Wherever You Go, There You Are

…the title of a Buddhist book, and also what is going through my mind as I sit in The Williamsons Cafe killing time till I can check into my lodging. As I gaze longingly at the shelves of baked goods, the same old demons are bursting out of hiding from between the banana loaf, the chocolate lamington, and the ginger crunch caramel cake. “You thought you could leave us behind by running to the other side of the planet,” they leer. “Fool.” New deli, same old ghosts. Same old music, too: Otis Redding, Johnny Cash, Rod Stewart.

It is 18 hours later here than at home. As Syd observed, in our life experience there was never a July 3, 2013. You all in the U.S. are having one right this very minute but we didn’t get one and the only evidence I see of its having passed here is in the little calendar at our hostel that hasn’t been updated yet.

To backtrack: Syd’s train ended up two hours late so I rescheduled our shuttle for an hour later and was relieved that the rush-hour, BART-strike traffic didn’t unduly delay us. In fact, we had three hours to spare, enough for me to blow a hundred dollars on a “stress and tension massage” followed by a foot massage. Flights would seem much shorter if they had massage on board, particularly 13 hour flights like this one.

I looked like a beast of burden as I boarded the plane, neck pillow clipped to my backpack, butt pillow attached to my carry-on. Syd looked bemused as I, once seated, pulled a variety of rabbits out of my hat: blanket, back pillow, slippers, earplugs, eye-bra. Later, when I produced the finishing touch–a bandana draped across my face to keep my gaping maw hidden as I sleep–Syd laughed outright. I don’t think I look all that funny with a batik design across my face, puffing out every few seconds with my breath.

I watched a New Zealand film on the plane. It was called Boy and I didn’t much understand it, but at the end was a fabulous scene with a Michael-Jackson inspired haka (traditional Maori dance). Let me know if you find it on YouTube and I’ll put it here later.

I strongly recommend drugs for such a long flight as this. One or two judiciously popped Ambien made the hours fly by as I slept, which I can’t do on a plane otherwise. I’m too leggy and jittery. Usually on an international flight when we arrive pre-dawn as we did today, I’ll pop another one and take a nap when I check into my lodging at 6:00 a.m. We arrived at our lodging at 7:00. We stayed outside on the veranda, which offered insufficient shelter from the drizzle and cold wind. I babysat our luggage while Syd walked around local Auckland to explore, and then I donned not one, not two but three jackets and also departed to explore and get NZ money. Finally at 8-something we were admitted to the building but our room wasn’t ready so we imprisoned our luggage in a secure area and now we’re here at this cafe. I really want to brush my teeth and take my early morning nap. It has worked every time on my international travels to get me on local time without too much trauma. Soon, I hope.

New Zealand pronunciation lesson of the day:

Car: cah (“a” as in “pad”)

Exit: Ixit

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