Oceanic Velvet

I continued following my lowercase self in my journal, carefully making use of every blank space on the page. Swirling blue waves of memory flowed out of me from the experience itself, for a “later” in other places I could no longer imagine without you.

We were planning to go from Cairns to Osaka. There were direct flights. That surprised me. No stopover in Brisbane or Sydney? You just shrugged:
“Cairns is the gateway to the Great Barrier Reef. The Japanese love to fly over for a weekend.”

Compared to Sydney or Narita, Cairns International Airport is a small airfield. Just one terminal for international flights, two runways, the longer one 3,196 meters. Long enough for wide-body aircraft like the A330 we would be flying. Jetstar operated the route—a low-cost airline, subsidiary of Qantas. Not luxurious, but functional.

Why did a city of just over 150,000 inhabitants have an international airport? Cairns was founded in 1876, originally as a port for gold transport from the Atherton Tablelands. Later it served as a hub for sugar, bananas, and other agricultural products from the tropical hinterland. Cairns remained a regional town for a long time, a hub for Queensland, far from national significance.

Cairns is closer to Papua New Guinea and Southeast Asia than to Melbourne or Perth. After World War II, awareness of proximity to Asia grew. Suddenly, Cairns was no longer at the edge of the continent, but within reach of another.

After check-in—efficient, correct, relaxed—we sat in the café beyond security. I think it was called Reef Bean. We drank flat whites from paper cups. You pulled out the black cloth. It was our first fetish. I looked at you questioningly. Did you want me to put it on? Should I?

“What do you want?” I asked.
“Just tie it around my neck.”
“Does that turn you on?”
I teased you a little. I liked the game and your ingenuity so much. I rested my chin on my hand and watched you. You were far less controlled than at the beginning of our relationship. Was it part of a lovers’ fate to push things to the extreme? Your predecessors had retreated into their shells after a brief burst of liveliness. Their lack of staying power was not only regrettable but insulting. I thanked you every day for your erotic attention.

Oh yes, now a quickie to reaffirm our lustful vow.

We wandered through the duty-free area. Clouds of perfume mingled with the sharp smell of whiskey and sun oil. I tested an Issey Miyake fragrance… aquatic, floral. I identified—or hallucinated—lotus, rose, freesia, lily of the valley, musk.

You said:
“The perfume suits you.”

Amused, we watched a Japanese woman buying koala magnets in packs of ten.

Boarding began punctually at Gate 7. The aircraft, an Airbus A330-200, in typical Jetstar livery, silver with an orange star. Two engines, Rolls-Royce Trent 700. 303 seats, all economy. You by the window, me in the middle. Next to me sat an elderly Japanese man with a goatee on his hatband and a stack of National Geographic magazines on his lap, none of which he opened.

The flight attendants wore beige outfits with orange accents, narrow skirts, tight blazers. Iconic presentation. One of them, mid-thirties, curly bangs, Australian accent, asked if we were traveling together. I said yes. You casually placed your hand on my knee. It was a statement—and I liked it.

The typical roar of the engines. I loved that moment when the ground disappears beneath the wheels. We broke through the clouds, and the Queensland coast vanished in the distance. The reef lay like a shattered emerald necklace on the ocean’s velvet.