“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.

(Brought to you by Where’s My Backpack?)