#13 Gentle waves, warm sunshine, and tears

My last night; a warm evening, with ice cream and gentle conversation with some lovely people. Sharing our experiences of the amazing scenery and people, and becoming a little melancholy about leaving. Following this with a challenging conversation with people back at home meant I could hear the ocean calling me for a late late paddle. The beach (or the section of the 90 miles I could see in the moonlight) appeared deserted except for a van, and a car in the distance. The short walk back after my warm paddle in the gentle waves was interrupted by long and deep conversation with the resident of the van. She shared her story of Maori family and home, and was fascinated by how far I'd travelled on my own. She shared her name (Ngamoana) and it's meaning (many seas). Impressed with how easily I pronounced her name we got talking about alphabets and language, and culture, and land, and the inter-connection of all these. Sailing across the South Pacific she had come across many distinct languages which echoed the Maori language, and spoke of being on one remote island and hearing a song in Maori.

On my last morning I woke ahead of my alarm clock and sat outside for breakfast and fresh coffee before I drove back to Kerikeri airport for my domestic flight to Auckland and from there home. Definitely feeling melancholy I enjoyed the drive, taking delight in the winding roads. The morning sun was beautiful, lazily casting it's gentle light onto the soft contours of the landscape. I stopped a few times for photos before I got to Kerikeri. I just had time to re-fuel, so I navigated yet another version of a New Zealand petrol station. This time an attendant filled my tank.

Except I didn't have time. I'm really not sure how, but I missed bag drop off time by about 2 minutes. And there was no-one at the desk. No-one at the desk for the next high-pitched ten minutes. And when they did appear the answer was "no"; they wouldn't take my bags. I was already checked in (online), so they could take me, but not my bags.

Now Kerikeri airport is tiny. I could see the trolley of bags just outside the door. But rules is rules and I guess it's about weight and safety calculations.

I'm not going to pretend I didn't swear and I certainly felt the acid of anxiety and stress rising, but I only swore at myself.

She offered to put me and my bags onto the next flight, due to land at 13:10. I explained my flight out was at 14:40. She said it should be enough time as it's only a 5 minute walk to the international terminal. So I switched flights and waited. I'd been the only person left in the airport when I'd flown in, this time I had my lunch with me, so the three hours didn't leave me hungry. I also read, crocheted, wrote and then chatted with the first person who arrived a couple of hours later - sensibly early.

I watched the plane land, and my luggage was loaded. We boarded and the flight was delayed, arriving 20 minutes later than scheduled. I managed to enjoy the flight, holding down that heavy knot of anxiety. I hopped and paced waiting for my (new purple) suitcase - which miraculously appeared as the second bag on the belt. I already had a trolley, so I ran. ("five minutes walk") and I ran. My little legs pumped, and my feet pounded, pushing the trolley like I was starting on an Olympic bob-sleigh race. I chose not to check my watch. No point. I just ran. Impressing myself by managing to avoid small children and slow adults. No-one had to dive out of the way. I laughed; I'd had my name called at one airport, and now I was racing my trolley through another. I laughed and I kept running, but it was definitely more than a five minute walk; there were building works and diversion, and it was about 25 degrees. I reached the desk with very little breath, an hour before my flight was due to leave. The boards said "bag drop closing", so I had hope. Infuriatingly it was closed.

I won't give you the gory details, but a few hours, some tears, several customer service phone calls, three different airline desks and one swipe of a credit card later I was booked onto another flight home the same evening. The compensation I'd had for the delay on the flight out was wiped out by my stupid mistake (and numerous errors of judgement).

I found a sunny spot to sit and wait while I waited for bag drop and check in to open. The one thing I did do impressively well I discovered at bag check - purple suitcase was loaded to exactly 23kg.

So, I ended up with a long journey home via Shanghai, and landing at Heathrow rather than Gatwick. Obviously I made a few friends along the way; Ada at Kerikeri airport had been staying with someone she'd been friends with since the year I was born. The depth of their friendship was apparent and joyful to see. I also chatted with a young man in the Auckland sunshine, and then again in the queue for check in. He'd been to meet his girlfriend's family, and was heading home. We chatted, sharing our delight in the beauty of the country and the the people of New Zealand, and went on to talk about life, and situations, choices, education, the cost of London rent, and many things. On the plane I had different company, and a long sleep. Having originally expected a 3 hour stop over in Doha, this flight gave me a very different experience, with the same length, but in Shanghai.

The fact that Auckland and Shanghai airports are polar opposites is unmissable. Being directed through security (and the transit service) was a completely different experience. The staff in Auckland are open, approachable, relaxed, but still official and authoritative. The terminals in Shanghai are vast, imposing, with views of tower blocks and cranes. Everything about the two places is a contrast; atmosphere, people, demeanour.

The contrast really brought it home to me what an amazing experience I've had, and what a privilege it is to be able to travel in this way. If I'd known about some of these hitches before I went I would have planned it differently. I'm glad I didn't know.