October 21st, 3.45 PM.
That was the date, the exact time of my scheduled departure from Italy, destination Auckland, New Zealand. Everything was ready: my 85 liters backpack stuffed to the very limit, a decent-sized gray luggage (yeah, fancy backpacking, as many first timers) and a smaller backpack, the carry-on, the one dubbed "technology pack". In that I had just so many $$ in tech equipment: camera, 2 lenses, laptop, chargers, spare batteries, phone.. you name them. That was the piece of baggage I had to look after.
Gathering all of this stuff at home I felt like I was carrying my whole life with me. The tangible one at least, the material one.
I stuffed everything in the trunk of my dad's car and out we set. Once again, that Venice airport that saw me leaving quite a few times before. This one was a big one though.
It was a lame day, kind of hazy, dull colors around the plains. Didn't make for much happiness or smiles around us. Me and my family, no goodbye parties or stuff like that. We got to the airport swiftly and I checked my bags in. A little bit of confusion at the desk made for a bit of worrying but the inconvenience got solved eventually. Ready to go.
It felt weird saying goodbye to my fellas. I love my family, even though I can be blamed for not letting them know it too often. A letter for Christmas doesn't cover for a whole year, right? And in those occasions you'd really like them to know how much they're important to you, how much you'll miss them.
Well, I didn't let them know then either. Could be 'cause I'm a guy, and guys rarely are that opened and emotional huh? Could be 'cause of the very moment I was living. I was very aware of what laid ahead of me, I could have been overwhelmed. Either way, I just gave everyone a hug, mom, dad, my brother, smiled, tried to keep them cool and tear-less, and eventually, walked away. I saw my family hanging at the departures gate til I turned my back to them one last time, headed to the security check. Gone, til who knew when.
The flight was smooth but sad towards Dubai. I witnessed a gorgeous sunset, the deepest colors of the fading sun casting on the wings of that Emirates plane. Brought to my mind something like the end of a phase of my life, sunset over my first quarter of a century. Sadness inspired by those warm colors, slowly receding to colder reds, purples and blues, reminded me of my family that would miss me, of my friends I wouldn't see. The consolation was in the awareness that a sunrise was on the way. A totally new one. I was too sleepy by then to be fired up though.
Dubai passed by, I had a technical layover in Kuala Lumpur and I was then in Melbourne, waiting for the last flight. I was telling myself "Ain't no way I'm gonna fly down here anymore". It's just way too long. I felt worn out, tired, dry, dirty, hungry, thirsty, sickish. I already knew I wasn't the greatest flyer out there, and I was just getting a confirm. Before I tackled the last take off and landing, I bought a morning burger at Hungry Jack (later to be very well known), took a leak and headed towards the gate. Yet once again.
It felt like I spent the last 25 years of my life on a plane, when I finally landed in New Zealand. happy to be arrived but far from feeling relieved. It was 1.45 PM in Auckland, and I was still hours plus customs away from a long night sleep. Dammit. I pay a visit to the nearest toilet, trying to refresh myself as best as I could, and hit the customs. A pretty darn long queue stretches in front of me, a disheartening sight. Patiently, I slowly make my way towards the entry point. I easily obtain permission to entry and stay up to one year. Sweet, it was a start!
Just after that, I go collect my bags. I pick up my backpack and luggage, shovel one onto my shoulders and push the other towards the exit. I hear somebody shouting towards me while I was crossing the "nothing to declare" gate. Apparently, a guard wants to inspect my backpack. "I've got nothing sir, no food, dairy, meat or vegetables of sort sir".
"Got any camping gear on ya?"
"Hmm, yeah, I've a tent with me. Does that matter?"
I did forget that I was down there. Down in those countries (New Zealand, Australia) where flora and fauna distract imports have damaged local species to astonishing levels. Therefore, down there, they do care a lot about what you're bringing into the country, in an effort to not repeat mistakes like the ones in the past.
"Yes, so please put your backpack over there", tells me the guard.
"And please take the tent over there", pointing a small window on the wall.
The tent gets inspected aside.
I do get my pack back, half opened, I push my luggage towards the exit and get told to recollect my tent on the other side, once exited. Found another little window on the other side, I ask for my tent and they give it to me. Opened.
