23rd June 2015 - Sydney, I have arrived.

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After persuasion to write a travel blog 9 months into my travels, I'm writing this whilst referring to my own electronic diary of events - Twitter. This should be a relatively short post covering the travel over, I'm easing you in to the masses of nonsense I'll be writing later on.

So yes, my journey began in a Weatherspoons in Edinburgh airport. My mum and my four best friends were tearful as they said their goodbyes to me. It was an emotional affair... For them. Me being me, I cried privately when I wrote them individual cards earlier in the week so was able to keep my RBF (resting bitch face) and hand over my emotions in a sealed envelope. To soften the blow I put little gifts in the cards: my old Subway card, Boots advantage card, Nandos card etc. I said my cheerios and dashed to the cover of security, found a bar and then waited patiently to board my Etihad flight to Sydney via Abu Dhabi.

I spent the first leg of the journey trying to get myself into the mind frame I thought I should be in. A mix of excitement, anxiety, fear, happiness, sadness etc. Nothing. I'm known for never getting excited about things. Sometimes it's a blessing but other times, I feel like I'm not appreciating moments enough. It didn't hit me until I arrived in Abu Dhabi, my first taste of foreign-ness, that I realised I'm no longer in the UK. I'm not going back and I'm on my own. I tried to hastily settle the nerves in the cigarette lounge, excited to get on the wifi and see how many likes were on my airport check in (we all do it, don't lie), when I look up and see something unexpected... The man that runs the Costcutter in Falkirk. REALLY? Way to ruin the moment, remind me of the time you refused to sell me a bottle of Malibu because it was 10.01pm.

After the trauma, I went to find a sushi place. Thankfully this took me past my gate as it was actually boarding (I'd soon come to realise that sheer luck like this is what would be getting me through most of my adventure). I would probably elaborate on the events of the flight but I've been on so many these days, the novelties worn off. From what I recall, most of it was spent rolling my eyes at this poor woman trying to handle five young kids and then being horrified when she handed the baby to me so she could go pee. Fast forward 12 hours through every episode of Drop Dead Diva and some pretty decent grub (why do people complain about plane food!?), I finally arrived in Sydney. Walking out to find my best friends, David and Jason, standing in arrivals with a "Liam" banner and mini Australian flags. That was me, in my new home. I stepped outside, looked at the surroundings (the pitch black airport car park) and realised there was no turning back, no security blanket, it was time to make a life.

If there was no one at the airport, I would have probably had a meltdown not knowing where to go or what to do. Luckily, they pacified me with a cheapo Indian takeaway on Oxford St (the gaybourhood) that Jason raved about and David dispaired of and I was able to sit outside without feeling cold; eat some good (and probably MSG filled) Indian food and catch up with two old friends before heading to David's for sleep.

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