Boxing day airport shuffles

 It seems to me, being a writer with a moderately good grasp of grammar, that a travel blog is perhaps the best way to diary my trip. It's on the internet so therefore it is here forever, easily shareable and never to be forgotten.

Boxing day morning finally arrived. I had spent most of Christmas day, leisurely packing, restlessly checking the weather forecast constantly and praying frantically for fine weather to get out of Kerikeri Airport, notorious for strong winds and poor visibility. The day began calm and sunny, not a trace of wind. God had heard my prayers and answered, even though I had spent a restless night sleeping on my son's couch with the beloved dog, Rex, we set off for Kerikeri airport somehow just making it in time for baggage check-in. Aren't phone apps great, I checked onto the plane from the carpark while directing my son to the spot for my drop off.

I was soon in the air, seated next to a cinematographer, a nice young chap from New Zealand now residing in Spain. As well as his successful and highly interesting role in the film industry, he was also a guide for high end travel parties, his clients very wealthy international tourists. That evening he was meeting a Brazilian family. I was impressed. So good company on a 40-minute flight to Auckland. 

Then began the tedious process of getting to the international departure terminal, that I chose to walk to, as it was a nice sunny, breezy day and took me 10 minutes, pushing my case and backpack in the trolley. Through customs and departure, I stopped for some overpriced 'duty-free' shopping, finally settling on a bottle of premium NZ sparkling Cuvee from Marlborough and some expensive but delicious 'vegan friendly' dark chocolates made in Mangawhai, Northland. Ha ha! North and South Island treats. I also bought Catherine a lovely Ecoya candle. I love them and I hope she does too.

I chatted to a cute young lady from California; we lamented the distances we had to walk to just get.on.the.plane. Onboard, I had the good fortune of having an empty seat between myself and another woman. I watched the latest Led Zepplin documentary, "Becoming Led Zepplin" and thoroughly enjoyed it. Then had a tasty chicken salad for late lunch with a banoffee ice-cream, yum! Read my book and dozed, finally arriving in Melbourne on time. Once outside the arrivals lounge, and getting lost and confused about shuttles, now feeling more than a bit fatigued from the long journey, I decided to walk to my hotel. I pushed my luggage in a trolley, only to get completely stumped in which direction to go, with my phone, data roaming refusing to work, probably due to the fact I was stranded beneath a large concrete carpark.

The carpark underpass and taxi bay I became stranded in

Finally, I took a punt and dodging shiny taxis I crossed the road and continued down the footpath heading towards a fast downtown Melbourne street, searching for a literal sign on the large building across the road, that my hotel could be close by, and there I found it. Discreetly labeled on the glass front door, Ibis Styles Hotel. My pilgrimage to a distant mecca was now over. I hurried across the street, feeling faint with equal parts excitement and relief as I passed through the silent sliding doors into the hushed and sparkling foyer of my hotel where a charming concierge patiently helped me with  mycheck in using the hotel app screens atop the counter. A 15-foot Christmas tree glittered and winked behind me as I fumbled with my glasses so I could see to enter my details. My concierge handed me two key cards for my room, a slight twinkle in his eye, "in case you need a spare card". I think he really meant, 'you look like someone who would leave her keycard in the toilet and then cry 'lost' at the reception counter at midnight. He probably guessed I was a writer too, and lover of sea-drenched, sandy dogs.

 Off I headed to the elevator, dragging my cases, stepped in, pressed 2 and waited to ascend. Eventually the door opened again, and too my surprise, I was still on the ground floor. The lady chuckled and told me I needed to use my keycard to tap on. This was to be a constant source of frustration for me throughout my short and comfortable, overnight stay - forever trying to set the shiny, steel box to take me up or down. Once in my room, I flopped onto my bed, staring at the large screen TV on wall that said, WELCOME CURREEN, MR. Bless me, I'd arrived.