Flying to South America

Auckland Travel Blog

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I left home this morning. I am currently sitting on the aeroplane between Wellington and Auckland.

As always, I cant help but think how stunningly beautiful the coastline surrounding Wellington is.  THe graduating soft hues of the sea, from a dirty azure to deep blue, standing in stark contrast to the greens and the browns of the rugged mountain slopes.

From my window Mt Taranaki stands alone, shrouded in cloud and mist.  The quiet rush of the turbojets comforts my eardrums.  I feel a sense of trepidation, anxiety and excitement.  And a sense of regret for perhaps not giving my mother a warm enough kiss good bye.  I am travelling to a war zone yet I feel more concern for my parents than I do for myself.  I worry about them worrying about me. I also have a mild fear that I might not come home and I sincerely hoope that that fear is unfounded.  I do not want to inflict such misery on those close to me.  New Zealand looks wonderful from 10500 metres up.

Perhaps I feel this way because of this damned cold and because of the medication I have taken to assist me sleep and to fight the bacteria that are clogging my lungs and forcing me to intermittantly cough up wads of green slime. 

My journey will provide a wealth of new experiences and I welcome them, whether good or bad. 

We are already beginning to descend and soon the first leg of my journey will be complete.  I hope that my next flight will not be delayed.  My ear drums begin to ache with the change in air pressure that I cannot clear. 

As we come into land it is as if we will touch down on a smooth undualating field of snow but then we pass through to once again reveal the cool blue and green that so epitomises New Zealand landscapes.   It is grey and misty in Auckland city.  The hills and trees shroaded in mystery.  I cannot yet see the sprawling mass of suburbia.  Then suddenly the runway appears and teh engines roar as the plane gently touches down upon the wet tarmac.

Sitting at Auckland International I had a pleasant chat with the Argentinian check out girl who was amazed at my small 7kg bag of luggage for the whole trip.  This turned out to be a regularly comment and also a very wise choice.  There is a lot to be said for travelling light.  I stopped for a couple of speights at the bar before getting on the plane and struck up a conversation with an elderly englishman who had just been to Whitianga to visit his daughter.  I still dont have the gate no but now am pleasantly relaxed. 

Airports are an interesting place.  People just waiting to board their flights. Everyone doing something different to bide the time. It is a realm where people are governed by the time.  The bartender asks me if I want a fresh glass when I have just finished my last.  A young child drops a plate which smashes loudedly on the floor above the clink of bar dishes.  His parents hustle and bustle and scold him as he looks forlornly at the broken pieces on the floor.  An american asks for a light beer which the bartender misunderstands as a low alcohol rather than a low carb beer as is common in the united states. He takes a Lion red instead.  They debate the change.

Well so far so good.  A slightly nerve racking experience going through customs checks but managed to get through ok. My pack makes a good talking point and people cant believe it is all I will have for 5 months.  Take off was at 6.00pm with no problems so far.  The flight is a bit rocky and there is a poor latino man behind me who is clearly no lover of flying.  He presses his head firmly into his hands and cannot look out the window. Apparently the flight time is 11 hours. I will try to sleep.  The plane is quiet.

8 hours into the flight now. Putting my crash helmet on and will try and bash through the remaining 3 to 4 hours. The boredom is crushing and there is nothing on this aeroplane to relieve it. 

 

 

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photo by: Fulla