Welcome Home, Mate

I arrived after what felt like a horribly long time to a wind-swept and damp Auckland. The flight itself was okay. I sat next to a 12 year old choir boy en route home after a two and a half week trip singing his wee heart out as part of the National Boys Choir of Australia. He wasn't terribly talkative, and kind of mumbled, but there was a distinct sweetness about him. Home for him was Melbourne - which was the onward portion of the flight from Auckland - so we had a bit of a connection. Although he wasn't quite sure where Parkville was, until I used the Melbourne Zoo as a point of reference. The range of in-flight movies/TV/music was quite amazing, although it didn't compensate for the chair itself, much.

I made it to the hotel via taxi driven by a Samoan guy who had lived in NZ for 35 years. We talked about home being home, and how it was always the "one day plan" to live at home again. The fare was an astronomical $67 which makes me quite sure that I will be going to take a bus to the airport en route to New Plymouth on Monday.

My hotel is centrally located, just off Queen Street, behind the Civic Centre. Easy walking to the CBD, as well as the inner suburb centers like Ponsonby and Parnell. After a hot bath, unpacking a bit and realizing that the pangs I was having were due to the fact I was bloody hungry I made my way with the morning rush hour to get something to eat.

Ponsonby Road is an easy walk, and I decided to stop into a funky looking hair dressers and asked the lady behind the counter where she'd go for a yummy breakfast if she were in the market. She pointed me down the street about 4 blocks to a place called Cafe Dizengoff.

Little dogs on zip-leashes are popular here too, sadly. I stopped en route at a news agents and bought a copy of GQ with Clive Owen on the cover, and the latest copy of North & South, an old favorite from way-back-when. After ordering breakfast I took a seat at a table with a great view of the street and the tables outside, which even though it was chilly, were quite popular spots to sit by the looks of things.

The eggs (poached) that came had the most incredible yellow/orange yolks, and they smiled at me gleefully as I poked their creamy centers with torn-off pieces of crunchy ciabatta toast, smeared generously with yellow butter and a tasty green pesto. A glass of orange juice, a hot steaming latte, and a poached egg "Welcome home, mate" - $17.

At about 09:50 came an invasion of small bare-footed and colourfully dressed kiwis. One of them was maybe four years old and took great delight in chatting to his Mummy about the people at the next table. Out came a click-clack box from her bag from which was removed a bag of veggie snacks and an all too-familiar red box of raisins. Talk about a blast from the past. Mummy drank her bowl of latte and he happily munched as the wind tossed his red hair across his fair-skinned and freckled face.

I could feel my eyes beaming a blue-hot light of sheer delight at the scene I was witnessing. I could feel them being transformed from brown to a pure, rich, fern-forest green, as I soaked it all in.

After satiating myself (on so many levels) at Dizengoff I strolled on up Ponsonby Road, then down towards the city again. I took a route via the Victoria Market, only because I needed to use the lav, then on to Queen Street, past Sky City. Back to the hotel for a bit of a rest before heading to the Auckland War Memorial Museum. The weather was not 100% conducive with walking, but it managed to hold off just long enough for me to make it thru the park to the steps of the museum before it chased me inside.

The museum is filled with some amazing artifacts of maoritanga, including textiles, carvings and architecture. I took a ton of photos that I hope to fold in to my pottery in the future. There was also a display of children's items. It was quite fun to spot things I remembered so clearly - but also a little scary to see that toys I played with are now museum pieces!

I was delighted to find that the museum also has a huge collection of New Zealand made ceramics and spent a lot of time photographing and making notes on the artists and their work. It was really quite something. Rain fell in sheets while I was there as well. The museum is on a hill looking out over the harbour, and so I had quite a vantage point from the columned main entrance, as I was leaving. I stood and watched for a short time, and then it was gone almost as soon as it had arrived.

I walked on to Parnell Road, and found the shops, bars, and restaurants interesting enough. There were some lovely galleries with beautiful pieces of pottery to look at, just as well it was only the beginning of the trip. I had a second latte and a piece of carrot cake at Cafe Citron Vert ($8). I read some of my book on Jung, watched the cars go by, and had a look at the paper.

Dinner was a yummy basket of battered snapper and chips with garlic aioli washed down with a diet coke at a place simply called the Fishmonger ($14). Again I got to sit near the window and watch people en route home. The post-work rush unfolded, complete with long green buses stopping outside the fish shop to load and un-load their human cargo. It is fun looking at what people are wearing; on the whole men are kind of dull, simple and understated (unlike West Hollywood, for sure). The women wear way-less make-up, which seems to give their faces much more reality and freedom of expression.

I love seeing the full range of kiwi faces; pakeha, maori, pacific islander, asian. The steady stream of customers for the fish shop reflecting this kaleidoscope of humanity.

The walk back to the hotel was long and I was mighty happy to fill the tub again and soak for a while before bed.