Personal Narrative-Gold Coast Airport

Kimberly bowman Personal Recount

The continuous and ever so soothing sound of propellers hummed in the background, like a giant creature of old snoring in its’ perpetuous slumber. The slight on coming currents of turbulence mimicked that of a vessel at sea, rocking to and fro with the steady rhythm of the ocean. It was to this that I drifted into the state that harbours on the line between the realms of sleep and that of consciousness. At this stage my southwest hemisphere (as my father so elegantly puts it) had been firmly attached to the seat of the airplane for a solid, dreary 6 hours.

The plane had departed on a monotonous journey starting from China’s cold, northern, coastal city-Dalian, to its’ final destination half way across the globe. Accompanying me on this expedition of

It smelt different, different than what I knew. I remember the smell of petrol and ... and lingering whiffs of something unknown burning in the distance. Though the smell would tend to be more foul than sweet, it was ordinary, comfortable, familiar. This, this was something completely different.

We wandered into the waiting hall of the Gold Coast airport and within minutes were excitedly embraced by my older sister and friends of my mother. Enthusiastic greetings were exchanged and everyone looked overjoyed. As I tried to concentrate on the conversation on our way to the car, words stared making less sense, turning into constant ringing in my ears.

I snapped into focus, how long had we been in the car? It was a mystery to me. To pass the time I engulfed my mind into focusing on the things speeding past the car window. Trees, trees, more trees, a lone house, uninterrupted road… I’m really quite fond of trees in all honesty, but I wasn’t used to the abundant amount of them. The shapes, things, objects before my eyes changed into masses of