RTW on ZX-NBW Pt 3 The China Syndrome
Apr 16, 2011, 3:09 pm
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Join Date: Jan 2011
Location: NZ
Programs: airpoints
Posts: 65
RTW on ZX-NBW Pt 3 The China Syndrome
Due to the logistical uncertainties inherent with working in computers it was decided that the bus from Brighton to LHR was a better option than hoping that my brother’s day would go according to plan, you see, sometimes computers lock you into a cycle of their own making and they don’t give a monkey's about check-in times…
Which is why I was to be found (along with suitcases) sitting in the winter sunshine near Brighton Pier,
which is situated conveniently opposite Pool Valley Bus Station.
Not so much a bus station, more of a grotty shop outside of which one can catch a coach.
Sitting in the sunshine, listening to the roar of the waves and casually watching sensitive men in leather trousers saunter about, their dashing moustaches quivering in the breeze, gaydar tuned, and Jimmy Somerville songs resounding in their heads, I started to slip into the “Zen and the Art of Travelling”, state that makes me not much of a travelling companion.
At the allotted hour (13:10) I boarded one of those big white coaches with the funky mirrors that make them look like slugs and sat back, gazing out at the M23/M25 corridor mulling over the last 16 days. All in all a success, I came with a plan and some intentions and pretty much bagged the lot and more besides.
It is actually rare for me to make plans, I tend to rely on The Force to guide me and I suppose in this instance The Force had guided me well, I took a risk or two and got away with it……
I saw my old homies and the Whanau, spent some quality time with my Dad and survived a haunting at Mothers.
At one point I had stood in the sea at the village I was born in and felt connected back to Aotearoa, Land of the Long White Cloud, (not to be confused with Eire, Land of the Thin White Duke) via all the molecules in the sea.
I had “Formed, Normed, Stormed, Performed and Mourned”.
But most importantly of all, I had managed to avoid sleeping with any Large-Breasted Red-Heads……….
The coach passed through LGW and a few other stops, where we collected a range of pax, which oddly enough ended up with me, an Australian and a South African all sitting on the back seat discussing Rugby……I felt like I was already home!!!
The sunshine, which seems to follow me around the world was still holding out, I was not tired, more satisfied and totally ready to go home.
My arrival at LHR was through the same bus station from which I had departed to Norfolk 13 days before, leaving a tearful Muse in my wake, why anyone would get emotional over me is beyond me but I was leaving with a new understanding, that of just how many people seemed to actually care about me, both friends and family.
You see, I just go about my business, doing what The Force tells me to and assuming that everyone else just bimbles along in the same way but hell no! Some people actually miss me! And that was gonna take some digesting, a new world view was emerging, chinks were appearing in my emotional armour and I would have to make the decision, close the chinks or adopt the new world view, even if it did leave me feeling I had turned up for school in my undies.
A desire to avoid traffic and see the last views of England in daylight had me arriving at LHR 3 hours before check-in, which really left me no choice but to close the chinks and get stuck into a Caesar salad and a good book, in that order.
Mother had given me “Race to Dakar” by Charley Boorman and in between walks around the terminal (During which I spotted NZ TV personality Paul Holmes) I settled into a quiet corner and read myself numb, ready for the ordeal ahead which always seems so much more daunting going back to NZ as the stakes are higher, I was in fear that Tony Blair might at any minute stop all flights out of the UK in an effort to balls things up as much as humanly possible.
But at 17:50, on my walk, I discovered the desk had just opened so I plunged into the zoo and got in line.
NZ38 checks in out the back, in the same area as the PIA flights and for some reason this end of the terminal feels a bit shabby, like they borrowed it from LAX or something.
It was a bit of a lolly-scramble as expected and it seemed odd being checked in by United staff rather than Air NZ. In the midst of all this shabbiness I got sorted very quickly and made my way upstairs to the departure queue.
There was a desk issuing ziplock bags to anyone with the balls to bring fluids and goop on board (100ml max, no part used containers, no toothpaste etc) but I had put all my bomb-making kit in my checked baggage, I couldn’t be arsed to assemble an IED from toothpaste, aftershave, mineral water and pile ointment, too much hassle, maybe some other day.
The cattle pens leading to the x-ray machines were much as I remembered them but moving reasonably fast and I was careful to remove my laptop from its case and scour my pockets for drugs and money, I wasn’t in the mood to argue, I just wanted to go home.
Free from any further suspicion I emerged into the departure lounge, where I was able to buy as much bottled water, toothpaste, aftershave and pile ointment as I wished and furthermore, be allowed to take it on the plane!!!
Security eh? My sense of security is enhanced by knowing that someone with the ability to think in straight lines and apply logic is on the case, not some random bunch of knee-jerk feck-wits on a power trip but who am I to argue? I’m just the passenger, clearly someone; somewhere, has the overview and can give a reasoned reply to the oft-asked question, W-T-F????
I read for a bit, bought water and crisps for a bit and sat about for a bit, wondering why so many people were in the bar getting pissed before flying, it isn’t good for you and you just arrive at your destination feeling like Monkeys have crapped on your tongue and then it hit me…a eureka moment!….the poms like their beer warm and every other country on the planet serves it cold….so there you have it, they have to be drunk enough to drink cold beer and no doubt, to eat the local food!!
“Can’t eat this shite…Hey Spiro! Bring us some fookin real food...some fookin chips…eh? I said You-o bring-o me-o some-o fookin chips-o..pronto!!!”
Looks round triumphantly at the table full of lobster-pink chavs.
Meanwhile, in the kitchen at “Bambino’s Bar and Ristorante”
“Hey..Miguel….chips for table 4 (spits on floor and crosses himself) and heavy on the “Special Sauce” amigo”.
Both chef and waiter laugh and laugh until the chef loses his cigarette into the Goulash.
“Yes my friend….the SPECIAL sauce!!”
We will draw a veil over what happens next but rest assured the assembled throng at table 4 will never notice the slight salty tang in their ketchup….
But time passes and the world turns, I was still not at the starting line in “Race to Dakar” when the gate was announced (10 I think) and I began the trek to what turned out to be a very spacious and comfy gate area.
