We've Only Just Begun

Auckland New Zealand

In the middle of Auckland a park, bordered by forest, rises above the harbor. From the top to the bottom it covers half a square mile. It's forest is so dense that the only routes through are the planned walkways. Trees of all kinds abound. Magnolias, sycamores, palms and many more that I can’t even begin to name, and ferns. Ferns that are mistaken for palms because they reach so high, these are King Ferns. Silver Ferns are almost as plentiful and like the king are tall but where the king is dark brown and green the silver is just that, silver. There is a tree so large that its trunk is the width of a spa. Large buttress roots spread out and up while thin, thread like roots hang down from the branches in thick bunches and encircle the base like a curtain drawn shut.



From atop the hill that is that park the sounds of tennis drift up, finally at the bottom of a long hot hike I am greeted by two of my favorite sites. It is the Heineken Open. A men only tournament that takes place each year in Auckland. I checked the line-up but it has been years since I immersed myself in that world and its players and no names jump out at me.

It has begun to rain: A tropical drizzle complete with humidity that makes you thankful for the drops. I open my face to the sky and pray that they find me. It is never hard enough to drench nor cold enough to chill but I struggle in and out of my sweater trying to find the perfect combination of protection and ventilation. I curse myself for returning my rain jacket back in the states. Here I will need it. We have arrived just with the storm and no amount of rain is going to keep me from exploring my new home in the early days of getting acquainted.

After spending one hundred sixty dollars on a hotel room complete with our own kitchen and sitting room we were ready to move into the world of backpacking. We set out with our packs upon our backs, already a few articles lighter and made way for the hostels. We chose to forgo the bus system in favor of a walk through the park, and though it did not disappoint three hours later and exhausted on our feet I couldn’t remember what hostel I had reservations at, and we had already struck out twice. Finally a familiar name: Base Backpackers. Check in wasn’t until one. Grateful to be free of our loads we stowed our bags and Spoons guitar and set off to explore. 



The Auckland Art Gallery features many free exhibits. This month “A Lighter Touch” described as “European works by painters including Edgar Degas, Salvador Dali, Pablo Picasso, Paul Nash and Henry Moore” among others. I saw a painting by Picasso: a jug of water and lemon on a table. It felt empty and incomplete. And a sculpture by Degas: a woman pulling on a stocking. So much like Rodin’s style--all bumps and thumb prints, no lines or smooth surfaces; it never ceases to amaze me what forms art takes on. We saw an exhibit featuring a Kiwi artist and another featuring the works of a Maori with a focus on the faces of many historical figures. Men and women their blue tattoos jumping out against the contrast of their grayed hair. I was dazzled. Spoon and Spence were enthralled.

Spencer and I met while waiting in line at LAX. Both bound for New Zealand we exchanged pleasantries and chatted about our trips. He will be here for six months. The three of us walked to our gate. We met up again in Fiji and killed three hours together. Then we left the Auckland airport together but split up on the bus. He headed for Base and us for a hotel. I hoped to see him again. After checking into Base we’d walked but half a block when a familiar figure was suddenly at my side. Spencer joined us on a walk to a smaller park in the middle of downtown. It was drizzling but beneath the canopies of the park's trees we were sheltered. I mentioned the art exhibit. We went in search of it.

January 12, 2007