Finally made it to Sydney after a long, long flight.  Screaming baby behind me for nine hours, which meant that I didn’t get much sleep.  Delightful parents who thought that a business-class seat made a much nicer changing table than the changing table in the bathroom.  Particularly delightful since they decided to release their little darling’s stink bomb just before dinner was served.  Thank goodness they don’t have ejector seats on commercial flights.  I was sorely tempted to pull the handle.

Eagle-eyed readers will notice that the photo here shows a baggage tag.  Yes, I succumbed.  Due to the new security regulations in India, you can only carry on a single item of less than 8kg.  So my cunning plan of spending 11 days in Asia with only hand luggage was thwarted, meaning I had to wait 20 minutes for my bags to come off the belt in Sydney.

I obviously don’t match the description of an agricultural smuggler, so I was waved through customs, agriculture, and quarantine and straight into a taxi to the hotel.

Despite quite a lot of time traveling the globe, I’m still not a whiz with time zones.  So it didn’t come as a total surprise to receive a phone call at 11pm while enjoying a beer in the hotel bar – my bi-weekly call with one of my colleagues.  We’d very carefully arranged the call to be after I’d finished my business day in Mumbai.  I’d calculated the hour just fine.  I’d screwed up the day.  Luckily he’s also got pan-Asian responsibility, and is understanding of mix-ups like these.

Slept like a log last night, and woke up today feeling refreshed.  It’s warm and sunny today, and I’m headed out like Tommy Tourist, in a tee-shirt (okay, who are we kidding…a polo shirt) and camera in tow.