Category Archives: New Zealand

Travelogue New Zealand 3: Waiheke Island

WAIHEKE ISLAND
5-7 February 2016

The whole trip had come about because Bronwyn, my most long-standing (we now shy away from the word “oldest”) friend, hatched the plan for an epic 40th birthday weekend with about a year’s worth of notice so we had time to plan. We (probably) would have gone anywhere, but her choice of destination made the choice a no-brainer. Bron had also done all the admin and bookings for the weekend so really all we had to do was pitch up in Auckland.

We’d been included in the ‘family’ plan so would be staying at a bach with Bron and James, Aunty Lorraine and her friend Di (“The Mothers”) and Tyron (Bron’s brother) and Helena and their baby, Tyler.

The term “bach” – so we were told – stems from the word “bachelor’s”, as in “bachelor pad”, and was used where men had accommodation away from the family home. In older times it possibly implied a modest dwelling, but nowadays the term apparently carries no size reference, nor implication of modesty from what we saw and experienced.

Bron and James were super organised and had sorted all sorts of groceries and drinks to take along for the weekend so they took their car across (with all our luggage) on the vehicle ferry, pairing us with The Mothers on the 09h30 passenger ferry. The ferry ride sails across the harbour and past Auckland’s largest volcano, Rangitoto. The passenger boats are comfortable, fast and frequent making the half hour odd experience a painless one.

I’d grabbed a couple of pamplets at the ferry port to do some last minute research and found out that Waiheke Island is “the jewel in the crown of the stunning Hauraki Gulf”. The name comes from the Maori language meaning “cascading water”, although the island is now equally well known for its world-class wines, freshly pressed olive oils, cuisine and art. It’s a lot bigger than we expected, with 133km of diverse coastline dotted with coves, inlets, beaches and walkways. All good to know.

Bron had updated us when they arrived to say that we couldn’t check into the bach yet so we were in no rush and opted to walk the 20 minute distance to get to Oneroa Village (what the island’s locals refer to as “town”) rather than catch a bus or taxi. You can’t often go wrong taking a walk along a road when it is named “Ocean View”.

We used the rest of the waiting time wisely to grab a brekkie at the Beach Club restaurant and browse in the generous handful of shops in the main hub.

Soon enough it was time for check in so we reversed our journey to walk up Ocean View road to the bach Bron had chosen for its convenient location across the road from the party venue for the following night.

Our bach was large and luxurious, with 4 double bedrooms leading off a spacious open plan entrance hall. The other half of the house was plushly carpeted lounge and sitting room, diningroom and large kitchen with centre island and bay windows overlooking the vineyard neighbour that stretched across the valley and infinitied into the sea beyond. A wide verandah lipped the house, dotted with comfortable couches, loungers, table and chairs and a suspended wicker egg chair. The front shared the perspective and view with the kitchen; the back looked onto a gravel courtyard with jacuzzi, outdoor patio and pizza oven with a backdrop view of Cable Bay wineries on the hilltop opposite.

We had a grand old time settling in, wanting to sit on every couch, lounger and – most of all – the egg chair. The day had also gone from the morning’s overcast to a fine drizzle so there was no incentive to leave our luxury sanctum.

Bron had some guests that had followed our thinking and made a weekend of it, and she’d invited them around to our bach for a Friday evening braai. Since we had an outdoor pizza oven as well, we had to use it, and soon had a production line going loading pizza bases with delectable combinations of toppings as starter snacks. Christian did a top job single-handedly manning the braai and delighting with rare rump fingers to whet the appetites for full grill he masterfully managed to have ready all at the same time.

The house was perfect for entertaining and there was a natural flow of people between the verandah, through the living area and kitchen, and spilling out to the jacuzzi and around the pizza oven. It was great to meet Bron’s Auckland friends and get to spend some time getting to know each other in anticipation of the big event the next day.

Saturday morning launched with the opening of presents! Bron languished over the mountain of gifts laid out on the table on the verandah and everyone ooo’ed and aaah’ed as each new treasure was revealed.

The rituals set back breakfast a bit, but Tyron (a chef by trade) hit the kitchen to make eggs benedict for all of us. The other bachful of guests had by this time arrived so poor Ty was posted at his pot on the stove for quite some time poaching 30 eggs the authentic way to feed the hungry masses.

