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Published: January 3rd 2012
Kristy and I
After 13 hr plane ride...before we could check into hotelMy boots are confiscated at Auckland International Airport. I grabbed about four hours of sleep on the 13 hr plane ride from San Fran to Auckland, and I wearily stare at the efficient man who’s looking at my boots in firm distaste. I make one argument, “I’m an invasive plant researcher. I can assure you those are grass seed shells, no live seeds.” (Not sure I was even that articulate.)
But no dice. The boots cannot enter the country as is. We (my traveling companions: Kristy, Jill, and Angee) had decided to check the customs box that said, yes, indeed, we have camping gear so that meant standing in a line behind families with Costco-size boxes of bulk foods and alcohol. I knew my boots wouldn’t go through. The grass seed shells were imbedded all over and though I’d done my best during field season to pick them all out, my boots still looked like a little weed patch.
Turns out New Zealand puts their money where their mouth is in terms of invasive species control. Being an island, the country has been wracked by invasive species problems, mostly in
the bouncing, furry forms of stoats, ferrets, and rabbits. So though we are dog-tired and I have lost my boots (temporarily), I can’t complain. Every country should be this diligent. They take 15 minutes or so to look through the tents. I’m told that either they can heat-treat my boots (possibly ruining them) for a fee or they can keep them at Biosecurity until I fly out of the country, also for a fee. I choose the latter. I will have to buy some cheap tennis shoes to get me off the pavement and into the forests.
Land of Aucks Biosecurity made our entry tedious but hey! We’re here! The other side of the globe! And…we can’t check into our hotel. It’s only 8 AM on a Sunday.
So we drop off our bags at our hotel which is right next to our conference center (the galvanizing force behind this world adventure…at least for this week!) and then shuffle through the city. Auckland’s downtown doesn’t feel especially distinct. There are many, many Asian eateries since NZ is close to so many Southeast island nations. I read in Lonely Planet that Auckland has the largest concentration of Polynesians
Flame and black marble
Outside the Auckland Art Gallery in the world, including anywhere in Polynesia! We quickly discover that internet access is going to be an issue. It’s either non-existent, expensive, or slow. Occasionally it’s decent at a good internet cafes (most of which have quicki-marts attached to them).
We’re a tired, grimy blur and turns out Auckland doesn’t wake up on Sundays, staying in a peaceful grey slumber. At least it’s not raining…oh wait. I buy an umbrella (the first of many “crap, why didn’t I bring that?” purchases). Finally, when it’s 10:00, we go to the Auckland Art Gallery where we (just me and Kristy at this point) are immediately enchanted, delighted at the art installation in front of the building. True-red paper flowers attached to an enormous, smooth tree branch sitting inch-deep in water above black marble.
The gallery itself is enjoyable (and free), especially the 19
th century portraits of Maori. Victorian portrait style, stiff and symbolic but with their traditional garb on and tattoos. After we move on, we wander a bit more but Kristy is fading fast and I’m not far behind. So we go to the hotel though it’s still an hour or so before check-in time and lo and
Symonds Street Cemetery
Beautiful historical cemetery on the way to the Domain behold, we have a room!
Auckland Domain Domain is an old-fashioned British term for the lands owned by the governor that were park-ish but private property, meant to separate the esteemed governor from the masses (I’m serious). It takes about a twenty minute or half hour walk from our hotels. We make our sojourn on Monday morning when we’ve had a full night’s sleep. The walk takes us by a historical cemetery with a delicious oldish-looking spot of forest guarding the stones and I determine to skip out on a morning of the conference to wander through.
We first head to the Wintergarden, a collection of (very British) restored late Victorian garden creations, a reflection pool, conservatories, and a fernery. The conservatories, white lacy-looking buildings, are sodden with flowers. Orchids, monkey-flower, snapdragons, poppies from all over the world. Colors blaze and mix together and birds outside and in chirp constantly. A perfect Victorian conservatory.
The Auckland Museum is a solid, Grecian-style structure set atop a perfectly manicured grassy hill. Looks almost silly in its grandiosity but the inside is anything but. It’s a natural history museum and a damn fine one at that. The recreations of
the multiple extinct moas (flightless birds), the earthquake exhibit that has an earthquake house that actually shakes in timing with a acted news story about a volcano exploding in the Auckland harbor, taxidermied species (mostly birds) on painted sets of each NZ habitat type, and the old Maori art and stories. I had no idea the Maori were such incredible and prolific carvers! The carvings astound me, bold, solid curves, the intertwined, tangled beautiful mess or the pot-bellied figures standing on the prow of a war-boat, most often with their eyes wide and tongue open. Tennis-paddle shaped items called mere that are actually warrior emblems often made of greenstone (a NZ jade). A massive 25m canoe takes center stage, carved along every half meter, the last of its kind from the 1800’s where the hull is all one piece. There’s even a full wharenui (meeting house) imbedded into the heart of the museum, a one-room wooden structure that has distinct carvings over every centimeter, painted red, blue, or just left in golden browns.
