By Kelly Shann
Berry and I have never been much for travelling — unless it involves loading the horses onto the truck and heading to a campdraft somewhere between Tamworth and Cloncurry.
Even then, by about day three, I’m usually homesick and counting down until we head home.
So no one is more surprised than me when I decide to travel through Turkey, Slovenia and Croatia on my own.
My suitcase is on the bed, surrounded by clothes, and my thoughts are racing. What on earth had I been thinking? How is everyone going to survive without me?
My three dogs will miss me and won’t understand where I’ve gone. My horses will be looking for their daily visits and treats — although they probably won’t mind a little holiday themselves. And my two 12-year-old poddies will be wondering what’s happened to the sneaky hay they get every day.
I’m obviously more than ready to break out into the world of international travel on my own.
The day I leave Brisbane, I’m awake at 2am. My flight doesn’t leave until 6pm.
I get up anyway and start bustling around as though my departure is imminent. By 9am, I’m cutting a Zoom meeting short because I really need to shut my eyes for a bit. I now understand why sleep deprivation works so well for torturers.
Determined not to be rushed going through customs, I get my daughter to drop me at Brisbane Airport at 1.30pm. Singapore Airlines apparently aren’t worried about the rush — check-in doesn’t open until 3.30pm.
Eventually, I’m checked in, through customs and sitting at the gate. I check at least 50 times that I have my passport and ticket, that I’m at the right gate and that I haven’t somehow forgotten my boarding time.
Finally, I’m on the plane, bound for Istanbul via Changi. Remarkably, I sleep quite well on both flights — despite another 4am wake-up somewhere along the way.
Twenty-one hours of flying, one Singapore stopover and I’m safely in Istanbul.
I’m more than ready for my adventures!