The weather wasn’t great, but spirits were high so we all went down to Oneroa Beach. The sun was covered by the clouds and there was intermittent drizzle, but not enough to dampen our enthusiasm – and the people swimming were wet already anyway!

Christian and I then did a breakaway from the group to sneak in a wine-tasting at Cable Bay. It seemed the neighbourly thing to do since we’d been admiring them as our view since we got there – and we had to pass the entrance on our way home anyway so the odds were stacked in our favour to make it happen.

Waiheke’s climate is hotter and drier than the mainland and the ocean acts as a fan and an insulator providing a longer, warmer season and more moderate temperatures. This is why there are more than 30 different wine-makers on the relatively small island and the overall general quality of the wine is so good. The Cable Bay winery and cellars were very busy. Hardly surprising for a Saturday when it’s so easily accessible from the city. We sampled the wine, which was (almost) as good as the view!

By the time we got home it was time to get ready for the party. The ladies were already well underway, but the boys were blissfully unfettered about time, lounging in the jacuzzi.

I helped Bron with her finishing touches then threw myself together and we headed back out the driveway and across the road to Mudbrick Estate, which is where the party was to be held.

Lots of guests were already there, all “dressed to impress” as the dress code had called for. The venue was beautiful and shared the view we had from the bach but, being further up our hillside, there was just more of it from that vantage point and with the silhouette of the Auckland skyline on the horizon across the bay the whole effect was breath-taking.

Bron’s party had been allocated an outside terrace and a function room for (later) formalities and jovialities. The wine flowed and guests mingled as naturally with new friends as with old, so it was a really good vibe. The estate’s catering was as excellent as the wine and the format of finger foods and nibblybits worked well with the relaxed atmosphere and allowed everyone opportunity to appreciate the gorgeous sunset.

Bron also had a DJ lined up, who kicked in as it got dark and got the guests bopping with a playlist of Bron’s favourite tunes interspersed with popular crowd-pleasers. Bron, Tyron and I all said a short speech, but otherwise it was all fun and festive “kick off your shoes” from there.

Needless to say, we were there until closing and a bit beyond. Even though the stars seemed closer and brighter than they ever are at home, the driveway was still very dark as we made our way back to our bach in the early hour of the morning. Again we were grateful for Bron’s genius plan so we weren’t among the group of people waiting to get a taxi back to the harbour to return to the city on the last ferry of the night.

Sunday morning was a later start for everyone and once we were up and packed up, we waved The Mothers and Tyron & Helena off (they had an earlier flight so needed an earlier ferry) and walked into the village for some brekkie (conveniently having sent our suitcases down in Bron’s car).

As a last hurrah we did a midday cheeky bottle of Dog Point cab sauv at The Oyster Bar before it was time to get to the ferry and bid fond farewells and make all the “see you soon” promises we need to make to endure the parting of ways.

From there it was really easy to grab the Skybus from across the road from the ferry port to the airport. $16 and 45 minutes later we were at the airport, due to start our long journey home. We were obviously in much better stead for the great trek home as this time Christian didn’t set off the alarms as we walked through the security scanners. He had done so in Sydney where the combination of the heat and the rucksack he was carrying had left him with a sweaty patch down the middle of his back that set off the sensors and required a pat down. The security man was quite sheepish when he realised the source of concern.

Travelogue New Zealand 2: Auckland

AUCKLAND
3-4 February 2016

We’d booked the short Wellington to Auckland hop on Jetstar for the plain and simple reason that it was a shedload cheaper than any of the other airlines. Aware that it was a ‘no frills’ carrier, we didn’t expect any bells and whistles, but started to doubt our choice when everyone we told had something negative to say about them – and mostly from firsthand experience!

Our morning had started rushed and on very little sleep after a spirited farewell to the lively city of Wellington, so we resigned ourselves to ‘what will be will be’ and looked forward to napping on the hour-long flight.

But it was not to be. In a bittersweet turn of events, the air hostess woke us shortly after take off to give us breakfast. It came as a surprise since the budget fare didn’t include hospitality and we hadn’t opted for it as an extra. Moreover, the hostess hadn’t offered to everyone and was still making her way toward the back of the plane, singling out the lucky recipients.

