At the appointed time head to the waiting area next to your gate and then board the plane. Now you can read a book, watch a film, talk to the person sitting next to you or optimistically attempt to sleep. About eight hours later you will find yourself either in Australia, an unscheduled other country or whichever version of the afterlife most appropriate to what you wrote in the Religion box on the last census. Once the seatbelt sign is extinguished and you have removed your belongings from the overhead locker, which may have moved during the flight, the real story begins.
It was hot in Cairns at 7:30AM on Monday the 24th of March. It was hot even from the moment I stepped out of the plane and into one of those umbilical corridor things that takes you into the airport. Since my plane had just come from Japan it was full of Japanese people and I stood out somewhat in the immigration line for, “Foreign Passports.” When it was my turn I went up to the counter to show my passport, a freshly filled out immigration card and proof that I had purchased a visa to visit the country. The friendly looking man behind the counter eyed all this, and my face, with great suspicion. The conversation went something like this:
“What are you doing in Australia?”
“Just travelling.”
“Where are you going to go?”
“I am travelling from Cairns down to Sydney and then flying back Japan.”
“On your own?”
“With a friend…he’s already living in Cairns.”
“Have you bought a rail card?”
“Not yet no.”
He made some tactical gesture with his hand, smiled and let me through only to be immediately intercepted by another man. This new man spoke to me with an almost professionally relaxed manner, like we had just me at the party of a mutual friend. He asked me about Japan; where I live, what I do, whether teaching is hard, have I learnt much Japanese, is Japanese hard to understand. I couldn’t work out whether he wanted me to say something in Japanese, like what kind of proof was he looking for. He mentioned how hard kanji is to read and I agreed and tried to say something knowledgeable about it. The questions went on for another few minutes, changing from Japan to Australia, my plans and the friend I was travelling with. Just when I was about to say something else he said, “ok” and walked away. Bemused I made my way to the next stage.
Australia has very strict rules on what you can bring into the country. If you are carrying wooden souvenirs, dirty shoes or any kind of food you have to declare it. I was aware of this before I left Japan because I had been asked to take lots of instant food and so on for Yang, by his girlfriend. This was the part of going to Australia that I was most worried about, since the websites say things like, “If the instant food has more than 10% meat visible it must be destroyed,” and I can’t even understand the front of the packaging let alone the specific details on the back.
When it was my turn for customs inspection a man gestured me forward and I tried to be as helpful and compliant as I could be. “Hello,” I said, “I have some instant food I’d like to declare.” He nodded and led me to a desk where I unpacked all the various things I was carrying. He eyed the instant food packets, shook them a bit and said, “Ok.” Next I showed him a packet of chocolate nuts that I also had with me, “We’ll have to retain these I’m afraid” he said gravely. “Ok.” I said retaining my air of helpfulness. He laughed at me, “I’m joking.” I smiled and looked at his protruding gut, which I think was the real punch line to the joke. He let me through with all my food intact. The sliding doors opened into the brightly lit Arrivals Lobby where lots of people with signs looked at me disappointedly. Outside I could see a vast blue sky, mountains rising in the distance and palm trees doting the roads.
Welcome to Australia.
1 comment:
Great work.
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