Livid with the delay. Got through Customs quickly, once I'd filled in my form properly. Advised that I hadn't declared my nationality. If I wasn't so tired, would have retorted: "Disowned it during the Howard years and haven't bothered to collect it and,based on current political behaviour, not really interested." Current Labor attitude towards refugees makes me think the term "unAustralian" will be in vogue for some time. From Toltz: "I wondered if they [the refugees] had the slightest clue what to expect in Australia. I supposed they knew they'd be living an underground existence, exploited in brothels, factories, building sites, restaurant kitchens, and by the fashion industry, who would get them sewing their fingers to the bone. But I doubted they were aware of the adolescent competition among political leaders to see who had the toughest immigration policies, the kind you wouldn't want to meet down a dark alley. Or that public opinion was already set against them, because even if you're running for your life, you still have to wait in line, or that Australia, like everywhere, excelled in making arbitrary distinctions between people seem important." Filled in my form: Australian. Some things simply cannot be denied or wished away. On a more positive note, Customs showed no interest in the Acehnese coffee.
Expecting to be with Leonie and Delaney soon. But the crush of people at Domestic Transfer had me worried. A call come out: "Passengers travelling to Canberra at 10.20 and to . . . please proceed to the . . .". By the time I had proceeded to the right line, the flight had closed. Advised to join the end of the queue. At which point I use the mobile phone. Fifty minutes of tedium, enlivened by sharp evil thoughts directed at QANTAS and the idiot who booked this connection for me. Damn their optimism in the national carrier's efficiency. Chaos. More announcements, probably not meaningful, but done to create the effect that human cargo was being processed: "Could passengers who are going to miss their flight to Perth, please let themselves be known the service desk so we can have a really good laugh." iPodded with Cambodian Cassette Archives. Which calmed me down. Not completely, but enough. After an age shuffling, I reach the end of the line, and am processed, bumped to a 11.55am flight.
In the airport, get some Australian money - so compact compared to the bulky rupiahs I've been carrying. Coffee, large. See Rhys Muldoon. Coffee not having much impact: tired and woozy. Kerry O'Brien is on the same flight to Canberra. He ends up getting a seat in the first row. No walking the aisles for Kezza. Time to head home.
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