In Continuum.

 The wheels of the airplane screeched upon the long tarmac road, leaving behind a trail of black. A man was carried off through the front exit after falling ill halfway over the South China Sea, and then later shipped off to a local hospital. The rest of us idled and waited, and then we waited and idled some more. I tapped the side of my new sling bag from River Island, adjusted my scarf loosened up the coil around my neck. The cold wind snuck into the insides of the plane, crept up the openings of my sleeves and teased me of the chill that was to come. The blocked ears felt like sand being poured into those earholes, everything around me sounded muted and dull somehow. I could hear my breath almost too clearly, as if someone else was blowing air into my ears from behind me. Like being zipped up in a luggage, the feeling was strangely claustrophobic somehow. The customs went on by without a hitch, smooth as an eel and we were out of the airport in no time. My father was parked by the side entrance, his bear-like silhouette stood out from all the rest, and he helped me get the luggage into the boot while my mother climbed into the backseat. A cold wind blew, a familiar smell came through. My ears were still near-paralyzed, but my sense of smell became suddenly acute - I was home. 

The red lights of the cars in front hinted at the massive traffic jam to come, as my father's nursery rhyme cellphone ringtone rang off the hook in the car. Even with the blocked ears, the ringtone seemed inappropriate, and the functions of the phone made me want to toss it out onto the freeway. As we tried to figure out which of the green button is the button to pick up a phone call, horns blared behind our car and lights flickered from a distance away. Through the rearview mirror, everything was made clear. Blue and red lights spun around and around on top of police cars behind, a dozen of them making a headway through the heavy congestion on the freeway, and the police waved lighted batons from inside the cars to have the other drivers move out of the way. Someone important was coming through, or something huge. Either way, my parents and I anticipated the coming of the shadow that was between the rows of police cars behind us. Sandwiched in between a bunch of them was a gigantic truck, followed by tour buses and even more police cars. We've never seen so many police cars before, at least none of them bothered to blow its horns at us. It made us look, even for a few moments, like wanted criminals, and I couldn't help but put my hands up while they drove by. Perhaps my father was smuggling drugs, had a kid tied up in the back of the car, or murdered a neighbor for refusing him a bottle of soy sauce. Either way, it was an interesting sight. 

The convoy drove by our car as my father winded the windows down. The cars before us gave way to a clear road ahead, and the convoy drove by us, full speed ahead. The truck came closer now, and we were still wondering what the fuss was all about. That was when the radio DJs started to mention the arrival of very special guests in the country this evening, the ones that arrived in town at the same time as my own flight. A pair of goodwill pandas arrived in Taiwan on the same night as my mother and I, and we were privileged enough to be right next to the convoy while we traveled down the freeway towards my aunt's home. The giant truck came nearer and nearer, and we were hoping to catch a glimpse of those black and white balls of fur in the cages. Sadly, it was just an ordinary cargo truck, and the contents were not to be seen by the public. Yet, as the truck drove by our car, we could smell bamboos inside the truck, and it was fragrant and refreshing amidst the cold night air. The tail lights disappeared into the rows of cars ahead, and the convoy just kept on rolling by and by. A daredevil cameraman popped his head out of the top of a van and tried to shoot footage of the convoy in front, braving the high winds and the cold air. Mother nature triumphed over him at the end of all things, and he shrunk back into the car soon after the wind was too cold to bear. 

I don't even remember the last time I saw something like that in Singapore, or anything remotely close. It felt good following the convoy after they have passed, the way the traffic felt so much smoother when my father simply followed closely behind. All the vehicles that tried to join the freeway from the roads below were blocked by traffic police, as if we were all a part of this giant convoy, or very important people. Amongst that was my dog jumping onto me, licking my face all over and making a mess with its drool. The little white fur ball pounced on everybody that came into the house this evening, scrambled underneath the legs of the visitors and crawled onto every chest he could get his paws on. His tongue lashed out into the air like a flag being waved patriotically, and the nose buried into our pants and shirts to sniff out, well, something. It was inviting to step into the small and crammed house, with all the furniture looking exactly the same as when I left them only months before. It still smelled the same, with dinner being made in the narrow kitchen and the television blaring in the corner of the house. This is by no means a beautiful house like my own in Taiwan, but this is a great home nonetheless. Half of my time spent in Taiwan over the past sixteen years were spent here, and I suppose there isn't another place I'd rather run to here, when all else fails. 

It's great to be back home again, and yet there are things that I miss back there for some reason. The cold weather is great, with everything feeling like a cold shower, only drier. Then there's the food, the people, the dog, and the familiar air that I grew up with before I moved over. I remember sitting in this very same chair, typing about coming back home from Taiwan, leaving the same batch of people behind for a while. This will be a short trip, a taste of things before I go back all over again to enjoy the rest of the holidays, or try my very best to anyway. Here's to a wonderful trip ahead, and to cute pandas in the local zoo. I have never seen real pandas in my life, so hopefully the next visit would be a good chance to see them in action. And by that, I mean moving around the enclosure and eating bamboos, not exactly anything else you dirty minded people might be thinking about. Perhaps I shall keep you guys updated via this blog about this short trip. The food that I am going to be eating, the places I will be visiting, and more food that I am going to be eating. In the mean time, look out for news footage of the pandas traveling down the freeway. One of those curious cars following behind the convoy could be my father's car. And if you see a man stick out his head recklessly to get a better view, that'd be my father's reckless head too.