We can only presume that Jetstar must be aligned with Qantas, that has a partnership with Emirates, with whom we are Silver members of their Skywards loyalty programme, which (clearly) comes with all sorts of fringe benefits, like surprise chicken and bacon Caesar wraps.

Arriving in Auckland was uncomplicated with an unusually open plan set-up with no restricted access between the carousels and the Arrivals hall and – thanks in no small measures to NZ efficiency – it was mere minutes before we were united with Bron, my longest standing friend and the primary reason for this trip in the first place.

The drive from the airport was an education (of the fun kind). Bron and I had loads to catch up on, while she pointed out places of interest and explained the lay of the land intermittently as we went.

She has based herself in Mission Bay, which we were soon to find out was central and convenient. We did little more than drop off our bags and pack a togbag for our planned sleepover at other friends, and then head out again with Bron who dropped us off some 1km down the road at the beachfront.

In no hurry and with the entire day to see Auckland, we’d opted to walk into town, which we were told was as simple as “making sure you keep the sea on your right”. It turned out that it actually was that simple and, 6 or so kilometres later, we were at the Ferry Port in Auckland with the CBD rolling inland on our left.

By this point we were starving – and in no  state to dawdle with lunch – so trusty Burger King was essential. The aircon was welcome after the exposed walk along the beach path (about which I refuse to whine seeing as we were passed by countless runners and cyclists so it couldn’t have been that bad!) and the free wifi well timed for me to complete my online exam for the Digital Media course I’d done over January and that had to be completed by the weekend, which was going to prove tricky with our itinerary being what we’d made it!

Christian in the meantime Googled “what to do in Auckland” and where it was that we’d arranged to meet Danni (my long term friend – and outsourced right brain – who I’ve never met in person) to go to their place for the night, so as to fashion us a plan for the rest of the arvie.

The meeting point was an easy one, as Christian discovered that the road was up and to the left of our current homebase and very nearly in plain sight from where we were sitting! Thus, the pivot for the afternoon became to go up the Sky Tower to get aerial views of the city and surrounds and really to, well, see what we could see.

Auckland is a very complex animal to fathom from on the ground since its coastline (at least from our direction of approach) is all twisty and turny, with a series of bays that link towards the city skyline, and then a whole bunch of other stuff across the water and much talk about “The Bridge” which seems to be the grand divide between the city and outer suburbs on the Northern side. As always, it feels like info overload upfront…. but starts coming together as you move around the area. And the Sky Tower seemed like a genius way to accelerate getting our bearings.

SkyCity is an entertainment complex that houses restaurants, eventing facilities, gaming, Auckland’s only casino and the Sky Tower. At just under 400 metres high, the tower has glass elevators that shoot you up to the viewing deck where, at 200 odd metres up, you can see far and wide in all directions. There is also bungee jumping, which seemed to thrill the onlookers almost as much as it thrilled the jumper!

Winding our way back to the meeting point was simple enough and there were lots of shops windows to hold our attention as we walked, and went into one or two of interest. One such produced a Manly Sea Eagles training vest, which was too cool for Christian to resist (although he did remind me that the area was now to be called just “-ly” because he wasn’t there anymore).

Meeting Danni was a strange, awkward, surreal, meaningful, closing-one-chapter-and-opening-another awesome moment.

We had met through work when she had already emigrated to New Zealand and was introduced to me as a freelance designer who could help me put together a portfolio of sellsheets for the marketing materials I had been enlisted (also as a freelancer) to create. The content of the mailers was all travel related so an obvious and natural launchpad for peripheral and anecdotal conversation since it was a passion we already shared – and Danni made everything that was in my head look so much better in real life!  It was soon clear to me, no doubt thanks to our shared dedication to verbosity and over-investment, that Danni was the pictures to my words… but with plenty (articulate) words of her own!

That work stuff came to a close, but had entrenched a solid go-to relationship (on Skype and much later on Facebook Messenger) which is now mostly recreational, but I have found every possibly excuse to work with Danni since – and drawn on her generous nature to help me with things above and beyond, like ludicrously ambitious personal projects and my wedding invitations.

I’m assuming that the face-to-face meeting must’ve thrown her off too since her opening gambit was just that I am taller than she imagined. Not in a weird way, just a brainfart.

