North to Auckland

Airport security are intrigued by our food bag and ask us: ‘kint you git iny diry (dairy ie food) in Aucklind?’ We politely respond that we could but we already have some thanks and they good-humouredly let us through. We enjoy a short scenic flight over mountains and volcanoes before landing in the positively balmy 17 degrees of Auckland where the amusing steward almost convinces me to put my clock forward an hour for the North Island. We check into the snazzy Heritage hotel/apart where the only drawbacks are a scabby air-con system that hasn’t been cleaned in years and a total lack of kitchen equipment presumably designed to encourage people to order room service. We don’t fall for this cunning ruse, but rather head to the harbour for dinner overlooking an old NZ America’s Cup Yacht. I go for the budget special pork chops whilst enviously ogling Ruby and Harley’s freshly stone-grilled fillet steak – talk about spoilt….

The next day we are wandering around Sky City when we see an advert for the 192-metre 75kmh ‘freefall’ tower jump. ‘Why don’t you have a go?’ says Karen innocently and before I know it I’m ‘walking the plank’ at the top of New Zealand’s tallest building that makes the Eiffel Tower look like a bungalow. (Actually it is only 4 metres higher than the famous Parisian landmark, and I am only jumping from 2/3rds of the way up, but it’s still bloody high, believe me.) It’s actually a Base Wire jump as your back is attached to a line. The worst bit is having plucked up the courage to jump headfirst, you drop 2 storeys and are then stopped for a photo, whilst dangling, waiting for the inevitable gut-wrenching dive to earth. I was then offered a second go for free which was actually much more fun. This was possibly because the adrenaline of the first jump overpowered the fantastic sensation of freefall enjoyed second time round.

We couldn’t resist the Hop-on Hop-off city tour and enjoyed the Ecuadorian live music at Victoria Market that gave us a tantalising taste of the next leg of the trip to South America. We also stopped at the Auckland Museum for an authentic Maori music and dance show with much more besides the inevitable Haka finale. We had a chat to one of the performers afterwards who taught Harley to perfect the scary eyes and sticky out tongue. Ruby was only allowed to do scary eyes, as it is disrespectful for ladies to use tongues (Essex girls could learn a lot from the Maoris).

Coincidentally another dancer was from the same family as the Maori friend Karen was trying to track down. After several phone calls she finally got to meet Anthony who she last saw in 1990 on his honeymoon with Karen’s best friend Lucia. It was funny to hear how Karen scared the local Maori women with her craziness (some things never change), but sad to hear that Lucia had gone back to Canada with mental health problems.

I had some catching up to do of my own with 1st cousin Peter. It was good to hear his news and especially fun to hear his anecdotes about my Dad’s mischievous side. Particularly good was the one where he and Peter moved some signposts and then having told the story later that evening had to go and put them back again late at night at my Mum’s insistence. The other one involved my Dad dive-bombing the indigenous tribes whilst training pilots in North Africa during the war, upsetting the water pots delicately balanced on their heads. I think he would have got on well with Karen….