This time next week I won't be sitting in the muggy heat in my home in Sydney, I will be in the muggier and hotter home of my husband, Malaysia.
As this trip comes ever closer I remember my first holiday there, my first grown up overseas trip.
I will never forget walking off the plane into the airbridge and being hit by the overpowering humidity. I remember that I was surprised that all the uniformed men around were very much smaller than the ones I was used to seeing, their guns were very much bigger and their presence was much stronger. I remember that the air smelled. I still don't know what that smell was but I suspect it was a mix of incense and garlic.
I passed through the border controls and exited the terminal, my sweetheart was waiting and we kissed while people stared. We shopped and we ate Hainanese chicken and rice. We stayed at the YMCA because he couldn't take me to the place where he lived, where he slept on the floor.
That night the sounds and colours, the smells and the sheer busyness of the night markets were new and exciting. It was a dizzying time and tomorrow I was to meet his family.
The day dawned and we shopped a little more before heading off on the road north. As we finished shopping I thought maybe I felt unwell, I didn't understand this odd feeling I had......
I understood better when I lost my lunch in his beloved Escort.
He drove and I vomited. We followed slow logging trucks for miles and we overtook not in windows of opportunity but in peepholes. Inevitably then I would make my call for a stop and the painful process would start again.
Finally, we arrived. We pulled up at the back of the shop hot and sweaty with me pale and unfocussed. I tried to be smiling and pleasant but I soon gave up and retreated to bed.
When I felt a little better Grandma came to see me, she talked and K translated and I vomited. Again. On Grandma.