I spent my last night in Korea at a Seoul backpackers. The next morning I was on my way by 11am, having left a selection of books, heavy jerseys and other bits and pieces behind for fear that my suitcase would be overweight (not that I couldn’t have made a plan if it was but I have an aversion to airport admin and try to avoid it whenever possible).

I rolled my large, heavy case along the uneven pavement (and road where there was no pavement). Two different taxis gawked at the funny-looking foreigner and drove merrily on by. I grumbled under my breath. The third taxi driver was kinder and dropped me at the subway station, even helping me get the large case onto the pavement.

I crossed under the road via the subway (big suitcase + subway steps = fail, btw). I was taking the Airport Limousine to Incheon Airport, the giant airport in the coastal city of Incheon, which is currently being swallowed whole by the capital.  Airport Limousine Buses are a marvellous invention. Although Incheon Airport is connected to Seoul by train and subway, both are a huge mission with luggage. Taxis are an option but are rather expensive. Airport limousine buses run between the airport and most areas of Seoul for a reasonable fee and can handle plane-sized luggage. They also run to all other major cities in Korea (express – no stops in between) so they really are the best way to get to and from Incheon Airport.

I arrived at the airport early and waited for the check-in counters to open. My bag was overweight. Of course. Luckily only a kg or two, so they simply sighed and checked it right through to Joburg. I wasn’t sure they’d be able to do this because my second flight was with SAA but they did – Yay for Cathay Pacific. Sadly, I didn’t get a window seat. I may be alone in this but I deeply resent the new airline policy that allows people to choose seats in advance and links window-seats to ticket-prices. I liked the way it worked before, when I could rock up at the airport early and be guaranteed a window because I was the first person to check in. Window-seats as a reward for being on time – that’s how the world should work! At least I was on the aisle – middle-seats are no fun.

It was lunch time and I was hungry, so I tried to grab lunch before heading through security. The only restaurant that appealed was staffed by a particularly surly Korean who looked me up and down and informed me that they “didn’t seat single diners”. I resisted the urge to punch her in the nose and decided I eat beyond security.

Security check done – and thankfully no taking off of shoes required; next stop immigration. I handed the woman my passport and my Alien Registration Card (ARC) – the card that has been my ID in Korea for the last year. I’d have liked to keep the card as a souvenir but they have to be handed in at departure, I suppose to stop the horrible foreigners coming back. The customs lady asked me if I was returning and warned me in a stern voice that she would have to cancel my visa now. I don’t think she appreciated my broad smile and enthusiastic nod. She scowled and stamped my passport. Filled with joy, I thanked her politely and headed on, into no-mans land and the journey home.

Seoul (Incheon) to Hong Kong
Airhostesses have to be tall. That’s the rule. Or at least it used to be the rule. It’s always seemed arbitrary before. I am more sympathetic to the idea after a tiny, doll-like Cathay Pacific cabin attendant nearly knocked me out trying to stow a suitcase in the overhead compartment above me, while standing on the edge of my seat and swinging it past my head.

The food on Cathay Pacific was fine and the in-flight entertainment was good. It was a short flight – 3 or 4 hours, so not too much time to kill but I find I’m always more restless on a plane when I don’t have a window to look out of. I found some episodes of Glee to watch instead.

In Hong Kong (my 6-hour stop-over) I went through the quick transit security check and set off to explore this sprawling air transportation hub. Hong Kong Airport is one of the busiest in the world. In 2009, over 46 million passengers used the airport. That’s nearly the population of South Africa. Shops, pharmacies, liquor and cigarette duty frees, bars, restaurants, spas and lounges dot the area around the many, many moving walkways. At intervals, electronic signboards show destinations from Paris and Sydney to Beijing and LA. I walked and walked and walked. You hear all the time about people who spend hours and hours travelling and get all sorts of aches and pains from lack of exercise. Do these people not have stops on their flights? Or do they simply not feel the need to wander around the airports where they stop? I like exploring airports. I like airports. This one was spacious and classy, although I did end up having Burger King for dinner, but mostly because I wasn’t sure whether the other restaurants would take the currency I was carrying.

