Passing through...

Last week we got an email from my sister with the following subject header:

I'm coming to Sydney!!!...for four hours‏

Meredith, who is currently living in China, did say she was going to find a way to come see us in Australia. And when my sister says she's going to meet you in some far flung corner of the globe I've discovered it's a good idea to believe her (See also Georgia[twice], India , and China). In her email she explained that she would be helping organize a food and wine festival and Fiji and would have a 4 hour layover Monday morning in Sydney en route to the island.

I got the day off and rolled up to the arrival gate just about when her plane was touching down. First, I finished the chapter I had been reading on the train to the airport. Then I framed a few shots of the arrival gate. A bored little girl in her red Chinese new year's costume doing gymnastics on the hand rail would be perfect in the background I finally decided. I found a good vantage point and then I waited. People trickled down the arrival ramp. There were tearful reunions, much hugging, and lots of other bored children. 

As I waited a thought began to nag at me. Hadn't I heard something about a change in the immigration policy recently. Something about a visa. An announcement from the overhead speakers requesting my attention interrupted my thought. Just as the friendly voice was reminding me not to leave my baggage unattended a man pushing a trolley stacked with suitcases higher than his head stumbled sending the cases thudding to the ground. The pile up blocked the flow of passengers down the arrival ramp. As a nervous airport attendant looked on the man wedged the suitcases precariously back on to the trolley in Jenga-like fashion and the queue began moving again. A little girl next to me who had been fidgeting madly broke away from her mom and bolted into the arrival area wrapping her arms around the legs of a young woman lugging two suitcases and then instantly recoiling as if not sure what to do next. Then my phone rang.

It was Meredith. Yes, she would not be allowed in as she did not have a tourist visa. However, one of the immigration officials told her there was a window between the food court in the departure lounge and the boarding area. I walked up stairs and found the said window in the back of the food court. As verbal communication was out to due to the window's sound proofing we improvised by writing in our notebooks and pressing our message against the glass for the other to read.

Here's a some transcript from my side of the conversation:

- And I thought be extorted (for a visa) out of $4 at the Cambodian border was bad.

 

- I just thought about the visa as I was waiting in arrivals. I thought you might be able to talk your way in. Unfortunately, Australia is very bureaucratic and being tall and blonde isn't quite the novelty here as in other places

- MIA? Where did it(her luggage) go missing?

- It(her luggage) wasn't transferred onto your flight?

- Yeah, black (color of her present outfit) on the beach won't be so much fun?

- Oh Trabezon (referring to the first time Meredith came to Georgia and missed her flight to Trabezon, Turkey where I had arranged for my Georgian friend to pick her up). Well, at least it was me and not my Georgian proxy. I remember him being worried about being able to identify you. Trust me I said, you'll know.

- Were you skyping from the internet connection here?

- They (M&Ms) are still pretty expensive here though. I know I had quite a bit of sticker shock.

- Not such a bad prison. Smells like pizza on my side.

I have over six pages of conversation in my notebook. After an hour and a half we gave air hugs, waved goodbye and Meredith went off in search of her lost luggage.