TRAVEL: New Zealand 28 Apr - 09 May, 2004

There and Back Again

I hope I’d do as good a job as Bilbo Baggins reiterating his adventures in Middle-Earth, scaling mountains and fighting Smog the ancient dragon. I did not see dragons, much less fight them. What laid before my eyes were, paraphrasing Elijah Woods’ words “every geographical and geological structure imaginable… and some unimaginable” and all that I fought was an overwhelming urge to deliberately miss my flight when the day of return to Singapore drew near.

But alas, here I am again, back in my scorching hot home after a swift 12-day adventure to New Zealand but the memory of it is far from fading.

It is the perfect getaway from the vicissitudes of life. A calming place for one to recollect him or herself, pull focus and get a new, possibly different, perspective of life that could sway one’s destiny. It was a trip for the spiritual self, and I’m glad I went on that journey.

Everyday I woke up to imageries of Jurassic proportions that had been sculpted by the gentle hands of time. One or two hundred million years old? I don’t know, but I’m pretty sure they will still be there, more beautiful than ever, long after I’m gone.

Quite frankly, one can’t help but feel small, ephemeral and temporary amongst the mountains and rivers that are going to outlive us all by a few million lifetimes. And with so little time between now and the end, shouldn’t I already seek affirmation to my own purpose of existence? What better place to do that than here in New Zealand, where time seems to stand still? An embarrassingly-tiny fraction of the time needed to create this magnificent land is what will take to fuse my thoughts, shape my mind and bolster my courage to reconnect with life.

28 April 2004, Wednesday: Singapore – Auckland – Christchurch

Every great journey begins with a single step; that would be the moment I boarded the plane. After a glass of white wine to go with my fish dinner, I was comfortably knocked out for most of the 9-hour journey to Auckland. One hour at the customs, another hour idling at the domestic airport in transfer and there we were in Christchurch – ready to rock and roll in one of the country’s oldest cities and one that held the strongest bond to its English heritage.

29 April 2004, Thursday: Christchurch

Our bus captain-cum-guide, Peter, is a fine example of old English charm. Not without what I’d theme the New Zealand sense of humour – don’t believe everything he says – a common denominator amongst New Zealand men as I would gradually discover. Well, whatever gets the rather passive Asians going can’t be too bad a thing.

First stop was the Antarctic Centre. It’s really not my type of thing to do, visiting museums. I’d had enough of confined, claustrophobic spaces – I couldn’t wait to run out and embrace the wondrous wilderness that this country was so famous for. But the fact that the US had based its Antarctic research centre in the next building and that it was the only place where flights departed on their perilous journeys to the Antarctica rendered it worthy of some closer scrutiny. While excitement peaked at the haglund ride and a simulated Antarctic snowstorm, it had at least been an educational tour.

Temperature at the South Island dipped below 10oC at night – a very nice change from the heat at home although our teeth began to chatter after a while. I worried constantly that we were under-prepared without winter jackets but maybe it was only a matter of adjusting to the new chillier climate.

While our natural thermostats did the adjustment, a walk around Cathedral Square proved too cold to handle so we snuck into Starbucks for some piping hot coffee and chocolate just before dinner. The Chinese dinner was decent, the hotel was cozy and I slept like I never slept before. I was definitely looking forward to the Tranzalpine train ride the following day, which would undoubtedly bring us into the heart of New Zealand’s scenic country.

30 April 2004, Friday: Tranzalpine Train Ride & Fox Glacier

The 2-hour train ride offered a spectacular view of the Southern Alps that formed the spine of South Island. Standing on the open deck with only a woolen pullover, the chilly country air bit into my cheeks as the train rumbled over ravines and rivers into tunnels beneath ancient mountains reminiscent of the mines of Moria. Ironically, the momentarily still air in the pitch darkness was a much welcomed relief to my cold-numbed cheeks and Rudolph-red nose.

When we finally alighted at Arthur’s Pass, I wondered what else could New Zealand offer that was more beautiful that what we had just seen. As it was, I found that photos were not going to do it enough justice, and no words could ever capture the glorious landscapes or explain the emotions that these splendid works of nature conjured. In fact, I’m embarrassed at this attempt to describe the majesty of these impeccable natural sculptures with my humble English vocabulary. But I’ll do my best – this is only but the beginning.

