Showers. That's what the weather forecast says. I'm not sure what the weatherman's definition of "showers" is but the reality is that it has been bucketing down. "Expect torrential downpours and prepare for a holocaust" is a more appropriate representation of this morning's weather. Not even the cab driver would get out of the car to help us with our luggage. Said he didn't want to get "pulverised". So he let us get pulverised instead.
And this, to neatly top off my homecoming entry through Customs. In my luggage I had French wine, fois gras (sealed in tins - try not to panic), French nougat, English truffles, energy bars, a whole box of muesli bars from Waitrose, and a caramel Easter egg. A contraband apple I had been harbouring was ditched at the last minute and left on the plane. Australia are immeasurably fussy about the types of things we bring into the country - food, anything made from wood, shoes you may have worn to a farm or a park where animals might poo and you might be in danger of stepping in it, anything of a combined value of more than AU$900 (a very low threshold; I mean really - a person returning from a long weekend in Bali loaded up with all manner of shit they bought in Kuta could even breach this) - all are no-no's and require careful inspection before being granted entry.
It's a treacherous road, the Something To Declare line. All your bags are placed on the ground before you while you line up pensively behind them. You know your bag is clean and you're carrying nothing more sinister than the caramel Easter egg - after all, you packed it - yet you can't help but worry all the same that somewhere someone has slipped something in without your knowledge (thanks Schapelle Corby). The feeling is a bit like expectant parents standing behind their toddler, hoping their 2 year old won't scream out an impromptu "f**k" (picked up at home from their father) followed by a swift kick to the shins of the customs officer (picked up at baby gym).
Then come the dogs. Unfortunately the beagle took a shine to the girly backpack Online Trainer had no longer wanted and given to me (probably because I had teased him incessantly due to its lovely peach colour) and kept returning to stamp on it, sniff it and apparently try to break into it. While this might appear cute under normal circumstances, it is cause for great alarm when a trained border protection sniffer dog seems to think there is something in your bag worth hanging around for. What the f**k had Online Trainer done with this bag before he had given it to me? What had he been carting around in it? I know he has a penchant for sports supplements but truly, this was going too far. Even though it was only 14 degrees and I was dressed for the balmy climes of Singapore's 33 degree weather, I started to sweat. Images from movies like Bangkok Hilton, the second Bridget Jones' Diary film, and snippets of that reality TV show Border Security skidded and collided through my mind. This could end badly.
The customs official swiftly picked up Online Trainer's girly backpack (now mine) and opened it. Frantically I showed him where the food was, pulling out 6 energy bars, the box of muesli bars, the caramel Easter egg. Is there any fruit in here? Was there any in here recently?, he asked. I told him I'd just discarded an apple I'd been carrying. This seemed to satisfy him. He nodded. "Residual Apple" he yelled to the dog handler as she dragged the beagle away and continued to move her way down the line.
Welcome home to Sydney.
And this, to neatly top off my homecoming entry through Customs. In my luggage I had French wine, fois gras (sealed in tins - try not to panic), French nougat, English truffles, energy bars, a whole box of muesli bars from Waitrose, and a caramel Easter egg. A contraband apple I had been harbouring was ditched at the last minute and left on the plane. Australia are immeasurably fussy about the types of things we bring into the country - food, anything made from wood, shoes you may have worn to a farm or a park where animals might poo and you might be in danger of stepping in it, anything of a combined value of more than AU$900 (a very low threshold; I mean really - a person returning from a long weekend in Bali loaded up with all manner of shit they bought in Kuta could even breach this) - all are no-no's and require careful inspection before being granted entry.
It's a treacherous road, the Something To Declare line. All your bags are placed on the ground before you while you line up pensively behind them. You know your bag is clean and you're carrying nothing more sinister than the caramel Easter egg - after all, you packed it - yet you can't help but worry all the same that somewhere someone has slipped something in without your knowledge (thanks Schapelle Corby). The feeling is a bit like expectant parents standing behind their toddler, hoping their 2 year old won't scream out an impromptu "f**k" (picked up at home from their father) followed by a swift kick to the shins of the customs officer (picked up at baby gym).
Then come the dogs. Unfortunately the beagle took a shine to the girly backpack Online Trainer had no longer wanted and given to me (probably because I had teased him incessantly due to its lovely peach colour) and kept returning to stamp on it, sniff it and apparently try to break into it. While this might appear cute under normal circumstances, it is cause for great alarm when a trained border protection sniffer dog seems to think there is something in your bag worth hanging around for. What the f**k had Online Trainer done with this bag before he had given it to me? What had he been carting around in it? I know he has a penchant for sports supplements but truly, this was going too far. Even though it was only 14 degrees and I was dressed for the balmy climes of Singapore's 33 degree weather, I started to sweat. Images from movies like Bangkok Hilton, the second Bridget Jones' Diary film, and snippets of that reality TV show Border Security skidded and collided through my mind. This could end badly.
The customs official swiftly picked up Online Trainer's girly backpack (now mine) and opened it. Frantically I showed him where the food was, pulling out 6 energy bars, the box of muesli bars, the caramel Easter egg. Is there any fruit in here? Was there any in here recently?, he asked. I told him I'd just discarded an apple I'd been carrying. This seemed to satisfy him. He nodded. "Residual Apple" he yelled to the dog handler as she dragged the beagle away and continued to move her way down the line.
Welcome home to Sydney.
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