Transitions

Transitions - Day 25 – March 1^st

In the very early morning we saw Nikoloz Basilashvili resplendent in Reebok at the airport.  Taran went up to him for his autograph. He had exceeded expectations at the Dubai Open* but had finally lost to N. Coric in the quarter finals the day before.  He looked tired but his coach/dad/companion was very cheery.  It brought to mind the weird transit life of the pro Tennis player – we read that he is married and has his family in Tbilisi.  That can’t be an easy place to get to between tournaments and especially if you must operate on the assumption that you will be involved all the way to the finals but keep getting knocked out in the early rounds.  His must be a life in transit; one day the open court; a fluffed volley at the net. The next the glittering acres of the departure lounge again.  10 year olds asking for autographs and your Dad psyching you up for the next tournament.  Hotel rooms and car interiors and video phone calls home and the endless search for practise courts and partners. A life of transitions.

I looked out of the rain spotted plane window at Dubai airport and I was looking out of my car window at home, perhaps at Sainsbury’s; expanse of wet tarmac, people in macs and drab washed out light filtering through a grey sky.  Then I looked forward to neat rows of seat backs each with a central rectangle of light dancing synchronously to a safety message from Air Emirates. It was quite a lurch.  I am loving these moments of translocation.  When we fell through the air to Yangon (Rangoon) International Airport and it came to me that we were actually physically wheels down in the mystical forbidden Burma of my youth I was happy.  Now Myanmar and the re-cast Aung San Suu Kyi with her overturned Oxford Honorary Degree and Noble peace prize have left me confused and saddened but as it was only a refuel stop I can move quickly on.  Wheels lifting from a modern runway amongst colonial villas, emerald green rice paddies and childhood imaginings.

We transitioned to Cambodia.  It takes a while to cross the line though.  Just like Tanzania before the visa application counter is easy to confuse with the visa collection counter – both are chaotic and we are in both in reverse order and back again.  But Jo is good at pushing and we are out sooner than we thought.  Out from a hot and sweating press that is a destination in itself. 

And then we are out into the Phnom Penh night hovering around 32C and full of business and bustle.  It is a long ride through a crowded city to our hotel.  Taran and I find cool blue refuge in the roof top pool.  Jo looks on with a beer in hand catching up on news from home. We feel we have arrived.  At least for tonight.

*2^nd March – Hot off the press Roger Federer wins his 100^th ATP title