This Christmas, I’m in the UK to celebrate with my partner’s side of the family. It’s a bunch of first times – first winter Christmas, first Christmas away from whānau, first time to many of the places I am visiting during my time here. It will also be my first time celebrating my birthday overseas (also in winter), and I’m lucky enough to be spending it in London while I am visiting family friends.
CHC → SYD → DXB → BHX
Yesterday afternoon, we officially arrived in Birmingham. It was an entertaining journey, to say the least! Highlights included versing my girlfriend in inflight tetris, re-watching Turning Red (easily top five all-time), and practicing my French with not one but two willing parties. The first one, would you believe, was upon boarding our Sydney to Dubai flight. It turns out my high school French teacher of three years was seated two rows ahead of us. I audibly gasped, then called out her name. It was an incredible fluke – especially as, as far as I know, she still lives in Wellington. I’m very rusty, and was already exhausted because I was too wired to sleep much the night before, but I’m sure she appreciated the sentiment and my enthusiasm to kōrero in her native tongue. She was traveling with her family back to Belgium for the holidays.
The second was with a lovely air hostess called Nahat. She, like most, if not all Emirates cabin crew, was multilingual. Specifically, in English, Arabic, German and French. Nahat had noticed gf and I signing to each other and asked how we were communicating like that. We then struck up a conversation, in which she shared she was hiding from her workmates because she was exhausted. When I Iearned she was a francophone, my face lit up and we got chatting. Turns out she’s the same age as us. I fully embarrassed myself at one point by answering how I was when she’d asked me my name, but that’s jetlag for you. They’re literally the first two things you learn to say when you learn a foreign language…
Right towards the end of our last long haul, a fierce argument broke out between two women towards the back of the plane. Like full on, proper yelling, so much so that about half of the passengers, myself included, turned to look. They were both standing and shouting about who knows what and we were all just gobsmacked. All I really remember is one of them repeatedly saying “Don’t talk to my mother like that!”. In the end, four flight attendants went to remedy the situation. I cannot fathom what could be so bad that you could be compelled to scream at a (presumably) family member in front of a plane full of strangers. Also – the shit that flight attendants have to deal with is insane, and I take my hat off to them.
I also fully embarrassed myself again when at the luggage belt I attempted to grab a trolley. After pulling and pushing to no avail, someone eventually told me you have to pay for those. Madness, I tell you! So far, I have noticed odd differences between houses in Aotearoa and the UK. For one, the staircases are far steeper, and some of the bathrooms are carpeted(?). There’s also typically a small tiled foyer at the door to leave your shoes in and keep the heat in before you enter the main house. Highly practical. Tomorrow we are off to Magna Science Adventure Centre to be adult children – should be fun!
Hei konā, kia noho ora e hoa mā!
bohemianhumanist.com 
I loved the squirrels in UK, and carried nuts with me to entice them.
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