Fiji - L.A.
Fiji is nice. The humidity is just a little lower than Honiara, which feels very, very pleasant. We’re treated to a gorgeous sunset on the way to the hotel, though my crappy camera phone can’t take a picture o fit. The hotel is a sprawling complex along the waterfront - which in this case is a white sand beach, though it’s clogged with the debris thrown into the sea last week when a cyclone came through, which has washed ashore now. The stars overhead are many and bright, dinner is good. The room is nice. I sleep like a log. I wake up at two or three in the morning because my wife sent me a text message from DC. Well, at least I’m connected again. I fall asleep again after a while and manage to more or less sleep until more or less eight.
Over breakfast, the hiking trio of our group decide to take a “half-day cruise”, which entails taking a boat out to one of the outlying islands where one can snorkel and do other things, then come back towards evening in time for our flight. So we check out of the hotel, which holds our bags and says we can shower and change when we come back in the evening. We decide for the slightly more expensive package (at just over 50 USD) which gets us to an island where they also have “motorized activities” - renting a jet ski sounds like fun.
Well, that island is a little further out. So we get there a little later than we could have gotten off for the cheaper island. They only have one (!) jet ski and won’t rent it out because it’s low tide. Which is also the reason snorkeling in the nearby reef isn’t advisable - it’s actually sticking out of the water in a few places and you don’t want the current to drag you against that stuff, it’s sharp.
So, a little put off by the whole thing, we pay a little extra for a third party operator who takes us on a different (very small) boat out to a reef where once can snorkel - which is back the way we came, right next to the cheaper island. Which seems unnecessarily ironic. But the snorkeling itself is cool.
Very relaxing. I’m covered in SPF 30 *and* keep my shirt on, so not too worried about sunburn in the one hour we have. I even remember how to dive and blow the water out of my snorkel after breaking the surface again, so I don’t have to tread water and pour the water out by hand. Diving down and zooming over the reef under my own power feels cool.
The guys leading the group throw some bread in the water and soon we’re swimming in fish soup. After that, we follow the reef for a bit until the boat picks us up again. There’s coffee (and water) afterwards and then we take the big boat back to the hotel. It was very, very nice in all. A shower and change later we’re on our way to the airport and get onto our flight to LA without mishaps. I manage about five or six hours of sleep on our ten-hour flight, which is pretty good.
In LA, we’re told that the flight of Heba and Kevin is cancelled, due to snow in DC. We’re on three separate routings from here (due to the intricacies and downright weirdness of the way in which World Bank trips are booked through American Express). Bjarne is supposed to go to Denver and hence to DC (to arrive at 01:30 in the morning, with no sleep in between because he’s on two short flights and has to make the connection at night). That’s the initial route suggested by AmEx. I objected, because I thought getting actually *home* at 02:30 with no sleep was not in fact preferable to a long layover in LA and flying through the night. So I’m supposed to be here from now (just after Noon) until just after ten p.m. and then fly en directe. Heba and Kevin opted for an even better option, which is taking a direct flight mid-afternoon which gets to DC in the evening - an option AmEx hadn’t even mentioned to me, because it’s on a different carrier (not the one the World Bank prefers because they have a deal for lower fares).
Bjarne flies out to Denver. Heba and Kevin find they’re booked for a different connection just after midnight. My flight is supposed to be on time. So we rent a car and visit a friend of Kevin’s, who takes us to a café at the beach, where we have coffee and something to eat. LA is nice - the weather is certainly the best we’ve had anywhere so far, and we’re told that it’s like this pretty much all year. Many of the homes here have neither heating nor air-condition - it’s just not necessary. Of course, the place is also rather crowded and really expensive, but still - nice.
Back at their place, our hosts check our connections for us online and we find that my flight is delayed until after two in the morning. I try to confirm by phone, where an automated announcement (after a long stint of talking to a machine) tells me it’s cancelled. Trying to get a human on the line results in more talking to a machine and then an announcement that the waiting time for the next available operator is currently “over sixty minutes”. Bjarne tells us by phone that his flight from Denver to DC is cancelled as well and they told him he’d get on a flight to DC at one p.m. on *Tuesday*. It’s now about 20:00 on Saturday in our time zone. We left Fiji, about 18 hours ago, at 22:00 *today*. I still can’t quite wrap my head around the whole dateline thing, but there it is.