Night life Because of the time demands of the conference, my friends and I actually don’t venture out that much, only to events and meet-ups
Conservatory
So much color! that are set up at nearby restaurants and such. But we do have one night out where we get a small flavor of the scene. We head to the wharf where the action happens. As with all major port-towns, the wharf is full of bars. But not as many kitschy stores as I was expecting. There are massive yachts in port and though it’s only a Wednesday, there are plenty of folks out and about. I’m surprised by how many young people are roaming the streets but the legal drinking age here is 18 so they seem especially young to my aged 27-year-old eyes. I admit I rarely pay attention to college fashion but I can’t stop looking at the girls. Their platform shoes boggle my mind. Those are the kind of shoes that one would only find in a store for strippers in the US (no offense meant to any party but it’s true!) OR the girls sport black hi-top sneakers! Sometimes the two mix and that just blows my mind. And the boys are dressed in suits!
Soon enough we find our way out of the college-scene madness and find a pub that has music blaring out
of its orange-lit interior. It’s right on the wharf and finally I can smell the ocean, that heavy, sharp scent that I’ve grown to love. But we plunge into the bar. The place is packed and people don’t seem to stay in one place for long. There’s a two-man band playing cover song after cover song, hit after hit, stopping only long enough to take a drag on their cigarettes. And the best part is that everyone in the bar is singing along with the music at the top of their lungs. Katie, Jill, and I wiggle in place and join in wholeheartedly. Katie even gets them to play a Prince song.
Finally it’s nearing our witching hour but we have one more stop to make. We tumble out of the bar-jam and head toward a tall, lit-up light installment in the shape of a Christmas tree. We’ve been told it’s a must-see. We walk further on the dock, away from the buildings. There are bean bags, wet with the light rain, that we collapse onto. And our chatter quickly dies off as we stare up inside the cone. The light pattern changes constantly and it’s utterly mesmerizing. But
Wharenui
Meeting house inside the museum eventually, one of us reluctantly says that we should head to bed and so we blink and push off our bean bags. Walking back is a little disheartening with the number of stupidly drunk college kids but the streets are wide and well-lit. I feel no trepidation walking these streets, always a comforting feeling in a big city.
Random (and wonderful) Acts The last day I’m in Auckland I’m walking back to my hotel from the university campus where I took a half-day short course. And I just happen to glance over at the main square, adjacent to a disco-lit Galleria type mall. I’ve seen people take a load off in this square, taking advantage of the beach chairs set out for passer-byers and a group was doing tai chi there this morning. Occupy Auckland has set up camp in part of the square but right now, magic is happening in the main section.
When I glance over as I'm walking by, I see three huge puppets, paper maché heads and cloth bodies. There are two young people, the girl wears a summery flower-dress and the tow-headed boy has a striped shirt, and one old man in
grey, patched pants and suspenders that occasionally fall off his coat-hanger shoulders. He’s the only one who can blink. They lumber around the square, hugging kids who alternate between laughter and screams (even teens). They are easily three times the size of a child. Children and teens scream and run back and forth, adults hang back and take photos, and the giants move toward each other, hopping in excitement as they touch. They even shamble to the other side of the street and back, minding the traffic signals. I’m amazed at how responsive and aware the artists inside are. They seem to register human touches quite easily, even touches on their backs, and to even see each other around tall barriers. There must be periscopes running throughout.
I find a sign in the square that details the group that’s putting this on, a project called “random acts” that aims for “a collision of street and theatre.” Earlier in the week, I had heard stories of giant paper-maché gulls that bonked people gently on their heads and tried to steal food in this square. Wish I could have seen those! In addition to the giants here today, there are women
dressed in Island dress (perhaps modernized?) who pose on small stands and occasionally break into choreographed dance. There are also three creatures who have artists hidden inside. These have jail-striped cone bodies that fall from an enormous orange eye. They eerily move about, plant themselves in one spot, and swing about, their eyes gazing directly at people who stare back.
So magical and happy and otherworldly. Makes for an excellent last day in Auckland!
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