Auckland streets are lined with orange cones
Auckland streets are littered with orange cones, construction workmen improving, adding, changing the landscape to cope with the increasing population and the cars that purge themselves onto the narrow streets, It feels like it’s bursting at the seams, slotting in where you can. I can see how fantastic the changes will be and I commiserate with Aucklander’s and the pain they are going through. No gain without pain.
Downtown Auckland the Viaduct
Downtown Auckland is the place to be seen, sitting on the wide harbour (Viaduct), whether strolling, sitting in one of the many restaurants and cafes or watching the world go by, admiring and ogling the many fancy boats, I always feel like I’m prying into their backyard. I wonder that boat owners feel like we are being intrusive or are they used to it? Auckland’s nickname is the City of Sails. Pretty impressive looking down upon the harbour from above, very grand, with their eateries, music, buskers, ferries, people, and a bridge. Alarms ringing gates closing bridge lifting, lowering, allowing boats, back into port. Waiting for the bridge to open giving you space to reflect, to stop and smell the roses, feeling the warm sun on your back and drink in the magnificent view before you.
Stomaches bursting at the seams
We lunched, we drank, we dined, we strolled, our tummies full. A ferry trip to Devonport is a must just across the harbour to the other side. Such a beautiful spot, a chance to take dad out and trying not to tire him out so much this time. His hips were aching from the walk we did the day before, or it could be when I grabbed him to stop him falling on the stairs at the National Library. I forget how old he is sometimes, feeling selfish hogging him to myself. I sat and hung on to his every word, questioning dad on the past. A highlight was visiting not only family and friends but conducting research at the city library with the assistance of the best librarian. I am researching the transit camps in Western Springs where mother lived. A book in the making here, stories to tell and fictionalised.
My head is exploding with ideas and at what angle and at what age to start. So many questions go unanswered which I am sure will be answered some morning at around 2am as I sit bolt upright having an ah ahhhh moment.
All information is gratefully received on the Western Springs Transit Camps, if you have any please share x
I have one 6 page document written by Mr C J Melton, information is sparse.
I loved spending time with family and friends being welcomed into their beautiful homes, there is nothing like Kiwi hospitality, the greenery, the art, the architecture. Though I read an article where a journalist doesn’t quite agree and stated that it was boring. New Zealanders don’t always want new new new, they reuse repurpose and make do brilliantly. All with an enormous sense of caring for the environment, those Kiwis are an environmentally friendly lot.
I have no regrets well I lie a few
There are those that are surprised that we have not travelled far. I explained that I still had a duty to visit every other year, and that doesn’t leave you with the funds or holiday time for much else, I have no regrets only that we don’t have more valuable time with dad.
One thing I do know is that my mother is a very complex woman. I learnt that she modelled underwear who knew? How did we not know this? I think it was Fareform, so I am going to be going over their history with a fine tooth comb. Never know I might get lucky and see a photo.
The other thing I Know is that my dad is my rock.
Next stop Christchurch