First day in Kiwi land

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First day in New Zealand draws to a close. Nomad Backpackers turned out to be a giant party place on Saturday night - but the party didn’t even start until midnight. I arrived at 6:30pm local time. By the time I had dealt with arrival procedures, including having my shoes removed and disinfected for twenty minutes - not because my feet are smelly, silly, but because of my previous day’s visit to the Lone Pine Koala Sanctuary and the possibility of importing vile kanga and other assorted biological shite on the bottom of my shoe, it was 7:30pm. By the time I was settled in to the new room - far more ‘cozy’ than the splendor of my Brisbane palace, it was 8:30pm. It was rainy but not cold by the time I went out for a long exploratory walk at 10:30pm, after popping down a beer at the deserted bar downstairs and watching the All Blacks record their ninth straight victory over the Wallabies in the rugby. By the time I got back at midnight the thump, thump of the bass drum and the first high pitched shrieks from drunken tourist girls was beginning to echo across the night. Even though I am on the fifth floor, the music and screeching is still loud enough to infiltrate and disturb my sleep, but not loud enough to keep me fully awake. Subliminal chaos at the crest of nightmares. The bass drum stopped pounding somewhere about 5:00am, and between six and eight there was a period of blissful relative quiet, only interrupted by the gathering momentum of inner-city traffic.

I was anticipating a gloomy weather scene when I pulled aside my curtain as Sunday dawned. Imagine my surprise to see blue sky between the tall buildings. Last night the streets were glistening with rain, all the people were bundled up in coats and scarves, lots of people pouring and sloshing around, especially Asian tourists. Today the streets are teeming with mainly Asian tourists, everyone wearing coats and scarves, the sky is, in fact, not pure blue; it is filling with fast moving, low scudding, island clouds that balloon into sudden and aggressive showers, then clear up as fast as they came. I decide to go for an early walk to hunt down some coffee. That walk turns into a bus ride on the free bus loop. That ride turns into a walk in a park with a fantastic view of the Sky Tower, the central modern spire that dominates the Auckland skyline much like Seattle’s needle does in Seattle. That walk evolves via a cup of milky Starbucks into a visit to the information center at the Sky Tower, where I eventually find myself getting signed on to a seven-day tour of the South Island that will absorb almost all of my visit to New Zealand, starting tomorrow. Typical! I went out to get a cup of coffee and end up three hours later with a significantly lighter wallet and my near-future mapped out like Google Earth.

Choices, choices, choices. I could have spent the whole day going from one person to the next about my options. Instead, as usual, I went with the first one I spoke to, trusting in the mystical power I clearly possess to always land at the right person’s door at the right time. Everything that happens is meant to be. I am drawn by secret, magical forces through this existence with a zen-like mantra chanting mysteriously as a soundtrack. I call this mystical, karmical, serendipitous, force, ‘Laziness’! With my mystical power beams turned on to ‘full’, I chose the path for the next week. I think I’ve made a good choice: I’m going to see most of the major highlights of South island: North Island is going to have to wait. The Thai woman who set the whole thing up (named Ghong) was very helpful and persistent, (though subsequently, today, I discover that that Ghong gets the gong for being utterly inept when I discover she accidently booked me on a plane to Christchurch on the wrong day - and it cost me $50 to change it - Grr!). It took us forever, but finally we got the whole thing figured out. It begins with a flight to Christchurch today (Grr!).

That gives me the morning to try to figure out the American Airlines flight change to get me from LA to Boston - although the time difference between New Zealand and America is probably going to screw that plan up - it will still be Sunday in LA on Monday morning in Auckland. This kind of temporal dislocation is typical when you’re living sixteen hours in the future. Not sure how I’m going to deal with that one if that happens - I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it, I suppose. (The bridge is down - I think someone stole it. Trying to contact American Airlines is like trying to get a personal appointment with Jessica Alba - very difficult, and even if I were to succeed, I’m fairly sure it’s going to all go pear-shaped in the end!

After getting the tour squared away - I’m not going to describe it here, you’re going to have to wait and see, day by day, how it evolves, aren’t you? - I went up the Sky Tower to experience the stupendous views over Auckland. Finally, I get a clear sense of the City. Another beautiful port city, like Sydney, or Boston! I have a coffee and a disappointing toastie, take a bag load of photos, and then experience multiple stomach-churning moments standing on the glass floors with the vertiginous drop the only thing apparently standing between me and the ground far, far below. The signs say the glass is as strong as the rest of the floor. Maybe so. My stomach has different ideas: Even though I stand on the glass multiple times, each time there is a revolt from my feet that I have to struggle to overcome before I can march to the center of the apparently fragile glass frame. I collect my tickets from Ghong then walk back into the glossy showery City.

I get back to the Hotel, figure out the laundry, then win and lose at chess. Frustrating to win the way I did. I end up disgruntled after making heavy weather of what should have been a routine victory. Can’t stand the stupid game again - but I can’t stop playing either!

I head out and catch the ferry out to the wonderful island of Waiheke, thirty-five minutes away. I’ve got a huge love affair with all forms of transportation as you probably know. Trains? Love ‘em. Boats? Love ‘em! This ferry ride is delicious like all such rides: the crisp breeze, the coruscating light on the water, the green hills, and the city receding through the white wash of the boats trail. Fantastic. There are some lovely green volcanic cone hills rising out of the water. It’s chilly, blustery, but nevertheless very pleasant on board. I love any ferry crossing, and this one is very charming and photogenic too, with ominous clouds spilling rain in one direction while the sky is whistling blue in the other. Admittedly, it’s not as grand as Sydney harbor - but then where is?

Off the boat, I do exactly what I did on Magnetic Island near Townsville - I jump on a bus to the far end of the Island. There are two other tourists on the bus. I end up chatting with one of them: Ravi from London, who is similarly flying by the seat of his pants through his visit to New Zealand. He’s an interesting, young chap who has a great job flying around the World selling cryogenic equipment for his company. He’s also a DJ. He’s here for five days work. He took off to see the island with the same spontaneity that took me to the ferry at 3:00pm.
The bus gets to the far end of the island, and Ravi and I walk the length of the attractive beach, then we catch the bus that arrives back in time for sunset at the ferry terminal. It’s a particularly attractive island with green hills cascading down into blue bays at every curve in the road. Nice place to live I would think. The sunset is lovely. Ravi gets a taxi, I walk back to the hotel and we discuss going out for drinks later.

While Saturday night was a raving apocalyptic party scene in downtown Auckland for which I was unprepared and in which I did not participate (if you don’t include my disrupted dream space), Sunday night turned out to be a total dead zone. Ravi and I went out searching for the happening place in Auckland and discovered that on Sunday night the cemetery has more going on than the center of the city. All one point four million at home nursing hangovers and sore wallets, I guess. We toured around a couple of bars thinly populated with other people looking forlorn like they missed the last bus and said our farewells about Midnight with the rain once again having returned for the night. I liked Ravi. He reminded me of Eric Paci, with his easy smile and light-hearted approach to things. Good luck in China mate!

So there it was, an action packed first day, then, filled with enough incidents to fill four normal days at home. Monday will feature airports, planes, dealing with American Airlines officialdom, and arrival on frosty, snow covered beautiful South Island.
Three winters in a row. It’s official. I really have lost my futuristic mind!
See you on the flypaper.

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