The Quiet Traveller: Day 30 – Auckland

As I awoke from a deep and interrupted slumber, I could feel the excitement of a new city waiting to be explored. If only you could bottle this feeling and consume it at will, a crisp refreshing beverage to quench the exploratory thirst.

I didn’t have much planned for Auckland, I was only here for a short time, so I simply headed off in the direction of the harbour. Wandering through the streets, I noticed a distinctly financial feel to the city, mostly due to the skyscrapers and high number of banker suits bustling to coffee shops in-between meetings regarding how to shaft the general public with maximum efficiency.

Wearing my Nike shorts and plain t-shirt I looked very much out of place, which got me thinking that as a tourist, you are probably much safer wearing a suit in a large city, as it looks like you live there and therefore aren’t to be messed with. Things such as bum bags simply make you stand out as a target even more. Speaking of bum bags, why are they suddenly so fashionable? To clarify, I was not sporting a bum bag.

On the way down to the waterside, I stumbled across The Globe. Quite literally. It was a pop up Globe, a recreation of the London theatre as it would have been in Shakespeare’s day, with an open plan ground and stage, and then seating around in a semi-circle above. Curious, I got closer to investigate, and discovered that there was a performance of Twelfth Night this very night. The best part of this was a ticket price of only $10 NZD, and seeing as I had nothing else to do, I decided to give it a go.

Fast forward a few hours, and I was standing where the peasants traditionally stood, whilst people with jobs and more money had paid for seats in the semi circle. Ironically, the standing area gave the best views, as you were so close to the stage to see the actor’s expressions close up. Waiting to go in however, I felt a bit underdressed, as the crowd seemed to be full of blazer toting elites – and I quote, ‘I’ll just grab a wine here’ said one. No one ‘grabs’ a wine. Beer, yes. Wine, no.

My view of the stage.

The performance itself was actually a lot of fun, and I enjoyed it a lot more than I thought I would. As is often the case with Shakespeare, the sexual innuendo and general filth of some lines was a highlight. Interestingly, the cast was also completely made up of men, as it would have been during Shakespeare’s day. Because of the plot of Twelfth Night, this meant you had sometimes had a man playing a woman pretending to be man, which got a bit confusing given I hadn’t read/seen the play before.




The Quiet Traveller: Day 29 – Auckland

Today was an early start, leaving Wellington station on a train called the Northern Explorer. This ten hour journey would take me from the bottom of the North Island all the way up to the top of it, reaching Auckland at dusk.

On paper, a ten hour train journey, especially for someone familiar with the utter shite that is the UK rail network, seems akin to being voluntarily waterboarded. However, this  was no ordinary train and no ordinary journey.

The Northern Explorer consisted of several comfy carriages, including huge windows, wood-style panelling, a food carriage, and most importantly, an open carriage at the back, where you could walk around freely and take in the sights. Unlike passing through Wolverhampton on a wet Tuesday via an Arriva Trains Wales service, the views consisted of all the natural wonders the North Island has to offer.

It didn’t smell either. And you actually had a seat.

Most of the passengers were silver-haired, as I assume they have the time to travel slowly in comfort rather than flying in a squashed seat. Which is slightly ironic given that they’ve most likely got the least time in a different sense. My neighbour for the journey was a pleasant older lady who I chatted to about NZ and the UK. She was on her way to visit relatives in Auckland, but she also had links to UK. This was one of the most rewarding things I had experienced so far on my travels, simply because it was nice to have a genuine conversation with a complete stranger. To top it off, she even offered to buy me an ice cream from the onboard cafe, which I gladly accepted. Moral of the story: respect your elders because they might buy you food.

After an hour or two I wandered down to the back of the train to check out the open-air carriage. It was a bizarre sensation to be on a train with no windows, just holes in the side. I felt a bit like a cow being transported to new pastures, or perhaps a scrawny goat to be more accurate. There were signs demonstrating that if you dropped anything over the side, it would be gone for good and there would be no stopping for it, which makes me think people have previously hit the emergency stop button when they’ve dropped their phone over the side. Butterfingers, you’ve been told.

Do not lean over the side notice at the back as well. There’s lots of tunnels which would result in cranial smushing.

I was enjoying this mode of travel. It wasn’t at all stressful, the views were great, and I was able to chat, read, go off on my own, eat, and do as I pleased. I think it helped that everyone was definitely enjoying the journey as well, unlike a flight or bus journey. However, the day was going well, so naturally the train gods decided that there should be an hour delay due to ‘waiting for clearance to go through works’, and by the time I got into Auckland it was dusk. I hadn’t planned on the train stopping so far out from where I was staying, and Auckland seemed a lot bigger and more intimidating than Wellington.

