flights – Around the World in 99 Days

Kathmandu

It’s hard to describe the feeling when you arrive in a brand new country for the first time. The excitement of somewhere new, the anticipation of exploring the streets, tasting the local dishes, poking around in museums, shops and galleries.

We flew into Nepal this morning, our first ever visit, and we had all of these feels; marvelling as we passed the Himalayas and descended over the sprawling Lego like buildings of Kathmandu. We held hands as we landed, grinning at each other in delight.

Of course the short journey was not all sunshine and lollipops.

It’s likely a well kept secret that I used to be terrified of flying. Scared spitless. I would cling to the armrests every minute of every flight, refuse all food, and arrive at my destination with cramped muscles, starving and prepared to find a job in order to avoid the flight home.

Through sheer determination I have mostly overcome this fear, and I quite enjoy flying now. Except for taking off. I still hate taking off.

This morning in Delhi a heavy fog had settled over the city. Should be gone by the time we leave the hotel, I told myself.

The fog was not gone. If anything it was worse. Through our taxi ride, check in, clearing customs and security, I kept telling myself the fog would lift, or the flight would be cancelled. Either of these options would be fine with me.

The fog did not lift and the flight was not cancelled. Instead we were shuttled across an airport we couldn’t see to a plane we couldn’t see, up some stairs we couldn’t see and told to take our seats.

A litany of sabotaging thoughts and desperate responses ran through my head as we sat on the tarmac waiting to leave.

How can the pilots see the runway? How can they see anything? I can’t see anything. NOBODY CAN SEE ANYTHING!

Everything runs on computers and radars and technology these days, the pilots don’t need to see.

OF COURSE THE PILOTS NEED TO SEE! WHAT IF ANOTHER PLANE GETS IN THE WAY?! WHAT IF WE GET IN THE WAY?

There’s no way we’d be leaving if this wasn’t safe. This must be safe.

WHY DID AIR CANADA CANCEL THEIR FLIGHT? WHAT ARE THEY NOT TELLING US?

Everybody here knows what they’re doing. This is a huge airport.

THIS IS A FUCKING HUGE AIRPORT! NOBODY IS SAFE!

The flight attendants look calm, it must be fine.

THEY’RE PAID TO LOOK CALM. DO NOT TRUST THEM!

Don’t look out the window, don’t look out the window, don’t look out the window. I’ll just look out the window.

IT’S A COMPLETE WHITE OUT! IT’S WORSE THAN I THOUGHT!

Calm down Angela, you’re perfectly safe.

HOW CAN I BE CALM WHEN MY LAST INSTA PIC OF THE FOG WILL BE ON NATIONAL NINE NEWS?

Don made an attempt to distract me with some fun facts about Star Trek or Cheezels or who invented the mountains. I don’t know. I wasn’t having a bar of it, and he soon gave up. Instead I clung ferociously to his hand the whole time we were taxiing blindly across the tarmac, squeezing my eyes shut when the engines roared, the pilot having miraculously found the runway. God, my heart is pumping just writing this.

Without a word of a lie we broke through that cloud and into brilliant sunshine three seconds after taking off. Maybe two seconds.

It amazes me how bloody fast my whole body can pivot from abject terror to complete chill. My eyes opened and I loosened my death grip on Don’s hand.

‘I told you,’ he said, ‘it was just some low lying cloud.’

Even if I had heard him say this I wouldn’t have believed him.

We landed, we disembarked. Out visas were stamped and we collected our bags. Sanity and calm had well and truly returned. Sunshine and lollipops re-engaged, I was again filled with excitement and anticipation, chatting away to Don, the ground crew and anyone else who would listen.

‘It’s our first time in Nepal,’ I said to the man sorting out our taxi voucher.

‘Welcome to Nepal, Madame,’ he said.

‘Thanks,’ I said happily as he handed me the voucher.

‘You’re welcome. Could I perhaps interest you in an early morning joy flight over the Himalayas?’

In the way of flights, airports and things going wrong, Don and I have been incredibly lucky in our travels. Well, there was that one time our plane skidded off the runway coming back from Rome, but nothing to worry about, and we got a free flight! No, we’ve been relatively stress free.
Not so my friend Gab.

Gab has had to turn around midway to the airport to go home to fetch her passport on at least three separate occasions.

Gab arrived a day late to my birthday trip to Malaysia, then spent the next three days with no clothes while her suitcase travelled via Tokyo.

Just yesterday Gab and her sister Jen had a passport that wouldn’t work, a bag tag that wouldn’t scan and an Uber driver that wouldn’t…well let’s just say wouldn’t be polite.

Gab has had more flight delays, re-routes, lost luggage, missing passports and shoe blowouts than anyone I know.

And now I am about to embark on a five day girls’ trip to New Zealand to celebrate Gab’s birthday. Gab is already in New Zealand, Madonna and I fly today, so #gabsissues shouldn’t even touch us. #gabsissues are over 2,000km away from us. We even joked that we booked separately to avoid #gabsissues.

As I write this we should be boarding our flight. However, I’m on the couch. Madonna is still in bed. Since last night we’ve had:

Our flight to New Zealand cancelled.

Madonna booked on a late night flight via Sydney, me with nothing.

Madonna rebooked on an early flight via Sydney, me with nothing.

Madonna on the flight via Sydney, me on a flight via Melbourne.

Madonna on the flight via Sydney, me on a direct flight with China Airlines.

A woman on the Qantas helpline who can find no trace of the China Airlines flight that I’m booked on.

Finally, after much key tapping by the woman on the Qantas helpline, we are both on the China Airlines flight to Auckland.

We’re not sitting together. And we’re not entirely sure there isn’t a layover in Shanghai. But what we are sure of is that eventually we’ll get to Gab, the epicentre of #gabsissues.

Let the fun begin.