There's a lot to be said for being late. Especially when you have no control over the lateness.
I'm writing this from Geetangeli's kitchen table. And I made it. My suitcase made it. All is well.
Even if everything was a bit late.
Strangely, Melbourne Airport was bonkers. Making it worse, I was stuck in the bag queue behind a total Karen with her subservient husband and their five precocious kids.
The flight from Melbourne to Brisbane was a bit over an hour late. Yes, it seems counterintuitive to fly two hours North to fly what is normally a three-hour flight from Melbourne to Christchurch. Then this route costs you $500 less than the OneStar red-eye, you take it. There were about 25 of us who took up this deal as we were to find out at the other end.
Arriving in Brisbane, we were hurried off the plane. It is a short bus ride from the domestic terminal to the international terminal. As a group, we travelled together, knowing that the plane to Christchurch was about to board.
We made that flight - somehow, I managed to pick up a bottle of gin for Geetangeli duty free, grabbing a bottle of Never Never Triple Juniper while running through the shops. After a quick pee, I took my seat. Even better, I had the row to myself.
The flight over to Christchurch was thankfully smooth and uneventful... until we landed.
By this time, it was about ten minutes to midnight. The pilots parked the plane. The people on the other end tried to get the aerobridge working. Hmm - no go. There was talk of getting a push back to use another gate. The man who does the push backs had gone home hours before it seems. There was more talking about the aerobridge. There was more talking about getting a push back to use another gate. An hour and a half later, at about 1 am local time, we finally deplaned.
For me, it was a bit heart wrenching as the neon sign for the hotel was visible from the plane window.
Going through immigrations is nowhere near as fun as it used to be. All you have to do now is lie your passport down on a sensor, walk through a metal gate and stare at a pole, then move on. It's nowhere near as fun as being interrogated, like you used to. It used to be nice to be greeted by the unsmiling person in the uniform. No, now it's start at a screen. How millennial.
Customs was a different matter. At 1 a.m. there was still a queue to face the guy questioning you about what you have in your bags. Thankfully the line moved quickly.
The Customs Officer was friendly. He also had a touch of sciatica, as he told me as the stool on which he was sitting was irritating his rump.
I'd declared that I had some food on me on the form.
"And what do food do you have on you?"
"A packet of Haigh's Chocolate frogs for my friend and some mints."
"Woman of good taste, I see. Do you have any uncooked spices, honey, ...." He relayed a long list of banned substances.
"Absolutely not."
"Kia Ora, welcome to Aotearoa. Line Three for you. "
Line three was the quick way out.
New Zealand are trying to keep foot and mouth out of the country (and fair enough) so if you've been to Indonesia, including Bali, it appears you're in for a bit of a grilling.
Two minutes later, I arrived at the hotel. For somewhere, where you rock up at 1.30 a.m., the staff were lovely, the room just right and the bed was one of the better hotel beds I've stayed in.
Geetangeli picked me up the airport pick up spot at 10 a.m.
What never fails to strike me about Christchurch is now similar it feels to Adelaide. Driving out of the airport feels like driving down Donald Bradman Drive into the city. Sure, things are at a slower pace, even compared to Adelaide. The traffic is minimal. People are friendly. Petrol isn't as bad as I thought it was going to be, $2.40 a litre. Geetangeli tells me that's it's being subsidised at the moment.
So far, we've been to the venue for tomorrow's party - which, as the manager of the place said, there are some good things about colonialism - this place is one of them (report tomorrow about this. ) We've had a trip to the supermarket, where I got to drool over the hokey pokey ice cream and various other things. And we had a wonderful lunch at a place called Mosiac - Moroccan food. The boccadilloes at this place are to die for. I remembered them from the last time I was here. Like a less greasy, much tastier kebab with a better range of sauces.
There is so much to love about New Zealand. That everything is familiar, that you drive on the left, that the money is similar, that the power outlets are the same - it all makes for easy travel.
That I arrived the day that Jacinda Ardern resigned, well that is another matter. I'm sorry to see her go. What a leader.
I'm just happy to be here with my friends.
This is what we've missed over the last few years.
We're heading into town to have a look now. I'm wondering what we'll find.
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