Auckland doesn’t really bring out the worst in me, I swear. On the first day I was cussing like a person without small children about the traffic, the hills, and the fact that I could not, at any time, tell what part of Auckland we were in or in which direction we were heading. North was south! East was west! Up was down! In was out! By Monday I was saying to Mike, “Well, I guess it wouldn’t be too bad, you know, if you never drove anywhere ever for any reason.” And he was nodding and agreeing and then I would say, “Nah. But yeah. But nah. But maybe.”
Anyway.
Friday we arrived in a blaze of perfect-parenting glory with our children and luggage intact. (Last night I watched Supernanny’s tips about travelling with kids. We had done everything she recommended, and more. Yes.) I amused the kids in the terminal (food! video games! Korean grandparents touching their hair and giving them lollies with unrecognisable writing!) while Mike picked up the rent-a-dent. We had predicted Amy would need a nap (see? perfect parents) and decided the best plan of action was a recon drive around the city to get our bearings and let her sleep in the car. We decided we didn’t need a map.
HAHAHAHAAA!
We didn’t get very lost.
We stopped at a petrol station off a motorway somewhere in the North Island to find One Tree Hill (I had said, “Eh, it’s a big hill with a big cenotaph on it. How will we get lost?”) and realised that we somehow were actually still in Auckland and somehow not far from where we wanted to be. It turns out that the hills in Auckland are not conveniently located in one small area like Christchurch but are rather inconveniently dotted about at random, so one hill hides another. Right! Behind it! I called Rache to arrange a meeting place and she said, “Well, I’m coming up [Random Street] right now,” and I said, “We’re coming up [A Road],” and she said, “Hey, I’m just around the corner,” as we literally passed each other in the middle of a city of over one million people.
Lesson: New Zealand is a small country. And full of people from Christchurch.
Caught up, took the kids to a really awesome playground at One Tree Hill Domain (I think), with very cool and funky play equipment including a ride-on train on a circular track.
Mike collected his parents from the airport and we adjourned to the motel, where we threw the children in bed and opened the requisite bottle o’ wine and had another, proper catch-up. We felt this constant compulsion to tell people that, as parents, it is never wise to make concrete plans because something always, always goes wrong or otherwise changes. The great thing about telling people this in advance is that it means things will go right. If you prepare for the worst, you’re guaranteed to get the best. Parents and acquaintances of small children take note.
We drove all over Auckland the next morning in search of Botany Downs, because what sort of crazy person goes to the big smoke without shopping? I bought some art. The boys bought Dunkin’ Donuts. I swear Mike drooled all over the rental car when he saw the sign and we never got our deposit back. We bought Ethan a long-sleeved tee because when I packed his clothes I discovered that every sweatshirt he owns was wet on the line. We bought Amy a cute shirt because it was cute. We bought Ethan a pair of sunglasses because they were red. And had racecars. And they match his bucket hat with the flaming skulls, so, you know.
Back to the motel for naptime and lunch and to meet Rache and Dale, who brought more goodies for the kiddies. Ethan got a kurta with churida (traditional Indian shirt and trousers):
When Amy woke up we madly raced off to Auckland Zoo, where we saw more animals than you could shake a stick at, whatever that means. We certainly didn’t shake sticks at any animals since most of them would have eaten us. Amy was fascinated by the hippo and elephants, and the hippos were certainly doing interesting things; having a feed beside the water before plunging in, climbing out, wandering in again and having a swim along the jetty. The hippos in a separate enclosure were having fisticuffs over a chunk of log they had evidently been given for Christmas or something — a perfect chance to teach the kids a vital life lesson about sharing your goodies with hippos.
We finally escaped from the zoo at closing time with a stack of free ex-calendar photos of the animals to occupy the kids on the drive back and a plethora of animal noises to be made. Kids slept like logs. Logs untouched by large hippo teeth.
The grownups did stuff on Saturday night; probably it is better left unsaid. Suffice to say dinner was tasty, belly dancing was witnessed, karaoke was not, and Mike and I are old and retired before we could turn into pumpkins. Certain others of the party were still recovering 18 hours later. Suckers!
On Sunday we did some quiet things because of the aforementioned suckers. We brunched at a cafe on Onehunga Mall, which is a fantastic low-budget street packed with bazaar-style shops all called some variety of “Just a Buck” or “One-Two-Three Dollars” and filled with a mix of trash and treasure. Also the most amazing secondhand and rare book shop I have ever seen. The apparently homemade stairs were dodgy but presumably legal and you could almost guarantee that that book you remember your nana reading you that used to belong to your dad when he was four would be found somewhere in that shop.