Danni’s husband Shawn was with her, catching a ride home after his day at work in town. I’d met him before, once or twice in SA just before they’d emigrated, where I’d just started the freelance job doing the marketing materials and he was also doing some work.

Introductions and salutions sorted, the 4 of us headed off to the car (in the extortionate inner city parking lot that is, if you can believe, even more expensive than Sandton City, at some $20 a day!) and the conversation was already flowing smoothly as we emerged from the lot back into the daylight and Danni and I had managed to get the “this is so weird” out of our systems.

Our final destination was Gulf Harbour, one of the most Northerly suburbs of Auckland. Both of our hosts are passionate about their new home town, which made for steady and vivid narration on our commute/tour out of the city, across The Bridge and along the through the suburbs. How very lucky for us that they lived diametrically across from Bron so we covered enormous ground on our first day’s sightseeing!

Auckland traffic – at 4.30pm anyway – is nowhere near as bad as Joburg’s. The inner city traffic seems to be more because of the amount of time allocated to pedestrian crossing rather than a crush of cars and, while a bit congested on either side of the bottlenecking at bridge, the traffic moves smoothly. I suspect the Kiwi drivers might be more conservative, with traffic violations actually being enforced and that, in turn, less accidents lead to less avoidable congestion.

Of course, the experience was completely biased by me not having to drive and with everything new and exciting and with 3 travelmates for company… so perhaps I should get a party car going for the work before I’m absolute in my judgement.

We were surprised and delighted with a sunset excursion at Shakespear Park, starting with a fun cheesy pic at a permanent giant photo frame with *the most* spectacular view as a backdrop.

We then stopped at a free park – where anyone can come and picnic/camp for free AND there are gas braais and all sorts of things provided – and walked down to the most divine little beach, where we could kick off shoes and dip toes in ocean.

This bay is a well-kept secret and there were only a handful of people sharing the beach with us. It was still light as day, although easily past 6pm by this point. How winning to be able to wash away the cares of the day with a frolick and a splash on your way home!

Danni and Shawn live in a Utopian suburb that has wide pavements and no fences and rolling lawns and views that make your eyes transfix. Their home is equally lovely and we had a comfy guestroom with luxurious thick soft carpets and it all felt like we were having a holiday within a holiday at some sort of leisure resort!

We’d pre-planned for dinner at their local pizza place so as soon as we’d dropped our things, we took a toddle down the street, along the path and across the field to the restaurant. Sunset was only now becoming dusk, approaching 8pm.

We settled on the terrace and ordered pizzas and Guinness (for the Index, logging the $9,60). When it got a bit chilly – the restaurant is beside a lake, so it’s inevitable – we moved inside to enjoy desserts and share a steady stream of funny stories about exploits and antics all over the globe!

Not sure if it was sadly or serendipitously (seeing as we all had an early start with respective work and play commitments), but Christian and I were wiped from the short night’s sleep the previous night and a long day travelling and adventuring, so we called it a relatively early night.

After the best night’s sleep since we’d left home, we were up according to plan and ready to leave just after 7 for Danni to drive us down to Gulf Harbour Marina to catch the ferry into town with Shawn.

It could just be novelty factor, but after the Manly and now Gulf Harbour experiences, it would appear that we are ferry fans and could envisage ourselves using them as work commute transport. Not a particularly useful self-discovery when you live in Jo’burg!

We’d pre-planned for Bron to meet us opposite the Botswana Butchery, right outside the ferry terminal and she was there like clockwork, with her mom and mom’s friend Di (referred to almost exclusively collectively as “The Mothers” over the duration of our stay) in tow.

We were driven to Hakapuna (on the other side of The Bridge) for a delicious brekkie in a scenic seaside café. We really were being treated to seeing Auckland from every possible angle!

Breakfast seems, from our small sample experience in Australia and New Zealand, to be a lot more expensive than at home. Not just in translating the exchange rate but also in price comparison with other mealtimes. Consistently $15 – $20 for a plate of food (at 12:1 in Aus and now 10:1 in NZ), it’s a far cry from the good ole Spur Unreal breakfast for R25!

