5th May 2018

After an amazing two and a half weeks, the time finally came for me to leave Fiji for further exciting adventures in New Zealand.

On the way to the airport, my taxi driver confirmed Fiji’s status as a very Christian country, demonstrating a strong belief in life after death and even stronger faith in his brakes as he confidently texted at the wheel while treating me to a rollercoaster ride of overtaking on blind corners, straying onto the wrong side of the road and taking the speed limit as a suggestion.

My relief that I had arrived at the airport in one piece was short lived, however, as I discovered that my 8.45am flight had been delayed till 8.45pm and I was now faced with breaking the news to my family expecting me in Auckland that I would be arriving at midnight instead of midday…

After hours of queuing and sitting around the airline announced that they had sorted day rooms for delayed passengers at nearby hotels and I was bundled into a taxi by airline staff on the promise that any costs would be covered.

This use of a credit voucher seemed to vex my driver, but not as much as the fact that I hadn’t eaten since breakfast (only 2 hours or so ago). Tutting, glaring and lecturing me in his thick Indian accent that I will be ‘so hungry’, he somehow seemed convinced that there would be no food at this hotel (was it a prison?), refusing to accept my protests that I was fine and kept trying to turn the car around so I could ‘get food’. Still groggy from my early start and scared he was going to stop and frogmarch me into a supermarket, I nearly replied that I would be eating him if he didn’t shut up.

Fortunately, after a solid 15 minutes of berating my eating choices, I was finally spared when a mongoose ran across the road, at which he got very excited, remarking that mongooses/geese(?) are responsible for producing the best coffee in the world and he went on to qualify this bizarre claim by muttering ‘they eat the beans, they shit the beans’ again and again like it was the wittiest thing he had ever said, chuckling to himself unsettlingly.

Fortunately the hotel did have food and after some lunch, a scenic stroll, an experiment with a jacuzzi bath (pictured) that led to accidentally covering my bathroom from floor to ceiling in water, slipping on the wet floor and flashing a Fijian man who happened to be passing, I was quite exhausted by my brief stay.

Later that afternoon, I was picked up by another taxi for my rescheduled flight, this time driven by an ex-boxer who filled his van with his large frame and booming voice, giving myself and another lucky passenger a dramatic account of how he lost his boxing license and gushing about his sausage dog (we were also surprised) who liked to sit in the front seat while he drove.

To my relief, I was finally able to board my flight with minimal hassle and luckily the relatives expecting me (my dad’s second cousin Annette and her family) had briefed me with a revised plan for my late night pick up, telling me to look out for Jim, Annette’s brother, who had gallantly stepped in at late notice to pick me up and provide me with a place to stay for the night.

The flight itself was fairly painless and following some careful Facebook stalking so I could attempt to identify Jim, who I had never met before, I arrived at Auckland airport.

Having made my way through the notoriously rigorous Kiwi customs, I was approached in the arrivals lounge by a man matching the pictures I had found on social media and claiming to be Jim; his knowledge of my family seemed pretty detailed, so if he was an impostor, at least he had done his research. It had been a long and exhausting day, so when we got to Jim’s house I settled down in my freshly made bed and quickly fell asleep.

After a much needed lie in, I was woken by Annette, her daughter Alice and husband Andrew who had come to pick me up and take me back to theirs. It was really great meeting them for the first time having grown up hearing so much about them from my parents and perhaps even better was the fact that their presence confirmed that I had not been kidnapped by a stranger pretending to be a relation.

We piled my numerous bags into their ‘ute’ and left Jim’s place bound for Thames, the landscape quickly evolving from urban highways to fields rippled with soaring hills and cavernous valleys. It was hard adjusting to the chilly autumn weather having previously been basking on sunny beaches but the fresh air, quiet roads and beautiful landscapes made up for it.

We stopped for fish and chips on the way and it really didn’t feel like the first time we had all properly met. When we arrived back at their beautiful house in Thames, I was greeted by their dogs Ron and notably, Benson- my favourite travel friend so far who for a long time I called Vincent due to hearing his name in the Kiwi accent (ViNSiN/BiNsiN). I was thoroughly spoiled as I found a little gift bag of Kiwi goodies waiting in my room and was later treated to an amazing roast lamb dinner- a godsend after a lean diet of rice, fish, watery soup and cassava in Fiji.

