Day 38 – Saturday, April 27th
No Bier today, nobody took the hint, but then the Hector hardly pitched it loudly. One glass of red, wine, does that count as – teetotal? My first bar job at Wilson’s Bar (Partick, Glasgow Scotland) had a barmaid who announced she was – teetotal – because for a week she drank sherry instead of vodka, – by the way.
It had been agreed on our first stay (Days 18-22) with Steve and Alison in Auckland that Marg and Hector would take them out for dinner. The choice was theirs and a return to Des Traditions it was not.
Firstly, being Saturday, Daddy was treating the family to lunch. This included us. Top hospitality. I have been trying to source Steve’s sense of humour. James Thrurber comes to mind.
The Landing at The Riverhead is a favourite, a bit of a drive to the north of Greenhithe. En route, we passed RNZAF – Auckland-Whenuapai, hopefully that houses more of a defence capability than the – Disappearing Gun – outside Dunedin.
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The Landing at The Riverhead has a bit of history. As well as being a trading post, the walls told of a time when the employers at Waitemata Brewery cut the wages of the workforce by 10%. In doing so, the elasticity of demand took hold, a three year stagnation. Nobody had money to buy anything other than the necessities. What no Bier? Once restored, that must have been quite a party. All the more reason to increase the UK State Pension to £20k per annum.
Then there’s the lady who drank Waitemata every day and lived to one hundred. Or two hundred, in New Zealand years.
Fish and Chips is proving to be the best way of avoiding Pizza and Burgers. Also, when one is served proper Chips, it makes a difference. Heaven help us when we reach the USA.
Bier was resisted despite more Monteith’s being available. I decided to leave the memory of my most southerly Bier intact.
We had arrived in two vehicles, Steve with the weans who had magically appeared as if a bell had been rung. Alison had driven Marg and I to Riverhead, after lunch she didn’t take the hint when I pointed out that Hallertau Brewery was incredibly close to our destination. Given the name, the Bier would have been traditional Deutsche Bier, presumably.
I sat in what had become – my spot – for the afternoon. In addition to catching up with some Bier-Traveller, I was still researching whether our visa for the USA is the right one. We leave tomorrow, still time to fix it. But to the best of my knowledge, choosing – transit – still looks like the best option. We are – transiting the USA – but for me, a – transit visa – doesn’t let you out the airport. Sleep will be lost tonight, Marg simply has to pack the bags, the Hector has all the responsibility.
Cintra Malaysian – Westgate – was not such a long drive from Greenhithe. Three of our fellow lunchtime diners had better things to do this evening, this left Kaylie to join us. Westgate, a town centre without a town. If one does not have a designated driver, then these places don’t work. The UK does not build such – food/shop outlets – completely outwith our cities, and we do have public transport.
Malaysian, cuisine, how does this differ from Chinese? It all looks the same, it all tastes the same. Surely, the wholesalers stock all the same sauces? Stir-fry, and chuck a sauce on top, hey presto! The avoidance of the – sweet red chilli sauce – is the Hector priority. Beef with BIG onions and capsicum was Hector’s main course, how ironic. The bowl of Hot &Sour Soup may have been the best ever encountered, if not just for the sheer volume. One glass of red wine and Marg did not play the – dessert – card.
The restaurants visited today:
The Landing at The Riverhead – 33 York Terrace, Riverhead 0820
Cintra Malaysian – Westgate – 1 Kohuhu Lane, Massey, Auckland 0614
Day 39 – Sunday, April 28th – Auckland to Honolulu, via Sydney
Today we leave New Zealand. Today we cross The International Dateline. For the purposes of the novel, Phileas Fogg conveniently – forgot – this. We get to live – today – twice. There shall therefore be two entries for April 28. Tonight, Hector will see the sun set then rise again in the morning. Surely that makes the day we arrive in Honolulu – Day 40? On the flight from Sydney there was another dilemma, read on.
Aiming to be at the airport for 14.00, there was a final brunch. With two flights ahead, three more meals were anticipated, we wouldn’t go hungry.
In Greenhithe it was a case of what did Alison not have in her fridge? I managed to keep the brunch as minimal as possible, this is what I got away with. Why are Alison’s fried eggs so good? We did practice american-speak in their preparation. Over-easy, my arse.
There was a farewell photo taken at the pool. The Hector congratulates himself on not having been conned into entering the cold water. Going full circle, a Pukeko Bird also bade farewell.
As Alison drove us to the airport, so once again Downtown Auckland was across the bay. Two visits to Auckland and still the Hector never set foot on these streets. Life in the suburbs.
Flight QF 146 to Sydney, 16.05 – 17.50, a three hour flight, a two hour time difference. We were flying west which somehow does not go against the rules of our One World ticket where flying in one direction only is the requirement.
Check-in was smooth, boarding passes for both flights secured, luggage to be collected at Honolulu.
Unlike our domestic departure to Wellington, there was proper security, but nobody had asked if we had proof of the right to enter Australia or USA.
The 737-800 was not full, we had an empty aisle seat and so were able to spread out. Three hours, less, time to get more writing done. The Qantas movie selection had not changed in the last month, no distraction.
Flight QF 103 Sydney to Honolulu (onwards to New York), 20.25 – 09.50. The transfer at Kingsford Smith International was a breeze. No more security, if we had any contraband, they weren’t caring. Still no request for our ESTA. However, our two hour wait in the departure hall became three. No advice, no information, yet the staff manning the gate made no eye contact with any customer, no announcement.
Meanwhile, kick-off at Love St. was looming. The teams were announced, would I get to see The Famous? Maybe missing the match avoided more frustration.
Boarding began for the 787-9, a lengthy process. As each group of seats were called, so staff members referred to a clipboard. Each called out numbers, 1,7,8, had yet to be found. Marg and Hector turned out to be 7 & 8. We were taken aside, separately, who are we, why are we travelling?
Had Hector cocked-up the ESTA application? Not so far, pass.
Seated in a set of three seats on the starboard side, once again the aisle seat was free. Lots of space as we headed back eastwards towards Hawaii. Crap movies, more writing. My Aussie/NZ plug fused the power socket, just as well I had three to choose from.
Flying east, the time zones advanced. As we flew north of New Zealand so our earlier two hour clock change backwards was nullified. Approaching midnight on the clock, it was already 29/4 beneath us, Monday. Yet it was 28/4, Sunday we were to relive.
I watched the sunrise, the dawn of a new day for us, maybe it wasn’t.
Jules Verne had no such concerns when he wrote – Le Tour du monde en 80 jours.
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