Fast-forward to a birthday
Jan. 3-4, 2024, Tahiti to Auckland and across the international date line
For the first time maybe ever, I was eager to get on a plane. Let’s keep going!
We woke at 6 a.m. to catch a cab at 6:30 to the airport. Fortunately the sun rose at 5:30 and at 6, was beginning to touch the tops of the mountains on Moorea, so I was greeted with a beautiful sight even though I was barely awake. I hadn’t planned to shower but I had a horrible sleep with all kinds of travel anxiety dreams that I now forget, except one where I couldn’t open my eyes. I took a quick rinse and struggled with the most complicated shower valve arrangement I’ve ever experienced.
The airport was jammed. I’ve never seen so much activity so early. We had time to spare so got a mediocre breakfast at a cafe. The cashier there yelled at R. for asking for butter for me. The basket of pastries I’d ordered turned out to be four pieces of baguette. No air-conditioning and the airport was stuffy and hot.
I forgot to mention tattoos. Everyone in French Polynesia had tattoos, mostly in what I will ignorantly call a Polynesian style. At some point I’d learned that many ? of the Polynesian peoples did not have any written language and tattoos were a sort of passport, letting people know where you were from and your history. Also they were incredibly painful to get, done with a sharks tooth, usually got infected, and sometimes took a year to heal. OUCH.
I mention this now because an older couple (from New Zealand based on their accents) sitting across from us had fresh, elaborate arm tattoos, still in their plastic wrap, and they were clearly smitten with them as they kept pulling up their shirt sleeves to admire them. I gave them a smile, a nod, and appreciative eyebrow motions, and they smiled back. I’d created a whole backstory in my mind about these being their first tattoos and they’d saved up for the trip to Tahiti to get them.
We took another thrilling walk across the tarmac to the plane. First trip on Air Tahiti! You aren’t allowed to take photos on the tarmac and I tried to warn R. to do it on the down low, but he didn’t hear me and got in trouble. I succeeded due to my speed and stealth.
After we were seated the flight attendant brought me a glass of champagne. : ) Paper cup to be precise. I’d joked to R. that when we crossed the date line and it became January 4th, my birthday, I wanted me and everyone on the plane to have a glass of champagne to toast me. If I was getting a rip-off short birthday, I wanted to have as much fun as I could. I guess he’d written to the airline about my request and they did it! That was very nice of R. and Air Tahiti and though it was a little early (in the morning and not yet my birthday), I did drink it.
A few hours into the flight (there was no big hurrah when we crossed the date line) R. gave me my birthday present–a black pearl necklace. Meaning, not a bunch of pearls, but one big interesting crazy-shaped pearl on a leather cord. I’d been fretting about black pearls. I did want to get one while I was there at the source but it just didn’t happen. There wasn’t much shopping on Moorea and though there was a pearl store at the resort, I could tell it was an overpriced resort store, and I hated that they kept sticking invitations to “an evening learning about pearls” to our door, after which we’d get a free cocktail. Felt like a timeshare-type situation. The women that worked in the shop wore too much makeup and it was the only place on the property with air conditioning.
There was a pearl store at the airport and R. must have been laughing as I walked around, tut tutting about the prices, and giving up. It was a really sweet gift and I loved/love it.
The flight wasn’t long, just 5.5 hours, and my first glimpse of New Zealand…
Very promising!
I got bitched out at customs for bringing in clam shells. They saw them on the x-ray. A customs man had me dig them out of my suitcase and confiscated them and I had to fill out a form saying I’d voluntarily surrendered them. Here’s the thing. I checked on the internet about bringing in shells and it seemed like it was okay. Everyone on our plane was wearing huge shell necklaces their relatives had given them as a goodbye present. I read all the signs in the airport about what not to bring in to New Zealand and shells were not on them. R. had to throw out his beef jerky. I am a rule follower and not a crazy rebel with a clam shell collection. I forgot I even had them.
My sense of injustice warred with common sense, and the graphic designer in me really wanted to tell the dude HOW TO IMPROVE THE SIGNS. Thankfully common sense won out and I apologized and explained I didn’t know a clam shell was an animal and we left the airport unharmed. And you know what? Surprise from future me. When I unpacked from the trip I found a small clam shell. I got one!
We got a cab to our hotel with a really nice driver. He wore a tie. This was the first of many “oh my god everything is wrong that car is in our lane” moments. Yes, we’ve been to England and are familiar with the fact that some countries drive on the wrong side of the road, but we rarely took cabs or buses in the U.K., just the tube and trains. We were doing New Zealand via many cabs (ubers) and buses and you don’t get over the fact that everything is the same but different. Whenever I thought I had a handle on things I’d have an oh shit moment. I created a rule that whenever I was going to cross a street I pointed the forefinger of my right hand out to the right with the cheerful slogan “Death comes from the right…and then left” and that really helped.
Auckland. Feels like a city. High rises. Too soon to judge. Our room at the QT hotel is very cute but with a dismal view of a parking structure.
We went to the rooftop bar for drinks and patatas bravas and lamb pies. The views were okay…modern office buildings and a hint of the bay. People watching was fun. Everyone from New Zealand all speaking in the accent. Woo hoo!
R. took a walk around the neighborhood while I had some chill time before dinner. I didn’t feel like a wimp for taking a break – this had already been a big day. After sunset we walked a few blocks to Amano, a well-rated Italian place R. had researched and reserved. I don’t know if this was the best birthday ever but it was definitely the most interesting. Insert head spinning emoji and – Good Night!
Roadtripz and Other Journeys 