Today's the day I finally go to New Zealand. When I first left my permanent job, over ten years ago, I was intending to go there. But before I bought my tickets, I was offered a six month contract, paying good money. It was too good an opportunity to miss, so I thought I'd work for 6 months and go to New Zealand after that. But one contract led to another, and it's only now - ten years later - that I'm finally going to get there.
I'm looking forward to it. I've always been attracted by the world famous New Zealand scenery and the sporting culture. It has a reputation for being 30 years behind the UK but I'm sure that, in these times of the internet and satellite television, it can't be that bad. On the other hand, my excitement is tempered by the knowledge that I have to try and get work. This won't be much of a holiday, although I do want to see as much of the country as I can.
I have informal meetings with agencies but no interviews, so I'm intending to travel light. My interview clothes will stay in Brisbane. I pack a little 'smart casual' stuff for the meetings, and the rest is jeans, shorts, etc. My day in Brisbane is pretty relaxed. I head to the airport in the early afternoon, ready for my 5:15 flight to Auckland. Paddy thought I was being extra cautious, but I'm glad I've given myself plenty of time - the check-in queues are horrendous.
Check-in takes ages, but I finally get through to the departure lounge and have time for a quick coffee before boarding. Three hours later, I'm taking my first breaths of New Zealand air.
At the taxi rank, I'm approached by a man who says I can take a taxi of my own, or I can get a shared minibus that stops at any hotel in the city. The minibus it is. The driver loads my bag in the back, and I climb in, joining three other people already inside. In the next few minutes, two more people climb in, and we're on our way.
The minibus wanders through the night, taking its cargo of strangers through the dimly lit suburbs of Auckland. Behind me, a German girl and a Uruguayan guy have a faltering conversation in English, asking where they're going, where they've been etc. The minibus drops him at a guest house in a leafy residential street, and the journey continues in silence except for the rattling diesel engine and the Chinese-sounding music playing on the driver's radio. I stare out of the window at the streetlit shops, letterboxes, telegraph poles, and it feels like I'm in a film.
As we approach the centre of Auckland, I catch a few tantalising glimpses of the Sky Tower, lit up against the night sky. Two more stops. Two more strangers go on their way. Then the driver calls out the name of my hotel. I get out of the minibus, collect my bag, pay my money and walk into the Copthorne on Anzac Avenue. I check in, get showered, get changed and walk out into the Auckland night.
I chose this hotel because it's within easy walking distance of the agencies that I'm visiting in the next couple of days. Tonight, I explore some of the local area and get my bearings. Then it's back to the hotel, and an early night. Tomorrow I have to meet with three different agencies.
