“Welcome to the real world!” said the passport control man. I shot him a slightly worried “Surely you’re not talking about Australia?” glance and he quickly waved me on to customs…
It’s been almost 24 hours and I have yet to see a kangaroo. I’m starting to wonder if I’m even in the right country.
It’s all getting a bit worrying really – South African immigration told me that my visa had been declined and proceeded to let me on the plane anyway… We were forced to keep our window shutters closed for the duration of the flight and were instead shown a picture of our plane veering towards Perth. Nine and a half hours “in the air” and I didn’t even have Kankles to show for it – explain that??
So before I go on to describe the ridiculous accents, the bizarrely excessive rules and the state of their “dunnies” (which are ever so slightly nicer than the plane’s) – let me first confirm my whereabouts. For all I know [apart from the extreme lack of people of colour] I may never have left South Africa!