Summer moved on

Flowers in the window

24

Bye, bye baby.

Set in Stone

Nothing is...

Flashback Parade

Two weeks of complete escapism. From life, from the outside world, from reality, from familiarity, from memory. How did I get here? And where am I headed now? To what end?

New Zealand is a country that takes your breath away, in ways that seem too absurd to be possible. To borrow slightly from a very witty postcard I noticed at the ubiquitous souvenir store here, I’ll always remember about this country – the portion sizes at cafés (die of shame, America!), the verdant meadows stretching beyond eternity, the surreal blueness of the lakes, the aquamarine sea squinting in the sunlight, snow-dusted mountains, volcano cones symmetric to perfection, the warmest, most good-natured cheer, and the heartfelt humility all around. This country may have a legacy of suffering nature’s might and violence, but look around and all you will see is quiet gentleness – both, in the magnificent landscapes, and among the people. A fortnight of travel in the best weather imaginable may not be the most unbiased backdrop for my Kiwi experience, but until I grow weary of this wanderlust, I know I have to keep coming back here.

And this is how it all began…

Auckland

Back again. Thirteen days after I first set foot in New Zealand, I was back to the beginning, where it all started to explode delightfully. While the idea of spending new year’s eve atop a misty mountain or beside a babbling brook was hopelessly tantalising, the logistics of having to return to Perth on the first day of the new year (how inglorious!) forced us to seek more practical options. City-esque options. Like Christmas in Christchurch, all over again.

Getting to Auckland pushed our north island odometer beyond the 1,000 kilometre mark. Close to a thousand miles in the south island, and a little over a thousand kilometres in the north. And I’m starving for more. More sheep, more rolling meadows, more glassy lakes, more turquoise, more mountains, more strange-sounding towns, more mini-republics.

Auckland’s most imposing sight, and most likely the first thing you’ll notice about its skyline, is the unimaginatively named Sky Tower. This is the tallest building in the southern hemisphere, and while it’s not exactly a thing of beauty, most Kiwis are shyly proud that their country holds this accolade, transient though it may be.

I was, however, hugely wowed by the fact that there are over forty extinct volcanoes within the Auckland region. A closer look at the landscape, glancing beyond the urban decks of apartment blocks and high-rises, reveals a delightful number of slender, graceful cones in one direction, confronted by a few chubby mounds on the other side.

It was to one such chubby mound that John and I headed first. Mt. Eden is one of Auckland’s highest natural… um… highs, a quaint, old extinct volcano that is now a much-loved, popular picnic-ground/lolling-park for the locals. And as with every grassy patch in New Zealand, this one had its faithful regulars – chirpy tourists, freckled sunbathers, hungry cows, and the athletic types, who insisted on sprinting up and down the steep flanks of the crater with utter nonchalance, and, undoubtedly, the express purpose of making us feel comprehensively lumpy and unfit.

Trundling down the hill and towards the city, we caught closer glimpses of the Sky Tower and the shopping/entertainment complex below, SkyCity. Among the myriad attractions and facilities it has to offer, the most blatantly touristy is something called the Sky Jump, which involves a 192-metre suspended, controlled drop in about 11 seconds. And jumpsuits, lots of screaming, and manic photo-clicking by Japanese bystanders. John and I watched, staring into the sun, grinning infuriatingly.

An epithet often used for Auckland is ‘City of Sails’, and while the reasoning behind this is not immediately obvious, a quick hop across to the various Prince/Princess/King/Queen/Court-Jester jetties reveals a rich assortment sails, fluttering atop equally opulent yachts. Luckily enough, the day we chose to explore the bay was also the day the Russian training sailing vessel, Pallada, docked in Auckland as part of its voyage around the world. Not insanely eager to get aboard yet another boat, we were content to take a ridiculous amount of photographs from the pier, surrendering to unabashed touristy-ness.

Wellington may be the capital of New Zealand, but Auckland is easily its busiest and most populous city. Its resemblance to Melbourne is compelling, and in a lot of ways, it could very well be in Australia (yes, I do know that that statement will earn me a lynching in either country). Wild, unkempt, arty, and oozing attitude, whether it’s the vivid architecture, unusual art, the potpourri of its residents and their boisterous, outgoing nature, or its charming disarray of urban beauty.

Auckland really does know how to bring in a new year. Its streets overflowed with bars and pubs open till the wee hours of the morning, each promising an unforgettable kickstart to 2008. The Sky Tower promised to shower the city with an endless bouquet of fireworks, backpackers with in-house pubs hosted theme parties, while yachts and cruise ships had soirées of their own. Not quite the party animals, John and I decided to participate in the simplest kind of revelry – a public celebration at the Aotea Square, a free and alcohol-free gathering in front of the town hall, complete with a countdown and an unobstructed display of the Sky Tower fireworks. It felt like we were shedding fifteen odd years, with the effortlessness of a duck shrugging water off its back.

Along came midnight, and with it, a cascade of cheer, good humour, and uninhibited celebration. Most merely yearn for a good reason to be happy, to shed their melancholy, and, even if it’s only for a few moments, feel unreasonably optimistic. Fireworks can make you feel like that.

At the end of it all, we walked back to our backpackers, among the throngs of euphoric revellers, all hooting, cheering, clicking photographs, munching on doughnuts, hopping a little, skipping a bit. Such mirth! Such unfettered electricity! There are truly very few things in the world as uplifting as a happy people, and I guess bringing in a new year in a treasure of a country as New Zealand, is reason enough, more than anyone would ever need, to be so helplessly ecstatic.