The a/c was at the gate so I wandered over to check its rego (like a true geek) and was surprised to find it was ZK-NBW, the same one I had come AKL-LAX-LHR on…so this meant I would be circumnavigating the planet on the same a/c all the way….cool really, almost like I had planned it but no, The Force is a powerful thing….
The bench seats in the gate area looked way too comfy to resist and with 26 hours between me and horizontal I decided to make the most of it.
I put my coat behind my head, flicked my shoes off, stretched out on a row of chairs and crashed out completely, only to wake 20 mins later with a stinker of a headache and a definite case of “Oh my god I think I may puke!”.
Necking the rest of my water put my guts to rest for now but the headache was trying to get out of my skull the hard way.
I massaged my neck and walked about a bit, still feeling a bit pukey and found that as long as I avoided moving, the headache was manageable but I was not looking forward to feeling like this for 26 hours and the thought of being sick in a 747 loo for half a planet was a grim notion, worthy of a Catherine Cookson novel.
I sat down again and in between pounding bouts of pain managed to get my Anti-DVT socks on and lay down again.
Sometime later…10-15 mins? There was a slight commotion and I woke to see a policeman talking to an Asian female pax and other “boarding soon” movements, I sat up, didn’t feel like puking , just felt like I had the flu coming on but the beastly headache was still there.
But events overtook me, boarding was announced and I shuffled into line and onboard like an old hobo on dole day.
Once into the sanctuary that was ZK-NBW I felt a layer of tension easing, the welcome interior made me feel I was at least on NZ territory again (albeit a mobile version) but the headache was still there, beginning to affect my sight now.
“Hello, I am Vera, are you OK?” The eastern European tones came from a mature but very slim FA.
“I feel like crap actually, got any drugs?”
“Panadol any good” Vera looked at me with matronly concern.
“Spot-on” I muttered, lobbed my bag into the overhead and flopped into 65C, ignoring the little old man beside me and trying not to look too seedy.
Vera, dear sweet Vera, appeared with a cup of water and 2 Panadol.
“Thanks” I croaked and swallowed the lot.
“Eeef you need anyzink more, I am Vera (she thrust her badge at me) and I am here to look after you”.
“You’ll be the first to know”.
Vera bustled off, all enthusiasm and efficiency while I just flopped about, glad of the Panadol and suddenly exhausted by all the effort of sitting and waiting.
Boarding was reasonably brisk but still took 20 mins or so, I slipped into a minor coma for most of this and I awoke to the joyous news that my headache was subsiding, I didn’t feel like puking, in fact I was starving! And the doors were closing.
The a/c was much fuller than the inbound leg so I had a pax in 65A but the next 65 row over had only one small Asian lady to 4 seats so I earmarked this end of the 4 as Jafa-territory.
“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome on board flight NZ38 to Hong Kong and Auckland, we’re ready on time for once and so shall waste no time getting underway”
Yay!!!!!
Trundling out into the dark I found myself disconnecting from the UK, I was, emotionally at least, back in NZ. Outside it was dark, punctuated with a wild variety of different coloured lights, we bumped down the taxiway and with no hesitation the Pilot gave it everything and we hurtled down the runway.
Rotate, lift and ROOOAAAARRRR! Up and away in a way that only a 747 can, that strong but gentle push, the wheels came up and we punched our way south east, higher and higher until the clouds erased all trace of SE England.
I swapped seats to 65D, raised the inside armrest, curled up and sniffed the air for a hint of dinner…ah, dinner, good old airline food.
When it came I had the Lamb, easily the best thing I have eaten on a plane and washed down with an NZ Merlot, deliciously fruity and thick, a welcome change from the thin French p*ss we had been drinking in Edinburgh, all style and no substance…like their Rugby team, give me something with some body in it any day.
The Merlot sent me off to sleep as expected and for the next few hours all I can reliably inform you about is the fact that I went for a walk and used the loo somewhere just past Berlin. I was on strict instructions from Noelg to keep a look out for the fires in Siberia but I was out of it, not p*ssed, takes more than one glass…but flaked out, head akimbo, drooling over my shirt and twitching like roadkill.
This glorious state of affairs kept me out of the proceedings, with occasional, half-awake requests for water (Vera, I hope you have a wonderful husband and your kids adore you, you were a star on this trip!) until a powerful urge to know where I was brought me sharply awake, the one thing I didn’t want to miss was Mongolia, a place I have always wanted to see (even if it is from 39,000ft).
But alas! The airshow wasn’t working on my seat, I asked a passing FA (Vera was on her break) if she could both fix the airshow and find out where we were.
With this I headed for door 5 right, the blind was already up and below was the most amazing view, a desert stretched for miles in every direction, a vast mountain range filled the southern horizon and everywhere the bare bones of the Earth lay exposed, etched, eroded and fascinating.
Transfixed I stared, hoping this was Mongolia and then, isolated and slightly disorientated the words to “Through Glass” by the band Stone Sour came to mind..
“Cause I'm looking at you through the glass...
Don't know how much time has passed
All I know is that it feels like forever
When no one ever tells you
That forever feels like home
Sitting all alone inside your head”
Pretty much sums up long-haul to me!
My reverie was broken by the FA, young and blonde, her Kiwi accent was music to my ears.
They’re resetting your IFE now, she said, brightly and cheerfully. And the captain says that this is Mongolia”
“Excellent, Mongolia eh? I’ve always wanted to see it” I replied
“What’s it like” The FA enquired.
“Mostly nothing” I informed her “But that’s the attraction…nature in the raw, nothing man-made”
“Oh, sounds good” and we both stood there, stooped in the window of door 5 right, gazing down on all that nature and talking about NZ (she from CHC, me a Jafa) and London, hopes, dreams and future plans.
As a collective farm appeared, some Mongolian writing, easily read from 39,000ft could be seen in the sand, neatly sign-written, it must have been huge at ground level, probably said “Sod off ya feckers” or “McDonalds 5km” but it broke the spell and the FA wafted off.
I continued to gaze, alternating left and right hand doors, drinking it all in, I may never pass this way again as I said in pt1 and I felt duty bound to record as much as possible.
I have a Mongolian great-aunt or something like that, some distant rellie, maybe my Grandfather’s cousin? travelled a lot for work and he brought back a Mongolian bride so the family legend has it. Which could explain the fascination; it’s lodged in my Whakapapa somewhere so must resonate within the family psyche to an extent.