We had a gap before we were due at our next engagement – drinks with Christian’s ex-colleagues in the afternoon – so we returned to Bron’s house to shower and relax while she went to a meeting and then came back to pick us up again. We were very lucky she was so accommodating with playing Taxi Driver for us!

Bron still had some things she needed to arrange for her party (decor items and whatnot), and her excursion to the mall was as good as any, so we tagged along, more providing moral support than anything of real value.

A shopping mall is a shopping mall so not much to report there… except that McDonald’s has pies. The fact is that everywhere has pies – NZ is as pie mad as SA – but somehow it was cooler to get a Georgie’s pie from McD’s. I got a mince and cheese and Christian got a butter chicken, which he said wasn’t as good as the one from Fix, and neither one was as good as Pieman’s Pantry pies at home.

While out and about, it made sense for us to go straight to our afternoon meeting so we got Bron to drop us just out of town so we could get a walk in en route to our designated meeting point, which was loosely arranged as being Wynyard Quarter, the quayside area just past the ferry terminal. This area is a collection of lots of vibrant eating and drinking options so we were bound to find somewhere to suit.

Even with the walk-in we’d requested, we were still early. It gave us an opportunity to peruse the stretch and we decided that Jack Tar was to be the bar du jour. It was a bit windy – the bane of being coastal – so we sat inside, relegated to enjoying the view through the (literal) bay windows.

Our company for the afternoon was 2 of Christian’s ex-colleagues, who both had relocated to Auckland (independently of each other), which was less than coincidental since both are Kiwis. They are festive chaps and order of the day was a nostaligic re-run of our beer o’clock shenanigans in SA. It was great to catch up, which we did over a few choice spots on the quayside.

Both are very happily settled in Auckland and echoed our other friends’ sentiments this city brings a very good work/life balance. The “life” feedback was that it was mostly outdoorsy stuff like beaches, kayaking and general quality time which is a bonus because drinking and snacking in Auckland is very expensive!

Although we’d planned to catch a bus back (how awesome to have safe and reliable public transport), we got an Uber back to Bron’s with one of the chaps since he lived close to her house.

We’d managed to meet Bron, James and The Mothers in by minutes, so still had time to swap stories on how we’d spent our respective days before it was time to turn in. What a lot we’d squeezed into our 2 short days in Auckland!

Travelogue New Zealand 1: Wellington

WELLINGTON
1-2 Feb 2016

The decision to go to Wellington was Christian’s, with his logic being that we’d recently been to the world’s most Northerly capital, on our visit to Reykjavic, so it made sense to counter with the world’s most Southerly. I hadn’t even known that Wellington is New Zealand’s capital, assuming it to be Auckland!

It was just a quick pop-in-pop-out pitstop and, much to my delight, cousin Lucy confirmed that she’d be hopping across from Christchurch in South Island to join us. It was only a 30 minute hop for her, but not so bad for us either with a manageable 3 hour flight over the Tasman Sea from Sydney.

It’s always weird to gain or lose time by crossing time zones when travelling and I was again reminded that it feels like you’re being robbed when you lose time during a holiday. This time we lost 2 hours, having left Sydney 09h30, travelling for 3 hours and arriving in Wellington at 14h30. Felt like we’d spent the whole day travelling since we’d been up and out early for the 2-hour before international flight (which feels like it shouldn’t be, as a Saffa lumping Oceania together as close cousins) deadline. Imagine the converse: sleep in, get to the airport in Wellington by 09h30 for an 11h30 flight and land in Sydney at 12h30. Far more sensible. Mental note to self to plan for intra-itinerary time gain to make holidays as long as possible!

Lucy’s plans had her arriving in Wellington in the morning, so our arrangement was for her to get a lay of the land and meet us at our hotel at 6pm. We’d factored a whole wedge of time for the airport/city commute which, much like Sydney, was completely unnecessary since the bus stopped right outside the Arrivals terminal, happened to be there when we got there and took all of 10 minutes for the full journey. Our earlier-than-planned check-in allowed us an earlier meeting time… and soon it was all hello’s and hugs for the long-lost cousins.

We started our Wellington experience with the quayside, taking a walk along its full length before stopping at one of the many bars and cafés on the waterfront. Lucy and I were already chatting away like old friends, so Christian must’ve been quite relieved to have a cold beer for company!