I cannot even begin to describe the pristine glacier towns that we came to – the Franz-Josef Glacier where we stopped for fuel, drinks and where we cleaned out the minimart’s peanut slabs, and the Fox Glacier where we’d be going for a glacier walk the following morning. These were clearly tourist towns, with young glacier challengers enjoying a moment of solitude beneath parasols on the balconies of cafes before taking on those massive icy landscapers. Mountains in the distance were breathtaking but it was how the sky lit up in the evening sun that amazed me. A gorgeous blend of orange, pink and fiery red – the last time I saw the sky in that palette of colours was in Texas on a smoldering evening.

01 May 2004, Saturday: Fox Glacier – Haast Pass – Wanaka

The fiery sky of the previous evening did not forewarn a misty morning. As our group departed for the Fox Glacier though, the mist cleared up a little with soft morning sunrays parting the heavy clouds. Not having to trek the glacier grounds in showers sure lifted our spirits. For me, the cute guide had a lot to do with it. We got a little worried for mom though, because Ben (that’s the guide’s name) mentioned the terrain would get rough. Mom was a tough woman and she was going to rough it out with us, and that got us a little worried. The tough lady soon proved us wrong.

It turned out the trek wasn’t too bad. The constant stops to catch a breather helped. By the time we came face to face with the mouth of the Fox, I was actually perspiring a little in the chill mountain air. For Heaven’s sake, I had on 3 layers of shirts, one jacket and a raincoat!

Ben wouldn’t let us go beyond the mouth of the glacier. I guess it was for people with more time, on a half-day or a full-day tour. Time was not a luxury that we had on this trip so off we went, retracing our steps in bitter disappointment. Well, not quite so for me because I managed some small talk with the cute guide all the way to the bus. Informative too, so I’d be very well-prepared the next time I decided to challenge the Fox. But would Ben be there? We were just lucky he took us out that morning, probably standing in for his over-booked staff (this is the best time for glacier climbing!), and groups were not part of his regular tour of duty.

By the time we bid the Fox goodbye, it poured. It rained 200 days a year so we counted our blessings for the 2 hours of good weather that morning. All the way out of the mountains, over the Haast Pass, it poured, rained and drizzled. Finally, warm sunshine greeted us in Wanaka, a most welcoming gesture just like everything else that this gorgeous little town ever spawned.

I fell in love immediately with the calm waters that swept the long, sandy shores of Lake Wanaka, the faraway cries of the gulls, the Southern Alps that brimmed the opposite end of the lake and the lovely folks who had the good fortune of calling it home. Mom panicked when I told her this was where I was going to settle down and raise kids. I wasn’t kidding. I’m working towards that.

Most appropriately, the wonderful news of my greatest inspiration’s new daughter came in the midst of this supreme beauty. My shoutout to you, BT – a nature-lover yourself, and little Kaia Nui.

02 May 2004, Sunday: Queenstown

Today, I turned around and watched our coach pull out of Wanaka. It suddenly occurred to me that every step into new amazing Kiwi experience brought us that many steps away from something no less spectacular. So I left a little bit of myself behind, which I vowed to return for later.

The next town that we came to was a gold-mining town called Arrowtown. It was where the inn of the Prancing Pony in Bree was set, the place where the 4 hobbits were supposed to meet Gandalf but ended up in the company of Strider (Aragorn) in the Fellowship of the Ring. Some distance away from Arrowtown was a bungy site where the adventurous took a steep dip into the river gorge from a bridge suspended some 40 feet above the gushing water below.

We swung into Queenstown – the city fit for Queens – a little bit after noon. Who dared suggest that this quaint little town was anything less than royalty? Its main lake, for a start, was nothing short of majestic. According to legend, the village hero rescued his love from a giant he had slain, whose monstrous carcass fell and created a huge dent in the ground, which became Lake Wakatipu. A vast network of rivers fed this massive body of water from ski fields in the distance, the very same mountain ranges that were glimpsed in the Lord of the Rings movies. Oh yes, somewhere along the Kawarau River “stood” the Pillars of the Kings, the Argonath. Our exhilarating one-hour jetboat ride that afternoon might have taken us beyond the royal gateway.

After a hearty Hard Rock café dinner, we snuggled in our hotel beds watching the penultimate episode of the New Zealand Idol. No surprise, it’s more a contest of popularity than raw talent. It was good bedtime entertainment nevertheless. The night was still early and we had no need to wake up early the following morning. It would be our free day and we could idle in bed all day if we liked!