The cloud cover built up so I spent some time faffing about, ensuring I hadn’t lost anything important….passport, marbles, self-esteem….you know the drill!
There was an impending breakfast due so I got ready for that, a choice between noodles or French Toast and syrup, I went for the French Toast option and licked the syrup out of the bottom of the dish….yum!!! All good bro, Ke Te Pai!!!
And so to China, I have a strange relationship with China, it fascinates me and repulses me at the same time, the landscape is amazing and I saw some of those strange Limestone “Shark’s Fins” that you see in the holiday brochures but it distresses me to see the brutal way that nature is all but raped in the name of progress, villages and towns all over the place, bright, raw gashes in the land where bulldozers have put the acquisition of wealth before critters and views and the haze of pollution that gets thicker the nearer you get to Hong Kong.
This isn’t really the time or place to have this debate but its here because these are the thoughts I have when I see these things, I slag LAX off and often pontificate on the evils of various parts of the world as do others but there is a general vibe that one shouldn’t protest too loudly about China for fear we will all lose access to the joys of the $2 shop.
As you should know by now, I speak as I find and I find the Asian “Economic Miracle” disturbs me, it disturbs me as much as the USA’s destructive thirst for oil and at times like this I despair of mankind.
I like limits, I like to work within a resource base and I like the idea that my kids will have air to breathe and water to drink….this isn’t the first report in which I say this:
Everybody should fly and look down on the earth and think ... are we doing? All this war, all this carnage, how many people on this planet have to wake up every day and have a really horrible time of it, see their families killed, watch their communities die, be oppressed, watch terrible things being done by their so-called leaders?
Really possums, it’s all too much, we’ve fecked things up royally and you should walk away from this report and think to yourselves
“What small thing can I do to make this world a better place”.
Try to leave everywhere you go better than you found it, pick up litter, give a kind word, think before you act. Do something nice, if we do, we may yet achieve a positive critical mass rather than the Armageddon by man or nature that the experts are so ready to predict.
Anyway, rant over, flying makes me philosophical and heightens my closet-Buddhism. I can’t help it, that’s me, I care.
And it has a context for this TR, we passed over an area the size of several Aucklands’, full of factories, the air hazy with pollution and getting thicker as we descended into HKIA. The Captain quoted a visibility of 3 miles as we crawled blindly through the “grey-out”, murky and unhealthy looking, here lies the true meaning of the phrase “Made in Hong Kong”.
There is also the other side of the coin and that is that despite the pollution and expansion the Chinese know a thing or two about long-haul travel.
To transit in HKIA one does not have to fill in any paperwork, no waiver signing away your human rights in the face of the TSA, no BS, no pack-drill.
You get off the a/c, slightly wary, feeling there must be a catch somewhere and follow the friendly-smiley people’s directions, you ask nervously.
“Where is the transit lounge?”
They reply “Up, go up, all transit lounge”.
You stare in disbelief and mount the escalator to emerge in the vast, enormous and utterly huuuuuuuge departure gate area of HKIA. To one used to being locked in a cupboard and fingerprinted in LAX, to be ushered into a world of shops, showers, comfy seats, bars and special little luggage carts for your hand baggage, feels like trespass and you sneak about like kids in an orchard, silent and skulking for fear of being caught.
I blundered about and got my bearings, bought some water, well “Pocari Sweat” and Iced tea to be truthful and decided that as I then had 45 mins to spare I would go for a walk…a long walk.
Pausing only to photograph a hilarious sign
I set out to walk from gate 35 (our gate) to gate 1, I never made it, I walked for 20 minutes, stopping only for a poo and only got as far as the shops by gate 20.
Dude, this place is massive!!!!
I had to turn around at gate 20 shops and head back, arriving at gate 35 just as boarding commenced. Heck, that was a long way but I felt it had done me some good, blood was circulating and I had some pics on my cell-phone to show the boys and girls at home (who will stifle yawns and go “Gosh…an aeroplane…fascinating…zzzzzzzzzzz).
So, the last leg eh? I felt at last that I was nearly home; when we landed again I would be in good old AKL once more.
It was dark by now and what lay ahead would be familiar to me, the HKG-AKL leg of NZ38 is the same route and timings of the old NZ86, which I did last year on an NZ767 but it wasn’t boring, there was plenty to see inside the plane as HKG legs usually expose one to the slightly bizarre behaviours of Chinese pax.
Now I try very hard to be fair in my character assassinations but for some reason (living in AKL probably) there is always guilt attached to character assassinations of China and the Chinese and I don’t know why this is, still, having slated nearly every nation on earth I shall not stop the habit of a lifetime.
You see Asian Pax have an alternative view on privacy and personal space; it comes from living amongst the largest population on earth.
Many times I have found myself on an a/c being stared at by Asian pax, or jostled and pushed around by them and then there is the “no understand syndrome”.
OK, announcements pre-take off on HKG flights are in English and Chinese, as are the signs and those that aren’t are in universal pictograms.
Despite the “Seat backs up, trays away” announcement before take off, at least 6 Chinese pax in my direct view sat there with backs reclined and trays down, all of row 64 was like this.
FA comes and says “Seat backs up and trays away please” row 64 turns as one, like Meerkats spotting a buzzard.
No backs or trays are moved.
“Put seats up and trays away!” with hand gestures.
“No understand”
“Seat backs up!!!” More gestures which even a corpse would understand.
“Huh??”
“PUSH THE BUTTON!!!!!!” With this the FA leant forward, jabbed the release button and jolted the seat upright.
Reluctantly the rest of row 64 followed suite and then a few others did the same.
Later in the flight an announcement was made..
“Someone has been smoking in the toilets, if you know who it is please tell us”
and again in Chinese.
“Old Chinese guy I bet” I thought to myself and immediately chastised myself for my prejudice…..later in the flight I asked if they had caught the phantom smoker, the reply shocked me:
“Yeah, old Chinese guy…we knew it would be, always is, he did turn himself in and claimed “No Understand”…and what part of the Chinese announcement and the bi-lingual signs didn’t he understand???”
“Is it because they’re Chinese, or because they’re old do you think?”
