand the funny accent, maybe you couldn’t understand English. I have no idea.
What I do know is next time, I’m going to put my padlock keys in a place where there isn’t a hole in which you can lose them. That way, I don’t have to repeatedly apologise to the customs lady who spent more time smirking than actually cutting the padlock off my bag. Though if there was any form of defense on my part, at least she said I made it tough for any other yahoo to actually get into my bags…with the amount of padlocks I machine gunned my bags with. Oh well, you lose some, you win some.
So with that, let me settle down this quiet house before I get into the fray of doing what I need to do. There are many other things that does need saying, but let it not be said till I have a chance to say it…properly that is. I’m tired and there is much to do before I get comfortable. It’s glad to be back home, even if you’re half dead from it to begin with.