Leaving Home and Travelling to Aotearoa NZ.

For those of you preparing to embark upon your great voyage across the shores to land in beautiful Aotearoa, there are – I’m sure – both anticipatory nerves and several questions. Hopefully, this article will help quell the nerves, soothe the soul, and keep things cool, calm, and collected. But, not before chronicling the laughable events that got us here in the first place.

BEFORE FLYING…

When my friend Alex and I decided, back in October 2023, that we were flying to New Zealand, we had only one criterion to fulfil: find the cheapest option. We had no set date, only a general concept of October time. We were ready to escape British wintertime and successfully live out a year-long Spring/Summer.

So, I booked:
the train from Haverfordwest to Cardiff,
the train from Cardiff to Bristol,
the MegaBus from Bristol to London,
the train from London to Heathrow airport,
and the flights.

The flights ended up being £806ea one-way flights via Shanghai, with a 4.5h layover.
I could only guess, almost a year and a half later, at the cost of all the other bits of travelling I did beforehand. Likely not more than £100.
It is expensive. But the experience has been invaluable. 

The trains and buses were fine. We were a bit tired, a bit excited. Plus, we were carrying with us the tales of woe from others before us about the journey being unbelievably and painstakingly long. We went into it with the knowledge that it would be a bit miserable—it was all part of the adventure. 

We’ve since been privy to several discussions regarding who to fly with, where to fly to, and which route is best. I’ll tell you for why:

LONDON TO SHANGHAI…

Being a bit naïve, perhaps, I figured that airports are one and the same. I figured I’d be able to get myself a little snack, a coffee, and change (or at least put on some deodorant). Lo and behold, everyone, this was not the case in Shanghai. 

It was insufferably hot, a sharp change in tempo from the already winter-leaning UK we had left behind. I was in my M&S autumnal trousers, sweltering, and in desperate need of a hit of the juul. The smoking area was actually quite comical. The smoking area, a caged enclosure which seemed somewhat eerily to emulate a prison courtyard, was a small space that hosted mostly cigarette smokers and one man who would sweep up the cigarette butts as they fell. It was also, unfortunately, in direct line of the full force of the sun. I took three desperate puffs and high-tailed out of there in search of the nearest bathroom to get changed out of my thick, black trousers. 

The saga of despair continues as, unfortunately, the only drinkable water available was mildly warm and had a distinct metallic flavour. 

Intriguing. 
Confounding. 
Bewildering. 

What’s more? They do not accept British bank cards or international travel cards. Admittedly still unsure what exactly they did accept, which is my own shortcoming, but it is duly noted if I should find myself in Shanghai again. Moreover, they did have Wi-Fi, because I managed to connect to it for approximately five whole minutes of glorious iPad kid liberation, but it soon disconnected and didn’t allow me to use some of my most beloved zone-out apps (rip to my TikTok doom-scrolling dreams). 

Taking all of the above on board, Alex and I suffered the lowly fate of having to actually talk to one another (after having done so for the last 24 hours following our grand reunion in Bristol). We sat, somewhat desolately, in relative silence for about 4 hours, routinely going to check if the water might be a degree cooler or less metallic to taste. It wasn’t.

Shared a meagre oat bar that Alex had the foresight to pack into her carry-on. 
Commiserated. 
Boarded the next flight. 

SHANGHAI TO NEW ZEALAND…

As a precursor, I’ll note that I’m not the most well-travelled person to have walked the earth, and I likely will never book myself into any class beyond Economy. However, I felt nothing short of luxurious on that Air New Zealand flight. The end was coming. This flight was only 8h, instead of the previous 14h. The meals were, for the most part, glorious. The hostesses were fantastic. I was wedged in the middle seat and still felt invincible. I couldn’t tell you what happened for most of this flight, I was simply half-knocked out for 75% of it. I might as well have been on a sun lounger, frozen margarita in hand. To put it plainly: I had a great time. 

The sunrise over New Zealand as we were flying over the Bay of Islands.

The best part about flying to New Zealand – for me – was flying over the Bay of Islands on our way down to Auckland. It was like a (positive) premonition. Alex and I had our faces pressed up against the window, taking photographs of the sunrise in turn, watching and feeling this overwhelming sensation of something new and beautiful dawning in our lives. I felt awash with this resplendent feeling of being projected out into the universe and it reaching out for me with open arms, telling me I’d made the right choice. Marvelling at the fact that we had managed to achieve this on our own. It was sincerely stunning. 

One of those moments in life where you just take in the gravity of the world and your insignificance in it all and marvel. 

UPON LANDING…

With no real concept of New Zealand whatsoever, nor any real idea of what our time here would entail, we decided it best – and easiest – to fly to Auckland. The idea was simple: Auckland would have all of the facilities we needed to get set up and established in our new sparkling dream world of non-stop adventure and would be a decent launching pad to navigate the North Island. 

We did get royally ripped off by the taxi driver from the airport, I think he charged us about $85 for a 15-minute ride to our AirBnB. Welp. Shucks. My mum always says that “your first loss is your best loss” and maybe that’s true here, too. Or it is, because it makes me feel better about it. 

With a sense of profound optimism and captivated by everything I was seeing, I felt perfectly content to ignore the outrageously expensive taxi ride. We’d landed. We’d made it. That was the important part. 

This was the dawn of an entirely new era in my life. 

It was time to accept that I’d done it, I’d actually done it. 
It was time to get stuck in to my new life! 

Dear Reader, the jet lag put us to bed by about 5pm.

Two days later, though? Time to get stuck in to my new life (again)!
That meant, getting an IRD number and bank account set up, getting a car, and getting a job.
Suffice to say we had our hands full, with only a week booked in at our glorious AirBnB apartment.