Meet Hilda.

Being alone is never as painful as when  you have to dine on your own but men are men and men must eat. Steak. And I am not suicidal, so I refuse to have dinner in my hotel room. There is something fundamentally wrong about a person sitting down to have dinner by his lonesome self. It must have been how leppers felt in biblical times. Outcasts, sitting on a dump, scratching their open, puss-filled wounds. Shit, that is disgusting and do you mind, I’m trying to eat over here…As a business traveller I am quite accustomed to this form of social torture and more so because I never dine alone. I always have company.

Let’s call her Hilda. Continue reading

It’s a lie, there are no hobbits in New Zealand.

Arrived in Auckland at an ungodly hour.  I’m thinking there should be some compensation for travellers who are still trying to get to a hotel after wizards and some teenagers have gone to bed.  Did you know that New Zealand is the southern hemisphere’s version of England?  If only for the rain. And the cold.  And the general miserable weather.  They say the people are nicer here. I say nothing.

Fortunately the Kiwis drive on the correct side of the road, so getting to the hotel wasn’t that much of a problem.  Finding the rental car was.  Who knew it could be so difficult to find parking bay #29?  I looked like a kid on a scavenger hunt running around the rental car bays with suitcase in tow.  Finally got moving, what felt like an hour later. Continue reading