Auckland
The automated doors slide open soundlessly, admitting a small party into Terminal 2 of Changi Airport. The sky is nebulous and frowns down upon all of us, heightening chances of plane delay. Certainly for once the moodiness of the sky is accompanied by the chilly breeze blowing in through the doors, and is then quickly smothered by the air-conditioning. The Qantas flight would first stop in Sydney Airport and then a connecting flight would then head to Auckland.
I shivered in the draft of cold air passing over me, raising goosebumps and hair all over my flesh. It would be summer in Auckland, but a certain bugging feeling told me that there would be not much of a temperature difference between the inside of the airport terminal and the natural environment in New Zealand. Tourists fidget uncomfortably in their hard seats, probably moodily awaiting their flight a few hours away. I could not help but smile, thinking that it would be two weeks before I would see this place again, but it would surely all pass in a heartbeat.
The sky was now overcast with clouds streaking gray and blue lines into the retreating sun, indicating torrid weather ahead.
.
It wasn't that I was afraid of flying that I sat with slight trepidation in my seat. There was a subtle solemness hanging in the air amidst the hustle and bustle of people shoving their bulky baggage into the overhead compartments and chattering excitedly about their undoubtedly fascinating holiday. The couple in front had a bubbly infant grinning at his mother, surely unawares of wherever he was going and whatever he would be doing. It was with the captain's warning that the engines suddenly sprang to life, and the cabin lurched forwards. I stared out the windows into the murky night, where the terminal was clearly visible, all passengers now only seen as crude stick figures.
The darkness pressed on my eyes like an opaque veil, only lifted when the cabin lights turned on. Sure enough, the baby in front was now attempting to scream not only his head off, but the other passengers' heads as well. Though it was obviously second nature of babies to behave in such a manner, it so happened that I was not in a very reasonable mood at the moment. I plugged my ears and squeezed my eyes closed, trying my best to shut off the bawling and shrieking while silently willing for the baby to cease its squalling and crying, until blissful sleep finally carried me off.
.
A hallowed fog had wrapped itself around Sydney like a thick, impenetrable armour. The clouds rolled by lazily, reflecting my mood in the shadowy sky. The city infrastructure closely resembled that of Singapore, with the exception of wide open spaces and the blue, majestic ocean, stretching for as far as the eye could follow. Soon, it was time to leave.
.
I stepped out of Auckland International Airport and the sun immediately glared into my eyes. I blinked, caught completely off guard by the ferocity of the sun in such a southern country. Only what could have been milliseconds later, a cooling, natural breeze blew through my hair and glanced off my face. I ran my fingers over where the wind had touched me, an experience I had never felt before in hot, humid Singapore. The temperature was 21 degrees Centigrade in the afternoon, but the City was blessed with a playful wind that took glee in running past every few seconds.
.
The wind in Auckland was nothing like I have ever felt in my entire life. Outside in wide open areas, the wind is fickle; sometimes it is a pleasant draft, others it may hit you a little stronger, blowing into your jacket as though it was a screen door. Nature at its best. The wind's nature, however, changes dramatically while you're inside a car driving at 80 kilometres per hour. The wind hits you full force in the face like a brick wall, rushing into your nostrils, stunning your breathing reflex and makes you gasp for breath in surprise. It also takes pleasure in whistling loudly in your eardrums, blocking off your sister's protests to shut the window immediately. Spit applied hastily to the lips evaporates instantly in the gust; without that transparent barrier the lips are most prone to chapping. It is an exhilarating feeling, however; you feel as though the wind is blowing all your troubles away, never to come back again.
From the inside of a car, on a highway, the city of Auckland does not really differ from that of Singapore and Malaysia. Road signs pave junctions and few cars speed by. And for a moment, it feels as though you are back home. Then, you open the window and a mixture of exhaust fumes, gasoline and the strong breeze hits you in the face to remind you of where you really are.