03 May 2004, Monday: Queenstown

We woke up early all the same. The rest of our tour group had already left for Milford Sound, an optional day tour which we opted out of. Following breakfast, we headed back to bed and I drifted back to dreamland while my sister checked out brochures to find something adventurous to do (as I had promised Peter) the following day. It didn’t take her long to convince me that the Caitlins tour would be great fun. Indeed, it took me only one brief glance at the brochure’s description – the rugged Caitlins coast was the only place where rare yellow-eyed penguins, fur seals, elephant seals and sea lions co-exist in their natural habitats! Let’s go hunt some seals! I wondered if they had walruses.

Nobody warned us that Queenstown was right smack in the middle of a wet season. The Caitlins tour operator did promise great weather the following day and he’d better be right. Because I wasn’t going to be stuck in the rain again like this afternoon, high above Queenstown at the Skyline building after a pretty cool gondola ride up that seemed too risky to descend the hill on in the heavy downpour.

So we waited, and I read the Lord of the Rings Location Guide from cover to cover. It was nice to discover that we had passed or at least come in distant contact with a number of the film sites. In fact, a few scenes had been filmed in and around Queenstown such as the mountains beyond Lake Wakatipu. Wow.

Wow again when the rained finally stopped and the dull-coloured mountain ranges were now covered with pristine white snow! It was a beautiful sight – we had a good view before heavy fog clouded over. I was just glad it rained while we were up here. Simply gorgeous.

Simply cold too! The temperature must have dipped several degrees after the downpour. There was no way we were going back to our hotel without something nice and warm to settle our grumbling stomachs first. So Bombay Palace was the obvious choice. What could be better than good, spicy, hot curry over streaming rice on a freezing cold night? That was the best dinner of the tour.

04 May 2004, Tuesday: The Caitlins Adventure

Charles, our Caitlins discovery guide was very punctual. We weren’t too bad ourselves, all ready for the day’s adventure at 5 minutes to 7.30 am. The sky’s looking great – all signs pointed towards an awesome day for the great outdoors.

We’re the only ones up for the Caitlins adventure that day, except for one other young man from Auckland whom I’d mistaken for an acquaintance of Charles’ right until after the trip. Morgan was the epitome of friendly, chatty Kiwis. Seated next to Charles, he was full of questions from the start of the road trip right through the end, and kept us all entertained with his wacky antics. It’s a pity I was in the middle of the vehicle and couldn’t listen in on the conversation, or I’d have found out all there was to know about South Island and Charles’ family by the end of the trip.

First stop since leaving Queenstown was a fruit shed in Alexandra where huge bags of apples went for only NZ$5. Payment method? Just slip the cash into a wooden box at an unattended counter. It’s amazing how rural folks placed such good faith in their counterparts, or they simply couldn’t wait to get rid of the perishable goods with or without payment of any kind?

Shortly after that, we stopped for Charles’ home-made tea served with authentic Cromwell cheese on sesame seed cookies by a river in Roxbury – a beauty whose serenity belied multiple drowning incidents. Then we’re on the road again, driving past a sign that read “Jimmy Pies”.

Jimmy pie, oh Jimmy pie. New Zealand’s finest meat pies that we had the opportunity to learn about but no chance to try. It took Charles and Morgan quite a while to stop raving about it.

“The coast is near.” It felt like an eternity before Charles finally cued us on the approaching Caitlins coastline. I craned my neck to catch a glimpse of it but alas, we weren’t near enough yet.

Suddenly, it rose over the next bump! A massive bed of calm, clear blue water whose seamless convergence with the cloudless azure sky would have gone unnoticed but for the golden highlights of the afternoon sun on the faraway horizon.

Here, I shall pause and take a deep breath. I’m going to need all the oxygen to help me articulate this impending deluge of thoughts, words and emotions that I hope shall adequately describe one of the best days of my traveling life.

The panoramic view from a few hundred feet above sea level was absolutely stunning. Everywhere within a 180-degree pan on my left was a brilliant array of blue. Getting out of the vehicle to begin a short trek up to Nugget Point was the highlight of the trip so far. It brought us that much closer to the tantalizing Caitlins coast although I yearned to descend the steep cliff and plant myself atop one of the age-old boulders where a brontosaurus or two rested so long ago maybe? If those little guys in tuxedo (the penguins) could waddle their way up here to Nugget Point, I believed we could descend to the waterfront and get back up again later. Only time was not in our favour.

The rugged coast was out of reach for certain, at least for now, but we could see it up close through the eyes of the binoculars. I had been a great fan of physical geography for as long as I remembered. And for just as long, I had never been able to fully explain how every rock, river or mountain could be so immaculately sculpted by the forces of nature and I sure didn’t have the answer this time either. The stunning view inspired other thoughts but I could never imagine how these great structures had been created and co-existed in perfect harmony for multiple millennia, and if they would ever be transformed again before the end of time.

