The long haul

I am embarking on an adventure for one. A trip across to the other side of the world from a tiny place called New Zealand. This will be my first trip to Europe, and by far the longest I have travelled by air. Australia is the only other country I have ever visited until now. I am 44 years old and travelling solo. Leaving my family on the other side of the world.

The first leg takes me to Brisbane, in a crummy old plane crammed into a window seat and the people next to me take up the entire seats so much that I am too embarrassed to ask them to stand up so I can use the bathroom, so I arrive in Brisbane feeling like I have been in an incubator, with a bursting bladder. It’s three hours there before my next flight. The airport brings relief of having a rest, a restroom, and a place for a cold drink with lots of ice in it with a view over the runway.

It’s nine o’clock when we depart for the long leg to Dubai in a massive A380. I am near the back on the bottom floor of seating. That’s right, there are two floors of seating in an A380. I walk past the two jet engines and one of them is at least the height of my living room. The seats are much more spacious. The cabin crew look like creatures from the future in their sleek Arabian uniforms, so beautifully presented with red hats, white sweeping scarves and red lipstick. The men are more understated but equally glamorous. At 13 hours, this is one of the longest single flights you can take. It’s my first long haul and I have been getting good advice from friends and fellow travelers - eat the food, don’t drink alcohol, sleep when the lights go down, wear comfy clothes. 

I immediately remove my shoes and unwrap the blanket provided to shield me from the air conditioning. After watching a film and eating a meal of pretty standard airline food, I try to sleep but only get a few short uncomfortable hours and sit for hours in the dark with hundreds of other slumberers, some half awake like me. The experienced travellers have all the gear, head to foot in swaddling, eye mask and neck pillow, like caterpillars metamorphosing. I really regret not buying a neck pillow. Some stand in the aisles stepping back and forth in their circulation socks for blood flow. Others pace the aisles, shuffling along like prisoners in a chain gang. At first I think they are queuing for the bathroom, but they are just staying upright, vertically asleep. We are like zombies in a post-apocalyptic film set in the sky. Eerilie quiet, apart from the hum of the engines, and plugged into some sort of matrix, waiting to be released from our cocoons to spread our wings in a new world of freedom.

I arrive at 5.45am. My first dawn amidst crowds of strangers from all over the world. The airport is massive, it could contain an entire township in New Zealand. It’s probably the size of Invercargill. To claim my bag I board a train that runs inside the airport. At first I think it will be a few hundred metres, but then it speeds up! The process is easy. I spot my small blue suitcase immediately (it looks so out of place among all the others - huge, metallic, plastic wrapped for security) and make my way to the exit. Phillippa is there at the front of the queue, a sight for sore eyes, waiting for me. She laughs at my light baggage - a single carry on bag and my tiny suitcase (also suitable for carry on) which weighed in at a hefty 8kg. I told you I was travelling light! But more on that later.

Dubai is something else. A different world than I have ever experienced. Everything is new and shiny, well would be shiny if it were not for the sand dust and smog. Phillippa drives me a scenic route through the free flowing traffic, weaving us through blocks of high rises and apartments, all built within the last couple of decades. I see the tallest building, the Burj Khalifa, standing proudly in the distance at 828 metres tall. She explains that everything here is made to show off, to amaze and excite and surprise. I start to catch on to the excitement in this strange place and stare wide eyed at the expansiveness, the construction sites, the visual wonders of the modern world, and think about home and how we cannot manage to demolish a car park damaged by an earthquake nine years ago, let alone build something to replace it. Dubai has wealth, and plenty of people willing to invest their billions. Where I am from, there is none of that. We seem to still creep towards the 21st century while Dubai is biting at the heels of the 22nd.

Phillippa shows me my room for the day/night - every room has its own bathroom and I have a hotel quality accommodation. Her home is newly renovated and is stunning and modern. There is a pool, and she has a live-in nanny for the children, who are at school by the time I arrive. I change into something that doesn’t smell like I’ve been sleeping in it for the past 20 hours and we head out to see some sights and get some lunch.

The Palm Jumeirah is a development built in the ocean using reclaimed land. Rocks and sand, and a lot of steel (I hope!) bedded deep into the seabed, have created a paradise palm shaped oasis. We ascend to the top of the Palm Tower to view the waterfront. The photos don’t do it justice. It’s a rich people’s play land. All of Dubai is a bit of a fantasy, and it is quite surreal to be there and see it with my own eyes.

What strikes me though, is the politeness of people. From touchdown at the airport and every interaction I make with people there, there is a quietness and a respect for everyone. I detect no ‘isms’ and I feel very safe. I hadn’t expected to, and this is worth pondering on more later. 

After lunch, which Phillippa and I order to each other but not the wait staff and wait for an hour before realising, we go to the school to pick up her daughters and I meet some more of the locals. The locals are all expats and come from every corner of the world. It is truly an international city.

At Phillippa’s we wind down for the day. I have fought off the jet lag. We slip into the pool and play a few tunes the children like. They teach me to play their favourite pool games and we enjoy an Arabian dinner of slow cooked meats, breads, dips and salads as the sun goes down. Her son plays me some riffs on his new acoustic bass and her husband arrives home after a long day.

It is a slice of heaven and I feel so grateful to be there with my friend and her gorgeous children. We have known each other for 31 years now and finally I get to see her in her place. She loves Dubai and her affection is becoming contagious. I sleep well, ready for another day’s adventure. And more international travel.