Elisabeth Easther's Asian holiday reminded her of a book from her childhood.
Elisabeth Easther's Asian holiday reminded her of a book from her childhood.
Elisabeth Easther thanks her lucky stars her holiday turned out first-rate.
When I was young, I had a book called What Good Luck, What Bad Luck, about a little boy who had a pretty crazy day. When invited to a surprise party, he was unable to go because it wasin another city. But what good luck, someone gave him a plane so he could fly there. But what bad luck, the plane broke down. Happily, the child had a parachute, but it failed, although he landed in a haystack. Only the haystack had a pitchfork sticking out of it ... I expect you get the picture?
Well that's how my recent adventure in Asia felt.
What bad luck, Air New Zealand called to say our flight to Vietnam was cancelled.
What good luck, they could put us on an earlier flight, plus we'd get a free night in the Regal Airport Hotel and meal vouchers, in Hong Kong, on New Year's Eve.
What bad luck, at Auckland Airport it transpired I'd taken my son's old passport and it had expired some years earlier.
What good luck, I called my brother Richard, waking him at 6am, and he was happy to go to my house, find the passport and bring it to us.
The good luck continued for a while after that. We had a great flight, we had a whole row to ourselves, the crew were fun and a man even met us in Hong Kong and escorted us to our lavish hotel. It had two pools. We took the train into the city and then took it straight home again because we were tired. Our room was amazing and it was free. Breakfast was remarkable, and we like to think of ourselves as connoisseurs in the breakfast buffet department.
Then, what bad luck. One digit was incorrect in Theo's Vietnam visa. It's 7am, the woman at the check-in counter won't let us fly and she's not very nice about it either.
I start trying to organise an expensive emergency visa online, although the woman from the check-in counter says even if we do get a new visa, she can't change our flights because she's Cathay Pacific and we're booked with Air New Zealand.
More bad luck. Air NZ don't open their Hong Kong kiosk till January 3, they don't answer telephone calls and eventually my spend control explodes my phone and says "no more calls". I try emailing using the airport Wi-Fi but the only address I can find is for the Koru Club and a helpful auto reply tells me they'll respond in two to three working days. It's starting to feel quite hot. Theo says he trusts me to fix things. I don't share his confidence.
Assuming we get the new visa, there's no way we can change the flight, and if we book a new flight just to get from Hong Kong to Ho Chi Minh, all our ensuing flights are cancelled. And the Cathay Pacific woman won't cut us any slack.
Returning to the hotel, I ask if we can go back to our room for a few hours. What good luck, the Regal concierge says, not only can we go back, we can have a late check-out of 2pm. No charge. I want to embrace the man, but I restrain myself.
Up in the room we have space, air-conditioned space, instant coffee and all-day access to the pool. And because we loved the breakfast so much, I'd souvenired a few highlights. I travel with Tupperware. True fact.
Elisabeth Easther's Asian holiday reminded her of a book from her childhood.
Down to the pool, Theo frolics for hours as emails go back and forth between me and the Vietnamese visa people. They're working on New Year's Day, they can help us. I've still no idea about flights, but wheels are in motion.
Then I remember the emails I'd been getting from the Air NZ counter people about our flight change. One flick of a quick and desperate "Help!" from the side of the pool and they reply immediately. We can be put on the 4.35pm flight. "Great", I reply, even though I have no idea whether the visa will come through.
Close to the wire, at 2pm, we get the visa.
"Yes please", I say to the new flight and the huggable concierge prints out the new visa that I've emailed from my phone.
Thinking about it, I relive the feelings. Blood cold, skin hot, heart pounding, the tension rising and with each new disaster, anxiety amplifying. How every time somebody did something kind, the overwhelming sense of gratitude.
And what good luck, the rest of our holiday was a delight.