Although we had originally factored an early dinner into the quayside excursion, nothing appealed so we chalked it up as sundowners and shifted to sharing jugs of beer with midi glasses so that we could enjoy a few more of the numerous places, all humming with activity and many with very relaxed beanbag and blanket mats on the riverbank.

Hunger always outs with us though and so, since it was getting chilly with the sun having disappeared behind the tall CBD buildings across from the waterfront and a too-cool breeze coming in from the water, we walked back up Willis Street intending to go past the hotel and on to the Courtenay Street which is famed for its entertainment options.

We didn’t make it that far. Just before our hotel we spotted Capital Market, a sort of food court of restaurants and take aways. Once we were inside, we were hooked. There was every possible type of food and it was tricky deciding what to have.

As usual, curry won. This time the tie-break being Lucy’s admission that she too is curry mad. It also helped that the shop had a canteen-style display, so we could see what we were going to be buying… and it was impossible to walk away once we were close enough to see and smell the delicious food. To top it all off, the special – 2 curries, rice and naan – for $12 made it a no-brainer. We’d been paying way more than that in Aussie Dollars, so had an all-new definition of “bargain”!

Fuelled and ready to rumble, we turned the corner (literally) and began our Courtenay Street adventure. It was about 8-ish by this point and an impressive collection (it was Monday night, after all) of patrons were out to play. Most of the road is bars and restaurants, vying for their slice of the entertainment pie with offers of $10 jugs and meal options. Clearly a university town.

We ended up at a place called Mish Mash… until way later than intended because you don’t get the ambient sense that it’s home time when nobody else is leaving.

En route back to our hotel we stopped in at a Fix 24-hour store. Christian had drank himself peckish and had a hankering for a cheese and ham roll. I was going to be social and use the opportunity to sample an NZ pie – which seem to be as popular and as accessible as at home – but there was something in the warmer that distracted my attention. Deep-fried crumbed lasagne! Oh. My. Word. Complete genius! (And, oddly, half the price of a pie)

Tuesday’s open of play was set for a generous 10am following the antics of the previous night and not wanting to repeat the oversleep episode so soon after Saturday. Our thinking was that we’d take the cable car to the top of the mountain that provided Wellington’s backdrop and walk down through the Botanical Gardens, which would deposit us at the top end of the Quayside; we’d walk the length of the waterfront (again) which would get us to Oriental Bay where we’d lunch and sloth before trekking up Mount Victoria to the look-out point and then return to the city down the other side which conveniently leaves you at the bottom end of Courtenay Street and all its options for whatever we wanted to do next.

We managed all of that, sort of.

The cable car offered quite a few surprises. Firstly, its station was right in the middle of town and not at the base of the mountain where I just assumed it to be since most of them are really, aren’t they? Secondly, it was a public transport vehicle so it was mostly normal people doing normal things,  going up and down and stopping at their normal stops in normal ways. Thirdly, it was much shorter than I expected, so we didn’t chug up a steep face like Hong Kong and weren’t deposited in the clouds like Table Mountain.

We did have a very sedate walk down through the gardens… which was quite cathartic after our late night the night before.

The only thing I did learn was that Agapanthus is treated as a weed because it isn’t indigenous and self-propogates so easily. I should have used that as a justification in the whole “no Roses, Marigolds or Agapanthus for Pebbles” debacle with Mother in 2006/7!

The garden route deposited us more or less at the top end of the quayside, as planned. The walk in the morning was quite different to the previous evening thanks to the market of pop-up shops in shopping containers along the land side of the boardwalk, providing good conversation fodder as we joked about buying impractical momentoes like heavy statues and elaborate Maori feather skirts.

We bypassed the Te Papa Museum – noted as a premium tourist attraction in Wellington – thinking we’d do a visit later if there was time, and made our way to Oriental Bay.

The beach wasn’t what we expected. There wasn’t the waterfront of (seafood) restaurants that we’d intended to choose from for lunch. In fact, there was only one (expensive) restaurant on the beach side and one (expensive) gelateria/pizzeria take away on the right. We’d originally considered basing ourselves in Oriental Bay for the lush apartments and beautiful views… but I think we’d have been quite disappointed at the lack of action.

Wasn’t so bad as a walk-through excursion though and we enjoyed dipping toes in the ocean and admiring the view from “the other side”.

