Arrived at TPE

I was so exhausted that as soon as I boarded I nodded off and did not realise that we had taken off. All I could recall was the annoying low whining of the engines of the Airbus 300-200 and the long, long taxi to the runway as I slipped in and out of consciousness. I remember eating, beans with mushrooms and potatoes, which actually tasted better than the meal I had in Business Class on Air Canada.

The next moment I woke up, the satellite map revealed we were just about to begin our slow descent to Taiwan. The island was but a few hundred kilometers away, and the imagination of its mountains, of the lights rushed in my blood.

The captain’s voice came on, a young, energetic one, and announced that we had been delayed due to strong headwinds. Indeed, as I looked at the flight data, we were only flying at around 600kph, whereas normally a plane like this could do close to a thousand.

Lights began to appear, ever more, until we were flying parallel to the eastern coastline. I could see the mouth of the Danshui River, its shores dotted with golden streets, and its lip bright with the floodlights and quays of the newly inaugurated Port of Taipei. The sprawl of the city lay not far away, and the flashing signal lights at the tip of the wing caught the gray shadows of a light drizzle. Outside, it was close to 25C.

The plane banked as we needed to make a 180degree turn to approach the runway with the wind. As much as I enjoy sitting by the window and spotting landmarks and sites I recognise, when the window seems to veer to close to the ground as the plane leans sideways, my palms always fill with sweat. Even more so as at the low speed we were flying so close to the ground, the lift on the wings could easily drop, and bring the plane tumbling down under the force of gravity… at least that’s my elementary understanding of flight mechanics, and of the fate of the unfortunate flight TK1951. And to add on my fears, as we banked and as the wing tips seemed to be yearning to touch the ground, strong winds made the cabin rock and drop, swing and shake turbulently. Cold sweat oozed throughout my pores as I prayed to get on the ground as soon as possible…

Miraculously, as the plane leveled for the final approach, everything was so smooth. Perhaps the calm after the turbulence, and the plane seemed to glide ever so softly onto the runway, touching down without the slightest of bumping. I hurried off the plane toward the immigration controls, but was caught between lines of loud, obnoxious Chinese tour groups. When it was my turn, the immigration officer was probably wondering why I had a red European passport, whereas the rest of the people before me had to take out their green “Exit and Entry Permit” especially reserved for people from the People’s Republic of China. After scanning my passport twice and flipping through the pages, probably wondering why I had visited this island so many times in the past six months, she closed my passport and welcomed me.

The journey home was uneventful, and I managed to quickly board the bus to downtown, even though I was eyeing around to see if there were any trace of mum or relatives. To be honest, I was a little disappointed, but then again I really did not want anyone there waiting for me, especially after being delayed and at past midnight.

Quietly as I could, I opened the door and entered. The low glow of a floor light in the living revealed the bed that mum had made for me. The house was pretty much the same as I left it. Then again, that was only one and a half months ago. I tiptoed around, but perhaps the sound of the door locking woke my mum, who called from her bedroom.

I walked toward her, and in the darkness saw only her silhouette. “I am home, mum”, I said, and gave her a big, long hug and many pats on her back. She felt thinner, but warm. “Good that you’re finally here”, she said, especially she had somehow thought that I would get here yesterday night.

In the dim light I looked at her face, her hair. Unsure whether she was wearing a wig or not, she looked more or less the same. But this was in the dark. And even in the dark, I could see that the fringes of her hair, close to her ears, at the back were the colour of salt and pepper. I guess because of the chemo she did not dye her hair, and age had returned more prominent than ever.

Listening to the croak of frogs in the distance, and the occasional sound of a lone scooter whiz past, I fell asleep. At home again.