No one ventured a reply.
But to rewind, the taxi out at HKIA is a long as you would expect for such a large airport but we got there and romped off skyward, through the haze and above the clouds, the airshow suggested that daybreak would come some where over the Great Dividing Range in Australia.
A meal was served and I had some chicken which was not too nice, I should have had the Chinese Beef in Oyster Sauce but I had that last year and even though it was superb I decided to risk the Chicken this time…I usually avoid chicken as it can taste fowl ha ha!!!
After another fab Merlot, I crashed out for a couple of hours and awoke with an urge to watch TV and after another disturbing episode of Little Britain I turned to Pirates of the Caribbean 2 which knocked another couple of hours off.
During one of my perambulations around the cabin I spent some time talking to…of all people…a large breasted red-head, NOT the LBRH from pt 2 but a complete stranger, a young woman, who, after 2 years working in marketing, woke up one morning and thought “This job is shite” and packed it all in to travel and work around NZ for a coupe of years, no plans, just do it…”good on her” I thought and gave her a contact in central AKL who may be able to sort some work out for her.
Good to see that people are still prepared to jump off the cliff and forget to hit the ground.
Daybreak and I became restless, not bored with the journey as much as eager to be home and hosed. I couldn’t sleep, I had done sufficient to make me feel that it was morning (and it was by NZ time) so I plugged myself into some music and a doco about the World Rally Championship.
The music helped me to drift off into my own little world and I sat gazing out at the clouds, not thinking, just “being” and before too much longer, 2 hours from landing, breakfast was served, a nice Kiwi all-dayer and I took my time savouring the experience, watching the kms tick by on the airshow, feeling more awake by the minute and more restless.
Finally, we started the descent into thick clouds and burst out just west and north of AKL, eased in over the north shore and gave me a good view of the finger of land I call home, over to the left.
The big old bird took her time swinging round to the right and into finals for AKL, approaching from the east from over by Waiheke Island, lower and lower over south AKL and onto the runway with a gentle bump and a colossal roar.
“Great” I thought, “made it!!”
After breezing through customs and having my tramping boots disinfected by MAFF I grabbed my pre-booked shuttle and was wafted home but instead of a euphoric feeling as per last years HKG trip, I sat back, looked out of the cab window and felt nothing but a feeling that for the first time in 18 days, life made perfect sense again.
AKL may have her flaws, as do all places really but to me, it is home……..
Which is why I was to be found (along with suitcases) sitting in the winter sunshine near Brighton Pier,
which is situated conveniently opposite Pool Valley Bus Station.
Not so much a bus station, more of a grotty shop outside of which one can catch a coach.
Sitting in the sunshine, listening to the roar of the waves and casually watching sensitive men in leather trousers saunter about, their dashing moustaches quivering in the breeze, gaydar tuned, and Jimmy Somerville songs resounding in their heads, I started to slip into the “Zen and the Art of Travelling”, state that makes me not much of a travelling companion.
At the allotted hour (13:10) I boarded one of those big white coaches with the funky mirrors that make them look like slugs and sat back, gazing out at the M23/M25 corridor mulling over the last 16 days. All in all a success, I came with a plan and some intentions and pretty much bagged the lot and more besides.
It is actually rare for me to make plans, I tend to rely on The Force to guide me and I suppose in this instance The Force had guided me well, I took a risk or two and got away with it……
I saw my old homies and the Whanau, spent some quality time with my Dad and survived a haunting at Mothers.
At one point I had stood in the sea at the village I was born in and felt connected back to Aotearoa, Land of the Long White Cloud, (not to be confused with Eire, Land of the Thin White Duke) via all the molecules in the sea.
I had “Formed, Normed, Stormed, Performed and Mourned”.
But most importantly of all, I had managed to avoid sleeping with any Large-Breasted Red-Heads……….
The coach passed through LGW and a few other stops, where we collected a range of pax, which oddly enough ended up with me, an Australian and a South African all sitting on the back seat discussing Rugby……I felt like I was already home!!!
The sunshine, which seems to follow me around the world was still holding out, I was not tired, more satisfied and totally ready to go home.
My arrival at LHR was through the same bus station from which I had departed to Norfolk 13 days before, leaving a tearful Muse in my wake, why anyone would get emotional over me is beyond me but I was leaving with a new understanding, that of just how many people seemed to actually care about me, both friends and family.
You see, I just go about my business, doing what The Force tells me to and assuming that everyone else just bimbles along in the same way but hell no! Some people actually miss me! And that was gonna take some digesting, a new world view was emerging, chinks were appearing in my emotional armour and I would have to make the decision, close the chinks or adopt the new world view, even if it did leave me feeling I had turned up for school in my undies.
A desire to avoid traffic and see the last views of England in daylight had me arriving at LHR 3 hours before check-in, which really left me no choice but to close the chinks and get stuck into a Caesar salad and a good book, in that order.
Mother had given me “Race to Dakar” by Charley Boorman and in between walks around the terminal (During which I spotted NZ TV personality Paul Holmes) I settled into a quiet corner and read myself numb, ready for the ordeal ahead which always seems so much more daunting going back to NZ as the stakes are higher, I was in fear that Tony Blair might at any minute stop all flights out of the UK in an effort to balls things up as much as humanly possible.
But at 17:50, on my walk, I discovered the desk had just opened so I plunged into the zoo and got in line.
NZ38 checks in out the back, in the same area as the PIA flights and for some reason this end of the terminal feels a bit shabby, like they borrowed it from LAX or something.
It was a bit of a lolly-scramble as expected and it seemed odd being checked in by United staff rather than Air NZ. In the midst of all this shabbiness I got sorted very quickly and made my way upstairs to the departure queue.
There was a desk issuing ziplock bags to anyone with the balls to bring fluids and goop on board (100ml max, no part used containers, no toothpaste etc) but I had put all my bomb-making kit in my checked baggage, I couldn’t be arsed to assemble an IED from toothpaste, aftershave, mineral water and pile ointment, too much hassle, maybe some other day.
The cattle pens leading to the x-ray machines were much as I remembered them but moving reasonably fast and I was careful to remove my laptop from its case and scour my pockets for drugs and money, I wasn’t in the mood to argue, I just wanted to go home.