It took a trained eye like Charles’ to find seals among the rocks. And if you were a first-time binoculars user like me, happy adjusting focus and comprehending sight through magnifying lenses. Once I got a hang of it though, I had a blast watching seals and pups play or rest on the calloused rocks, or disappear underwater for a cool dip or fish. They were particularly fond of a narrow canal between two huge boulders that cast a nice shadow over the water, swimming among floating fronds, a camouflage that often fooled my eyes. Was it a frond or a seal ebbing and flowing with the tide? Ahh… it’s a pup!!

Several moments of utter tranquil, punctured only by Morgan’s occasional “scare-antics”, and many great pictures later, we were greeted by a group of boisterous kids on vacation. The viewing platform was obviously getting a little over-crowded so we thought we’d let the kids have their share of the breathtaking view and retreated to our vehicle.

Lunch was on the long albeit narrow beach but alas, I had my sneakers on so I had to keep my distance from the water, until I thought what the heck, let’s get wet! Finally a warm day on a fabulous beach and I wasn’t about to let it go to waste!

From beach to bush, things were just getting better as the afternoon drew on. Surat Bay where we’d be trekking through wild bushes for some sea lion sighting welcomed us in quite a bizarre way – underwear sunning alongside sneakers and slippers on the fence, inspiring Morgan’s notion of brassiere for flippers and his curious questions later about fashion in Singapore. Hmmm…

Mom wasn’t exactly thrilled at the prickly bush walk, much less the trek over soft sand dunes. The Milford Sound cruise would have suited her better but the Caitlins adventure would be etched deep in her memory as one of her most remarkable travels. Her trepidation abated when we arrived at the bay. We had to keep our excited voices down to prevent rousing sleepy sea lions hidden in the thick shrubs or spread out on the beach. Charles had forewarned us of the incredible speed that these animals could move at, not to mention their teeth could penetrate 3 layers of thick clothing. Judging from my current apparel, that really translated to as deep as my bones.

Our sea lion encounters were pleasant. On a few occasions, I followed Morgan’s lead and took several brave steps closer to the sleeping lions of the sea. One of them woke, looked us in the eye, yawned and went back to sleep. Such is a day in the life of a sea lion.

We took a different, rougher route back to the vehicle to avoid the sand dunes. Mom was still complaining about the rough terrain but I could tell she was rather pleased with her collection of shells and stones from the bay. So, no regrets.

We drove on for another half an hour or so before stopping at a spot overlooking yet another beach, where the waterline bordered the last remaining rain forests on the eastern shore of the southern parts. Again, as we pulled away, I was struck by overwhelming sadness leaving behind something so beautiful.

What we drove to proved to be well worth it. The Purakaunui Falls, one of the most photographed New Zealand wonders was an intriguing 3-tiered waterfall in the middle of a lush rainforest, which in tune with the seasonal change in the rest of the country, sported glimpses of gold in its canopy. Unfortunately, the time of day was not favorable to great photography. Mornings were the best, as the gushing water sparkled in soft sunlight – a mystical, surreal sight that appealed to both human senses and camera lenses.

In the delight of its tranquility, I once again marveled at the power of nature. Where did the water come from and where was it headed? Did water erode the sturdy rocks into these 3 distinct tiers that we saw today? How long did it take? I couldn’t help but draw parallels of our life journeys to the course of the water. If we couldn’t move boulders that obstructed the journey to our goals, we shaped them into something wonderful which would live on to be appreciated by future generations long after we’re gone…

It was slightly after 4 pm and almost time for us to journey back to Queenstown. Charles offered to make us tea before we embarked on the long journey. With great reluctance, we re-traced our steps out of the woods. I took it really slowly, while Morgan asked for a bit more time at the falls. My snail-paced walk out allowed me to soak in the sounds and sights of the jungle. It was great fun examining the wild flora even though I had no clue what they were or if they had a name. One thought clung to my mind – exactly how old were they? – for these woods seemed aged.

