Auckland ( > Hong Kong)

I apologize for the mundane nature of this entry, but part of the purpose of this blog is to act as a repository for my memories of the trip.

I found that the bus ride to Auckland reminded me a lot of the landscape of the high plateau of the Pacific Northwest, Eastern Washington and Oregon, maybe even as far east as Montana. Here’s a picture, so that you can see what I mean.

26th
Approaching Auckland felt a little like taking the bus into the Bay Area from the Sierras. I arrived back at the hostel in the late afternoon. There was no sign of the mail containing my ticket from Hong Kong to Amsterdam. The friendly fellow behind the desk was a really big guy who looked like he was at least part Maori, but didn’t find anything for me. He said he’d have a look around, and told me to check in later. So I headed out into the streets of Auckland, with no particular goal in mind. I thought maybe I’d find a gift or two while I was at it.

I returned later in the evening, and still no luck. The big guy behind the desk suggested I come back in the morning to see if anything had turned up.

In the morning I returned, and there was a woman behind the desk. I asked her to have a look. She rummaged around for a bit, and said that she didn’t see anything, and suggested I come back in a while because she was really busy, and there were a couple of other places she could look when she had a moment.

So things didn’t look that promising. Where was the ticket? I had to come up with an alternative.
With my plane for Hong Kong leaving at 1:30, I still had no ticket from there to Amsterdam. Trouble is, Hong Kong won’t let you in without a ticket out. I had a lot of things to do.

My first task was to find the KLM office since they were handling the flight from Hong Kong to Amsterdam. Luckily it was within walking distance. (Of course, having walked roughly 45km in one day on a previous visit to Aukland, by that standard, most of Aukland is within walking distance.) I went to the KLM office and explained that it didn’t look like my ticket had ever been delivered. The clerk was helpful, but told me that since a paper ticket was printed, I would have to cancel it and reissue a ticket if I couldn’t find it. If it had been an electronic ticket it wouldn’t have been an issue. So, back to the hostel I went. Lo and behold they had found my ticket, wahoo! Beginning to feel a little like a human yo-yo, I went back to KLM to tell them the good news. In the meantime, the clerk had been helpful, and canceled the ticket that I had just recovered, and had issued me another.

Ah, first problem solved, and it was only noon, so I still had time to make my flight. Figured I’d double check that I had everything… bags: yep; ticket: yep, er wait, what’s this? My flight left at 11:00?
Ok, well, next problem: Can I get a reissued ticket for a missed flight?
I guess there could be worse places to be stuck than Aukland, New Zealand

First, track down the Cathay Pacific office… again, luckily, it was within walking distance.
The Cathay Pacific office was located in a swanky looking hotel, and the clerk was dressed very formally in a dark maroon-purple collarless jacket.

Lucky for me there was another flight later that day, and I walked out with another reissued ticket.
Back at the hostel, the shuttles to the airport ran every hour, and cost something on the order of $15.
Another traveler was also headed to the airport, and we split a $20 cab fare to get there instead of waiting around.

Each airport I visited I would notice network jacks in the walls. Like all of the other airports, Auckland’s had them too. Unfortunately, the only ones I found to be working at any point during my trip, were the ones in New York’s airport.

The flight to Hong Kong wasn’t very eventful, but one doesn’t want flights to be eventful, really. I managed to call ahead, and find a small single room to stay in. I rode a bus, and walked a couple of blocks, checked in, then went to bed.

Nelson > Wellington

The early bus for Picton came by the hostel and I got on. Picton is the location of the ferry terminal at the north end of the south island. The ferry ride wasn’t too bad. I saw an albatross, but it was too far to photograph effectively. The wind picked up considerably the further north we went. By the time we docked in Wellington I felt like I could have flown away if I had spread out my coat. I didn’t try it, partly because I feared being blown off the deck, and partly because it was quite cold out.

Here’s a shot taken as the ferry enters the strait headed towards Wellington.  In the background you can see the reason the Maori name for New Zealand (Aotearoa) translates to “Land of the Long White Cloud.”

I found a hostel close to the Wellington train terminal, and settled in. A glass of wine from the hostel’s bar and a few rounds of darts later, and I’d met a few of the residents, and began a long evening of playing pool.

Residents seemed to be divided into two groups: the travelers, and the “locals.” The travelers, myself included, were just passing through, and viewed the hostel as a place to stay along the way. The locals lived in the hostel, but were originally from all over, primarily British Commonwealth nations. They had long term jobs in and around Wellington, and used the hostel as home.

After a few games of pool with assorted folks, one wanted to keep playing, just because she loved the game.  Erin would be considered one of the locals, who had recently arrived, but I don’t think she had landed a long term job yet. Her pool skills weren’t great, but she was good company and conversation. I tried to help her with a few tips on form and strategy. We played game after game, and she kept improving, to the point where she was winning about as often as I was. Perhaps the amount of wine consumed had something to do with that. Eventually, sometime around 3 or 4 the hostel bar shut down, and we went our separate ways.

On the 25th I woke, and given the time of my rising, realized that there was no way I was going to catch a bus all the way to Aukland, and find a place to stay on Christmas day. I had noticed in the last couple of hostels signs indicating that there would be no check-ins or check-outs on the 25th. So that meant that I was staying put.

The hostel was nearly empty with the exception of the locals, and I was invited to join in their Holiday dinner. They cooked up a storm and all I could do was help move the tables and chairs around to get everyone a space. Turkey, several different stuffings, potatoes, mashed and baked, pasta, beans… It was a huge and yummy feast. There must have been thirty people there. I should have taken pictures.

Good food, good people, that’s what holidays are all about.

The next day I headed out early on the bus back to Aukland.