We settled down for the evening and they introduced me to the finer things New Zealand has to offer including Benson’s silky ears, the gripping soap opera that is ‘Shortland Street’, L&P (a lemony drink) and ‘Dancing With The Stars’, with conversations ranging from Daniel Radcliffe’s pasty legs to why we love Neil from Coast (Neil if you’re reading this please follow us back on Instagram).

The next day Alice was at school and Annette and Andrew at work, so I took myself off for a stroll round Thames- their beautiful seaside town. Here in New Zealand, a lot of the buildings are primarily made of wood, a sharp contrast to the sturdy stone buildings of England. With its period hotels and cafes, Thames still has the feel of a frontier town and it was not hard imagine what it must have been like to live there during the 19th century gold rush when it first sprung up on the Coromandel peninsula.

The following day, Alice and Annette took me on a scenic coastal drive to Coromandel town, with a view to taking in the scenery on the Driving Creek railway. This attraction, combining miniature trains and pottery, was the brainchild of the late Kiwi potter Barry Brickell. He had decided to build several workshops dotted around the mountainside and that he needed a railway and what looked like a miniature version of the Hogwarts Express to get around them.

We decided to hop on a train and were met by our driver Mindy*, a self proclaimed ‘fiery redhead’ who bore a striking resemblance to Catherine Tate and promptly glared at me for smirking at the safety briefing in which she sternly instructed us ‘not to open the doors when the train is moving’ or ‘stick our head out the side of the moving train car’. Having come all this way intending to lie horizontally across the seat as we zoomed past trees or one of Barry’s kilns, I was quite disappointed that to find that this behaviour would not be tolerated and made a note to ask for a refund.

As we trundled along the precarious tracks through the carefully maintained New Zealand bush, Mindy told us the story of Barry’s life and the labour of love that was his model railway. Annette, who had met the late great Barry on a previous visit, described him as ‘thin, brown and leathery’, so when Mindy mentioned his penchant for getting naked, I felt it was perhaps for the best that we wouldn’t be treated to the sight of a nude Barry frolicking through the kauri trees or turning pots in one of his hillside studios.

We continued to climb up and up through the forest, navigating the exciting flipping seats that allow the train to go both forwards and backwards, towards a lookout point renowned for its amazing views of the Coromandel. Mindy’s zest for trains seemed to increase with every bend, as she shrieked ‘ARE YOU READY FOR TUNNEL NUMBER TWOOO?!!’ with the frenzied enthusiasm of an 80s workout instructor. Alice also pointed out that what we had previously thought were atmospheric recordings of a steam engine played as we entered tunnels, turned out to be Mindy making tooting and train noises into a microphone.

We reached the lookout and it did not disappoint- I think the pictures really speak for themselves!

Many people have asked me what New Zealand is like and the simple answer is unlike anywhere I have been before. Here in the North Island, the flat sandy beaches wouldn’t look out of place in Cornwall but drive a mile and find dramatic valleys reminiscent of the Highlands, American-style town layouts or ancient forest that could easily be a set from Jurassic Park.

While I have been missing the perfect beach scapes of Fiji, New Zealand’s unique combination of features is proving intriguing and while it may not have an exotic climate, is something that is quickly growing on me.

After Mindy had deemed we had spent long enough looking at the panoramic view, she bustled us back down to the train and we headed back down, complete with her listening in to and joining in our conversations from half way down the carriage and making even more train noises.

On the way home we stopped for another dose of ‘fush and chups’, which Annette claimed would be the best in the world as it was all freshly caught. She was not wrong, and we sat outside to eat it overlooking the sea.

Despite having been in New Zealand for a short time, I was given the sense that it’s a place that is good for the soul. Everyone is very active here, the food is always fresh and the air even fresher- with a lot more emphasis on doing things as opposed to buying things.

What has been most valuable so far on this trip is the opportunity to connect with family- not just with the lovely relatives hosting me, but also with my parents, as Annette showed me home videos from when they came over to visit and shared stories of when she, my Auntie and my Dad went on a bus tour similar to the one I was immanently going to hop on.

I was apprehensive to move on having been made to feel so welcome in Thames and the thought of leaving family, but more importantly Benson, for nearly 5 weeks was proving difficult. I relished the chance to stay in one place having hopped around a lot but was also excited at the possibility of seeing more of the country and meeting new people.

Watch this space for a new post about how I got on joining the Kiwi bus!

*her name was not Mindy