[I’m actually writing this from the future. I started this post four years ago, and then got seriously distracted. I have no idea now what the title refers to - sounds vaguely Seussian, but who knows? Anyway, here we go.]
Continuing my copied-idea alphabet of travel associations/memories, today we begin at -
H: for Helicopters which, appropriately enough, summon both highs and a painful low. The low was meekly taking my seat in the middle with a professional photographer on one side with his huge camera, and a fat guy on the other with an iPad, and then setting off for a once-in-a-lifetime flight over Iguassu Falls, in Argentina/Brazil. I saw only glimpses of those huge and amazing cascades, and was so upset, but determined that would never happen again. Nor has it, though it could have. I have since stood my ground, and refused that seat, and always then been given a window seat, often in the front. So I've had glorious flights over New York, Kings Canyon, Auckland city, Waiheke, Milford Sound and the Southern Alps, and landed on snowy mountain tops, once courtesy of pilot (and ex-All Black captain) Richie McCaw. Fabulous! I love choppers, their effortless flight, and the spectacular sightseeing they enable.
I: for Imposter Syndrome, which it took me a long time to shake off. Coming into journalism travel writing through the back door, as I did, I felt - and was - both unqualified and inexperienced. Being given, for free, curated trips (famils) overseas that started with business class flights and included fancy hotels, hosted meals, guides, transport and stuffed-full itineraries, was a thrill I never took for granted, even when I got to feeling somewhat authenticated. Wine tastings though? Always uncomfortable, trying to remember, from seeing other people doing it, what to do, what to say, all the while being genuinely flummoxed - even nervous enough, once, to confuse, in front of a clearly unimpressed sommelier, cabernet with chardonnay. Ouch!
J: For Japan, where I have not been, though I nearly got there in 2019 on a Silversea cruise. Covid killed that one, to my lasting regret, since it seems to me such a fascinating place to visit. Also on my to-go list is Greenland (ditto, Seabourn cruise for that one); plus Spain and Finland; and Iceland, for a proper look since my 5 day famil was not enough. Having, though, boasted since I was 15 that I could say 'the men are drinking beer now' in Japanese, after a taster lesson at school, Google now informs me that 'otokonoko biiru o nomimasu' has quite different overtones - so maybe it's just as well that trip got cancelled.
K: for Kayaks, in which I've had a lot of fun, as well as some strenuous exercise. Most of my outings have been here in Aotearoa/NZ - a peaceful glide along the Avon River in ChCh, a battle with head winds both ways here on Waiheke, a cruisy couple of days along the coast of the Abel Tasman NP, and stirring up bioluminescence on an evening outing to Brown's Island. But I also watched a dingo chase a kangaroo along the shore of a river in the NT, plus several other Aussie outings, as well as Hawaii, Seattle and Galapagos. Kayaking is easy and fun, and a lovely way to get in touch with nature. Recommended.
L: for Left - as in turning, when you board an aeroplane. I am irredeemably frugal, and could never justify to myself the outrageous prices of Business class seats, which are just mind-bogglingly exponential. Even Premium Economy I've shelled out for only under duress, and would never do that voluntarily. But, if someone else is paying... which, even before these end-times, was happening less and less often for us shameless travel-writing freebie-grabbers. Back in the golden days, though - ah! The sheer fabulous glory of wafting into that airy space, welcomed by name, then ripping into the amenities pouch as I sipped the excellent champagne, stowing my stuff in all the little cubbyholes, and tapping away at the iPad to see what entertainment was on offer. Lovely, leisurely food, endless good wine, SO MUCH PRIVATE SPACE! and then, come bedtime, classy, comfortable pjs, a magicked-flat bed with actual elbow room, a soft pillow and airy duvet. Bliss!
M: for Malbec which, despite (or possibly because of) my entry for I, above, was a revelation on a lovely LATAM famil to South America. Having, during my student years, drunk far too much cheap and horrible red wine, inducing ghastly hangovers, I then foreswore it for about 30 years, drinking only white. On this group trip, though, we were hosted by a charming vintner and were proudly presented with his best wine, which of course I couldn't refuse. What a revelation! Richly flavoured, velvety smooth, delicately scented... it was glorious. I was instantly converted to red wine, which I have drunk ever since, and delighted to be given a small bottle of the malbec to take home. Which some low-life hotel room attendant subsequently stole from my suitcase. Still not over that.
N: Noises that instantly summon up a place, like muezzin calls in Istanbul, cooing doves in Africa, melodious magpies in Australia, rowdy penguins in Antarctica. There was also the Penguin Café Orchestra that my driver played on repeat in Mauritius, plus clicking prayer beads in Greece, sirens in New York, gentle creaking on board Silversea ships. I heard sheep bells in Portugal, kokako on Tiritiri, a Spitfire clattering overhead on the White Cliffs of Dover, chainsaw-screeching of insects in the jungle in Ecuador... Honestly, this list could go on and on. So evocative, the tourism people really should make a feature of it.
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