Back for Amy’s nap (I am not complaining about this; I would love it if she naps until the day she starts school, and maybe even until she’s thirty), then we split up to see various parts of Auckland. I went to Takapuna with Rache, Mike stayed with Amy and his broken cellphone, Ethan went with Nana and Grandad — whom Amy has named something like “Brad-Brad” — and they went to the museum! which was on fire! and had, like, a zillion firetrucks! wow! Apparently the alarms went off, the trucks came screaming in, and no one could turn the alarms off so they had to close the museum just after Ethan arrived. It’s like they knew. So they played it safe and went to the Sky Tower, which Ethan ADORED AND WON’T STOP TALKING ABOUT THANKS A LOT NANA AND BRADBRAD. And, um, Dale slept a lot.
Somehow we all (minus the aforementioned poor old sucker Dale) managed to meet in the same place at Mission Bay despite Mike having no map and no cellphone, and had a peaceful afternoon on the beach building castles and canals and burying Aunty Rachel up to her neck in sand. Then we sadly said goodbye to Mike’s parents who flew back to Blenheim and packed up to go back to the motel to once again throw children in bed and open a bottle of wine. What? It’s not like we do that every night. Sometimes we drink beer, or tequila slammers, or snort lines. We did make the mistake of putting Ethan and Amy in the same room on Sunday night, which made for entertainment when they kept talking to each other. It’s not like Amy has much to say, but somehow they conversed long past bedtime.
(Please excuse the redeye; I forgot to edit before uploading.)
Monday we (perfect parents) were already packed and had clothes out for the kids, so we were breakfasted and out of the motel by about 8am. We went to One Tree Hill and let the kids enjoy the view and proved to Ethan that no, the Sky Tower did not actually go into space and that no, it wasn’t taller than a mountain and no, it wasn’t the tallest thing in the whole wide world. Dreams shattered! A boy’s fantasies crushed! You can feel the pain:
(Yes, desperate need for haircut, I know.)
Then down the hill! To Butterfly Creek! Great place! Except not. I’m sure it is a great place when the A Team are working, but we evidently got, uh, the F Team. We bought tickets for the kids to see the farmyard and ride the Red Admiral Express! a little train that chugs around the complex. There’s also a butterfly aviary-thing (what the heck do you call a butterfly enclosure?) that is supposed to have, oh I didn’t read the signs, the most butterflies in a large enclosed area in the entire galaxy or something. Anyway, the kids saw the farmyard while I waited for Rachel in the cafe (evidently Dale survived the night, well done him!) and I think the farmyard was met with apathy, because the kids just! wanted! the train!
So we waited for 11:30 which was the next departure time. And no one came to drive the train. We waited. And no one came. And we had a 12:50 flight (hrm, more on that soon), so we needed to get going. So I had a chat with the receptionist, who responded with a blank expression and a rude “Huh?” and then said she’d talk to someone. We waited. And waited. And then we had to go, so we forced the kids’ clenched fists from the train’s gates and hauled them up the ramp to the exit, when the receptionist came out and asked us to wait, someone was coming. Through gritted teeth and over screams I said no, we had a plane to catch. But wait! she said, just a couple of minutes! And I, rather more irritated than I generally get (I’m all about the internalising of rage, you know) used a rather angry voice with her and said no. we. are. leaving. and she just…vanished. And we never saw her again.
Am I to be riding the train now? Am I?
So we bid a sad farewell to Rache, who went and did, I don’t know, work or something. And we made our way quickly to the airport, running late for our 12:50 flight. We had planned to be at the airport at about 11:50, but left Butterfly Creek at 11:50 so got to check-in at about noon, still with the rental car to drop off. We looked at the departures board.
There was no 12:50 flight.
We looked at our itinerary, which Mike had written down. As we rummaged through my bag he muttered, “I’m sure it’s 12:50. I wrote down 12:50.” We found the note. It said 12:30. “Huh,” he said. “How did I get that wrong?” And as he spoke the first boarding call for our flight came up. I grabbed my and the kids’ boarding passes, grabbed the kids and left for the gate. Mike took his boarding pass, crossed his fingers and took off to return the car. I waited until last to board at 12:20 and told the ground crew that my darling husband was stuck on a matter of life and death and might be a wee smidge late for the plane and please hold the whole plane for him, ta. They said the flight crew hadn’t arrived yet. Heh.
We got settled on the plane without incident and waited. And waited. And the door to the gate was finally closed and the flight crew (who had already arrived, like, ages ago) were closing the overhead bins and stuff that you do when you’re cabin crew. But wait! Guess who they had to open the door for at exactly 12:30?
Yay.
And so we made it home alive, with one extra sock (which I think we found under the motel room couch. Ew) and all limbs and luggage and children intact. The kids flew like a dream. Ethan was mildly petrified when we left Christchurch because he was worried his ears might explode or implode, depending on ascent or descent, and his brain might leak out all over his LeapPad. On the flight back south, the first thing he did on the plane was tell the flight crew proudly, “I’m not scared of flying any more!”
Amy just liked the clouds. “Cowwwwd!”
Mike just liked not having Amy’s milk bottle leak all over him. Bad luck, that. I just liked when the kids didn’t eat my entire caramel slice. Also with the bad luck.
