By morning, the rain had slowed somewhat. We felt too stressed out to eat, so we loaded up the car and hit the road which was deserted and mercifully intact. We covered the remaining challenging part of State Highway 6 in about 2 hours, and turned onto State Highway 73 - the most direct route to Christchurch.
We felt a bit more relaxed now that we had emerged from the wilderness so we stopped at a pie shop in a small town for coffee and something resembling breakfast. A group of men who looked like they might be out hunting sat at a small table near us, but not too near. "We have to keep our distance from you," one said, "because of the virus." Someone in another group remarked that in the United States medicine was all about money. There was little concern for patients, he said. It was all about the profit margin. We sipped our coffee and smiled uncertainly. I feared that a "me first" mentality was emerging, and I was beginning to wonder if the "Be kind to one another" adage would extend to foreigners.
The weather had cleared and it was a beautiful day. The scenery was awe-inspiring as we passed through Arthur's Pass National Park, but all we could think about was getting to Christchurch so we drove on without stopping.
It was mid afternoon when we finally arrived at the motel I had booked because of its proximity to the Christchurch Airport. No one was in the small office, but a page of instructions sat on a chair in the middle of the room.
We drove to the airport to see if we could change our flight to Auckland because the airline reservation phone line was reportedly flooded. The airport was packed with anxious-looking people. Almost no one was wearing a mask. There wasn't even a recommendation that one should be worn at that time. We joined a long line snaking from the Air New Zealand counters off into the distance, but when an employee saw our Premium Economy tickets, we were directed to a much shorter line. Days earlier when it had been announced that Air New Zealand would soon stop flying internationally, it was clear that many employees would lose their jobs, but here they were, trying to satisfy an endless number of demanding, panicky, and possibly infected passengers. Within moments we were assisted by a woman who looked like she was dangerously close to a nervous breakdown. She avoided looking at us when we expressed our desire to move our flight up a day. We followed her to a computer terminal, and when it didn't respond, she pounded angrily on the keyboard. Finally it came to life, and she informed us that there only 2 flights to Auckland on Monday that still had seats available, and one of them just happened to be at exactly the time we preferred. She never did look at or address us directly, but she had done her job so we thanked her profusely, wished her luck, and returned to our tiny room where I cancelled our Monday night motel reservation in Christchurch and made one in Auckland.
On Monday morning we packed up the rental SUV for the final time. We went looking for breakfast and ended up in a sort of restaurant/bakery. A small group of old people sat at a nearby table sipping their hot drinks and ignoring the pasteries in front of them. They were clearly depressed. I eavesdropped on their conversation and learned that they met in the restaurant regularly. This would be their last time together before the country went into lockdown and they would be forced into solitary isolation in their homes. The restaurant manager joined them, and they commiserated together about whether the restaurant could survive financially if the lockdown was a long one.
The atmosphere at the Christchurch airport was much different than it had been the day before. Now everything was eerily quiet. Most of the stores were closed, and the few that were still open were selling tourist goods at heavily discounted prices. There were quite a few empty seats on the plane, but no attempt was being made to spread people out. A man who looked like he had just stepped out of the woods was seated next to Walt, and the row behind us was occupied by a small family with an extremely fastidious father. He kept complaining to the flight attendant about every little thing and demanded to know whether there were any foreigners on the plane. "Please, sir," she told him. "Everyone is just trying to get home."
The Auckland Airport was still bustling with activity. We waited in a long line for the bus which would take us to the hotel. Finally a bus with a bit of empty space arrived and we were able to squeeze inside. An elderly white woman was standing on the platform by the door hesitating to board the bus, and one of the employees, a man of East Indian descent, asked politely if she would like to come on board. She let forth a shocking blast of racist rhetoric ending with the statement that she would wait for a bus driven by a fellow (white, presumably) Kiwi. The employee calmly turned his back on her, and we began the long, slow journey to our hotel. Since every employee of the shuttle bus company we had seen was a person of color, she must have had quite a long wait.
The hotel was the same one we had stayed in two weeks before when we arrived in Auckland. At that time it was a friendly, easy-going place that was trying to be a bit unique. Now everyone was tense and unhappy and confused. The staff didn't know how long the government would allow them to stay open, so they were reluctant to take reservations for breakfast the next morning. People huddled by the screens which showed airline departure information. An alarming number of flights had been cancelled. Later, when we tried to order some food, we were told that no one knew whether the kitchen staff was going to show up for work. Eventually, half of them did show up, but it was a depressing evening, to say the least.
The next morning after breakfast we returned to our room where we stayed for as long as possible because our flight was not due to leave until 10:15 in the evening. Then there was nothing to do except sit in the bar and wait...and wait...and wait. There was no place to go and nothing to do because the country had entered Alert Level 3 and everything had shut down. We periodically checked to see if our flight had appeared on the airport departure screens, but it was far too early.
Finally, about 2 PM, we decided to go to the airport. We must have stood outside for about an hour before one of those elusive airport shuttles (scheduled to arrive every 15 minutes) finally appeared. It was already packed with people, but once again we managed to get on and the slow, torturous journey with stops at several hotels where more crowds of people waited began. When we arrived at the Ibis, the employee from the day before who had calmly endured the racist rant, asked an elderly couple who had just boarded where they wanted to go. Upon hearing their answer, he told them their intended destination was right down the street, but since the bus route was a circle and we had just passed it, the best thing for them to do would be to walk. As they stepped off the bus, I was touched to see that another employee was offering them a ride in his personal car which they gratefully accepted.
Entrance to the Auckland Airport was now limited to ticketed passengers with boarding passes. We showed ours and stepped inside to empty halls and a complete lack of activity. At the check-in counter we flashed that premium economy ticket and about 6 employees immediately sprung into action to assist us through the check-in process.
The International Lounge was mostly empty since most international flights had been cancelled. A middle aged man, encouraged perhaps by the tense expression on my face, performed some crazy, energetic dance moves which succeeded in making me smile. We still had hours to wait before our flight. A drink would have been welcome, but very few stores and restaurants were still open. Curiously, a Sunglass Hut was one of those few open stores. A very bored sales associate swept a spotless floor over and over to keep herself occupied.
It was a great relief when we were finally loaded onto the plane. All the seats were full, and, remember, no one was wearing masks at this time so it is, perhaps, miraculous that we made it home COVID free.
In Honolulu, there was little screening of passengers. The Customs official seemed to be mainly concerned with whether we had been to Europe on this trip. She knew we had arrived from New Zealand. Had she no knowledge of geography?
We were happy to see the shuttle driver we had scheduled before our trip waiting for us. It was such a relief to arrive home.
It has been almost a year since our trip to New Zealand. We hope to go back someday to visit the parts of this amazing country that we missed, but as I write this in February 2021, its borders are still closed and they are unlikely to re-open anytime soon.
Even after all these months, I occasionally come across an article about travelers who are still stranded in a foreign country. I feel so grateful to the people who kept doing their jobs at the end of our trip when there was so much uncertaintly and fear - the staff at the Naumi Hotel Auckland Airport, the people who work for the shuttle that circles through the Auckland Airport and the nearby hotels, and most of all, the dedicated employees of Air New Zealand.
The pandemic seems endless, but when it's finally safe to travel again, we'll be ready to resume our explorations.