Sabbatical II: the Nineteen Hour Night

A final day in the Northern Hemisphere, so final tasks: meditate, yard work, washing and storing car, laundry, setting timers, last bits of packing that had to wait till lift off, and a dozen other things that occurred in the moment.  In the afternoon, lots of cirrus clouds while I was doing taiji, seeing like a good omen for travel.  Talked to Dad, dinner with Sengita, then time to go.

BART at 6:40 pm.  The train was still exotic when I took my last long trip, no more now that it’s how I commute.  So I read the The New Yorker till reaching the SFO stop.  It’s brilliant that one just has to exit BART and walk directly into the International Terminal, no epic slog like Seattle.  I love the way the space opens as you exit the portal.  It means, OK, there’s a voyage coming up.  Many other clues: international airline logos, foreign destinations on the status screens, an abundance of overburdened luggage carts and a super-wide demographic.  Many Filipinos and Chinese; there were flights around the same time as mine to Manila, Hong Kong, and Guangzhou.

Goodbye to my luggage (more on that later). After enjoying the SFO Museum exhibits on surfboards – beautiful recreations of classic boards in redwood – and insects – which gave me nightmares on the flight, it was time to leave the US and find my plane.  It was there:

A ¾ full 747-400.  I might have been on the same aircraft in 2009 or 2010. 

Should have carved my initials.  Qantas is retiring these planes soon. Their age showed a bit, worn plastic, a butt divot in my seat, incandescent lights.  I paid more for an exit row.  It was worth it:

Empty middle seat.  The window seat was a student from Colorado School of Mines; she made a nest, ate enough candy to apparently go into a sugar coma, and did not wake up till an hour before landing.

The expected long take off roll, and we were en route to Sydney, west with the night (apologies Beryl Markham).  Yes, I know New Zealand was my first stop, but it was very cost efficient to book my first five flights on Qantas, so I was to transfer in Sydney.  What could go wrong? 

I settled in for fifteen hours.  Long flights aren’t novel any more, but each has its own flavor.  Two observations this time.  First, I was impressed by the 747’s stately progression and how it muted turbulence.  I am be more accustomed to 737s, which get tossed around more easily.  Second, I was quite aware of living temporarily in this big metal tube dominated by white noise –a domain to explore and make use of as best I could.  I don’t sleep well on planes, so my time went something like: watch movie (with dinner), doze (based on drool), check flight status, endure sore legs, watch another movie, get up and stretch and do laps around Economy Class, check flight status, notice legs have given up pain so sleep a few hours (same evidence, but more), do more laps and find the mid-flight snack bar, watch movie (with mid-flight snack), check flight status, stretch, watch movie (with breakfast), organize stuff, and check flight status.  I'm still not sure what I was given for breakfast:

Sunrise – in the Southern Hemisphere - indicated the near end of the trip:  

I had a 75 minute transfer window in Sydney, which I was assured would be fine.  I hustled off the plane, and yup, had time to notice how upscaled SYD has become.  Australia skipped the last recession, so no surprise.  Boarding, liftoff, and to quote the pilot “across the Tasman”.  A newer plane:

But a bit tighter than the big fella:

Another breakfast, another movie, a first glimpse of the New Zealand coast, and into Auckland.  E-customs clearance is hip.  Baggage claim was similarly quick but – no bags.  The lovely man at Qantas services confirmed what I had feared all long.  While I made my connection, screening meant my bags didn’t.  No worries, they would deliver them.  A woman who was on my flight was also being helped.  I made eye contact and said “San Francisco?”  She smiled and rolled her eyes. 

Onto Skybus, a familiar ride from the airport to downtown Auckland.  Recognizable topography but different shops, more development.  My AirBnB is a loft on Queen Street, which is the old core shopping area in the CBD.  Analogous stores to a mid-level American mall – not necessarily a complement, given the abundance of teens at night.  Anyway, a fine loft.  Wifi.  Tempting horizontal surfaces, but I decided I better stay awake and try and adapt to NZ time.  Assessing my carry-on, I realized that a couple of cables, like the ones to recharge my phone and iPad – were in my checked luggage.  Aaargh, but nothing for it.

I took a recon and recollect walk.  Auckland is a port city, and Queen Street dead ends at the quay.  Much of the maritime activity save for ferries and yachts is elsewhere now, so the area is redeveloping in very upscale directions.  I wandered in glazed way, looking at shops and restaurants. Eventually the need for caffeine and food became urgent, satisfied by a plate of salads from here.

Qantas called me.  My bags were over the Tasman and would come home in the evening.  More motivation to stay wake.  Another long walk well after dark.  Auckland is lovely city:

Bags arrived, 90 minutes ahead of ETA.  Happiness.  Shower.  Sleep.  Part of my compensation for the inconvenience was a Qantas First Class overnight kit.  The pajamas fit.