Layover Hell

In the land of expat wives, summer holidays mean one thing: travel home. So we pack up our enormous suitcases and our excited children, our stacks of passports and bags of crap we naively tell ourselves will entertain our children for 20 hours, and we flood Changi airport. And about 7 hours in, we learn this: No matter how much local travel one does, and no matter how prepared one might be, a trip halfway around the world, without the help of a spouse, shepherding children, can strain even the most intrepid of travellers.

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