Million dollar question.

In an attempt to stay awake during the Sydney-Singapore stretch of my journey I've decided to attempt to pen my next blog post. My body clock tells me it's 11:13pm and I've been up since 6am. The last time I remember seeing the time last night it was 2:30. So I'm working on three and half hours of sleep. The logic is that, fingers crossed, I will sleep through my final leg, all 13 hours of it, and wake up fresh as a daisy when we land at 6:30am, ready to face the day. And then maybe, just maybe, I won't get struck down with jet lag. I know this is just wishful thinking.

There is still 3 hours and 20 minutes remaining on my journey and I'm currently situated somewhere above the Indian ocean between Australia and Indonesia. Well, what I believe to be the Indian ocean anyway, my geography skills are pretty out of whack. You'd think with all this travelling malarkey that I'd be educated in the geography of our dear planet but I'm resigned to the fact I will never get the hang of it.

If there's one thing I know though it's that I should never play the 'Name as many countries as you can' on sporcle with Sarah because I will feel inferior. That girl has the listing of countries art down to a tee.

The flight attendant has just asked for a doctor. And turbulence has just kicked in. FUN.

Oh and did I mention that I've got a serious case of man flu (bad cold) going on? Yeah that is making this journey super fun.

So the million dollar question over the last couple of weeks has been how I feel about going home.

The best way I can describe what I'm feeling is that it feels the same as when I was leaving Hull after university. Only a bit worse because it's not as easy to go to New Zealand for the weekend.

But that doesn't answer anyone's question because nobody really knows how I felt back then.

There is such a conflict of feelings going on. I can not contain my excitement, my happiness, my joy about returning my beloved Manchester.

I can't describe the excitement to see all the faces that I have longed to see. To have that face to face conversation, something that Skype just can't measure up to. To be back to the familiar, which at the same time will be completely different. The excitement over all the new routes I can take my life.

Then there's the heart break of leaving Auckland behind.

The feeling of leaving somewhere that you love behind. Leaving people you love behind. A life you love behind. The feeling of leaving, knowing that you might not ever return again. Knowing you might not even see these faces again. And if you do, their faces won't be the same. And neither will yours.

It's just not a feeling you can put into words.

I find myself just clutching at memories trying to ingrain every minute detail into my memory.

Skipping stones during that spectacular sunset at Lake Wanaka. The pure, bright blue when crawling through that glacier tunnel. The scars of a city after an earthquake. That elusive Tui and his birdsong which will have you searching to catch a glimpse of his sleek feathers. Being enclosed in the vibrant rainforest and being dwarfed by giant Kauai trees.
And, oh my, let's not forget the stars.

Don't even get me started on memories involving my dearest friends.

In answer to your question, how do I feel about leaving? I really don't know but it fills me with just as much pain as it does with joy.