I had a close encounter with one of the ancient trees, presumably deceased because its trunk was hollow. It was into the hollow that I slipped, on the suggestion of the guy who lived life on the edge – Morgan that is, who took 2 great pictures of me in the belly of this sleepy hollow. My clothes were soiled after I eased out of the hole at the foot of the trunk. Morgan helped clean them and for a crazy moment, I relished the closeness so much that I thought this could be one guy that I’d like to get to know better. Why not, since he’s obviously someone who could show me a good time and for now, that’s a very important characteristic that I didn’t find in most men I knew. But alas, our short trek out of the woods did not leave enough room for a good get-to-know-you-better session save for a quick question about Auckland.

At half past 4 after we’d had our tea, Charles urged us to begin the journey back. There was only about another hour or so of daylight left for one final glimpse of the scenic south.

Sunset rising over the next bump was an awesome sight. But the real magic happened after sundown when the full moon was high, its rays penetrating the light drizzle to create a rainbow at night! How many times in a lifetime does one see one? It was certainly a first for me and I was truly stunned to even whip out my camera for a picture of this rare phenomenon. There it was, a complete arch over the plains where sheep and cattle had grazed just hours before, in its full grayscale glory. It held my gaze for as long as my eyes could behold.

The drizzle became heavy showers as we approached Queenstown. When it was finally time to say goodbye, our new pals earnestly welcomed us back to New Zealand, perhaps with more family and friends. As we made our way back to our rooms, I had a feeling I would be missing a piece of myself when we departed for Auckland the next day, left in Queenstown with ironically, someone from Auckland. Then again, what’s part of a travel experience had better remain as just that.

05 May 2004, Wednesday: Queenstown – Christchurch – Auckland

The rain of the previous night had created heavy fog that kept Mount Cook well out of sight. It was a pity that we had to give it a miss. The bitter disappointment soon turned sweet as my taste buds were treated to some of the finest raw salmon meat ever. What a fine platter of sashimi out of the milky blue waters from the glaciers. The original plan was to see some salmon swim in the farm’s ponds but really, salmon ready to serve was more appealing. Actually, only to me, as most of our tour group reeled from the sight and thought of fishy flesh sliding down their throats. Well, they didn’t know what they were missing, that’s for certain!!

Another stop at an animal farm and we were back in Christchurch, barely a week since we first landed there. In a mere 4 hours, we’d be up in the air heading back to Auckland. How sad… for I loved the South Island to bits. Would the North have just as much to offer? Perhaps better?

The opportunity to find out was delayed by an hour because our aircraft was stranded in Wellington due to bad weather. It was almost midnight before we were checked into a posh hotel only to enjoy a few hours of sleep in the oversized, over-comfortable beds and a scrumptious breakfast in the morning. Let the North Island adventures begin!

06 May 2004, Thursday: Auckland – Taupo

I was torn between idling in bed for another hour and going for a quick walk outside to look up the famous Sky Tower, just in case I didn’t have another chance before we took off for home. I chose the latter and my feet picked the road towards the harbour. I had no idea it was that close!!

The sun was just over the horizon, the harbour peaceful. I took a moment to reminisce my final morning at the Boston harbour 3 years ago, watching planes take off from the Logan Airport, the very place where 3 days later, one fateful aircraft would lift off the runway and into the World Trade Centre in New York.

After a few great pictures, I headed back to the hotel for a great albeit rushed breakfast. Our guide, John, a chatty local Chinese, arrived on the dot. After loading our luggage, we set off for Taupo. When I learned that we’d be driving through Matamata, a.k.a. Hobbiton, I was beyond ecstatic. What a sunken feeling I had when John said we would not be stopping by Hobbiton, for that required a day tour and trust him, it was not worth the money. I also stupidly passed up the chance to have a picture taken at the door of Matamata that said “Welcome to Hobbiton”.

Our long drive – in excess of 3 hours – was an informative one as John tried his best to provide us with extensive historical, cultural and socio-economic background of New Zealand.

Being the volcanic land where steam wafted out of rocky soil to create some of the most spectacular geysers and geothermal power stations that supplied at least 3% of the country’s electricity consumption, one would expect the North Island to be much warmer than the South. To our dismay, it turned out to be just as chilly especially after sundown. The steaming hot fries at McDonald’s were a huge relief. They never tasted better.

The day was relatively uneventful. Its highlight included a quick descend into the crater of a dead volcano, now a massive lake known as Lake Taupo, and a trip to the Huka Falls. Somehow, hurling volcanic rocks into the centre of the crater was less enjoyable than rippling the tranquil waters of Lake Wanaka with stones from its rocky shore. The rapid Huka Falls was just as dissimilar to the serene Purakaunui Falls. Instead, it triggered the zest for white and black water rafting, something that I would be returning to New Zealand for.

