二十 The Eighth Return

The Flights

Last week I embarked on my ninth trip to Asahikawa, and this time I flew Air New Zealand from Napier to Auckland to Shanghai, (where I had a six-hour stopover) to Tokyo. I must admit that the 12-hour flight from Auckland to Pudong Airport (Shanghai) wasn’t very enjoyable as the plane was completely full, no doubt due to the current reduction in flights and the inability to fly the Middle Eastern routes. And who would wish to fly via the USA? I was relieved to be flying to a safe part of the world.

Auckland to Shanghai

Because the flight was so full, I was grateful to be seated adjacent to a friendly and considerate Cambodian couple from Auckland, who were travelling to Shanghai for a short holiday, before flying on to Cambodia to visit family. After my stint in the Koru Lounge, I had very little appetite, but did enjoy three films: (1) Colours of Time (La Venue de l’avenir), a French film about cousins inheriting an old 1800s mansion in Normandy, (2) Bugonia, a psychological thriller about the kidnapping of a CEO, who the kidnappers are convinced is an alien, and (3) Nuremberg, about a US psychiatrist and his relationship with Hermann Göring, leading into the Nuremberg trials post WWII.

I slept very badly and twice was awoken by a loud ‘coughing-up’ noise. The first time, I was startled to see that across the aisle from me, a woman was hoicking into a paper cup on her fold-down tray.

At Pudong, in a very tired state—I think I only managed a couple of hours’ sleep—I had to collect my luggage and go out through Customs and Security, and then retrace my steps and go back through the way I’d come, as I was flying on a different carrier (ANA) for the final leg. To be honest, that part of my trip is a complete blur, but despite being confused as to where to go a couple of times, and then initially not realising that I was ‘out’ of the international departures area, and that I had to go back ‘in’, I managed it somehow. To make matters a little more difficult, you can’t really access the usual internet in China, and what was available, was weak and intermittent.

Pudong airport is very clean and modern and if I’d been less tired, I’d probably have explored it more thoroughly. One of the things I liked was that there were water stations everywhere—both cold and boiling–should you need it, and they had paper cups. I was also glad that I had a Premium Lounge voucher, and once I’d found my way to the China Eastern No.77 Lounge, I settled in for the full six hours. I even slept for about 40 minutes at one point.

Shanghai to Narita

The view from the airport windows was unexciting. It was sunny outside and from where I was sitting waiting for my flight to board,  looking to the north-east, the terrain was flat until it disappeared into the smog. Perhaps it was the Asian Dust. I was glad not to be outside, experiencing it in person.

I had a window seat on the plane, and a Chinese couple were sitting on the aisle side. I guess they could’ve been my age, or a little younger. They didn’t seem to notice me, as the woman–who was closest to me–put a bulky jacket on her lap, half of which covered my lap. And at taking off and landing, she had a habit of leaning across me to peer out of my window, pushing against my shoulder.

But otherwise, the flight was pleasant and unremarkable, and I was served up a really nice Japanese-style meal, which I hadn’t expected on so short a flight.

Narita was another story—the line through to Customs and Security was the most congested I’ve encountered in all my nine trips. Except for 2022, perhaps, when I was travelling on a special family VISA after Japan first opened up to foreign visitors post COVID. That occasion would have to rate as my most stressful airport experience of all time, and if you’re vaguely interested, I wrote about it here.

So, this time round, despite the easy flight, I was beginning to feel the effects of jetlag, and when I caught sight of the long line, zig-zagging towards Security, my heart fell. I’ve been in similar, seemingly endless lines at LA and London before, but hadn’t expected it at Narita. And as is often the case, when I got to what looked like the end, I rounded a corner and realised it condensed into an even tighter set of zigzags on the other side.

I did survive this experience, and thanks to the seamless electronic process available through Japan Web, going through Passport Control was plain-sailing. Before I knew it, I was out on the street—experiencing some cooler air, at last—waiting at Stop 16 for the shuttle to take me to the Art Hotel, Narita.