Free from any further suspicion I emerged into the departure lounge, where I was able to buy as much bottled water, toothpaste, aftershave and pile ointment as I wished and furthermore, be allowed to take it on the plane!!!
Security eh? My sense of security is enhanced by knowing that someone with the ability to think in straight lines and apply logic is on the case, not some random bunch of knee-jerk feck-wits on a power trip but who am I to argue? I’m just the passenger, clearly someone; somewhere, has the overview and can give a reasoned reply to the oft-asked question, W-T-F????
I read for a bit, bought water and crisps for a bit and sat about for a bit, wondering why so many people were in the bar getting pissed before flying, it isn’t good for you and you just arrive at your destination feeling like Monkeys have crapped on your tongue and then it hit me…a eureka moment!….the poms like their beer warm and every other country on the planet serves it cold….so there you have it, they have to be drunk enough to drink cold beer and no doubt, to eat the local food!!
“Can’t eat this shite…Hey Spiro! Bring us some fookin real food...some fookin chips…eh? I said You-o bring-o me-o some-o fookin chips-o..pronto!!!”
Looks round triumphantly at the table full of lobster-pink chavs.
Meanwhile, in the kitchen at “Bambino’s Bar and Ristorante”
“Hey..Miguel….chips for table 4 (spits on floor and crosses himself) and heavy on the “Special Sauce” amigo”.
Both chef and waiter laugh and laugh until the chef loses his cigarette into the Goulash.
“Yes my friend….the SPECIAL sauce!!”
We will draw a veil over what happens next but rest assured the assembled throng at table 4 will never notice the slight salty tang in their ketchup….
But time passes and the world turns, I was still not at the starting line in “Race to Dakar” when the gate was announced (10 I think) and I began the trek to what turned out to be a very spacious and comfy gate area.
The a/c was at the gate so I wandered over to check its rego (like a true geek) and was surprised to find it was ZK-NBW, the same one I had come AKL-LAX-LHR on…so this meant I would be circumnavigating the planet on the same a/c all the way….cool really, almost like I had planned it but no, The Force is a powerful thing….
The bench seats in the gate area looked way too comfy to resist and with 26 hours between me and horizontal I decided to make the most of it.
I put my coat behind my head, flicked my shoes off, stretched out on a row of chairs and crashed out completely, only to wake 20 mins later with a stinker of a headache and a definite case of “Oh my god I think I may puke!”.
Necking the rest of my water put my guts to rest for now but the headache was trying to get out of my skull the hard way.
I massaged my neck and walked about a bit, still feeling a bit pukey and found that as long as I avoided moving, the headache was manageable but I was not looking forward to feeling like this for 26 hours and the thought of being sick in a 747 loo for half a planet was a grim notion, worthy of a Catherine Cookson novel.
I sat down again and in between pounding bouts of pain managed to get my Anti-DVT socks on and lay down again.
Sometime later…10-15 mins? There was a slight commotion and I woke to see a policeman talking to an Asian female pax and other “boarding soon” movements, I sat up, didn’t feel like puking , just felt like I had the flu coming on but the beastly headache was still there.
But events overtook me, boarding was announced and I shuffled into line and onboard like an old hobo on dole day.
Once into the sanctuary that was ZK-NBW I felt a layer of tension easing, the welcome interior made me feel I was at least on NZ territory again (albeit a mobile version) but the headache was still there, beginning to affect my sight now.
“Hello, I am Vera, are you OK?” The eastern European tones came from a mature but very slim FA.
“I feel like crap actually, got any drugs?”
“Panadol any good” Vera looked at me with matronly concern.
“Spot-on” I muttered, lobbed my bag into the overhead and flopped into 65C, ignoring the little old man beside me and trying not to look too seedy.
Vera, dear sweet Vera, appeared with a cup of water and 2 Panadol.
“Thanks” I croaked and swallowed the lot.
“Eeef you need anyzink more, I am Vera (she thrust her badge at me) and I am here to look after you”.
“You’ll be the first to know”.
Vera bustled off, all enthusiasm and efficiency while I just flopped about, glad of the Panadol and suddenly exhausted by all the effort of sitting and waiting.
Boarding was reasonably brisk but still took 20 mins or so, I slipped into a minor coma for most of this and I awoke to the joyous news that my headache was subsiding, I didn’t feel like puking, in fact I was starving! And the doors were closing.
The a/c was much fuller than the inbound leg so I had a pax in 65A but the next 65 row over had only one small Asian lady to 4 seats so I earmarked this end of the 4 as Jafa-territory.
“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome on board flight NZ38 to Hong Kong and Auckland, we’re ready on time for once and so shall waste no time getting underway”
Yay!!!!!
Trundling out into the dark I found myself disconnecting from the UK, I was, emotionally at least, back in NZ. Outside it was dark, punctuated with a wild variety of different coloured lights, we bumped down the taxiway and with no hesitation the Pilot gave it everything and we hurtled down the runway.
Rotate, lift and ROOOAAAARRRR! Up and away in a way that only a 747 can, that strong but gentle push, the wheels came up and we punched our way south east, higher and higher until the clouds erased all trace of SE England.
I swapped seats to 65D, raised the inside armrest, curled up and sniffed the air for a hint of dinner…ah, dinner, good old airline food.
When it came I had the Lamb, easily the best thing I have eaten on a plane and washed down with an NZ Merlot, deliciously fruity and thick, a welcome change from the thin French p*ss we had been drinking in Edinburgh, all style and no substance…like their Rugby team, give me something with some body in it any day.
The Merlot sent me off to sleep as expected and for the next few hours all I can reliably inform you about is the fact that I went for a walk and used the loo somewhere just past Berlin. I was on strict instructions from Noelg to keep a look out for the fires in Siberia but I was out of it, not p*ssed, takes more than one glass…but flaked out, head akimbo, drooling over my shirt and twitching like roadkill.
This glorious state of affairs kept me out of the proceedings, with occasional, half-awake requests for water (Vera, I hope you have a wonderful husband and your kids adore you, you were a star on this trip!) until a powerful urge to know where I was brought me sharply awake, the one thing I didn’t want to miss was Mongolia, a place I have always wanted to see (even if it is from 39,000ft).
