Kia Ora

Get to Auckland two days after leaving LA? This leg of the journey meant crossing the international date line. I was losing a whole Saturday. This was serious travelling now (that's without mentioning the child-like excitement I was experiencing about heading to the Southern hemisphere for the first time; obviously I experimented in the first sink I got to). Whether it was the tiredness from travelling, or maybe my brain is just not capable of processing such time-travel, but I just couldn't get my head around it. Where did the day go? What if I was going to do something important on that day and never got the chance to? All pressing questions swilling around my sleep-deprived, confused mind as I disembarked the plane in Nadi airport, Fiji.

Although it was early in the morning, you could feel the stifling, humid heat as soon as you passed through the plane door. This was the tropics. I could see lush vegetation covering the hills around the airport as we queued along the outside walkway to get through customs. I'm still not sure if I can count Fiji as a country I've visited, but I think I should be able to as I definitely got bitten by a Fijian fly as we tried to dodge the swarms loitering around the lights aiding our passage through the dim dawn light.

Soon, regrettably not as soon as I'd have liked thanks to a backlog of flight delays, I was settling onto the flight to Auckland. It's hard to fully explain to anyone how excited I was at this point. The little sleep I managed on the plane was interrupted by the nervous excitement of tummy butterflies normally reserved for childhood Christmas Eves. In seemingly no time the plane was soaring over the Maori coastline. I admit now I probably infringed the personal space of the young man sat next to me as we prepared for landing (well, they should have given me a window seat).

On landing I thought I may have thrown up. I'm an excellent flyer; it was pure adrenalin-fuelled excitement bubbling in my chest. Grabbing my carry-on bag I queued to get off the plane, onto New Zealand soil whilst smiling around at everyone I could see. At one point I had to refocus my mind onto some mundane task I had to do, because if my thought process kept going in the direction that it was I would break down into floods of happy tears right there in the aisle of that plane.

The extent of planning my time in New Zealand only stretched to booking myself onto a Kiwi Experience tour bus (which was now making me slightly hesitant as most fellow travellers referred to it as the 'party bus'- see the Las Vegas blog entry for my feelings towards "partying"), and the first night's accommodation in an Auckland hostel. But first I had to get to downtown Auckland. No worries. I was easily pointed in the direction of the bus. Another need was to switch my phone to a NZ tariff. No worries. A Vodafone (other mobile companies are available) outlet greeted me from the arrival lounge where a nice young man advised me and set up my new sim (those of you familiar with my technological skills will fully appreciate the appreciation I felt for this service). As I left the airport I was walking on air. It was all going unbelievably smoothly. My heart was so full of joy and anticipation as I rode that bus through to Auckland that even the industrial estates and suburbs we passed looked exciting. To a watching bystander I must've looked like a complete simpleton smiling to myself the whole journey.

That evening, after dumping my bag at the dorm of the hostel, I headed out to explore. Once again I was drawn to the sea. Walking through Auckland ferry port, I soon found myself continuing my journey onto a Devonport bound vessel. Devonport is a suburb on the North Shore, easily accessed by a short ferry ride. I knew nothing about the place as I bought my ticket. But this didn't hinder the enjoyment of my destination. The fresh sea air felt wonderful after almost a day of recycled aeroplane air. Sitting at the back of the ferry, I didn't mind the cool spray hitting me as I surveyed the outline of downtown Auckland on our retreat from the city.

Devonport was a magical step back in time. The range of specialist shops along the high street. The Art Deco cinema. The incredible butterfly that followed me on the trek up Mount Victoria. The kitsch toadstools 'growing' from the headland overlooking the harbour. The wonderfully designed, colourful 50s style houses, all individual, perched on the hillside. I treated myself to a taste of home as I sat eating my fish and chips from the paper, on a bench along the promenade to watch the comings and goings of the harbour as the sun was setting.

It was a very good day.

I feel maybe it was too good.

That was the hi light of my time in New Zealand. A memory I will cherish forever. Even writing about it now raises an aching feeling of bittersweet joy from my stomach to my throat. But it strengthens my resolve to return to properly release those butterflies of excited anticipation that are still bursting to escape.