Auckland
Welcome to New Zealand
The Best Food in New Zealand?
‘We’re taking you out to eat. We’ll pick you up at 6.30 pm.’ A friend’s parents live in Auckland. I thought they would probably take us somewhere quiet and genteel. Knowing their daughter, that was a rash assumption to make.
The Stables had what appeared to be food stalls down one side and bench tables leading into the dim distance. We headed that way, through a gap in the corner of the room. A neon sign announced the name of the establishment; Jungle 8. Plastic plants draped down the walls, and a neon tiger leapt out towards the diners. I would never have chosen to eat here in a million years!
Auntie1* waved and beetled over to a couple of people sliding out from a booth. ‘These are our friends, William and Daisy.’ Among other things, William is a food critic, and he chose carefully. Auntie was in charge of everyone else. ‘I’ll order, and we can all share.’
It was not long before plates of food were being piled onto the table and we were tucking in. Auntie carefully described each dish when it arrived, and made sure that Mike and I tried everything. I have often wondered what ‘Fusion’ food is, and now I know. Flavours from all over the Far East tickled our taste buds, and it was delicious.
At the end of the meal, Auntie asked, ‘What are you doing tomorrow night? I’d like to take you to my favourite Malaysian restaurant, because after you leave Auckland…’
She paused, clearly looking for the right words. She was trying to be diplomatic, but, nevertheless, wanted to set our expectations low for the rest of our visit to New Zealand.
Now we have tried Malaysian and Fusion food, we will take the plunge again. But will we find any other food in New Zealand that matches this experience? Please let me know what you think in the comments below.
Mangroves and English Oak
Mike and I have signed up to run the Middle-earth Halfling Marathon in March. It’s only a half marathon, but nevertheless, we have started our training – we are not in the least bit running fit.
To that end, we headed out of the front door on our first morning in Auckland and turned along the residential street. Well-kept, compact bungalows lined the road, much like most of the other Auckland suburbs we have seen. A sign that wouldn’t look out of place at a British bus stop alerted us to the path leading down to the reserve. We squeezed between gardens until we reached the creek, where we entered a different world.
The path – and then a boardwalk – entered mangroves alongside the widening creek. A measuring post at the side of the path showed us how much faster sea level is rising than anticipated – even compared to the highest estimations.
We stopped to photograph the sign, and a swirl in the water caught our attention. A fin emerged from the murky shallows and, to my surprise, continued to emerge, a full 20-30cm of it. A longfin eel, perhaps – my first. Parrot-like birds flashed through the trees, and a pied shag, which looks like a white-bibbed cormorant, patiently stood at the water’s edge where the creek met the bay. A pair of jet-black variable oystercatchers were totally camouflaged against the volcanic rocks until they moved, revealing their vivid beaks and legs. Black swans, with their necks tucked under their wings, floated like ruffled curling stones bobbing on waves.
By now, we were looking down on the water and the mangroves. We cast our eyes upwards, curious about what was creating the familiar dappled shade. We were standing under the spreading branches of what appeared to be an English oak.
Rangitoto
We scrubbed our shoes as instructed and boarded the boat. After chugging out of the harbour, the engine roared and the jade waters of the Hauraki Gulf churned into life. We were on the move! The wind whipped through our hair; it was pointless trying to keep hats on. The windchill out-competed the warmth of the sun, so I hunkered down into my jacket and pushed my hands deep into the pockets.
The city of Auckland sprawled along the coast as the skyscrapers of the central business district receded. In the other direction, Rangitoto, an uninhabited volcano, inched closer.
650 years ago, Māori stood and watched this new island being formed. Molten rock spewed through the earth’s mantle. Lava ran down the newly formed cone and out into the ocean. Ash landed in the Māori footprints nearby.
When the Europeans arrived 450 years later, the island remained bare. Since then, it has been colonised. Low down the slopes, patches of lichen cling onto the dark grey lumps of lava. In some places, trees have taken root, also covered in lichen, and the ground supports verdant ferns and mosses. At home in the UK, mosses are spongy, absorbing moisture. Here, they were dry and brittle, despite the heavy rain overnight.