The downside was that we were 1,000 steps ahead and 1 lunch behind… and there was a literal mountain between us and mealtime. Valiantly, we stuck to our plan and took the high road up Mount Victoria.

It was a huff and puff of note and more than a few times I questioned our commitment to completing the climb. But we did. We trekked up the mostly steep sandy slopes, slops slip-sliding, brows sweating, conversation waning… expecting to summit as an intrepid explorer planting a flag in new ground, a bald patch in an otherwise untamed bushy apex.

Except, when we got there, we were not only not the only summitists but, worse still, we emerged onto a tarred parking lot with *cheaters* who had driven up to view from the very civilised concrete viewing deck, with printed info boards and whatnot. Very unrewarding after our blood, sweat(, sweat, sweat) and tears to get up there.

The one thing this civilisation did not deliver was a cart/kiosk/canteen of any sort with any form of edible. We were starving! And had to walk all the way down the other side to get fed!

Fortunately, the downside is also the downhillside so it was a much easier journey.

It was quite rewarding and inspiring to pass the landmarks that we’d admired on the way up so so so much quicker on the way down!

The path led us straight to the end of Courtenay Street where, after some hours of wishful thinking and craving sharing, we found what we’d already predetermined to be our destiny: a Mexican restaurant.

We feasted on burritos, nachos and quesadilla, which was equal parts quality and well-timed, making it The Best Mexican Meal Ever.

It’s amazing how a life-saving experience can re-inspire. Nourishment gave new motivation for cultural enrichment and we set off for Te Papa to see the much-spoken-of Gallipoli War exhibit.

It was such a good move. I have never seen such a quality production! Giant models that put Madame Tussaud’s to shame, artifacts and personal testimony that would clench the hardest heart. Maudlin as it was, it was a classic once-in-a-lifetime experience.

What a long day that was. Like, a 25 thousand step day!

We all needed a refresher so retreated to our hotels for a shower and change before communing on the rooftop bar at the top of our hotel for sundowners. It was lovely when we got there, if not a bit on the hot side (which they were obviously aware of, seeing as there were complimentary sun hats and lotion available).

As always, when the sun retreated behind the buildings and the breeze sets in, it gets nippy. That signalled the time to move to town.

We still had the Cuba Street box to tick. Perfect opportunity to double-bill with Murphy’s Irish Bar!

… which we propped up until closing.

… and then did a nightcap on Old Faithful, Courtenay Street.

Having not eaten since the Mexican fiesta in the arvie, all the walking and talking had driven us to midnight munchies.

The 24 hour food options are quite a business in such a vibrant party town, but are so disorganised that it takes some PT to check all the prospects if you find yourself hungry with no specific hankering.

It took a complete up and down the street to settle on butter chicken pies for me and Christian and a veggie toastie for Lucy. From different stores, obviously.

By this point it was 2am and time for teary goodbyes (read: mad dash to get Lucy back to her hotel safely and us back to our sanctum while there was still vague hope of 4 hours of sleep). It was surreal that it’d only been 32 hours since meeting Cousin Lucy… but boy had we made the most of our short time together! (And lots of promises to repeat the experience soon and repeatedly!)

Sooner than you can say “6.57 bus” it was 6am and time to get up, showered, packed and off to the airport.

We’d tracked the route the night before, sacrificing precious minutes of sleep to have an empirical idea of our flight plan for the morning… and yet still Christian was ready and waiting (impatiently) ahead of schedule, visibly agitated at me drying my hair (which I’d planned to do).

We left on time and rattled our trolley cases down the desolate early-morning Willis Street and rounded the corner into Dixon quite calmly, bus stop in sight ahead, until we heard the bus coming up behind us.

We BOLTED down the street with our cases and, fortunately, the bus got waylaid at a red traffic light. We pushed across the road on the pedestrian crossing in front of the bus and the driver was nice enough to not only open the doors for us, but also say that we could sort the fare at the bus stop that was still a hundred or so metres away.

Christian shot me the very meaningful “told you so” look at our nearly missing our bus.

I felt a bit sheepish until I spied the big digital clock above the bus driver. We’d nearly missed the 6.46 bus… not the 6.57 we’d planned on catching!