New Zealand — 2019 — Part 1
I spent about two weeks of my sabbatical in New Zealand. Here’s what I found out.
I spent about two weeks of my sabbatical in New Zealand. Here’s what I found out.
The first thing I found out is that when traveling from the East Coast to New Zealand, DO NOT fly through the route through Hong Kong. My itinerary said it was 16 hours from JFK to Hong Kong…but I remain suspect. I felt like it was about 50.
In theory, the connection flight from Hong Kong to Auckland, at only 11 hours, should’ve been a breeze. It was not.
And look, to be fair, the airline and the travel itself was spectacular. The flights were all on time, the food was good, lovely people, it was a great experience. It was just really long.
Also, research your airports. New Zealand is A LOT larger than any map indicates. Accordingly, it has a few airports and if you’re going to be traveling outside of Auckland, do your research.
Much like the flight through Hong Kong, and my life in general, I learned this the hard way.
I had booked a place was in Fielding (repeatedly winning the nicest city in New Zealand). Not being of the Lewis & Clark mindset, if you look at a map, it looks maybe 2.5–3.5 hours away. Not ideal after a day of travel, but doable.
Fielding was not 2.5–3.5 hours away…it was 6.
So, including a three hour layover in Hong Kong, I had a 30/31-hour flight behind me and at least a six-hour drive ahead of me…on the wrong side of the car…on the wrong side of the road. All on about four hours of crappy plane sleep…and too much scotch (just kidding, I didn’t need any booze to complicate matters).
By the time I landed in Auckland and went to get my rental car I was straddling that fence between delirious and exhaustion…thankfully I had that six-hour trip to wake me up!
I picked up my little Toyota and after a few laps around the rental car parking lot with my windshield wipers flapping on and off as I attempted to signal to turn (note: turn signal is also on the right hand side). I watched the rental car folks shake their heads as I eventually made it of the parking lot.
Getting out of Auckland, the city, was easy enough. Just stay to the left and follow the signs. It’s the only time in my life where I felt it appropriate to follow the herd.
So, off I was on my six-hour trip Fielding, New Zealand, the friendliest town in New Zealand. I was in dire need of some friendly, my fuse was about the size of string in string theory, which is to say very short.
After about 45 minutes the highway had winnowed down to just a two lane curvaceous road. As I would turn, the car started making an alarm/beeping sound. I noticed an accompanying red flashing light — inconveniently located in the lower right-hand side of the speedometer window. And it would flash just long enough for me to not see it, only know it was there. WTF Toyota?!
I hadn’t hit anything and didn’t feel anything so I did what any sane person would do — I ignored it.
As the road curved on my way down the country, this alarm kept going on and off and the red light was staying on just long enough so I couldn’t see it. As my Irish began to rise with each little beep and flashing red light, I did what any sane person would to — I began yelling at the car.
“What?!”
“I don’t know what you want me to do!”
“SHUT THE FUCK UP!!”
I can only be thankful I was alone. I’m certain any passenger would’ve asked to be let out. To know me at all is to know that, when present, tension and frustration flow out of me rather visibly, vocally and fluidly.
By hour three I was sure the only thing left in me were tears of frustration from this fucking periodic beeping. On one of the more recent flashes, I finally caught site of a tiny suitcase on my automotive beeping nemesis. I surmised that maybe it was luggage related.
How? I had no god damn idea.
I did what any normal person would do. I pulled over to look through the car manual to see if it detailed the error messages. Not those it didn’t. WTF Toyota?!
Off I went again and resigned myself to the next logical step, crying from my exhaustion and anger.
Somewhere around hour four I thought: “Hmm, maybe this has to do with my suitcase in the backseat and there is some sort of sensor relative to weight and the seat belt.” So, I’m a little slow. I didn’t realize cars had sensors in the back seats these days.
When I was a kid, passengers weren’t really a large safety concern for car makers, let alone passengers in the back seat. Besides, my last car had a cassette player, so a little latitude here please.
Eager to test my theory, I pulled over again and fastened the seat belts in the back seat. BINGO! That little red bastard fucked right off and I was finally at peace.
As I drove down the coast line of The Lord of the Rings land I listened to whatever Spotify playlist popped up and was interrupted only by the nice woman inside my phone who would remind me to stay on the road the road for X miles.
Without a doubt, I would’ve been lost without that iPhone navigation.
Hour four led to hour five led to hour six led to…Jesus fuck! — when was I gonna get to Fielding!
You see, when night comes to New Zealand, it gets black:
Eventually the lady in my phone told me I was close to “my destination”.
Praise be to Jaysus!
I made my way around the roads, with only the Apple lady to guide me. Eventually I made it to the house where I had my Airbnb reservation. The host, Brenda saw me pull in and came out to greet me. Having not showered in almost two days, running on four hours of shitty plane sleep, my hair pulled back wearing a red bandana, leather jacket and moccasins, I’m sure I was a sight to behold.
Proving true to the “Friendly Fielding” way, she was delightfully nonplussed and led me to my little bungalow. She and her partner Jim, had lit the fire for me so it was toasty warm! The perfect welcome after the 39+ hour trip.
All I could think about was a shower and brushing my teeth as it was now 39+ hours since I had done either. So I did.
I woke up the next morning to a golf ball in my throat. “Shit, I’m getting sick” I thought as I rolled over to a text from my friend saying “Welcome to your jet lag.”