It was not possible to walk quietly. With every step, the lava underfoot crunched, alerting any wildlife to our presence well ahead of time. This did not seem to deter the fantails, who flitted around us once we stood still, seemingly curious, despite having seen many humans before. The kiwis are a little shyer, although, ever optimistic, we like to think we heard some rustling through the undergrowth. It was more likely a blackbird (introduced by Europeans), but we like to dream!
On the climb to the crater rim, the birds gave us an excuse to stop and catch our breath, while we watched and listened. We are used to birds that tweet and sing. Here, they enchanted us with hoots, peeps and croaks. We are lucky; not so long ago, there were few birds here – most New Zealand birds nest on the ground, and introduced predators such as rats and possums can easily raid their nests. A huge eradication programme is underway, and Rangitoto is currently predator-free. The authorities are not complacent, though. Visitors are required to brush their footwear before boarding the ferries, and traps are set to catch any unwanted pests.
We lingered at every step. At the crater, we admired its lush cloak of trees, in contrast to the barren craters we have both experienced before.
A few steps further is the summit, where wooden viewing platforms accommodate the small crowd. Most people were looking back to the city, which stretches almost as far as the eye can see. I was drawn to face the other way, towards low hills and cliffs dropping to the sea, mountains jutting into the sky, and the Pacific Ocean sliding to the horizon.
If we were to make it around the island before the last ferry, we needed to shift. We marched down the far side of the cone, then turned along a wide track. The island is uninhabited now, but once housed an army base; this was the ideal location to spot enemy activity in the gulf during World War II. Auckland feels remote, but at least one Japanese submarine made it into the waters here – and a German ship even laid mines across the navigable channels.
A sign indicating the length of the different trails and walking times told us we really had lingered too long. We were not going to make it to the causeway and back for the ferry. We turned towards the coast instead. The elevation map on Komoot suggested this last section of the walk would be flat, and I imagined hoofing it along a track at top speed. Instead, the footpath narrowed and twisted through the woods, as if we were entering a magical kingdom. The rocky lava was undulating and treacherous underfoot, and we had to concentrate on every step as we hurried back to the quay.
The lava caves radiated cool, and the lava fields radiated heat. Crossing the lava fields was like walking through a giant hairdryer, and ducking back under the trees was as refreshing as a splash of cool water.
We made it to the quay mere minutes before the day’s final ferry appeared – thank goodness we didn’t linger any longer!
One Tree Hill
No one would suggest that Auckland is a compact city. A small urban centre is surrounded by mile after mile of suburbs. This has resulted in a city that now covers enough land to have no less than 50 volcanos in its midst.
Most, if not all, of the resultant cones, were inhabited by Māori before the Europeans arrived. One Tree Hill is one of them. Like others, it has a series of terraces built around it, similar to the UK’s Iron Age hill forts. Flat platforms provided space for housing, and pits were dug to store sweet potatoes. A series of ridges and ditches protected each settlement, topped by timber palisades.
As the name suggests, One Tree Hill had a single tree left on top; a totara, which is considered sacred. Presumably to assert their dominion over the Māori, the Europeans felled the tree in 1876 and planted their own in its stead. This stood until 2002 when it was felled in protest.
Now, there is a small grove of totara trees inside a locked iron fence at the summit, the strongest of which will be allowed to grow on, taking its place as the One Tree.
It will not, however, stand on its own. Instead, it will grow next to a tall obelisk that was commissioned by Sir John Logan Campbell (considered to be Auckland’s founding father) to honour the Māori, who he apparently held in high esteem.
I hope that one day, the tree and the monument will crown the hill together and that all the cultures that make up Aotearoa New Zealand2 – Māori, European and others – will all grow together, too.
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Auntie and Uncle are terms of respect for elders in Malaysian culture. I have every respect for this Auntie and Uncle for parenting my friend, and now for their generosity as hosts and entertainers during our visit.
Aotearoa is the Māori name for New Zealand. It means Land of the Long White Cloud. The two names for New Zealand are often used together in this way.