Leaving on a Jet Plane

It still hasn’t sunk in yet. I’m on a flight headed to Auckland to start my new adventure in New Zealand. I’m still dazed and overwhelmed with all the packing, the planning and goodbyes. I had a little scare with my visa when I first checked in at the LAX airport. The attendant could find no record of my working holiday visa that had been approved of 6 months ago. She called up NZ immigration, who confirmed that that I was definitely not in their system; despite my having called to make sure that I was approved. After a few panicked minutes, she said that she could issue a visa for me right there, but that I would have to go to immigration as soon as I got to New Zealand. Apparently, I’m pretty lucky, because their policy for giving out NZ visas is changing after tonight!

I left at 10:30 pm on May 31, 2007, and because of the International Date Line, I didn’t get to Auckland until June 2 at 6:15 in the morning. The flight was not too bad. I got my own TV, and I had a variety of movies to choose from. Half the time the 12 year old kid next to me was lying on my shoulder, but I think I did end up getting some sleep!

They let me into the country! Auckland immigration was quick and efficient; however, I had less then one hour to get to my connecting flight to Tauranga. I had to pick up my two checked pieces of luggage (marked “HEAVY” with bright orange tags by the airport staff), and find the shuttle to the domestic terminal, then stand in line for an agonizing 20-30 minutes to re-check my bags. But I did make it to the gate with 5 minutes to spare! I followed the rest of the Tauranga flight passengers onto the tarmac to board my next flight. I had no idea that the next plane was going to be so small. There were no overhead bins to store my carry-on bags, so I ended up carrying my backpack on my lap, because it was too big to fit under the seat in front of me, and the other, the captain stored on an empty seat. I’m surprised they let me on the plane! There was no flight attendant, and the crew consisted of the pilot and co-pilot, who was the one who made sure everyone had their seatbelts on.

As we left the Auckland coastline behind, and the tiny plane climbed above the clouds, it finally sunk in. I realized I was in a foreign country with no car, no NZ dollars (I hadn’t had time to exchange any money in Auckland) and having a difficult time understanding the English spoken here. Up to this point, moving to NZ was just planning and thinking, but it was now starting to become very real to me! However, I was also starting to get excited! My flight lasted 45 minutes and I was happy to see Uncle Les and Aunt Ruth, good family friends from Zimbabwe, waiting for me at the airport. My plan is to stay in Tauranga with the Yeatmans long enough to get a car so I can drive down to Hawke’s Bay, the region where my new home will be.

That first day in NZ was one of the longest of my life. The day seemed to go on forever. All I could think about was going to bed, but I was firmly advised by Aunt Ruth to stay up as long as I could. I made it to 8:00 pm despite my best efforts! Aunt Ruth sent me to bed with a hot water bottle and a tea tray in case I woke up on the middle of the night.

That first evening I was introduced to my first game of Rugby on the tele. The famous All Blacks played against France. I was shocked at how brutal the game is. I’m sure every one of those players has a head injury! I have to admit, though, it was more interesting to watch than American football. I’d describe it as a mix between football, hockey and soccer. The players are extremely athletic and quite fierce and intimating when they do the famous haka dance before the game. I wouldn’t want to be their opponent!