Hong Kong to Johannesburg
I sat down in my aisle seat (again) and waited for the rest of the passengers to board. People came in ones and twos. Eventually, the cabin crew started closing overhead lockers and talking people through safety procedures. There was a window seat next to me. It was empty. I watched and waited and then, before I knew it, they were preparing the doors for take-off. Joy of joys – not only could I claim window but I had two whole seats to spread out across.

I watched a rainy Hong Kong fall away below me and relaxed into the South African accents and languages floating back and forth. In thirteen hours, I would be back in the RSA but already, just being on an SAA flight I was a little bit closer and a little more at home.

The flight to Joburg wasn’t bad. SAA isn’t the world’s best for in-flight entertainment but you can usually find something to watch. My jet-lag kicked in, of course, so I was awake from about 3am SA time. This did mean that I got to watch the sun rise over the stunning clouded edge of Africa. I kept the window blind open for the whole flight and no-one made me shut it, unlike previous east-ward flights, so I was able to watch the whole sky-scape turn from night into dusky-dawn. At one point, a tray of typical SAA breakfast in front of me, I watched the early sun reflecting the SAA colours from the wing-tip across the wing-surface towards me. It could have been an SAA advert.

Joburg. South Africa. ‘My’ airport. I tried to hold back the tears as we dropped, lower and lower, across the highveld but there was no point. As the plane touched down, with the sun slanting through the red winter grass, I cried and cried. I was home. The familiar form of OR Tambo rose before us. The voice, the same voice as always, welcomed us to Joburg with all the words I remember from all those flights.

We disembarked and followed the signs to passport control, which was efficient and organised and clearly very ready for the Soccer World Cup. The whole plane-load must have passed through in about 10 minutes. Baggage claims took a little longer. I suppose that much baggage takes a while to off-load. While we waited a guard, with something like ‘agricultural products control’ on his vest, led a small dog in and out, letting the dog sniff at people’s baggage and clothes. It was unobtrusive and non-invasive and seemed a very efficient way to check things. I loaded my bag onto a trolley and walked out into the circular arrivals area of the new OR Tambo.

The airport was looking great – all sparkly and new and decked out in bright colours for the World Cup. I had several hours to wait for my domestic flight but this wait was more of a home-coming than a delay. I had breakfast at Wimpy and only just managed to avoid crying into my first proper Wimpy coffee. I wandered around a bit to see what they’d done to the place. I found a spot, on the departures level, from where I could comfortably look down on the arrivals circle and people-watch. To my left, a group of police-men stood chatting, interrupting their conversation frequently to give directions or help out lost foreigners. The taxi drivers, the porters, the airport volunteers – everyone was helpful and competent. Down below, a group of Argentineans got into a singing match with some Chile fans. Their hearty singing was complemented by the occasional Vuvuzela blast. Everyone watched and clapped. The atmosphere was fantastic.

Eventually, tired after all the flights, I checked in, went through security (ah, so good to be back at a familiar airport) and spent some quality time in the premier lounge. I was flying 1time but I figured I’d be tired so paid the extra for the lounge – definitely worth it if you want to get work done or have a long wait. Nearly 24 hours after leaving Incheon, I landed in East London, where I was greeted by singing and dancing. The singing and dancing was obviously intended for someone else but it was still pretty awesome. We (my parents and I) stayed in EL for a few hours and did fun things like buying Fest tickets. I should have been exhausted but I was buoyed by the joy and wonder and relief of being home.

I’ve been back for two weeks now. I can’t believe it has been so long. I keep finding things I love about this country and reasons I’m glad to be back. The moment that made me realise just how homesick I was in Korea, the moment I keep coming back to and that I suppose will always be a reminder of why I’m not cut out to be anywhere but Africa, is that joyful, tear-filled moment when the plane touched down in Joburg and the morning rays of sunlight softly touched the winter-red grass.