“There is bound to be turbulence in the clouds of confusion before one can view the friendly skies, and an illuminated landing strip.” – T.F. Hodge
Flying into Queenstown airport – ZQN – gives new solemnity to the invention of arm rests. Wobbling through cloud-hatted peaks, the plane searches for that tell-tale paved strip at the base of the Remarkables, while rows of pale fingers clench the sides of plastic seats.
Bump. Tilt. Hiccup.
Then the wings straighten, and a collective gasp echoes through the cabin. Here’s solid ground, sun shine!
Kia Ora, weary traveler. Welcome to New Zealand.
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