But alas! The airshow wasn’t working on my seat, I asked a passing FA (Vera was on her break) if she could both fix the airshow and find out where we were.
With this I headed for door 5 right, the blind was already up and below was the most amazing view, a desert stretched for miles in every direction, a vast mountain range filled the southern horizon and everywhere the bare bones of the Earth lay exposed, etched, eroded and fascinating.
Transfixed I stared, hoping this was Mongolia and then, isolated and slightly disorientated the words to “Through Glass” by the band Stone Sour came to mind..
“Cause I'm looking at you through the glass...
Don't know how much time has passed
All I know is that it feels like forever
When no one ever tells you
That forever feels like home
Sitting all alone inside your head”
Pretty much sums up long-haul to me!
My reverie was broken by the FA, young and blonde, her Kiwi accent was music to my ears.
They’re resetting your IFE now, she said, brightly and cheerfully. And the captain says that this is Mongolia”
“Excellent, Mongolia eh? I’ve always wanted to see it” I replied
“What’s it like” The FA enquired.
“Mostly nothing” I informed her “But that’s the attraction…nature in the raw, nothing man-made”
“Oh, sounds good” and we both stood there, stooped in the window of door 5 right, gazing down on all that nature and talking about NZ (she from CHC, me a Jafa) and London, hopes, dreams and future plans.
As a collective farm appeared, some Mongolian writing, easily read from 39,000ft could be seen in the sand, neatly sign-written, it must have been huge at ground level, probably said “Sod off ya feckers” or “McDonalds 5km” but it broke the spell and the FA wafted off.
I continued to gaze, alternating left and right hand doors, drinking it all in, I may never pass this way again as I said in pt1 and I felt duty bound to record as much as possible.
I have a Mongolian great-aunt or something like that, some distant rellie, maybe my Grandfather’s cousin? travelled a lot for work and he brought back a Mongolian bride so the family legend has it. Which could explain the fascination; it’s lodged in my Whakapapa somewhere so must resonate within the family psyche to an extent.
The cloud cover built up so I spent some time faffing about, ensuring I hadn’t lost anything important….passport, marbles, self-esteem….you know the drill!
There was an impending breakfast due so I got ready for that, a choice between noodles or French Toast and syrup, I went for the French Toast option and licked the syrup out of the bottom of the dish….yum!!! All good bro, Ke Te Pai!!!
And so to China, I have a strange relationship with China, it fascinates me and repulses me at the same time, the landscape is amazing and I saw some of those strange Limestone “Shark’s Fins” that you see in the holiday brochures but it distresses me to see the brutal way that nature is all but raped in the name of progress, villages and towns all over the place, bright, raw gashes in the land where bulldozers have put the acquisition of wealth before critters and views and the haze of pollution that gets thicker the nearer you get to Hong Kong.
This isn’t really the time or place to have this debate but its here because these are the thoughts I have when I see these things, I slag LAX off and often pontificate on the evils of various parts of the world as do others but there is a general vibe that one shouldn’t protest too loudly about China for fear we will all lose access to the joys of the $2 shop.
As you should know by now, I speak as I find and I find the Asian “Economic Miracle” disturbs me, it disturbs me as much as the USA’s destructive thirst for oil and at times like this I despair of mankind.
I like limits, I like to work within a resource base and I like the idea that my kids will have air to breathe and water to drink….this isn’t the first report in which I say this:
Everybody should fly and look down on the earth and think ... are we doing? All this war, all this carnage, how many people on this planet have to wake up every day and have a really horrible time of it, see their families killed, watch their communities die, be oppressed, watch terrible things being done by their so-called leaders?
Really possums, it’s all too much, we’ve fecked things up royally and you should walk away from this report and think to yourselves
“What small thing can I do to make this world a better place”.
Try to leave everywhere you go better than you found it, pick up litter, give a kind word, think before you act. Do something nice, if we do, we may yet achieve a positive critical mass rather than the Armageddon by man or nature that the experts are so ready to predict.
Anyway, rant over, flying makes me philosophical and heightens my closet-Buddhism. I can’t help it, that’s me, I care.
And it has a context for this TR, we passed over an area the size of several Aucklands’, full of factories, the air hazy with pollution and getting thicker as we descended into HKIA. The Captain quoted a visibility of 3 miles as we crawled blindly through the “grey-out”, murky and unhealthy looking, here lies the true meaning of the phrase “Made in Hong Kong”.
There is also the other side of the coin and that is that despite the pollution and expansion the Chinese know a thing or two about long-haul travel.
To transit in HKIA one does not have to fill in any paperwork, no waiver signing away your human rights in the face of the TSA, no BS, no pack-drill.
You get off the a/c, slightly wary, feeling there must be a catch somewhere and follow the friendly-smiley people’s directions, you ask nervously.
“Where is the transit lounge?”
They reply “Up, go up, all transit lounge”.
You stare in disbelief and mount the escalator to emerge in the vast, enormous and utterly huuuuuuuge departure gate area of HKIA. To one used to being locked in a cupboard and fingerprinted in LAX, to be ushered into a world of shops, showers, comfy seats, bars and special little luggage carts for your hand baggage, feels like trespass and you sneak about like kids in an orchard, silent and skulking for fear of being caught.
I blundered about and got my bearings, bought some water, well “Pocari Sweat” and Iced tea to be truthful and decided that as I then had 45 mins to spare I would go for a walk…a long walk.
Pausing only to photograph a hilarious sign
I set out to walk from gate 35 (our gate) to gate 1, I never made it, I walked for 20 minutes, stopping only for a poo and only got as far as the shops by gate 20.
Dude, this place is massive!!!!
I had to turn around at gate 20 shops and head back, arriving at gate 35 just as boarding commenced. Heck, that was a long way but I felt it had done me some good, blood was circulating and I had some pics on my cell-phone to show the boys and girls at home (who will stifle yawns and go “Gosh…an aeroplane…fascinating…zzzzzzzzzzz).
So, the last leg eh? I felt at last that I was nearly home; when we landed again I would be in good old AKL once more.
