Auckland

The flight from Los Angeles to Auckland is thirteen hours. I must have slept, as I distinctly remember dreaming about an atrocious movie version of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory starring either Johnny Depp or Michael Jackson as Willie Wonka. On arrival, Customs takes an intense and persistent interest in my hiking boots that cannot be justified by their close-up appeal.

I play caddy as Andrew sorts through his banking and insurance errands. I occasionally interrupt this to re-purchase things that I have discarded as unnecessary before leaving. Andrew is in the final stage of purchasing a car, so I tag along to the dealership where he is to pick it up. His contact is a localized version of a North American used car salesman. When the transaction is complete, he sends us on our way with instructions on how to find the nearest gas station such that we can address the pressing issue of the empty tank.

I am not in Auckland long enough to learn the city well – our plan has us departing for the Bay of Islands and it does not take long to become properly equipped. The city is a reasonable size but carefully designed to ensure that geographic features such as volcanic cones remain prominent. Mt Eden, near our hostel, is one of the largest of these and offers excellent views of the entire urban area if you can see over the cows.