I had every intention of starting this blog long ago. Maybe the best starting point would have been the moment I decided to go on this (crazy?) trip to the other side of the world... some time in the Summer of 2010... or perhaps when I made my first tentative steps – getting the medical done/obtaining a visa – but then again, it would have been awfully boring to read about submitting a letterletternumbernumber form and getting a positive response.
Rather than a boring itinarery of achievements on paper, my first entry is being written at cruising altitude high above my home of 23 years. My row-mates, a couple who coincidently work for Heathrow Security, voiced my own opinion upon take-off, that London has rarely been clearer to the eye. Catapulted from the runway in a Boeing 777, the lights erupted from the darkness – yellow streaks of London’s silly-string streets.
Sipping altitude, the one city in the world that I'll forever be in love with crystallized beneath me. Stray mist blurred the sodium lamps soon enough but even now the spatter of the neuronal networks of London’s satellite towns is clearly visible, far below.
Hmmm, now for the remainder of a 16 hour flight to Taiwan.
Rather than opt for the cheapest route to Auckland via South Korea, the opportunity to stop by and see Pei was too much to pass up. I’ve been promised hot-springs and Skylantern festivals and, knowing Pei’s taste for unusual places to dine, I’d guess some surprises as well.
I must confess that the time leading up to my flight wasn’t free from a dose of butterflies. I’m choosing of my free will* to leave behind everything – family, birthplace, friends, lifestyle – and move even further away from my girlfriend so that I can pursue a dream. Somehow using the word dream makes it seem more acceptable, and I owe a lot to those how’ve understood that this is something I have to do. Get away, break away, make a different life, make it my own, all in the unshielded environment of a remote island of idyllic beauty. Let’s hope that description holds when I land in Auckland on the 3rd.
*deterministic arguments aside, those who know the truth please bear with me, the cat knows if it’s alive or dead.
After a few days of holiday in Taipei I fly to Singapore (for a 14 hour lay-over, no kidding) and thence to Auckland International. The next steps are 1) check in at the Silverfern Hostel, 2) Open bank account, 3) find place to live, and 4) apply for student visa, assuming the University of Auckland has approved my PhD application. Simple.
All of that should take a few weeks, with a bit of hunting that time shall not do by idly. A bit of technicianing at UA, walking everywhere and anywhere the city calls, doing my best not to get home-sick and finding out if NZ Cadbury’s is as good as the home stuff.
The rest of this flight contains the following: sleep (take once a day, as needed), a dash of reading and some in-flight entertainment.
It’s 22:57 London Time. I’ve been in the air for an hour and a half.... 0.02 % of my first year... DONE
[UPDATE]
So, I’ve watched Moneyball and passed a third of the journey. While I had no logical reason to think that watching a 2-hour film would make more than 2 hours pass, I’m still disappointed that it didn’t. Long-haul flights are.. well... long. If I look at the information screen I notice two things: the first is that (baby) it’s cold outside and the second is that 2000 miles only seems like a long way if it doesn’t read as 2000/6000. I’ve only been flying for four hours; while I managed HTW-JFK, which takes 7 hours, those few extra feel like I’m a 10k runner who’s signed up for a marathon by mistake.
Ha, no mistake, I’ve done this to myself and I’m fully ready to face the consequences. If it means sitting next to two Heathrow security workers dozing in each other’s arms, suspending the impulse to pee until I work up the heart to wake them, then so be it.
Sleeping on a plane is not something that comes naturally to me, Somewhere between a gene mutation with aspirations of ADHD and the rebound effect of having a rather dull childhood I have an irrepressible urge to wiggle and fidget unless I’m completely comfortable*. Add to that, my legs are like a Barbie doll’s – straight or they just don’t feel right – and you have one of the reasons why I have such a compendious appreciation of films.
*Yes, hun: I know you’re thinking that even then I don’t stop
[UPDATE] - Written en route between Bangkok and Taipei
Bangkok is a great looking terminal. The walls bow outward, each segment - alternating between canvas and glass windows - is reinforced with a metal frame that forms a horizontal zig-zag. I could have taken more advantage of the time to explore the terminal, but it was my first time transferring flights and I wanted to be sure that my bags were handled properly. It took a wrong turn or two to find someone who understood English and could assure me that my bags were on the right plane... and then I sat in the departure louge for the last hour. Not to be deprived of a photo, there was a threesome of Americans from Washington state: one happened to have a rice-pickers hat. I'm convinced that the eldest of the three was a Doppelgรคnger of a sweet grandmother from a film that I still can't remember - I'll update this if it comes to me.