I headed off at a pace into the high-rises, and soon realised that my hostel was at the top of what seemed like the steepest hill in Auckland. Turns out it was the steepest hill in Auckand, with a gradient of 24.8%. #gradientfacts. By the time I reached the top I was pretty puffed out, and I plonked my bag down in front of the receptionist with a sigh, de-sticking my t-shirt from my body. Though I imagine this was a common sight given the size of the hill. Luckily, I had a room to myself tonight, which cost a little more, but it was only two days and I was looking forward to sleeping without being disturbed by the regular occurrence of motorbikes in dorms.

The room reminded me of uni halls, and I even had a desk to write at. A simple thing but dorm rooms are often filled with bed frames and mattresses and nothing else. You might get a socket if you’re lucky. Something that struck me was the fact that being completely alone was an odd feeling. I’d spent so long around people recently that the prospect of being alone actually felt strange, as much as it was welcomed at the same time. I suppose that proves we’re a lot more adaptable than we think.

Looking towards Tongariro National Park.


The Quiet Traveller: Day 28 – Wellington

As established in the previous post, I was pretty much done with Wellington by this point. I didn’t get up to much on this final day apart from making sure I had everything packed for my train journey tomorrow. However, there were a few incidents of note.

The Germans in my dorm had moved on by this stage, and two newbies in the room were an American and Canadian. I was reading in my top bunk, when the American returned to find that the Canadian had inadvertently taken his bottom bunk. Bottoms bunks are, as I think I previously mentioned, like gold dust in a hostel dorm. They are the treasure that every traveller hunts for, yet rarely do they find it. I think the Canadian had simply seen that there was nothing on the bed or around it and assumed it was empty, as the American’s luggage was under the bed.

Cue scenes of American returning and being a bit of a drongo about the situation. Rather exacerbated, he launched into a long and winding tale about how he simply could not take the top bunk because once when he was 11 he fell off one, hit his head, and nearly died.

Suddenly a strong stench hit my nostrils. I sat up, curious as to what this unpleasant waft was. I turned my head in the air, trying to ascertain the source. Then the penny dropped and I realised what was fumigating my nasal receptors. It was vintage bullshit, left to mature in barrels made from the wood of the ancient ‘didnothappen’ tree.

A few minutes of posturing followed, and for a moment I thought something was about to kick off, during which I readied myself to get out of there fast. In the end however, the Canadian relented due to what I believe was the sheer absurdity of the American’s argument, and contented himself with the top bunk. Hostels are fun. They really are.

Earlier in the day I had a moment of hysteria to myself as well. I had misplaced my iPod, something which is very sentimental to me and was my source of tunes throughout the trip. It turned out that it had got tangled up in my sheets, as I used it often to drown out the motorbikes that sleep in hostel dorms. The relief when I finally found that battered box of music was akin to a heroin hit.

And that was about it for Wellington. Tomorrow I would be embarking on a 10 hour rail journey to Auckland. Which was much more exciting than it sounds.

As railway stations go, this is rather majestic.

Edit following last post: (I found a picture from Mount Victoria! It’s the featured photo.)

The Quiet Traveller: Day 27 – Wellington

I awoke in the morning to the sound of the German language, and I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and reached for my phone to check the time. I had planned to head up Mount Victoria today with Steph from the Stray bus, who was still in town for another day or two.

As I clambered down from my perch and began to sort out my stuff for the day, the sound of the German language turned to laughing. Not just a chuckle. Proper throaty laughs. I attempted to tune in to what they were saying, but as is often the case with listening to foreign languages, they often sound too fast to understand to the outsider. However, I managed to pick up on several words, including breakfast (Frühstuck), chocolate (Schokolade) and what seemed to be an English word with a lot of emphasis on it – Loser. The final word was slightly disconcerting to hear, but I put it out of my mind and headed out to meet Steph.

Mount Victoria is not as mountainous as it sounds, but it still takes considerable effort to ascend, with the warm Wellington sunshine necessitating several bench stops en route. I chatted to Steph about her cabin crew job as we walked, learning about the importance of always wearing your seatbelt on a flight. She informed me that on occasion planes can simply drop from the sky for a short time, meaning anything unsecured will get thrown upwards. I believe this is due to air pockets or something air related. Anyhow for the rest of my flights I kept my seatbelt on.

Reaching the summit, we were rewarded with some absolutely stunning views. The whole time in New Zealand, you go round a corner and think you’ve seen the best view of the whole trip, and then another view comes along blowing your mind again. It’s like your visual processing brain bits are being repeatedly blown to pieces but in the best kind of way. Unfortunately, being the professional writer/blogger/content creator extraordinaire that I am, I took precisely zero photos of the summit.

