Arriving in Rarotonga after 39 hours "on the road" was more than a little surreal. I kept forgetting where I was - it looks a bit like home, and a bit like other places I've visited, but it isn't any of those. This is a new country to me, a new culture, new air scented with frangipani, a balm to the senses after all that journeying in stale airline cabins.
I spent the first two flights scribbling frantically. Newly motivated and enabled to make blogging fun, the pages filled at a rapid rate. Transit in Denver was a little tight, walking the length of 60 gates, and my new shoes were hurting a bit. But I boarded, slurped squishy peaches and wrote again.
Once at Los Angeles airport, I took my time. Ten hours till the next flight. I ate a wonderful lunch in the lookout tower restaurant, watching the planes come and go, including some big-daddy A380's, amazing to see in action.
Through security and into my terminal, I typed up the stuff I'd scribbled and scheduled a bunch of blog posts, which you've hopefully seen by now. Drank soup and surfed. Ate yoghurt and posted more stuff, and there were still hours to wait. Finally got on my third flight of the day, watched two movies, dozed a bit, and went into transit at Auckland.
A few hours later I was joined by family members for our shared adventure to Raro. We boarded the 777 - perhaps the same that brought me from L.A.? - watched another movie, ate, and arrived.
Jetsetting may sound like fun, but trust me, it's pretty tough till you get there.
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