Today was my flight. The cousin who is a former rally driver, and can drive indefinitely it seems, offered to take me to Whangarei airport by the long, scenic route, and the Gentleman Friend would go as well to see me off. (Something very alien to the British side of him, though a way of doing things that NZ and Pakistan certainly have in common). It was pretty drive, around the penninsula to the mainland instead of across a bay by ferry. There were fine cliffs and beaches with surfing waves (though not at present as the water was very flat indeed). Many, many ‘for sale’ signs and the cousin, who works in housebuilding, said that there was a constant churn in these parts as people bought holiday homes or retirement houses, then realised they were a little too far from Auckland to come every weekend, or too far from medical care when old age began to hit. We stopped for lunch at a restaurant/gallery with a remarkable array of sculptures, somewhat naff but pleasing. There were wolves, dolphins and various abstractions. The setting was overlooking a thickly forested valley leading down to the sea, with streams running through the grounds.
The next stop was in Whangarei, a particularly undistinguished town and, as is often the way with towns people despise, seemingly heavily populated by recent immigrants.
The airport in Whangarei was tiny, even smaller than the one in Rotorua. I checked in and then the GF and I went out to find a bench overlooking the runway while the cousin went off to get the car cleaned of the sand from the drive to the farthest north. My plane arrived, it was unloaded of passengers and bags, reloaded with luggage and as my bag was put in, the gate was opened. So off I went though after boarding I could see the GF still at the bench.
The flight was only 35 minutes, and on landing there was some panic as I realised I had left my phone on the plane. Luckily this was just as I stepped out of the gate so I found a staff member to go look for it. Unluckily (for her especially) I was flustered enough that I forgot that I had changed seats with someone who wanted to sit with her family, and gave the wrong seat number. When she returned empty handed I persuaded her to go look again, and phew, the phone was found before my luggage even arrived.
And then check-in for the next flight, Auckland-Beijing-Islamabad, a long journey broken (hopefully) by a few hours in the city.
I finished the Caliphate podcast. All in all it was quite good, though did not have anything new to say to anyone with the slightest awareness of the news despite the presenter being a great guru. It turned out not really to be about a single person after episode 6 or so, but about ISIS more generally. More than that, though, it seemed very clearly an argument for journalism, for investigative journalism in particular. Every episode seemed to be making that argument, that there is a need for people who dig into stories, who convey the complexities and human stories of those who suffer, who can give background, expand on what we know and think we understand, who find out new things that bring the unjust to justice.