First, just let me say that money changers are all beggars and thieves and it’s no wonder Jesus drove the bastards from the temple. But, I digress.
My first glimpse of the Land of the Long White Cloud was quite literal. As we descended over Auckland, the rising sun lit a solid bank of cloud with its glow. Which faded to a rather dull, rainy morning when we reached ground level.
As things turned out, this was something of a false start. The day quickly cleared and for most of my stay, the North Island’s weather was on its best behaviour – at least, until I got to Taupo. But, as some disparaging Aucklanders suggested, that was only to be expected. But, I digress again.
The guardian Maori thingies at Auckland International were unable to defeat Lauren Southern and Stefan Molyneux, so naturally, I breezed through where I was met by my designated BFD greeter, RantyKiwi, who went above and beyond to show up at 6 am. After a quick stop for coffee and to organise transport, I was turned loose. Nowhere on the North Island was safe.
Luckily for the rest of the North Island, my inner ten-year-old-nerd is alive and well, so my first foray into the wilds of New Zealand was to Hobbiton. Yes, it’s touristy, but it’s also pretty freaking awesome. I may or may not have shouted, “I’m going on an adventure!” as I walked through Gandalf’s Cutting, and I’m not about to apologise.
But it wasn’t all fun and games and ale in the Green Dragon – it was soon time to get back to Auckland for some serious drinking and catch-up with more BFD crew. After finding out the hard way that Aucklanders’ moaning about traffic was not an exaggeration (even the notorious “Monash Car-Park” in Melbourne moves faster than the South Western Motorway!), I was more than ready to demolish some fancy-pants beers in Auckland’s finest bars wherever I washed up with a crew of the BFD’s finest reprobates. Although, sadly, Nige’s Quest for Taco Bell came to naught.
By the time the drinking and yakking was over (including a fair whack of a bottle of Laphroaig, courtesy of Buzz E Bee), I’d been awake for nearly 40 hours. Did I sleep well? Oh, you bet I did.
But eventually, the Big Day dawned. Quite a few hours later, so did I.
My Second Breakfast in New Zealand confirmed what I’d already noticed: New Zealanders are as committed to good food from local produce as Tasmanians – only Kiwis don’t gouge tourists as shamelessly. The great food more than makes up for your mind-boggling petrol prices, not to mention your confusing currency. Your $2 coins are bigger than the $1? What madness is this? How many dollarydoos are the little copper ones? No wonder I turned to beer to cope.
Specifically, Mac’s Gold All Malt Lager. That is some seriously good stuff, New Zealand. I forgive you for not stocking proper, Tasmanian, Boag’s beer. My only regret is that I can’t get Mac’s here in Tasmania, either.
Thanks no doubt in part to the magic of Mac’s, the Big Day passed in a blur of amazing, friendly people and even more amazing food. The BFD folk really are as nice as they pretend to be online. Finally meeting up with them all, not least including Cam and SB, was an experience to be remembered. Astonishingly, I can actually remember most of it.
And so, after many hours of sun, sand, food and debauchery, it was time to crash again. I had such a good time that I’m not even going to name names as to whose thunderous snoring kept me awake from a room away. Although I must say that it was most unsympathetic of Mrs. Brady to snark that “Now you know what it’s like!”
Still, sleeplessness, hangovers and unsympathetic spouses on the other side of the Tasman are not enough to keep your correspondent down. A good breakfast of Vogel bread toast and Whale Meat ham was all the fuel I needed to get me going on the next stage of my New Zealand adventure…