It was dark by now and what lay ahead would be familiar to me, the HKG-AKL leg of NZ38 is the same route and timings of the old NZ86, which I did last year on an NZ767 but it wasn’t boring, there was plenty to see inside the plane as HKG legs usually expose one to the slightly bizarre behaviours of Chinese pax.
Now I try very hard to be fair in my character assassinations but for some reason (living in AKL probably) there is always guilt attached to character assassinations of China and the Chinese and I don’t know why this is, still, having slated nearly every nation on earth I shall not stop the habit of a lifetime.
You see Asian Pax have an alternative view on privacy and personal space; it comes from living amongst the largest population on earth.
Many times I have found myself on an a/c being stared at by Asian pax, or jostled and pushed around by them and then there is the “no understand syndrome”.
OK, announcements pre-take off on HKG flights are in English and Chinese, as are the signs and those that aren’t are in universal pictograms.
Despite the “Seat backs up, trays away” announcement before take off, at least 6 Chinese pax in my direct view sat there with backs reclined and trays down, all of row 64 was like this.
FA comes and says “Seat backs up and trays away please” row 64 turns as one, like Meerkats spotting a buzzard.
No backs or trays are moved.
“Put seats up and trays away!” with hand gestures.
“No understand”
“Seat backs up!!!” More gestures which even a corpse would understand.
“Huh??”
“PUSH THE BUTTON!!!!!!” With this the FA leant forward, jabbed the release button and jolted the seat upright.
Reluctantly the rest of row 64 followed suite and then a few others did the same.
Later in the flight an announcement was made..
“Someone has been smoking in the toilets, if you know who it is please tell us”
and again in Chinese.
“Old Chinese guy I bet” I thought to myself and immediately chastised myself for my prejudice…..later in the flight I asked if they had caught the phantom smoker, the reply shocked me:
“Yeah, old Chinese guy…we knew it would be, always is, he did turn himself in and claimed “No Understand”…and what part of the Chinese announcement and the bi-lingual signs didn’t he understand???”
“Is it because they’re Chinese, or because they’re old do you think?”
No one ventured a reply.
But to rewind, the taxi out at HKIA is a long as you would expect for such a large airport but we got there and romped off skyward, through the haze and above the clouds, the airshow suggested that daybreak would come some where over the Great Dividing Range in Australia.
A meal was served and I had some chicken which was not too nice, I should have had the Chinese Beef in Oyster Sauce but I had that last year and even though it was superb I decided to risk the Chicken this time…I usually avoid chicken as it can taste fowl ha ha!!!
After another fab Merlot, I crashed out for a couple of hours and awoke with an urge to watch TV and after another disturbing episode of Little Britain I turned to Pirates of the Caribbean 2 which knocked another couple of hours off.
During one of my perambulations around the cabin I spent some time talking to…of all people…a large breasted red-head, NOT the LBRH from pt 2 but a complete stranger, a young woman, who, after 2 years working in marketing, woke up one morning and thought “This job is shite” and packed it all in to travel and work around NZ for a coupe of years, no plans, just do it…”good on her” I thought and gave her a contact in central AKL who may be able to sort some work out for her.
Good to see that people are still prepared to jump off the cliff and forget to hit the ground.
Daybreak and I became restless, not bored with the journey as much as eager to be home and hosed. I couldn’t sleep, I had done sufficient to make me feel that it was morning (and it was by NZ time) so I plugged myself into some music and a doco about the World Rally Championship.
The music helped me to drift off into my own little world and I sat gazing out at the clouds, not thinking, just “being” and before too much longer, 2 hours from landing, breakfast was served, a nice Kiwi all-dayer and I took my time savouring the experience, watching the kms tick by on the airshow, feeling more awake by the minute and more restless.
Finally, we started the descent into thick clouds and burst out just west and north of AKL, eased in over the north shore and gave me a good view of the finger of land I call home, over to the left.
The big old bird took her time swinging round to the right and into finals for AKL, approaching from the east from over by Waiheke Island, lower and lower over south AKL and onto the runway with a gentle bump and a colossal roar.
“Great” I thought, “made it!!”
After breezing through customs and having my tramping boots disinfected by MAFF I grabbed my pre-booked shuttle and was wafted home but instead of a euphoric feeling as per last years HKG trip, I sat back, looked out of the cab window and felt nothing but a feeling that for the first time in 18 days, life made perfect sense again.
AKL may have her flaws, as do all places really but to me, it is home……..
Last edited by Jafa39; Apr 16, 2011 at 3:14 pm
Apr 18, 2011, 1:27 pm
#3
Original Poster
Join Date: Jan 2011
Location: NZ
Programs: airpoints
Posts: 65
Apr 19, 2011, 4:17 am
#4
Join Date: Jun 2005
Location: New Zealand
Programs: NZ , QF , MK
Posts: 1,372
The Jafa does not need to imitate anyone , he has been writing TRs on another site pretty much since the days of the Wright Brothers and his style has been the same since time immemorial ( so have his jokes , but that's another matter ).
I love trip reports from both Eightblack and Jafa , but neither is imitating the other , they don't need to . There is always room for one more gifted, yet deranged, TR writer.
I love trip reports from both Eightblack and Jafa , but neither is imitating the other , they don't need to . There is always room for one more gifted, yet deranged, TR writer.
Apr 20, 2011, 4:58 am
#5
Original Poster
Join Date: Jan 2011
Location: NZ
Programs: airpoints
Posts: 65
FT members may be amused to know that ppgstf has since PM'd me and told me to get a life because he hasn't in fact offended me and I am some miscreant for thinking he is a girly-boy with no sense of humour.
I sent him off with a flea in his ear as I am no doubt old enough to be his daddy and won't take personal abuse from retards.
I may send Kiwiandrew round to roger him senseless or better still, make a pie of his pets and feed it to him...ho hum, what IS it about the online aviation community that attracts such GTR's???
I sent him off with a flea in his ear as I am no doubt old enough to be his daddy and won't take personal abuse from retards.
I may send Kiwiandrew round to roger him senseless or better still, make a pie of his pets and feed it to him...ho hum, what IS it about the online aviation community that attracts such GTR's???
Apr 20, 2011, 9:14 am
#6
Join Date: Jan 2010
Posts: 79
FT members may be amused to know that ppgstf has since PM'd me and told me to get a life because he hasn't in fact offended me and I am some miscreant for thinking he is a girly-boy with no sense of humour.
