So today we were to say goodbye to Hong Kong and venture forth to New Zealand. A 9.00pm flight via Cathay Pacific seemed a fairly civilised option, and you could check your luggage in at the main railway stations in Hong Kong and they'd whizz it out to the airport for you. Don't see that happening at Kings Cross.
This wasn't to happen quite as we expected. This was an 11 hour flight, running half an hour late initially, then we FINALLY got on the plane. I mean FINALLY like, Tchoh! 35 minutes late??? Call Yourself An Airline etc etc etc. Little did I know.
Comfortably sat in the Airbus A350 Sardine Can and about to push back, we then had an announcement that Philippine Air Traffic Control had had a power cut, and we would be grounded for at least an hour and a half. Another flight to Auckland had left approximately 15 minutes before us and while we were pondering our misfortune to have picked this one, we quickly realised it was probably better to be on the ground, stationery, than in the air, flying blind across Philippine Airspace in an ATC powercut.
Then at the hour and a half mark, an announcement that the pilot had 'timed out' so we had to wait for a relief pilot. This is a pilot just like any other pilot, except that when he arrives, everyone feels such a sense of relief that we can get going. That's why he's called a relief pilot.
Ok, look, you don't come here for the jokes.
So, three hours later, we took off. Funny thing is, I don't remember doing anything on that plane for those three hours that we sat on the apron. We just sat and waited in silence. Like a very boring special interest club consisting of a lot of people just pretending to go flying in a passenger jet.
This turned a 11 hour flight into 14 hour one, but we were landing mid-day anyway so it didn't make much difference.
Sunrise across the Coral Sea (not a bad picture for a Sony Xperia Z3 phone)
One small moment of levity however came from the terribly nice old lady who sat in front of me. Calling her 'old' still feels a bit wrong, because in spite of being obviously around 80 years old, she was wearing shorts, a backpack, and was clearly a lot fitter than I was.
She was not very used to planes, as she managed to change the language on her in flight entertainment system to cantonese as soon as she touched it. My partner helpfully switched it back for her, but it reverted pretty quickly. She got the hang of it eventually but not before watching half of a gay coming-of-age film with growing confusion. I did love her dearly though, not for her quirkiness but because on an entire 14 hour flight, she didn't put her seat back.
Auckland, City of Sails
Arriving in a fairly unremarkable hotel in Auckland, I wonder if those occasional unsung heroes who are just trying to do the best job they can, realise how much difference they make to an utterly knackered traveller. On check in we were greeted by a Māori guy who asked us where we were from, and we ended up telling him about the flight delay and he said "Well you've still got beautiful smiles on your faces so I guess it can't have been too bad, eh?"
Those of you who have been to New Zealand will recognise the Kiwi 'A' there. It's not an accent, or a letter, it's pretty much the end of every sentence, as in "So you're from the UK, eh?" or, quite a good example from my Kiwi sister in law when I took out my 100 - 400mm lens later in our trip "Jesus Ken! you compensating for something or what, eh?"
A little later on, a trip to the Skytower, to watch the sun go down.
Next, Kia Orana, Rarotonga! and the closest I came to an in-flight emergency...