Trying to leave ...

It's strange the things you realise you'll miss when the time comes to leave a town.

Like the way familiar faces seem to pop out of nowhere, ready for a 20 minute chat ... when you're really hung over and all you want is to eat your laksa and read the paper.

Or the headlines in the local paper "man has bomb in pants" or "crocodile found in swimming pool".

Or pretending to work while emailing the person sitting next to you, either with the latest gossip or ways in which to describe 'pounding it'.

Or how no matter how cold your shower is, always managing to sweat enough for your make up to melt off the minute you dry yourself.

And finally, realising that I really shouldn't start my first blog for my round the world trip while I'm a little tipsy, and even more teary as I come to the realisation I'm going to miss my mates like crazy.

Ok. So I'm going to start again.

10:37pm. 28th Jan. Rush from the airport carpark through security. Bloody hell. The plane has landed. Have I already lost Michele? ... Mel I blame this on you for making me attend an impromptu kareoke session in your flat.

12:02am. 29th Jan. I've remembered how long and funny and random Mich's stories are. Also remembered that I haven't slept for a few days and I think passing out is a very good option.

1:37pm. 29th Jan. Adelaide River. Crocodile Cruise. Why have I waited until my last day in Darwin to watch a caricature Top Ender feed blocks of frozen meat to beasts that have enough power in their jaw to kill me in an instant? The short skirt, the boots, the hat, that voice. I'm waiting for someone to write a sitcom on this woman.

7:45pm. Sunset. Sailing Club. Darwin. I think Pablo Picasso has rolled over in his grave and spilled a few pots of paint in the sky. Don't think I'll ever forget how amazing the sky is in this place.

9:12. 29th Jan. Sailing Club. Finishing my 3rd beer. Debating the benefits of going without underwear to work. Glad this conversation is happening after I've quit my job.

9:56pm. Say goodbye to people who have created my memories of Darwin. Pretend I'm ok with going. I'm not. I want to stay. My ticket to Guatemala is calling me ... but tonight, right now, I don't want to answer.

And now. I am learning the art of blogging. Not very well, quite obviously, and for those of you who are realising there may be months of this ahead - please be patient. I promise I won't write when I'm tipsy or upset again.

Let the road open up, and a trip begin ...