
After the wedding Les stayed in Ireland, but I took off the next morning for New York. I had been warned that three continents in two weeks was a lot, and it truly was. I was pretty exhausted by the time I got there, but it was wonderful to be home. I didn't do anything really touristy, except walk over the Brooklyn Bridge and back and go to Junior's for cheesecake. If you have never been to Junior's, you don't know what good cheesecake is. I had mine for breakfast. It was fantastic.

Seeing my friends was a wonderful homecoming experience. We're all doing a diverse range of things and have all moved on to new jobs, schools and opportunities, but our friendships have endured. We just hung out in diners as always, except instead of talking about the SATs, we now talk about our apartments and jobs. It's weird to see people you've known for so long but who are now in a new context.
Being back in New York made me somewhat homesick, which is a feeling I have not experienced since I've been in Melbourne. At first the city felt dirty, sometimes disgusting and very difficult to live in and get by in. But after a day, I realised that of course New York is those things, but it's completely worth it all. It's not just the subways, or the sheer size of it, or that I can go to a hole-in-the-wall creperie and have dark

But for now, I do love Melbourne. It's not dirty, disgusting or difficult, and it is a vibrant city unto itself. It ain't New York, but what is?

Getting back to Melbourne proved difficult. My travel difficulties started when I tried to fly from New York back to Ireland. I hadn't written down my flight number, and I couldn't find my flight on any of the screens at Newark airport, in New Jersey, where I was supposed to fly out. I panicked, but fortunately I called a friend and he checked my e-mail for me and confirmed that I was indeed in the right place. I found the correct check-in desk, but my flight was delayed by an hour. I was supposed to connect in Atlanta for a flight to Ireland, and I would have missed my connection. The check-in clerk said there was nothing else going to Ireland that night out of Newark, but he could get me onto a flight out of Kennedy, an airport in Queens about an hour away. He said I'd have to get myself to Kennedy, but it was a direct flight. I said OK, so I had to rush to get the bus to JFK. But the seat Delta gave me on this new flight was in business class, so all was forgiven. I felt like a 16-year-old in a liquor store and that the authorities were going to swoop at any moment, as I clearly did not belong among the suits in business class. The flight attendants were

So that turned out to be a change much for the better. The rest of our travel snaggles were not nearly as fortuitous. I arrived in Ireland on Friday morning, and Les and I were due to fly out at 7pm for London, where we were to change to a Qantas flight to Melbourne at 10pm. Dublin Airport was having radar trouble, and flights were running half an hour late. We only had two hours to connect in Heathrow, which is barely enough time, and if we were half an hour late we would miss our Qantas flight. So we decided to buy another earlier flight, a 6pm, figuring it would get us to Heathrow at 7.30 and we would have two and a half hours. We needn't have bothered. The 6pm flight was three hours late, and we didn't arrive in London until 10.30.
After a fruitless trip to the international terminal to try to talk to a Qantas or BA person (the Aer Lingus people had told us to do that in Dublin) and back, we joined a 3-hour queue to talk to Aer Lingus. At 3am we finally got

Leslie's ticket was booked as a single ticket, so she said she could get him a standby ticket for a noon flight out the next day. She said all flights were coming up as full, and standby was the best she could do. She got us a hotel for a few hours and told us to come back to the airport at 8 and throw ourselves on Qantas' mercy, although they would not have to honour my ticket if they didn't want to.
We slept for three hours and came back to see Qantas, and here our luck changed. We encountered a lovely Qantas agent, who gave me no trouble about having two separate tickets.

At noon, he had blessed news. We had flights all the way to Melbourne, in adjacent seats. We checked through our luggage, and he didn't give Leslie any difficulty about his being 8kg overweight other than ribbing him a little about having a heavier suitcase than his girlfriend, when it's usually women who try to carry to much. We got home about a day later than we were supposed to, but we got home.
It's good to be home.