Auckland

I’m in a CONVENIENCE STORE AND INTERNET on Queen Street, Auckland. It’s more spacious out back, where the Windows boxes are, than the two-aisle storefront where electricians are repairing or installing some kind of sign.

The Airbus is the bane of my life right now. It runs every fifteen minutes back to my sanctuary, the airport, but the trip takes an hour.

I’d forgotten that.

Auckland Airport has changed in four years. There’s Dunkin Donuts, Wishbone and something called a Sumo Salad (lime green also), and they’ve built a whole new chunk of mall between the Qantas and Air New Zealand domestic terminals. International looks much the same.

Air New Zealand has these amazing new retro-neo-future space-pod things around which cluster the e-ticket log-in kiosks. Great industrial design.

I logged into the MUD from a battered coin-operated web-kiosk in International. Keeping appointments in cyberspace.

I feel naked without a cellphone, but I never did figure out global roaming, and I’ve never used it on previous international trips, so I took the plunge and left it behind.

All the New Zealand-branded peanut butter in the store is made in China.