Funny in my tummy...

I didn't get homesick when I came to Hong Kong. At least not in the way I expected. When I left, my friends Ad and Caz came to the airport with me. They gave me two envelopes. A yellow one to read on the plane and a blue one, to open 'in case of a blue day'. The yellow one was, bless them, full of words of love and encouragement. And I'm pretty sure Ad called me poohead at one point. As the plane took off, London got smaller and smaller until it was obliterated by the usual blanket of low-lying cloud. I shed one tear only, swigged down two anti-histmines with some wine in lieu of a sleeping pill and slipped into a coma.

I'd assumed that I would open the blue envelope on a day when I was particularly homesick, but homesickness never happened in the way I expeceted. I thought it would
involve violently sobbing into my pillow wailing to any poor sods listening that I wanted to go home and that life (sob!) was (sob!) SO UNFAIR! (sob, sob, sob!). Then I'd reach for the envelope, read Ad and Caz's soothing words and emerge from my bed chamber a tear-dampened phoenix, ready to embark on another round of shots in at the Fringe club, play rehearsals and educating small persons.

Instead, sometimes I'd feel a bit funny. Very small and like I wanted to hide away, grumpy and disconnected from my surroundings. One time I was ranting about the diabolical girl/guy situation over here and realised, wait a minute, THIS is homesickness. Homesickness is not about regretting being here, or snotting all over your pillow. It's nothing so dramatic. It's about having a five minute muh when you get off the phone with someone from home then popping on the kettle for some calming green tea. Or bitching about stupid litle things, like the eggs here tasting gross compared with the ones in the UK and the lack of decent hummus. I was never going to wail that I was unhappy here; anytime I have been unhappy it's just been, y'know, life. It's not Hong Kong's fault. I've always known that coming to here was the best damn idea(and deatour) I've had.

Remember how I mentioned I didn't cry when I left school? Yesterday, some of the other teachers and I said goodbye to our friends Sara Beth and Liza who fly out of HK for good today. Then today us Vixens gathered for lunch to say goodbye to our Jen, who's going home for the summer. And now the funny feeling is starting to kick in. This is the first round of goodbyes and there are going to be more. From other people who are leaving, from me when I leave for Jakarta in July and BIG ONE when I come home to the UK in September. I hate this bit. It was the same when I left the UK. If I have to get going, I just want to BE GONE. And avoid the difficult weeks of feeling sad and small and smooshy.

I think my subconious has got used to all the goodbyes and the comings and goings over my time in Hong Kong and has developed ever more sneaky coping strategies. The old one used to be just sleeping though anything that made me feel sad or uncomfortable (otherwise known as the St. Mary's years). I think this time though, in order to keep me going through packing up and Jakarta and saying all those goodbyes my brain and emotions have decided to'check out' in advance. So I've got no tears to cry, but I have got that funny empty feeling. That 'I want to be a hermit' feeling (beacuse to go out and be social means acknowleding that it might be one of the last times I see someone and that means I'm going and gaggggggh!)I suppose it's just the grown-up version of sticking my fingers in my ears and going la la la la.

So I imagine what's going to happen is this; I will remain curiously emotionless as I do the rounds of goodbyes. This is odd, for me, a girl who cried every five minutes during the first Sex & The City movie, and had to turn off Charlotte's Web right at the beginning as I think something bad happens to the piggies?! But I will accept the deadened empty feeling and recognise it as a coping strategy that is out of my hands. So if I don't cry when I say goodbye to you, please don't be offended. And please don't punch me in the flange to bring the required tears to my eyes. Rest assured, when as the plane leaves the HK tarmac and the tough face is no longer needed I'll be bawling and hiccuping like a small child. And then it's time to reach for the blue envelope.

Today I have: enjoyed the rain break but come on, only typhoon one? LAME. Washed all my pretty dresses. I am now waiting for them to dry so I can wear one tonight or else I'm going out in my jammies.