The No Ringgit Traveler

SEAT 6A

Window seat again. I was lucky this time I guess. Normally during check-in I will request from the ground staff to provide me window seat but I was forgotten and still yet they give me. Nothing special about the window seat besides the good view. But I flew at 10pm. Nothing you could saw out the window except pitch dark. The only reason I like it because I can rest my head on the wall. That’s it.

As far as I could remember, I’ve got window seat for 4 times. Once when I was flying from Brunei to Auckland. Then twice and thrice when I flew to Christchurch and returned to Auckland. The most recent one when I flew down to Wellington early December 2007. So this time is my fifth.

I removed a headset and pillow from the seat and landed my bony arse. The seat are slightly better than any of the airline I tried before- Qantas, Pacific Blue (of Virgin Blue), and Royal Brunei Airlines (of which I think the worst choice for long haul).

One of the first things I would do once seated, was to pull out the safety leaflet. Well, not really reading the safety guideline but to see the aircraft model. It was A320. I’m no aeronautic engineer but aviation is something that I fancy.

When I was kid I always like to stare at the sky looking the aeroplane. Very often the crate left a long white cloud trace behind them.

“Mak, tengok tu (Mum, look at that), “pointing to a bird-like invention, “kapal terbang tu buat awan (the aeroplane created cloud)”

Well there is still a boy in me. Back then, flying is something luxurious. What more I was coming from a poor family. The most common time people aboard airplane were during the hajj (pilgrimage) time.

My dad once returned from hajj in 1990, I didn’t ask him ‘how are you,’ instead,

“Abah seronok tak terbang? (Dad, was it fun flying? ”

He dives his hand in his bag and handed me an aeroplane toy.

When I grew bigger at high school, aeronautic and aviation was my reading. But it was a friend that shattered my dream to become a pilot.

“You can’t become a pilot. You wear eyeglass!”

Then I changed my ambition.

“You can’t become a steward (cabin crew) either. They all have a perfect vision!”

Herm, maybe that’s the end of my aviation career.

Still the interest never dies.

IN-FLIGHT MEAL

“Gosh, I’m so hungry. I haven’t taken my dinner.” I told Lady-with-departmental-store-luggage who happen to sit next to me for the next 3 hours flight. She told me she was hungry too.

10pm. Flight NZ0864 hasn’t even departed. Quarter past 10 when I finally feel it’s moving. Taking off and leaving Auckland behind. Seeing the city in bird eye view at night was magnificent. It’s like flood of orange-color lights with some X’mas chase lights still on at some area. It was vivid that night. No cloud to conceal those views.

Seriously I was so starving. Whittakers’ Chocolate that I bought early wasn’t enough. I was waiting anxiously for the dinner time. But I guess it still far away. For some people they can’t sleep if their stomach if empty, but I worked for me. Better for me to doze off rather than waiting unknowingly.

It was only an hour later I heard, “Dinner will be served” from the speaker.

“Chicken or pasta?” asked the cabin crew

“Chicken.”

“Any drink?”

“OJ.”

“Any hot drink?”

“Tea, please”

The meal was good. Way better than all those flights that I used their service before. Tasty and presentable. Royal Brunei was horrible. The rice smells like ‘nasi kawah’! Qantas and Pacific Blue on the other hand, don’t serve such meal since I flew domestic. (Well Qantas do serve tea and snack)

When I’m all full up, there’s one best thing to do- sleep. Anyway it was my sleeping time. I’m not the nocturnal type. I’m not really sure how long I’ve been sleeping but the announcement from the captain awaken me, telling all the passengers that we would be landing in Fua’amotu International Airport.

ARRIVAL.

I was anxious to see the island. For the past almost 3 hours the Pacific Ocean was beneath me. Such a relief to think finally there’s land on this part of the world. I can’t imagine how was James Cook travelled and explored these Polynesians islands. Was he sea sick? Was he tired looking at the vast and endless-like ocean? Or was he found it by accident?

I started to see some lights from the horizon and we came closer I could see street lights. Not that many and it was scattered all over. Some houses the lights were still on even though it was 1 o’clock in the morning.

The landing was rough, I crossed my finger hoping for the best but I bet the pilot was used to this runway. From afar the airport was rather small and I already have a mental picture how it would be. I walk down the aisle with Lady-with-departmental-store-luggage. Once I reached the door, I smell dry air.

Argh finally something different. You see, even though Auckland is summer. But the air is sometime ridiculous cold.

It was quite a walk to the arriving terminal. There’s no sky bridge that connects you from the flight. Understandably, this is a 3rd world country, you can’t expect 1st class facility. But to tell you the truth I fancy walking this way. At least I don’t feel confined.

I looked up the observation deck, many people there. Instantly it reminds me of childhood memories. Waving at my dad when he left us to perform the fifth pillar of Islam- Hajj. When I approached the arrival gate, there’s a local quartet band dressed in traditional attire playing some kind of Hawaiian Hula music (forgive me, I’m not sure what’s that music called) and that really caught my attention.

Aha, this is something cool. Something different. So far this is the unique arrival welcome I ever had. You could feel that you were welcome here. Tell which other airport in the world do such thing? Unless you’re a VIP perhaps they will throw you a good and glossy welcoming. With the warm smile of people, instantly all my unnecessary worries that I have a day before were gone. Disappear to the thin air.

They are not going to cook me in their pot tonight!

Though it’s past 1am, literally everyone in the flight tired and sleepy but with the music and that kind of welcome it seemed that they’ve been charged and this includes me. The Lady-with-departmental-store-luggage invited me to duty free shop. She told me she wanted to use my boarding pass to buy alcohol from the shop so she could purchase more than the quota.

