Flight from Wellington to Christchurch
Saturday, 25th May 2019
The azure haze of the ocean and the land beyond echos and reflects the brilliant blue of the sky. Far below, white caps indicate a dynamism that is hidden in my modern bubble. I’m waiting for a ‘Pop!’ that never seems to come.
The problems of my life are purely mental, a self imposed near-existential dread of tasks not yet done, of things required of me, of citizenship within my cobbled together existence. Interspersed with this is the recognition of happiness; the luckiness of a life with sufficient health and without deprivation. The joy of a partner, of shared goals and of common experience.
We’re flying down to Christchurch, from Wellington, a week before we head off to live in the London for the next few years. The smells of airplane coffee permeates the cabin. The Inland Kiakouras out the window are seeing the first dustings of snow for the year after what has been a warmer than usual autumn.
I finished up my work at Trade Me yesterday after four years and five months there. It’s been pretty wild ride - I have this odd feeling of coming up for air. I dedicated a lot of myself to the company, to doing my best to make Trade Me and especially Trade Me Jobs just a little bit better than it was when I started. I think it is and I think I could safely say that I played a not-insignificant part in that.
The people really make a company special and Trade Me has a great sense of community - one of those where the more you put in the more you’ll get out. In general, I’m not good at being the most social of creatures. That’s not entirely true, more I just never can get into small talk, into conversations with a goal that is just the conversation itself. But, even then, Trade Me (by which I mean the people) always made me feel welcome.
We’re just coming over the Canterbury Plains, we’ve been delayed, undelayed, and then delayed again due to fog in Christchurch this morning. So far I can see no trace of it, it’s a lovely clear day. Turquoise water, the braided rivers that the plains are known for, and a muted green patchwork of farmland. In front of us the low lying fog can be glimpsed out of the window, starting suddenly, rolling in from the ocean over the land. It wraps over the land like a glacier, reflecting white like packed snow, crevassed and serrated.
Talking of bubbles, last year I acquired a decent pair of noise cancelling headphones. Of all the usages, I have found that plane travel must be the best. I think I would struggle to go back to the deep engine noise that seems to infest one’s brain.
I feel weary and rather sleep deprived, it’s been a busy few weeks. No, scratch that, a busy year. Moving countries, managing all the stuff I’ve built up over the years, getting married, subsequent celebrations, all the unexpected complications, not to mention trying to do by best by work.
We’re coming into land and the fog plaguing Christchurch has been pushed back towards the sea. A smooth landing.