The 12-hour flight is filled with what appear to be school groups... possibly Australians or Kiwis returning from (their) summer holidays in the U.S.
The stars out the window are amazing — they're all around... they go all the way to the horizon.
Upon arrival the Auckland airport seems reminiscent of Glasgow Airport, or maybe Manchester. The same British carpeting, same colour schemes, same doors, signage and airport seating. First impression is that NZ is or was under the influence of the U.K., while Australia has a strange frontier California feeling.
For a future project I've been reading biographies of Imelda Marcos. The Rise and Fall of... Steel Butterfly... and now The Untold Story. As a kind of theoretical counterpoint I've also begun William Vollmann's Rising Up and Rising Down (the abridged version) — his attempt to determine if violence is sometimes justified, and if so, when. I think there may be a connection between the two sets of books, we'll see.
