Tell my guns I’m coming home...

Isabel and I boarded the plane, which Chris & Micha watched until it was out of sight. It was a noisy plane, but I was asleep after a few minutes. Isabel woke me up, when we landed in Bangkok – it would be our last flight we had made together for a long time!


An Airport Shuttle Bus brought us right into the backpacker centre of Bangkok. We found a little room in a big hostel, pretty expensive, and up on the 5th floor, but we were too tired to keep on looking.


Right next to us was Khaosan Road, the main tourist shopping street, with loads of stalls and heaps of “special offers”. We were damn disappointed by the unfriendliness of all those Thai dudes and sheilas, for we were used now to the relaxed Laos way to deal with customers – but it was nothing like that. Everyone was trying to sell you something, most of them with extraordinary high prices – even if you bargained back to the last Baht, you usually still paid more than that stuff was worth! And to see a friendly smile on one of the sellers faces, was a really, really rare thing.

Isabel and I spent a lot of time together. We were about to be teared apart by 20.000kms for more than three months! Unimaginable, if you see, that we had been together for approximately 24/7 since we came together on that sunny day out in White Cliffs. Since then, we had made beds, fought the scurvy, eviscerated sheeps, enjoyed our private, personal beach and had planned & survived a wonderful trip through South-East-Asia. This time was about to be over, and it was hard to face that truth.

I have to commit, that I saw the end with one eye laughing, for it meant to me to return back home to my family, my friends, my relatives – short said: My home. After 18 months of travelling, discovering, working, relaxing and learning how to live a wild life of freedom I could almost feel the touch of my parents hands, smell the smell of our cat, whichs name I had forgotten over the time, and see my mates jump around in white clothes for the sake of “Fastnacht”. And I knew: Isabel would follow me in about three months time, so this goodbye would not be forever.

Still – it was hard, to let her go. It was hard, to sit next to her, one last time, in the bus to the airport. It was hard to watch her eating in the airport-food-court. But it was the hardest to see her leave behind the passport-control, after she had cried some “C U again soon-“ tears. Darling, I love you!


The following days were strange. I felt empty. Nobody around me. No one to cheer me up. It’s just no fun, to walk down those tourist-filled roads, without anybody by your side. I forced myself to do some last shopping, and longed for the day of my departure.


The day came. I spent the night before at the airport, thinking, my flight would leave at 7.20am the next morning. Well – it left at 7.20pm… but the time at the airport was all right, I bought some last TimTams and ate them in remembrance of the best time I’ve had in my life so far. Oz rocks!