You’ll have to look it up yourselves, but as I alluded to in my last post, my Calypso was not one, but two people for whom I developed a great fondness, and it was with mixed emotions that I headed into the terminal building at Auckland airport.
Getting out of New Zealand was arguably even more difficult than getting in. It was one seemingly interminable, slow-moving queue after another; in fact there were only three, but it seemed like a lot more. Even though I had arrived at the airport in good time – well, for me anyway – I had no time to kill there; by the time I arrived at the boarding gate, they had already completed more than half the job.
It was onto a rather tired looking, and feeling, Malaysian airlines flight for the 11,5 hours to Kuala Lumpur. I felt every one of those 11½ hours; the seat was narrow and uncomfortable and the seat pocket drooped so much that I got a very good experience of what those with legs longer than mine must have to endure on every flight.
I had spent much longer in New Zealand than planned – 3½ months, instead of 3½ weeks – and I had got a pretty good feel for the place. I didn’t like it!
I had gone with high expectations, of the people and the country, based on experience of Kiwis met abroad, photos , films and reports from others who had gone there. What I found was quite disappointing. Some parts of the country were definitely spectacular, but honestly, no more spectacular than many other countries I’ve visited; maybe it’s the concentration of the spectacular bits – mostly on the South Island – because although Aotearoa, as it now seems to be more commonly called, is bigger than I imagined, the South Island is only 1 000 km from top to bottom by road, so all those spectacular views are pretty much concentrated in a small area.
The people are not the most welcoming, and take themselves (and life) too seriously; in fact the friendliest folk I met were not Kiwis at all! The population is very diverse racially, and if asked I would never have placed the proportion of Kiwis of European descent at 68%. It’s not that the majority were not friendly, but there were one or two real assholes, who tainted the overall picture.
And finally NZ could be described as the great-grandmother of nanny states. Everything is controlled, and everything with the slightest risk is legislated to the nth degree. It works or some, but drives many others to distraction.
After a pleasant night at Kuala Lumpur airport, it was back on board for another 5½ hours to Mumbai.
Arrival through Mumbai was speedy, then I headed straight for the office of my shipping agent – BDG International. Here I got my first inkling of what was to come; the office was small, in a run down building, and equipped with nothing mor e than a table, some chairs and a computer. The agent knew about my bike, but didn’t really know where it was, or when it would arrive. Calls to his head office in Delhi, didn’t help much. He helped me find a hotel and left me, promising to return in the morning.
It was in then that I learned the bike would not arrive until late Saturday night, and that I wouldn’t be able to get it until Monday, at the earliest! Resigning myself, I set about looking to the way forward.
I spent the rest of Saturday taking stock, and on Sunday planned a trip to Elephanta Island, an island just off the coast where there is a “spectacular representing the pinnacle of rock cut architecture and sculptural art in medieval India. This involved a visit to the Gateway of India, through which the last British troops to leave India marched, from where the ferries to the island depart.
The caves are in poor shape and the path up to them a tourist trap. There is also an old gun emplacement on top of the hill that is not really worth the climb up the rubbish strewn hill.
On the return ferry ride, I met up with an Australian couple and spent an enjoyable afternoon in their company, visiting some of the “sights” in Bombay, as downtown Mumbai is still often called.
I also had a little play with my new Insta 360 camera; not a great result, but should improve! 😊
I had decided that, given the delay in getting the bike, and the deteriorating situation in Kashmir, I would curtail my India visit, and ship it straight to Iran. This meant finding a new shipping agent, as I had lost all confidence in BDG. Not that I knew it at the time, but I was extremely fortunate in finding Mustafa Merchant who runs Seco Shipping.
By the time I returned on Sunday night, I had received a comprehensive response from him, including a detailed quote, and some advice on the best way to proceed. Shipping directly to Iran was, apparently not an option; the only way was to ship to Dubai and “ride” from there. Having just arrived in India, I was on my way out again!
Belfast-2-Belfast-By-Bike 