Henrik in New Zealand, September 2001

And eventually leaving Ruth in Onehunga,
to face a ruthless existence back home.

Poor Ruth - she'd been stuck with my suitcase
and my company once again. Oh dear.

And the suburb of Onehunga turned out to have character. Walking up and down the Mall was definitely not boring.
I also liked the doggie style of the bus from Onehunga to Midtown, stopping at more or less each and every lamppost.

I cooked a dinner for a few of my new friends, packed my overweight suitcase, and left for the dark side of the earth.

As a postscript, it could be noted that on the plane from Auckland
to Bangkok, I sat beside a young New Zealand poet, Sam Sampson.

During the brief stay in Sydney airport, I had reached cruising altitude
as a traveller, purchasing Aboriginal art and discussing Australian wines
in the wine store.

In Bangkok, the flight to Copenhagen was delayed until some time the next morning.
I got a room at the airport hotel. And after three hot meals in a row on the plane, hunger was not a problem.
Still, when you receive a dinner voucher at 00:45am - it's just the right time for a Thai buffet.

The highlight in the business hotel room were three small rubber ducks sitting beside the bathtub.

Sushi and other exotic stuff for breakfast is also a welcome treat.

And on the way home - when we somehow avoided Afghanistan -
we even got to see the Himalayas from the air.
Life could be worse.

Indeed it could: My neighbour on the plane was a retired Dane who'd been suffering from blood clot.
A 12 hour flight was probably not exactly what the doctor ordered.
Especially when that plane suffered from a 9 hour delay in Bangkok, and his medicines were in his suitcase.
He survived, and I got a plane from Copenhagen to Oslo.
The Norwegian stewardesses were very friendly and smiling compared to the Thai Air ones.
Or was it just prejudice? Or did they do it on purpose?

Anyway - here I sit on what turns out to be the wrong side of the planet.
When can I return to New Zealand?
Please?