That evening, I stuffed my face with a bargain Domino’s deal (a couple of dollars for a pizza), and reflected upon the past week. It felt like I had exhausted all of Wellington’s activities, and as much as I was enjoying New Zealand, I was looking forward to the new challenge of the USA. I had been in Wellington so long and seen so many people come and go from my dorm I felt like a piece of the furniture. Not that you could fit much furniture in said room. I was also a little tired of meeting new people constantly, and as nice as most of them were, my energy levels for them were at a low. A recharge period was needed.

Note the lack of English flag – probably something to do with these three.

What wasn’t tiring about my situation was the pace of life in New Zealand. I have long held the view that we should learn from the sloth as a human race; well the UK should learn from the Kiwis when it comes to societal pace too.

The Quiet Traveller: Day 26 – Wellington

Wellington seemed much more alive today, probably because it was a Saturday. However rather than hitting the shops look at stuff I couldn’t afford or carry (you forget you have to carry anything you buy with you around the world), I decided to sign up to a free tour of the NZ parliament for later in the day.

Now the design of the NZ parliament is an acquired taste. The building is known the ‘Beehive’, but quite frankly I think it looks like Dalek with a meth problem.

This upturned paper waste basket is home to New Zealand’s MPs.

On the other hand, the beautiful Parliament Library building looks like this:

Clearly, design consistency was not on the agenda of the New Zealand government.

After signing up for the tour and doing all the usual security checks, I exited the building and to my surprise, I was greeted with a small (around 10) group of protesters wielding a number of mostly black banners with what I think were skull logos with ‘RWR’ above them. I gathered they were some sort of neo-nazi white supremacist group, and a quick google later revealed that the ‘RWR’ meant ‘Right Wing Resistance’, which confirmed my suspicions.

Two things struck me about this display of stupidity. Firstly, it was so strange to actually encounter neo-nazis. It’s just one of those things that you don’t physically see day to day. Secondly, at what point do you, as a neo-nazi, look at your BLACK banners with GOTHIC text and SKULLS and not think ‘Are we the baddies?’ Not that all black, gothic, and skull stuff is evil. But in politics, it probably is.

As security began to move them away, I did a Ross Kemp on Gangs and got out of there ‘before things kicked off’.

Upon returning later for my tour, I wondered if they would still be there, but by the time I got back the Beehive they had disappeared, and I was free to enter the building. The parliament tour itself turned out to be rather interesting, though I suppose it helps having studied political systems and being a bit of a geek. Different to the UK system, the NZ parliament has no upper chamber, and voters vote separately for the party in control and their local MP, which seems to me like a good way of doing things.

Something I have always wondered is how many introverts there are in politics. On paper, extroverts seem to be the ideal, but listening is also an important part of being a politician. I wonder what the relationship is between the popularity of a politician and their personality type.

As well as politics, the tour guide also discussed the earthquake-proofing of the building, including the base-isolators, which technically speaking, dramatically reduces the wibbly-wobbly dynamic in the event of an earthquake. Earthquakes, much like quicksand, are one those things that you think are going to be much more of a problem throughout your life. Southern England doesn’t get many of those.

After the conclusion of the tour, I headed back to the hostel for a bit before going out to meet some Stray bus people who were in Wellington for the night. It was good to see my Austrian friend Veronika and to find out how the deep south of the South Island was. Apparently I didn’t miss much as it rained the whole time, which made me feel slightly smug. Well, quite smug.


The Quiet Traveller: Day 25 – Wellington

‘To awaken in a strange town is one of the most pleasant sensations in the world’ – Freya Stark. This is printed in my travel journal at the bottom of page of Day 25, and I cannot agree more. There is a unique buzz to waking up in somewhere yet to be explored, much like when a new biscuit variant arises in the nibbles aisle.

This morning I planned to hit up Wellington and New Zealand’s main museum, Te Papa. Several things stood out here; I was particularly impressed by the Gallipoli exhibit, which consisted of telling the story of the New Zealanders who fought there through human sculptures 2.4 times the size of your standard edition human. The attention to detail was incredible – you could see individual hairs on an arm and the beads of sweat dripping down their face.

Another section of the museum contained Maori history, detailing the culture and society of the native people. In some ways, the modern Maori culture reminds me of the Welsh, in that they both have rather niche languages and unique cultural histories. Or maybe it’s just the rugby.

The museum also hosted a ‘Colossal Squid’, which consisted of a giant squid in a glass box. Sadly for the squid, it seemed long dead.