So we drive back to the airport to check in person on how things are supposed to be progressing. It turns out that Heba and Kevin are still (supposedly) on for their just-after-midnight flight, and mine is delayed until 02:45. They’re on different carriers, so leave from different terminals, and so we part ways. I head through security and into the lounge provided by United for its “Premier Executive”-class frequent flyers. Of which I am one. Which entitles me to free snacks (cheeses I don’t like, apples and nuts to which I’m allergic), free drinks from the bar (closed an hour ago) and the coffee/cappuccino machine (also, for some reason, closed), but *not* to WiFi access. That has to be purchased. At something like 50 USD a pop. I’m too tired to get really upset about this last item (I was looking forward to writing an email to my wife and finishing this report and uploading it before getting home). Anyway, I can’t finish the report there because the lounge closes. They have the gall to tell us that they’re keeping it open extra long today because of the flight delays - an extra 20 minutes. So they close at 23:50 instead of 23:30. Sheesh. From above LA looks really big and urban, but from inside its airport it feels like a provincial hick town.
So at midnight I join the many other passengers camped in front of my gate. Some of them probably see in me someone who’s had it really easy and comfy compared to them and only now has to stoop to their level. Which is true, on one level. I see in them people who probably have only one night of rough travel conditions and can catch sleep anywhere and -time they can get it without needing to worry about jet lag at all. Which is true as well, I guess.
I find an empty seat, taking care not to disturb the mother and baby sleeping next to me. The baby is swaddled in blankets on the seats, the mother sleeping half on the ground, half on her bag, with her head pillowed on the seat next to the head of her child. It’s a touching image.
I should be able to get on that flight in an hour or so. I charged my phone in the lounge, so can listen to Hard Rock on my head phones while I wait. That’s a mercy - the Christmas songs piped into the waiting area through old, tinny loudspeakers would kill me otherwise. I’ve had enough of Christmas songs being played at me in circumstances not in the least conducive to generating Christmas feelings. I’ll grant Heba that Jesus probably never saw snow in his life, but anyway it’s just a hijacked Pagan winter solstice celebration which, where I come from, falls into winter. So there. And when, earlier this afternoon here in L.A. (yesterday afternoon, now) another car stopped next to ours with Christmas songs blaring out of its open window (standing at a sun-flooded intersection *under palm trees*), I only needed to look at Kevin for him to start laughing. I’ve had enough. I want to go home. But then, it shouldn’t be long now.
Over breakfast, the hiking trio of our group decide to take a “half-day cruise”, which entails taking a boat out to one of the outlying islands where one can snorkel and do other things, then come back towards evening in time for our flight. So we check out of the hotel, which holds our bags and says we can shower and change when we come back in the evening. We decide for the slightly more expensive package (at just over 50 USD) which gets us to an island where they also have “motorized activities” - renting a jet ski sounds like fun.
Well, that island is a little further out. So we get there a little later than we could have gotten off for the cheaper island. They only have one (!) jet ski and won’t rent it out because it’s low tide. Which is also the reason snorkeling in the nearby reef isn’t advisable - it’s actually sticking out of the water in a few places and you don’t want the current to drag you against that stuff, it’s sharp.
So, a little put off by the whole thing, we pay a little extra for a third party operator who takes us on a different (very small) boat out to a reef where once can snorkel - which is back the way we came, right next to the cheaper island. Which seems unnecessarily ironic. But the snorkeling itself is cool.
Very relaxing. I’m covered in SPF 30 *and* keep my shirt on, so not too worried about sunburn in the one hour we have. I even remember how to dive and blow the water out of my snorkel after breaking the surface again, so I don’t have to tread water and pour the water out by hand. Diving down and zooming over the reef under my own power feels cool.
The guys leading the group throw some bread in the water and soon we’re swimming in fish soup. After that, we follow the reef for a bit until the boat picks us up again. There’s coffee (and water) afterwards and then we take the big boat back to the hotel. It was very, very nice in all. A shower and change later we’re on our way to the airport and get onto our flight to LA without mishaps. I manage about five or six hours of sleep on our ten-hour flight, which is pretty good.
