In Transit

I left the farm yesterday and have basically been in transit since.

It was a three-hour drive to the airport in Christchurch (where, incidentally, I saw the lady who gave me bad news about my "excess baggage" the last time I left from there; I wasn't feeling cathartic, though...).

My flight to Auckland was delayed, and so the only thing to do when I finally arrived at the hotel was to eat Indian food in my room and watch the All-Blacks destroy Ireland. Oh, and listen to the gaggle of giggling girls through the paper-thin walls. That was fun.

I had to wake early for my 10:30 flight out of Auckland because of the "three-hours prior" check-in rule that's in place. While checking in, I was informed that, once again, I was carrying excess baggage. Excess in this case being the exact same baggage I brought with me.

I tried to explain the absurdity of this, but the complaints fell on deaf ears. The lady even commented on the fact that I was under the weight limit. Apparently, the irony was not evident. If I were more clever, I would have found a gigantic trash bag and some packing tape. As it was, I simply pointed out that I was basically being held hostage for $200 (NZD), acknowledged that it wasn't the lady's fault, and left to pay the tab.

Luckily, the customer service lady was a bit more competent than the check-in lady, and I only ended up being charged $115 (NZD). There's a letter in the works about how the inconsistent enforcement of absurd baggage rules (the rule, incidentally, is one checked bag and one carry-on for an international flight) doesn't really help anyone.

Since I didn't have breakfast and didn't sleep well, "The Baggage Incident, Part 2" raised my crankiness level to the setting just past eleven. A mediocre latte and my pear helped a bit, and the full meal I had a bit later helped a bit more.

I watched Safe House (surprisingly not awful) on the plane, was fed (there was ice cream!) and caffeinated (also mediocre) again and felt a lot better. As we descended into Fiji.

Fiji is hot and humid, as you'd expect. This is bad if you've just come from tramping (hiking) in the high hills when it's been 40 (F) out and peeling layers as you went. I was, once again, dispirited. The passport lines and baggage claim area and customs lines were all long and annoying. And, I had to go through the process of paying a quarantine penalty for a sealed food item I brought with me from New Zealand. Not knowing the exact exchange rate (I thought I remembered the NZD to FJD rate being similar to the USD to NZD rate, but wasn't sure) I was a little panicked. In the end, it was $5.60 FJD, which is about $3 USD. Totally.

I cleared the customs, stowed my bags, and ventured out. There isn't much to see in my time radius, as it turns out, so I'm camped at an outdoor, but shady hotel restaurant. I ate some sort of local raw fish covered in coconut cream, citrus, and a light relish.

I'll head back to the airport in a bit. Even though it will enhance my sense of being in limbo. I'll land in LA, go through customs again, and then trek to my LA-NY red-eye. I'll then hustle to my flight to Portland followed up by a two-hour drive to camp. That will be the morning of the 25th and my trip will have reached an end (though, I think it has already concluded).