Here we go, half way through my adventure and I find myself in a new country - New Zealand, in fact! The journey from Melbourne to Auckland was smooth enough, however my first night was anything but! A combination of no (affordable) means to get into the city so early in the morning, and U2 choosing the same weekend to put on two sell out gigs in the city, causing every hostel and hotel to get completely booked up, designated the cold floor of Auckland Airport as my bed for the best part of 6 hours, until the first bus into town turned up. I never thought Bono would be disrupting my travel plans, but here we are. On the bright side, though, I did get to witness a group of boys, who can’t have been much younger than myself, performing the haka to a friend coming into arrivals. It was such a passionate display that captivated everyone in the vicinity and clearly meant a lot to their friend. A wonderful welcome back to him, and a big New Zealand ‘Kia Ora’ to me.
After what felt like a lifetime spent in the arrivals lounge, I made it into the city. A quick nap in the hostel to reboot myself, then I was out exploring what Auckland had to offer. What I found was a fairly typical metropolis - tall, uninspiring buildings housing big-name brands, restaurants and bars lined the streets, whilst people rushed by with a sense of purpose and impatience. A handful of characterful side streets sat tucked away from the main centres of activity, which seemed to be where all the independent cafes, boutiques etc. were hiding. I treated myself to a ridiculously luxurious ice cream from Giapo, an artisan parlour with the most innovative gelato creations anyone’s ever seen, then headed up the Sky Tower to see Auckland from 220 metres above. The 360 degree viewing platform certainly helped me grapple with the scale of the place, and I could see right out to the ocean where a network of islands lay close to the city’s edge. This was where I was headed to the following day. A short ferry ride took me to Waiheke, the largest and most populated of the accessible islands. Vineyards draped the rolling hills that span from coast to coast, and the beaches were so perfect in their untouched, raw forms. If this was the most built up of all the islands, the others must be as close to paradise as imaginable. I figured it would’ve been rude not to sample some locally produced wine whilst I was there, so I found a vineyard that had a bar on site. As I perched in a garden overlooking rows upon rows of sun-soaked vines, sipping slowly on the most expensive mouthful of wine I’ve ever indulged in, it finally felt like I’d arrived. This was the country that people made such a fuss about, I could totally see it now.
The following morning, I was bundled onto the big green Kiwi bus with a bunch of other travellers to begin our whistle-stop tour of the North Island. Our first destination was the Coromandel, a region known for spectacular beaches, including Cathedral Cove. A pretty easy hike along cliff tops and down steep, winding footpaths led us to the cove, where we found striking rock formations uniquely weathered over time by the movements of the ocean. There was a tunnel carved out of a headland, forming a gateway through to an even more secluded stretch of shoreline, which was only accessible at low tide. Its beauty was staggering, and I can only imagine how breathtaking it must be to experience it alone or with only a handful of other people around. The downside of travelling in a tour group to hidden gems such as this, however, is that there’s always going to be a crowd. I didn’t get the serenity of Cathedral Cove at sunrise this time round, but it’s a reason to go back! Before the day was through, we stopped at Hot Water Beach, famous for (you guessed it) hot water under the sand. People dig holes in the sand that fill with water, heated by geothermal energy, to form warm pools to relax in while enjoying the views. Sounds idyllic, that’s the idea anyway. Sadly, when we got there it looked like bombs had gone off along the beach, with mounds of sand built up around the craters that visitors before us had created. Seemed like they’d used up the all the hot water too, because it felt pretty cold to us! Not quite the natural thermal spa we had envisioned, but oh well!
The amount we crammed in to just over a week was pretty staggering: we visited ancient caves in Waitomo, illuminated by glowworms; spent a morning white-water rafting in the secluded River Valley; dined on pizza and beer as we sailed around Lake Taupo; and hiked over misty moors and around towering waterfalls in Tongariro, New Zealand’s oldest national park. Whilst in Rotorua, we were scheduled for a stay at the Tamaki Maori Village. I was apprehensive about going here, worried that it might feel like a typical tourist trap. But before I left the UK, a friend had told me what a highlight it had been for him, so I went with an open mind and I’m so glad I did. It was a brilliantly immersive way of learning about Maori culture and traditions, through music, performances, storytelling and even food. Being on the Kiwi Experience tour meant we were allowed to stay there overnight, giving us the opportunity to talk with our guides in more depth about their culture, history and values. It was such an insightful experience, and an education that I could never have received from a book or a museum. On our way out of Rotorua we stopped by Te Puia, a geothermic hotspot of geysers and mud pools, and an institute for traditional Maori arts such as carving and weaving. It also happens to be a Kiwi bird conservation centre, where we got to see real kiwi birds and a glimpse of the work that goes on to preserve and protect this vulnerable species. Very much an all-encompassing Kiwi experience.
Gazing out the window between naps made the early starts and long bus rides all the more worthwhile. We journeyed through stunning scenery on the way to our destinations, never more so than en route to River Valley. There’s nothing really in River Valley, it’s a textbook ‘middle of nowhere’ location, but boy was it scenic. The hills undulated around us, rolling like waves, dressed in the most vivid green grass I’ve ever laid eyes on. We stayed in a lodge beside the river, the steep sides of the valley closing us off from the rest of the world, and it was magical. Most of our time was spent recharging and enjoying the peace and utter stillness of our surroundings, a feeling that’s hard to come by on a Kiwi tour. But before we knew it we were off once again, to our final destination on our North Island adventure.
We finished the journey in the capital city, Wellington. All I have to say is they don’t call it Windy Welly for nothing; on my way to Te Papa, a museum for culture and arts, I very nearly fell flat on my face as a violent gust of wind threw itself against me. I managed to stay standing, just about, but noticed a couple of smirks on the faces of passers-by, who I have to assume were locals because they didn’t seem to be struggling at all. Te Papa was fascinating, featuring some really engaging exhibitions on a whole host of topics, from the volcanic landscape of New Zealand to the country’s involvement during WW2. However, I don’t think I saw the best of Wellington; one full day to explore won’t even scratch the surface of a city that size. If I’m being honest, though, it didn’t bother me too much because my mind was already busy anticipating the next instalment of my journey. I reunited with my boyfriend that evening, and we were going to do the South Island the proper way: camping!
Stay tuned, next stop: the South Island.