Day 1: Getting There

Confession Time: I did all my packing the day of. Mostly in the last two hours before leaving for the airport. Don't even ask me why. I mean, granted, I had thought through everything I was taking and how it would all fit, but still. I will never understand why I have such a penchant for leaving things till the last minute. But hey, it works.

I did in fact manage to pack carry-on only, which was very important to me almost from the beginning. It meant not worrying about lost luggage, no baggage fees, and not feeling like a human pack mule every time I was in transit. I read a lot of tips on blogs about how to know what you need and what you don't, and how to fit the things you do need in the best way possible. The main key: don't pack for every single scenario. I'll probably do a full travel tips post at a later date, so I won't expound further at this point.

Mom, Dad and I drove together to Dulles International in D.C., and after some minor hassles (I now understand why it's so important to arrive at least 2 hours early for international departures) I had my boarding passes and was headed to security, where we bid farewell with pictures and hugs.

All I have to say about airport security is this: make sure you search for any childhood pocketknives that could be hiding in deep, dark corners of your backpack. Also, applesauce totally counts as a liquid.

I slept for most of the flight from Dulles to LAX (didn't get a ton of rest due to all my last-minute cramming) and then knocked out the first sixty pages of The Fellowship of the Ring before arriving in L.A. at about 9PM.

I had no idea how enormous LAX is, because I've only flown to and from there on domestic flights. The international side of it is a whole other story. I walked outside at a good pace for fifteen minutes straight past terminal after terminal to get to mine. Along the way, I bonded with a bespectacled, blue-hoodied, leather-shoe-wearing dude heading to Melbourne, whose flight had been cancelled.

Then I got to fly Air New Zealand for the first time, and I have to rave about them for a moment. I’ve flown every couple years since I was about four years old and I’ve never encountered a flight staff so relaxed and friendly, or an airline so generous.

My flight with United was 5 hours and offered no complementary food, snacks, or alcoholic beverages.

By comparison, the Air NZ staff served dinner and snack trays within the first couple of hours, accompanied by several brands of NZ wine and other beverages. Less than an hour later, they came round again with the bottles of red and white to top off. Then, when we only had about two hours left of the nearly-thirteen-hour flight and I was already thinking about where I would buy breakfast, they came out with hot omelets, fresh fruit, and yogurt. I could have kissed them.

I booked Air NZ solely because I wanted to see the Middle Earth safety video in person (it was glorious, by the way) but next time, I’ll be back for the above-and-beyond service.

Alright, I promise I’m done being a walking advertisement. For now. But can I just say how cool it was walking around the Auckland airport? For real:

 

I'll simply sign off with an excerpt from my travel diary: 

My favorite part of the trip so far was nighttime over the Pacific. When you look out the window, you see nothing but utter blackness below. But then, as your eyes adjust, you see the stars. Even with the brightness of the beacon on the wingtip, they’re still beyond count. And you feel as if you’re not so much below them as among them. As if they’re just across the way and maybe if you changed direction, you’d pass right between them.

Then, you slowly begin to make out the clouds below, and everything is just a touch lighter. 

 

The clouds change from white to pink and soft orange, and you can finally see the water below—endless and mind-boggling. The sky grows lighter still, even though you can’t see the sun, and the water shifts from black to blue.

And then you see them.

Mountains.

After unfathomable miles of unbroken waves, you see green shores. Mist rests between the peaks. Then the peaks turn to hills, and the hills turn to houses. Then you’re close enough to see the cars traveling on the left side, and it hits you: you’ve arrived.

And even though you’ve never set foot on those shores before, when the wheels hit the ground, it feels like coming home.