Unfortunately I soon got tired of the museum, as despite on paper being an ideal introvert-friendly place, it really wasn’t. This was mostly due to it being half-term or whatever the Kiwi equivalent is, meaning there were lots of children being very loud and hogging the interactive exhibits. The human child insists on pushing flashing buttons, despite a complete lack of interest in the consequence of pushing said button. A bit like the Donald with the nuclear button. I understand the need to make museums interesting to pull in punters, but sometimes it would be nice to have a simple museum where you just read stuff. Maybe I’m just getting old.

A wall of people saying nice things. The opposite of Twitter.

After a brief lunch stop for a much needed sandwich, I headed off to my afternoon destination, the planetarium and observatory on the hillside. Very aptly, it is named the Space Place. To get up to the Place, I took the cable car, which took me through a hillside tunnel that seemed to be set up to simulate the mental state of ‘tripping balls’. The cable carriage took me through gently pulsing rings of light cycling through different colours, giving the impression that we were moving a lot faster than we actually were.

I wandered around the astrology exhibits whilst waiting for the planetarium show, which was a refreshing change from the loudness and chaos of Te Papa. The main piece in Space Place was the ornate Thomas Cooke telescope, taking up the whole space of the dome.

Shiny scope boye.

The show itself was excellent, but I have to say I kept getting distracted by the Kiwi accent of the narrator. Maybe it’s a bit picky, but I think Brian Cox or David Attenborough would have been much better.

As I walked back down the hillside towards the hostel, I pondered how far away from home I was. Literally the other side of the world. Interestingly, I felt rather comfortable and rather in control despite this. I think this was because I had more freedom to get away from people when I wanted, and the fact that my aims of being in Wellington were simply to explore it and have fun. And with a week to do so, there was no rush whatsoever.

I also wondered what I was going to do next in Wellington. Having consulted the god of travel, his mightiness TripAdvisor, it wasn’t promising that a top attraction in the Wellington area was the train out of the city. That’s right, apparently one of the best things to do in Wellington is to leave the city. I would have to search a bit harder for things to do in the next few days.

The Quiet Traveller: Day 24 – Wellington

Helped by the feeble attempts of a humming fan, which served to circulate the hot air around the room more than anything else, I managed to survive the night in what can only be described as a sauna with bunk beds.

Today was the start of a full week in Wellington, so I decided to smash through some travel admin in the morning before properly exploring the city. This essentially meant doing some washing, doing some shopping, and generally making a nest for myself in this new city. After moving around constantly for several weeks, it was refreshing to have a bit of a routine and the opportunity to relax.

To my surprise, the laundry room was a great experience, which is something that cannot be said of the majority of hostel laundry rooms. The majority of hostel laundry facilities look like a detergent bomb has gone off in them, and there’s always something out of order. And of course there’s the laundry room whiff.

Located on the top floor of the building, it had stunning views out over Wellington Harbour. As I stuffed my honking socks into the industrial machines, I gazed into the distance, and couldn’t help notice a slight sway to my frame of vision.

Infamous for its wind, the Wellington weather was making the building move ever so slightly. Upon returning to my dorm, I noticed an addition to the usual health and safety waffle – what to do in the event of an earthquake. It seemed that despite the built up nature of Wellington, nature itself was the overlord here.

Oh yeah there might be an earthquake. Have a great stay though.

With my shopping and domestic chores out of the way, I headed into the heart of Wellington. My first impressions were one of a generic and heavily business based city, thanks to a number of corporate looking buildings that make up the CBD (Central Business District). However, I managed to escape the corporate jungle and soon found myself down by the harbourside.

At the water’s edge I encountered the Hikitia, a floating steam crane dating from 1926. Now I like history. But it was hard to get excited about a floating steam crane. I doubt anyone has ever got excited about a floating steam crane. I appreciate the efforts that have gone into preserving said steam crane. But at the end of the day, it’s a steam crane.

Seagull: ‘Now who would like to hear a good story about a steam crane’

Wandering along the shoreline, I came across a much more interesting vessel, the RV Sonne, a German science research ship. It looked sleek and efficient, the epitome of German engineering. Given the location of Wellington and New Zealand itself, I imagine it would have been carrying out science in the Antarctic regions. I like to think that a research ship would be a good place for an introvert to work, given that in the Antarctic the only noise and crowds are breaking ice and penguins.

Home for the next week.

Upon return to the hostel, I busied myself making some haricots sur le pain grillé. What amazed me was the people faffing with various avocados and concocting complex dishes. As an introvert, and especially as a hungry introvert who has been out all day, I just want to make my food as quick as possible when in a hostel kitchen so I can get to my book and digest and recharge. This was not always the case, sometimes I would stay and chat to people when I had the energy, who are of course generally friendly. I think we often forget that 99% of people are actually quite nice, it’s just the bad ones who get all the media attention. That’s you Donald.