The Dreaded Flight.

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Melbourne to Rome is a gruesome journey, particularly when you aren't a good flyer. It is a 20-hour haul not to mention the hours in the airport beforehand, hours in Dubai airport midway and the hours spent in Fiumicino afterwards. Okay so I did mention them, but only because it is a lot of hours.

I was incredibly tense about the flight because it is a drawn-out and uncomfortable process that nobody really enjoys. Recycled air and cramped seating, poo streaked toilets and plane food. Awful. Not to mention I am terribly afraid of flying*. But suitably equipped with some Valium and my little flight cushion I really surprised how quick and painless the whole ordeal was. I slept nearly the whole way. Sure the Valium helped but I think I was just emotionally drained too. You see my plan is to travel for a whole year through Europe. Now confident as I am in this decision to see the world and leave my suburban life behind, the enormity of my decision hit me approximately two days before departing. Suddenly there were tears and doubts spluttered all over my hanky. I think partly it was the realisation that this trip would change me. That things as I knew it, would never be the same again. Mind you that is exactly what I wanted, to break free of my rut and move forward. Grow up, just a bit. And part of my tears were because of a boy. Isn't there always a boy? I find romance is always thrown into the mix at some pivotal moment to ensure that you are completely and utterly confused. I'm still confused. Maybe we all are. Another part of my meltdown was this irrational fear that somehow, despite being in one the most beautiful and significant cities in the world, I would somehow miss my local pub. I don't even like my local pub!? I certainly miss my family and friends, but thus far I'd much rather be looking upon the Colosseum than a cat-fight on linoleum. However irrational as it was it was a fear all the same. And so there I was sobbing down phone receivers while throwing my belongings haphazardly into my suitcase and praying I was making the right choice. As stressful as that time was I think it is an important part of the process of travel. A sort of coming to terms with your plans and moving into the next phase. I certainly feel better for it.

So, in conclusion, if you aren't good on aeroplanes then I strongly recommend temporarily losing your marbles before you leave. Sound sleep ensues.

*And yes I know it is an unreasonable fear and statistically you are in more danger of dying in a car crash than in a plane crash, but no one will ever convince me that being that far off the ground in some aluminium is normal or safe.

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