07 May 2004, Friday: Taupo - Rotorua

Today, we set off for the smelly city of New Zealand, Rotorua. This sulphur-filled land, though smelled perpetually like rotten eggs, was also clear of snakes for eternity. In fact, the entire New Zealand was snake-free!!!

Snakes were a great turn-off for me but I loved the rest of New Zealand’s animals! A quick visit to the Agrodome put us in close contact with sheep, lambs, hairy cattle and the rare alpaca, among others – it felt great to have them feeding out of my palm.

Our journey continued on to the Maori Village where we’d get up close with Maori culture, art and craft. John had earlier on briefed us on the history of the Maori settlement and where they stood in the modern New Zealand society today.

“Ki-o-ra” meant hello in the Maori tongue but I did not have a chance to say it. So it seemed the Maoris were well-assimilated into the “white, European” culture where English was the lingua franca. Oh well, better for me, there was no risk of the towering Maoris coming at me for mispronouncing the word. You know how a perfectly decent word can be completely twisted in meaning with just a single wrong syllable. Such is language.

I did not believe the Maoris were savage anyway. Their art form was delicate and the attention to detail was impressive. Nevertheless, much of their wood carvings were war-themed but it could be for self-defence, not offensive.

The Hangi feast – Maori-style dinner – at night proved me quite right. Although very capable of war cries which were really quite intimidating at times, and I had no doubt they could inflict serious harm on enemies by virtue of their stout physique, the Maoris appeared to be peace-loving with their own unique form of song and dance that told stories of love. Even though the food fell short of expectation, the concert performance fed my senses well.

08 May 2004, Saturday: Rotorua – Auckland

The final full day in New Zealand was a Saturday. Spirits were low but I’m pretty much speaking for myself. The road back to Auckland was much shorter. We arrived well before noon and after a short debate on the best lunching spot, we settled on the Victoria Market, a sort of a flea market where good bargains were expected of everything New Zealand. My appetite was thin so while my mom and sisters went for some lousy Chinese food (as they complained later), I decked out in the warm afternoon sun enjoying a live jazz performance by a duo in the central courtyard. The music heaved my spirits but also heightened the melancholy of my imminent departure from this wonderful country.

That evening, we took a walk down Queen Street, now crawling with Chinese students who according to John, had bashed the reputation of the local Chinese community with their vices. His disdain for them was not unfounded as I, too, got a disturbing vibe from the crowded sidewalks. My sister even chided a drunk Chinese who tried to be funny.

Fortunately, the rest of Auckland was much more pleasant. Earlier, we stopped by a different part of the harbour where we could get a closer look at the Auckland Bridge, New Zealand’s testament that it was no longer the little brother of Australia. A drive across the bridge was breathtaking; the sight of hundreds of sailboats anchored at an exclusive bay where membership fees ran into tens of thousands of dollars, was magnificent.

Mount Eden gave us a good bird’s eye view of the city. This dead volcano is now overgrown with grass, maintained not by a crew of park rangers but by cows who were as much a part of the New Zealand population as anyone else that they had to carry out civic duties!

It was a great spot for viewing the sunset but we did not stay. I later tried to catch it at the harbour but alas, darkness came too soon. So we made our way into the Sky Tower although not to the top. That night, I had some great pictures of this towering splendour from our hotel window as one last piece of souvenir from Auckland.

09 May 2004, Sunday: Auckland – Singapore

My heart was filled with gladness that I did not wait till the last day to take a morning walk down the streets of Auckland and its harbour because this day began with foggy weather.

At 8 am sharp, John arrived for our airport transfer. The check-in was quick and we were soon lingering in the departure lounge, watching other planes roll up and down the runway.

And there it was, one of the Lord of the Rings planes with Aragorn and Legolas on the walls made a graceful touchdown, rolled past our window and parked at a gate, waiting for the next departure. It was joined by yet another one, this time with Aragorn and Arwen. There were a total of four aircrafts in the Lord of the Rings fleet and we had sighted two. We saw neither the one with the Hobbits nor that whose walls were graced by Arwen and Eowyn. I wondered if we would ever have the great fortune of riding in any of them.

Our flight was scheduled for 11.55 am but the heavy fog set departure back by several hours. At one point, I hoped that it would be canceled totally. But come 3.30 pm, we were safely tucked in the cabin of the aircraft though not a Lord of the Rings one, ready to roll down the runway, into the skies and back to the lion city.

Goodbye Middle-Earth. The real Earth beckons.