"What the hell!!", I exclaim, just to myself. Of course those fellas don't waist time in packing your tent back up, therefore it's your job to do it, right in the middle of a busy airport. Right on.
I start folding my tent - a task I wasn't that familiar with at the time - spreading it on the floor with people walking all around me, probably thinking that mine was the ultimate layover sleeping place.
I complete the job feeling kind of ashamed, grab my stuff and dart towards the bus terminal. I buy a ticket, change some bucks in kiwi dollars, and head to the bus stop.
It seems kind of easy, less complicated than I thought. The bus ride is fairly short and I hop off, making sure it was the right one asking to the driver, at my stop, about 300 yards from the motel I booked for the night.
So far, so good: I arrived alive, didn't pass out due to exhaustion, got all my baggages, and found the motel. I just had one other task to tick off my to-do list for the day: finding a car to buy.
It ain't no joke to find a car that satisfies your cost budget, that can actually run and that has no charges or fines on it. Especially in a country when you start to notice a quite different English than the one you're used to. I limited my conversations as much as I could. I was able to understand, probably, some 30% of what people said. I had my first taste of kiwi English.
Back to the car issue, as soon as I check in at the motel, I unload the burden on my shoulders and start right away a search for a transportation mean on gumtree, the craigslist for Australia & New Zealand. I set my maximum budget for 2500 NZ$, or about 2000 US$. Of course, most of them have some flaws, some major ones too. I can't afford those. I need a ready-to-go vehicle. Registration possibly paid and road expenses too. And you don't find many of those cheap cars satisfying those criteria as well.
The one that I bump on and looks like a possible candidate is a red '91 Honda Accord, with rego and road fees paid for and no mechanical issues. Just some scratches and a couple decent dents on the body. I call the guy and he still has it.
"Would you meet me tomorrow morning? I'll buy it right away, cash-in-hands if it runs properly"
"Sure mate, where do you want to meet up?"
I get an appointment with him at the motel for the following morning, and when I hang up the world looks bright.
I did everything I needed to do, I was about to get some food in my belly and the bed was inviting me to try it out for a loong sleep. I went to sleep dreaming about freedom, and having nightmares about taking more planes.
That was the date, the exact time of my scheduled departure from Italy, destination Auckland, New Zealand. Everything was ready: my 85 liters backpack stuffed to the very limit, a decent-sized gray luggage (yeah, fancy backpacking, as many first timers) and a smaller backpack, the carry-on, the one dubbed "technology pack". In that I had just so many $$ in tech equipment: camera, 2 lenses, laptop, chargers, spare batteries, phone.. you name them. That was the piece of baggage I had to look after.
Gathering all of this stuff at home I felt like I was carrying my whole life with me. The tangible one at least, the material one.
I stuffed everything in the trunk of my dad's car and out we set. Once again, that Venice airport that saw me leaving quite a few times before. This one was a big one though.
It was a lame day, kind of hazy, dull colors around the plains. Didn't make for much happiness or smiles around us. Me and my family, no goodbye parties or stuff like that. We got to the airport swiftly and I checked my bags in. A little bit of confusion at the desk made for a bit of worrying but the inconvenience got solved eventually. Ready to go.
It felt weird saying goodbye to my fellas. I love my family, even though I can be blamed for not letting them know it too often. A letter for Christmas doesn't cover for a whole year, right? And in those occasions you'd really like them to know how much they're important to you, how much you'll miss them.
Well, I didn't let them know then either. Could be 'cause I'm a guy, and guys rarely are that opened and emotional huh? Could be 'cause of the very moment I was living. I was very aware of what laid ahead of me, I could have been overwhelmed. Either way, I just gave everyone a hug, mom, dad, my brother, smiled, tried to keep them cool and tear-less, and eventually, walked away. I saw my family hanging at the departures gate til I turned my back to them one last time, headed to the security check. Gone, til who knew when.
The flight was smooth but sad towards Dubai. I witnessed a gorgeous sunset, the deepest colors of the fading sun casting on the wings of that Emirates plane. Brought to my mind something like the end of a phase of my life, sunset over my first quarter of a century. Sadness inspired by those warm colors, slowly receding to colder reds, purples and blues, reminded me of my family that would miss me, of my friends I wouldn't see. The consolation was in the awareness that a sunrise was on the way. A totally new one. I was too sleepy by then to be fired up though.
