by What a trip. It started early on Friday morning when I took the tram to the train station. I had sinus pain and was sleep-starved from the steaming hot night before. How will I possibly survive this? My train to Budapest was delayed by half an hour, and that was just the beginning. Opposite me on the train was a man who’d been travelling with his large dog for four days. It was a cross between a golden retriever and a Siberian husky, and totally out of its happy place in such hot weather, poor thing. We had longish stops on both sides of the border – at Curtici and Lőkösháza – for passport checks, and things went properly pear-shaped soon after that. At Békéscsaba our sweaty air-con-free train went back and forth half a dozen times over 45 minutes so that a new engine could be connected, then we found out that there’d been a storm in Budapest the night before and our train would only go as far as Szolnok and we’d have to change. We lumbered on to Szolnok, and then neither me nor the dog-man nor anyone else had a clue which train to get on next. I got on a modern train whose destination was supposedly Budapest Keleti – the main train station – but had to get off at the small town of Maglód which I couldn’t see on any map. From Maglód I had to get two buses and the metro, then finally a bus to the airport. Trees had been uprooted in the storm – it looked like what happened in Timișoara in 2017. I’d given myself absolutely bloody ages to reach the airport, and that was just as well – the delays added up to three hours.
My online check-in hadn’t worked, so I wanted to get to the desk ASAP to hopefully get myself sorted. The lady at the desk was lovely. She had a good laugh at my itinerary, even showing it to her colleague. “Look what he’s doing. Going to Christchurch! Four flights! I haven’t seen this for months.” She asked me if had an electronic weeza for New Zealand. Huh? Then I remembered my Hungarian student who had a wery difficult time with Vs and Ws. I said I had a New Zealand passport so I didn’t need a weeza, then she checked my baggage right through to Christchurch and I was good to go. Getting to the airport in the first place was a such a hassle that I felt shattered – concerningly so – before I’d even stepped on the plane. Budapest Airport was remarkably unbusy. My flight, like almost all flights departing that evening, was delayed by over an hour and a half. My connection would now be pretty damn tight. The two-hour flight to Istanbul was fine. I got off the plane and onto the tarmac where I boarded the shuttle bus to the vast terminal. Inside I saw the departure board with my flight to Singapore – due to leave in half an hour – flashing red. Shit. I ran as fast as I could – pathetically slow, actually – to my gate which of course was right at the end of the vast concourse.
Istanbul to Singapore (ten and a bit hours) was a good flight. I was impressed with Turkish Airlines. They run their 777s with nine seats per row in a 3-3-3 configuration (most airlines do ten in a 3-4-3). What’s more, I had a spare seat next to me, so even though I was alarmingly close to the baby zone I got maybe four hours of shut-eye. The second half of the flight wasn’t much fun as I battled sinus pain and struggled to get enough drinking water. The days of flight attendants coming up and down the aisles with trays full of water or juice are over – now they create an artificial night to cut down on their workload. After our approach to the runway was caught by a camera under the plane, we landed in Singapore at 6pm – it didn’t feel like any time on the clock at all to me. With three-plus hours until my next flight boarded, I lay on a chaise longue and watched the sunset, which when you’re one degree north of the equator happens quickly. I was over half-way there, and out of Europe for the first time in seven years. I took the Skytrack train to another terminal, then got on the plane to Melbourne. Slightly annoyingly, there was a direct flight to Christchurch that left just before my flight. My flight to Melbourne was on an incredibly quiet A350 – I’m talking about the plane itself rather than the people on it. During those seven hours, I saw the second Avatar film – such an expansive film isn’t really worth it on a tiny seat-back screen. I only had a short stop in Melbourne before the final leg of my marathon journey – just over three hours to Christchurch. The plane was no more than 60% full and the service was exceptional, although when “Welcome aboard Flight 212 to Ōtautahi” came over the PA, I wondered momentarily if I’d got on the right plane.
I had great flights overall, but everything leading up to Budapest put me on the back foot, and my sinus problem was a huge handicap. Finally, at 3pm yesterday, I’d got through customs without having to pay hundreds of dollars for a rogue banana, then Mum met me in the arrivals lounge and we joined Dad in the car. It felt good to be back in New Zealand, and obviously seeing Mum and Dad again was quite wonderful. Waves of tiredness came over me on the drive to Geraldine. My parents’ place is homely and character-heavy, but all the work – now happening in earnest – would be beyond overwhelming to me. We had sausages and chips for dinner and I held out until nine before going to bed. I was out like a light and to my complete surprise I got ten hours.
I’ve managed to stay awake all day today – I’m coping much better than I imagined. Mum played golf today – it’s weird being back in a land of golfers – and Dad and I went for a walk up the Downs and through the beautiful Talbot Forest reserve, nicely done up with a new walkway. It was lovely to see the totaras and hear the sound of bellbirds, tuis and fantails.