In LA, we’re told that the flight of Heba and Kevin is cancelled, due to snow in DC. We’re on three separate routings from here (due to the intricacies and downright weirdness of the way in which World Bank trips are booked through American Express). Bjarne is supposed to go to Denver and hence to DC (to arrive at 01:30 in the morning, with no sleep in between because he’s on two short flights and has to make the connection at night). That’s the initial route suggested by AmEx. I objected, because I thought getting actually *home* at 02:30 with no sleep was not in fact preferable to a long layover in LA and flying through the night. So I’m supposed to be here from now (just after Noon) until just after ten p.m. and then fly en directe. Heba and Kevin opted for an even better option, which is taking a direct flight mid-afternoon which gets to DC in the evening - an option AmEx hadn’t even mentioned to me, because it’s on a different carrier (not the one the World Bank prefers because they have a deal for lower fares).
Bjarne flies out to Denver. Heba and Kevin find they’re booked for a different connection just after midnight. My flight is supposed to be on time. So we rent a car and visit a friend of Kevin’s, who takes us to a café at the beach, where we have coffee and something to eat. LA is nice - the weather is certainly the best we’ve had anywhere so far, and we’re told that it’s like this pretty much all year. Many of the homes here have neither heating nor air-condition - it’s just not necessary. Of course, the place is also rather crowded and really expensive, but still - nice.
Back at their place, our hosts check our connections for us online and we find that my flight is delayed until after two in the morning. I try to confirm by phone, where an automated announcement (after a long stint of talking to a machine) tells me it’s cancelled. Trying to get a human on the line results in more talking to a machine and then an announcement that the waiting time for the next available operator is currently “over sixty minutes”. Bjarne tells us by phone that his flight from Denver to DC is cancelled as well and they told him he’d get on a flight to DC at one p.m. on *Tuesday*. It’s now about 20:00 on Saturday in our time zone. We left Fiji, about 18 hours ago, at 22:00 *today*. I still can’t quite wrap my head around the whole dateline thing, but there it is.
So we drive back to the airport to check in person on how things are supposed to be progressing. It turns out that Heba and Kevin are still (supposedly) on for their just-after-midnight flight, and mine is delayed until 02:45. They’re on different carriers, so leave from different terminals, and so we part ways. I head through security and into the lounge provided by United for its “Premier Executive”-class frequent flyers. Of which I am one. Which entitles me to free snacks (cheeses I don’t like, apples and nuts to which I’m allergic), free drinks from the bar (closed an hour ago) and the coffee/cappuccino machine (also, for some reason, closed), but *not* to WiFi access. That has to be purchased. At something like 50 USD a pop. I’m too tired to get really upset about this last item (I was looking forward to writing an email to my wife and finishing this report and uploading it before getting home). Anyway, I can’t finish the report there because the lounge closes. They have the gall to tell us that they’re keeping it open extra long today because of the flight delays - an extra 20 minutes. So they close at 23:50 instead of 23:30. Sheesh. From above LA looks really big and urban, but from inside its airport it feels like a provincial hick town.
So at midnight I join the many other passengers camped in front of my gate. Some of them probably see in me someone who’s had it really easy and comfy compared to them and only now has to stoop to their level. Which is true, on one level. I see in them people who probably have only one night of rough travel conditions and can catch sleep anywhere and -time they can get it without needing to worry about jet lag at all. Which is true as well, I guess.
I find an empty seat, taking care not to disturb the mother and baby sleeping next to me. The baby is swaddled in blankets on the seats, the mother sleeping half on the ground, half on her bag, with her head pillowed on the seat next to the head of her child. It’s a touching image.
I should be able to get on that flight in an hour or so. I charged my phone in the lounge, so can listen to Hard Rock on my head phones while I wait. That’s a mercy - the Christmas songs piped into the waiting area through old, tinny loudspeakers would kill me otherwise. I’ve had enough of Christmas songs being played at me in circumstances not in the least conducive to generating Christmas feelings. I’ll grant Heba that Jesus probably never saw snow in his life, but anyway it’s just a hijacked Pagan winter solstice celebration which, where I come from, falls into winter. So there. And when, earlier this afternoon here in L.A. (yesterday afternoon, now) another car stopped next to ours with Christmas songs blaring out of its open window (standing at a sun-flooded intersection *under palm trees*), I only needed to look at Kevin for him to start laughing. I’ve had enough. I want to go home. But then, it shouldn’t be long now.