Dubai passed by, I had a technical layover in Kuala Lumpur and I was then in Melbourne, waiting for the last flight. I was telling myself "Ain't no way I'm gonna fly down here anymore". It's just way too long. I felt worn out, tired, dry, dirty, hungry, thirsty, sickish. I already knew I wasn't the greatest flyer out there, and I was just getting a confirm. Before I tackled the last take off and landing, I bought a morning burger at Hungry Jack (later to be very well known), took a leak and headed towards the gate. Yet once again.
It felt like I spent the last 25 years of my life on a plane, when I finally landed in New Zealand. happy to be arrived but far from feeling relieved. It was 1.45 PM in Auckland, and I was still hours plus customs away from a long night sleep. Dammit. I pay a visit to the nearest toilet, trying to refresh myself as best as I could, and hit the customs. A pretty darn long queue stretches in front of me, a disheartening sight. Patiently, I slowly make my way towards the entry point. I easily obtain permission to entry and stay up to one year. Sweet, it was a start!
Just after that, I go collect my bags. I pick up my backpack and luggage, shovel one onto my shoulders and push the other towards the exit. I hear somebody shouting towards me while I was crossing the "nothing to declare" gate. Apparently, a guard wants to inspect my backpack. "I've got nothing sir, no food, dairy, meat or vegetables of sort sir".
"Got any camping gear on ya?"
"Hmm, yeah, I've a tent with me. Does that matter?"
I did forget that I was down there. Down in those countries (New Zealand, Australia) where flora and fauna distract imports have damaged local species to astonishing levels. Therefore, down there, they do care a lot about what you're bringing into the country, in an effort to not repeat mistakes like the ones in the past.
"Yes, so please put your backpack over there", tells me the guard.
"And please take the tent over there", pointing a small window on the wall.
The tent gets inspected aside.
I do get my pack back, half opened, I push my luggage towards the exit and get told to recollect my tent on the other side, once exited. Found another little window on the other side, I ask for my tent and they give it to me. Opened.
"What the hell!!", I exclaim, just to myself. Of course those fellas don't waist time in packing your tent back up, therefore it's your job to do it, right in the middle of a busy airport. Right on.
I start folding my tent - a task I wasn't that familiar with at the time - spreading it on the floor with people walking all around me, probably thinking that mine was the ultimate layover sleeping place.
I complete the job feeling kind of ashamed, grab my stuff and dart towards the bus terminal. I buy a ticket, change some bucks in kiwi dollars, and head to the bus stop.
It seems kind of easy, less complicated than I thought. The bus ride is fairly short and I hop off, making sure it was the right one asking to the driver, at my stop, about 300 yards from the motel I booked for the night.
So far, so good: I arrived alive, didn't pass out due to exhaustion, got all my baggages, and found the motel. I just had one other task to tick off my to-do list for the day: finding a car to buy.
It ain't no joke to find a car that satisfies your cost budget, that can actually run and that has no charges or fines on it. Especially in a country when you start to notice a quite different English than the one you're used to. I limited my conversations as much as I could. I was able to understand, probably, some 30% of what people said. I had my first taste of kiwi English.
Back to the car issue, as soon as I check in at the motel, I unload the burden on my shoulders and start right away a search for a transportation mean on gumtree, the craigslist for Australia & New Zealand. I set my maximum budget for 2500 NZ$, or about 2000 US$. Of course, most of them have some flaws, some major ones too. I can't afford those. I need a ready-to-go vehicle. Registration possibly paid and road expenses too. And you don't find many of those cheap cars satisfying those criteria as well.
The one that I bump on and looks like a possible candidate is a red '91 Honda Accord, with rego and road fees paid for and no mechanical issues. Just some scratches and a couple decent dents on the body. I call the guy and he still has it.
"Would you meet me tomorrow morning? I'll buy it right away, cash-in-hands if it runs properly"
"Sure mate, where do you want to meet up?"
I get an appointment with him at the motel for the following morning, and when I hang up the world looks bright.
I did everything I needed to do, I was about to get some food in my belly and the bed was inviting me to try it out for a loong sleep. I went to sleep dreaming about freedom, and having nightmares about taking more planes.
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