In September 2018, I wrote this blog post. I went through a whole gamut of emotions in the preceding months – excitement about travel plans, crashing dreams, and a ray of hope. Posting it in the Passport Pages, as this is a prelude to my upcoming travelogue.
Bucket Lists and Bitter Vegemite.
Everybody has a bucket list. Things to do, places to see, experiences to collect, all before, well, kicking the bucket. Don’t you have one?
If not, here’s a little nudge: grab a diary or your phone and jot down everything that comes to mind. You don’t need to be past 60 or face a health scare to make that list. In fact, the earlier you start, the better. Begin in your teens, add to it over time, and strike things off as you go. That way, you’re not racing against time, you’re travelling with it.
My own list? It’s long. Ambitious. Maybe even unrealistic. But that’s the fun part, I might never actually empty my bucket. And I’m okay with that.
Sujith and I always loved to travel. So, naturally, I asked him once to write down his travel wishlist. Where mine had 25 destinations, his had… just three. “Whattt? Only three?” I asked, surprised. Sujith smiled and said, “I’ll refill the bucket as I go.” Smart guy. True to form, he ticked off all three places. Me? I was thrilled just to strike off one that we had in common.
At the very top of my list was Australia. Watching Travel & Living, getting hooked on MasterChef Australia, and devouring Bill Bryson’s Down Under made Australia my ultimate dream. I was over the moon when we finally planned a vacation there: Cairns and the Great Barrier Reef (I even took swimming lessons for that!), the Gold Coast, Sydney, Melbourne—the whole package.
Hotels booked, flights reserved, and an itinerary prepared (complete with historical notes for each location, thank you very much), with countless hours spent on YouTube scouring details, everything was perfect.
And then, the visas were rejected.
Since we had to provide flight and hotel bookings with the application, we had gone all-in. We were supposed to travel with a cousin and their family from India, and their visas were approved. Sujith, knowing how crushed I’d be, kept the rejection to himself for a bit. When he finally told me, it felt like the air had been sucked out of me.
It wasn’t just the loss of money. It was the loss of a dream. I stopped watching travel shows. I avoided anything that reminded me of vacations. Can you believe I even bought a jar of Vegemite to get “used to the taste” before the trip? It’s still sitting at the back of my kitchen shelf like a bitter souvenir of what never was.
Then came the Eid holidays.
I didn’t even want to suggest a trip. But Sujith knew I needed a break. We decided to explore last-minute options and called a few travel agencies- places where Indians could get a visa on arrival. They all said the same thing: “Fully booked.” Georgia, Baku, and Kenya were the top picks. But no luck. Until a friend gave us his cousin’s contact at Akbar Travels.
We called, without much hope. They said they’d get back to us. We shrugged and decided to chill at home, binge some web series, and let the holiday pass us by.
Then, the unexpected happened.
Sujith called from work, telling me to get ready, we had two seats on the Kenya trip. A last-minute cancellation had opened up. We rushed to the agency, paid immediately, and walked out with our itinerary in hand. It felt surreal. We didn’t tell many people; afraid the jinx might return. Just my mom and Sujith’s brother knew.
But that anxiety still hovered.
Our flight from Dubai to Jomo Kenyatta Airport in Nairobi was delayed by 2.5 hours. I was a bundle of nerves. The Kenya Airways Dreamliner wasn’t the most comfortable experience, warm cabin, and even after complaining, the temperature didn’t improve.
Still, I kept my fingers crossed, heart pounding, until I had that visa stamp on my passport.
Finally, at immigration, I offered my brightest smile to the friendly officer and said, “Ahsante Sana” with all the Swahili charm I could muster.
Dreams may crash. But sometimes, they find new wings.
