Day 7(?): In-flight and wandering.

[camrogers]

England looked so beautiful from the air. Possibly an unremarkable observation if you live there, but for me it's pure Tolkien. Even the man-made rises fringing the runway, dotted with trees, was intensely and indulgently verdant. I first, properly, had a chance to be inside a forest when I was sixteen. I saw it from a distance at a school camp to Lake Tinaroo on the Atherton Tablelands north of Cairns. It was on the other side of the lake (that itself was manmade, the product of damming up the river and flooding the valley - submerging the Chinese goldmining community that had made the place their home. You can still dive what's left of the ruins.)

The buildings were on one side, the pine forest (again, a manmade plantation) was on the other. I had arranged to skive off something and attempt to walk around the lake. Figured it'd take hours but worth it if I could spend even five minutes vanished inside it. On that day I walked for hours, and never made it, though a stray dog kept me company the entire way. I'd seriously underestimated the distance and so headed back. Felt bad having to leave the dog, at the end.

A year or so later I arranged a camping trip with Eric and Drew. Got dropped off at the township and hiked around the lake. Finally go to sleep inside that forest.

Lifting off from Gatwick and looking out the window showed a countryside deeply emerald and carved into floppy squares by rounded, fluffy treelines. And, man, did I just want to get out and walk.

It wasn't until that moment, actually, lifting higher, that I properly realised just how long it would be before I was back in the UK. August at the earliest, possibly longer. Until then it had felt like I was just stepping out for a bit. And then, abruptly, it vanished beneath the clouds, green submerged beneath white, a flash of riverwater and that was that.

DK went back to Istanbul and walked the streets where his mother grew up, visited a few landmarks. It was quite a significant experience for him. I'd like to have the same. I think I'd like to feel some kind of connection to history, even if I can't sensibly claim any kind of role in it. I've had Russian cabbies assume I was Russian from my look, I've had Americans and English people assume wonder if I was French. It leaves me feeling a little insubstantial, not really knowing. Like I was built and installed, cold and abrupt and stand-alone, rather than concieved as part of a genetic continuity.

Captain just announced we're on approach. Holy crap, I can see the archipelago. It's beautiful.

Comments

[valkyriekaren.livejournal.com]

It does feel a little weird knowing you're not around, I have to admit.

I'm not sure whether it's better not to know one's origins, and be an enigma, than to know them and be crushingly aware (as I am) of how limited the geographical scope of one's family really is.

[greylock.livejournal.com]

Stop trying top make me jealous.
I'll fucking roshambo you.
*Wif ma docs*

DOCS!
(If you didn't and haven't, you should totally watch Grand Designs and Britain From The Air/River by Andrew Marr. 'Mazing.)

BTW, I suffered a few hours wait in Brisbane airport. I figure I was Jebus suffering a delay for you. No need to thank.

(Also, speak to Cavalorn about Ian/Serpentstar if you get to the end o' trip and want to stay. He's in Wales and often later in the year is seeking a house sitter. If you want to stay, that is).

[drwally.livejournal.com]

Sometimes I think that's why Australians tend to travel so much. Our country is so young. You want to go to places that have deeper history, have buildings older than 100, 200yrs. Going to Rome and seeing new (or old) graffiti on places that are 1,000 years old really smacks something into you.

And yeah, the green of the UK really awakens some kind of preternatural roaming instinct. You kind of want to just head deep into it. It's not like the Australian bush, where snakes or spiders or some kind of death awaits. It's so much more lush.