Why did she always take up my quota? Actually I don’t really mine. Why waste it when someone else when it can beneficial to some other people. Just a dramatization, you know I’m such a drama king.

IMMIGRATION CHECK.

The lanes. Special lane. Non Tongan. Tongan. Being a Malaysian I queued on the middle lane. It didn’t take me long to reached the officer. He looked troubled but I dare not to ask. I smiled but he didn’t reply. Maybe he was tired of working night shift. He didn’t look like Tongan, more Indianish I should say.

He opened my passport to the first page and he looked up at me to verify the carrier of the passport. Seconds later he stamped my passport with 30 days visitor visa. It was quick and easy. Lucky to be Malaysian because I don’t need to apply visa prior to departure. I can just take a flight and obtain visa on arrival (VOA).

I walked to get my luggage. I saw nothing on the conveyor! Not even a single bag. The panic stroked me. SHIT, I got nothing to wear. It didn’t worry if I lost it since I got travel insurance to cover. I look around and people are just every where. Then I saw a group of beg in the middle. I took a chance and searched my bag. There it was lying on the floor. I guess if I don’t act much faster some else could have taken my bag away. Not stealing but mistaken that it was theirs. My bag is simply recognizable. It’s cheap chilli-red bag that I bought from Petaling Street. An imitation bag made in China. I put tag on it also with my unique name on. Who else on the flight bear a Muslim name?

I handed the the Arrival Card for security check. It was hassle free. They were not even X-ray my bag or at least a dog to sniff it. Cleary their trust for humanity is strong.

WELCOME TO THE KINGDOM OF TONGA.

Soon when I passed the security gate, lots of people flocking on the arrival hall. Some cheering. Some calling their friends name. Some just holding cards read ‘ALI BABA LODGE’ and ‘LAGOON RESORT’.

Herm... where’s mine?

A lady approached me. I believed she was Ali Baba Lodge staff. The card on her hand. “Where are you going?” She asked me.

“Heilala Lodge.”

“Come,” She wanted me to follow her. She stopped in front of one male standing in the middle of foot traffic, “this guy will drive you there”. She said with a slight hint of island accent.

“Heilala Lodge?” I asked the guy. He was rather tall and beefy.

He nodded. “I’m waiting for another guy.” He finally speaks. Beside him there were two German guys. From Heilala Lodge’s website, I could guess they receive a lot of German visitor since they have the website in German language as well.

I’ve seen quite number of people wearing black on the flight. But now I saw the number triple. Some of them were wearing a woven special garment on their waist. That was the Tongan way of mourning and respect to the dead. Someone died and his or her body was on the plane too! I saw the people claiming the remain at the cargo section which is not far away from where I stand.

If before the sounds of Hula kind of music inviting us, made us happy but now the mood change. The rhythm change completely. Sobbing is everywhere. Tears drop on the shoulder of someone’s who lends it. I believe the whole community came to the airport to show their respect. The thing about Tongan funeral, it’s like a community affair. If one dies not only the family members mourn but the whole community. This is the evident that these people are tight knit. Closely related though they have live thousands miles away from Tonga.

I started to ponder. Why I’m not like them. Why I can’t be close to my neighbour. Frankly speaking I don’t even know their name and shockingly they stay next to my house and have been living there for years! Am I a bad neighbour? Even during wedding reception I hardly show up and typical answer to my mum was and still is, “I don’t know them why should I!”

The last guy finally came out and we all walked to the MPV. The airport pick up transfer was a complimentary services to all the confirmed international guest. I guess all four of us need it by the way. Arriving late at night on a foreign remote country, getting a cab maybe a bad idea.

HEILALA HOLIDAY LODGE.

“You can sit in front if you want to. By the way I’m Moses.” The driver introduced himself.

“Ed,” I said and asked, “How long from the airport (to Heilala)?”

“About 20 minutes”

We talked along the way. The Germans at the back chose to stay silent. Tired I suppose. At about half past one, we finally there. A Tongan lady showed me my room on the upper floor of main house. She took me around for quick tour to show some of the important facilities.
“Alright, I’m leaving you now-“

“Wait, should I pay now?”

“No-no. Don’t worry. Do it tomorrow?”

Herm, that wasn’t a proper check-in.

The room was simple. There is one single bed, a table fan, a wardrobe, a mirror and there was something additional that I extremely think I won’t even need it - Holy Bible on a shelf next to the window. I put my bag on the floor and threw myself onto the bed.

Arghhhh...finally I can lay down.

The bed wasn’t bad at all. It’s a spring mattress. Surely I’ll be having a sound asleep. I didn’t feel like going up now. How I wish I could just close my eyes and go to sleep straight ahead. Yet I unpack my bag and take out my Holy Quran which I place on top in my backpack and placed right next to the Holy Bible.

Sleeping with a Bible in my room didn’t worry me. For me it’s just a book and it couldn’t derail my faith to the Oneness of Allah. If it is to be it’s up to me. My reading about Tonga also tells me this is a Mormon country. Mormon is one of the many sects of Christianity. Don’t ask me further I yet to studying it.

The water was cold but not freezing when I turned the tap on to wash myself. It tastes a little weird when I gargled. I slid the shower curtain and the water ran through me. Cleansed all my sweat away.

I laid down on the bed but I couldn't sleep.It was too quite and too serene. What more i was the only one on the upper floor and no one else there and outside was so dark. I rolled to the left and rolled to the right but still I couldn't sleep.It was until I chanted verses from Quran I finally sleep without knowing it.