I sent him off with a flea in his ear as I am no doubt old enough to be his daddy and won't take personal abuse from retards.
I may send Kiwiandrew round to roger him senseless or better still, make a pie of his pets and feed it to him...ho hum, what IS it about the online aviation community that attracts such GTR's???
I sent him off with a flea in his ear as I am no doubt old enough to be his daddy and won't take personal abuse from retards.
I may send Kiwiandrew round to roger him senseless or better still, make a pie of his pets and feed it to him...ho hum, what IS it about the online aviation community that attracts such GTR's???
First sign of any critisism and you start crying and threatening to get the Mods on me.
Look, bottom line, I didn't enjoy your TR and said so. If you are that sensitive, post on A.net, they love people like you there!
Apr 20, 2011, 2:32 pm
#7
Original Poster
Join Date: Jan 2011
Location: NZ
Programs: airpoints
Posts: 65
I found your PM to me to be rude and invasive, like you are some OCD uberstalker......that's creepy dude......you owe me an apology.
You are entitled to your opinion but to PM the way you did and with the content that you did is unacceptable....I put you right on your erroneous assumptions as to the motivation behind my writing style and even that was tongue in cheek but you had to get all GTR about it and pursue me in private.
Try to take a little more Prozac with your other meds and please ensure you take them all on time.
You are free to not like my TR's but you do need to check your facts and have the maturity to stand corrected when you make an a-r-s-e of yourself.
Apr 20, 2011, 11:30 pm
#10
Join Date: Apr 2011
Location: Seattle, WA
Programs: AS Mileage Plan, UA Mileage Plus, DL SkyMiles
Posts: 37
Apr 21, 2011, 2:04 am
#11
formerly known as 2lovelife
Join Date: Dec 2000
Location: ORF : UA_Premier_Gold4Life, Bonvoy_titanium, Accor_Plat
Posts: 6,952
This thread has brought up an interesting set of issues.
If you don't like a Trip Report, no need to muddle it with jibberish, negative comments, or comments of any time actually. The proper protocal would be to click onward without comment. I found the post offensive and actionable.
Now, I will solicit the members advice.
I can do the easy thing and delete several of the above posts, maybe even give a warning or suspension... all things that I don't enjoy doing.
But once these posts are deleted, so is the history of a specific poster being an a$$.
Some may present the theory that by leaving the offending post their idiotic comments are presreved for eveyone to see, and a reminder of their true colors. Sometimes a quote can be usefull so said posters do not then recind and delete traces of their own embarrasing behavior.
As long as the original poster is OK with the posts staying there, I am glad to let the discussion continue (in this thread, or another one) and allow comment on what the members want from their forum. If the OP wants the posts deleted, I will gladly oblige.
I suppport the Original Poster in this thread. I am glad that they stood up to the complainer and exposed their stalking behavior and PMs that were in poor taste. This is all important information.
If you don't like a Trip Report, no need to muddle it with jibberish, negative comments, or comments of any time actually. The proper protocal would be to click onward without comment. I found the post offensive and actionable.
Now, I will solicit the members advice.
I can do the easy thing and delete several of the above posts, maybe even give a warning or suspension... all things that I don't enjoy doing.
But once these posts are deleted, so is the history of a specific poster being an a$$.
Some may present the theory that by leaving the offending post their idiotic comments are presreved for eveyone to see, and a reminder of their true colors. Sometimes a quote can be usefull so said posters do not then recind and delete traces of their own embarrasing behavior.
As long as the original poster is OK with the posts staying there, I am glad to let the discussion continue (in this thread, or another one) and allow comment on what the members want from their forum. If the OP wants the posts deleted, I will gladly oblige.
I suppport the Original Poster in this thread. I am glad that they stood up to the complainer and exposed their stalking behavior and PMs that were in poor taste. This is all important information.
Apr 21, 2011, 2:14 am
#12
Join Date: Jan 2010
Posts: 79
Jafa
No apologies from me. I have a copy of the PM you sent to me which is available to anyone who wants to see it. My PM to you was a response to that and I felt the Forum wasn't the place to answer it in.
I don't intend to enter a war of words with you as my parents always told me never to attack an unarmed man.
By the way, no-one is stalking you and if you think one PM from me equates to stalking, you seriously need help.
No apologies from me. I have a copy of the PM you sent to me which is available to anyone who wants to see it. My PM to you was a response to that and I felt the Forum wasn't the place to answer it in.
I don't intend to enter a war of words with you as my parents always told me never to attack an unarmed man.
By the way, no-one is stalking you and if you think one PM from me equates to stalking, you seriously need help.
Apr 21, 2011, 3:04 am
#13
Join Date: Mar 2007
Location: TSV, Australia
Posts: 2,402
This thread has brought up an interesting set of issues.
If you don't like a Trip Report, no need to muddle it with jibberish, negative comments, or comments of any time actually. The proper protocal would be to click onward without comment. I found the post offensive and actionable.
If you don't like a Trip Report, no need to muddle it with jibberish, negative comments, or comments of any time actually. The proper protocal would be to click onward without comment. I found the post offensive and actionable.
Having said that, in this case I don't think it is a huge deal.
Apr 21, 2011, 3:50 am
#14
Original Poster
Join Date: Jan 2011
Location: NZ
Programs: airpoints
Posts: 65
Nobody has complained about the TR being offensive, just that I was copying Eightblack's style....I can prove what date I uploaded my first TR on Anet (Friday May 6th 2005)
Eightblack joined FT on July 20th 2009.....so I can't be copying him now can I?
Everything in my TR's is true and provable....I can supply pics of the Large-Breasted Red-Head in part 2 if you like? :-) Everybody just go away now, this is supposed to be fun, like eating cake in the bath with a ladyfriend who charges by the hour :-) but its become like the Times Literary Supplement.
Eightblack joined FT on July 20th 2009.....so I can't be copying him now can I?
Everything in my TR's is true and provable....I can supply pics of the Large-Breasted Red-Head in part 2 if you like? :-) Everybody just go away now, this is supposed to be fun, like eating cake in the bath with a ladyfriend who charges by the hour :-) but its become like the Times Literary Supplement.