We awoke with a hankering for an omelet and bacon–not both of us for the same thing–so after checking out and exchanging good wishes with Faith we headed back downtown to the Robert Harris Coffee Roasters shop. We enjoyed another excellent cup of coffee, then headed northwest on Highway 5. We stopped again a couple of km from the junction with the lake shore road, at the Agrodome. DW wanted a souvenir that had something to do with sheep. She settled on a pair of gloves made of a blend of Merino wool and possum fur. The blend is softer than 100% Merino, approaching cashmere; as the possum is a widespread pest in New Zealand, there is a vibrant trapping industry that supplies pelts. I looked at gloves, hats, moccasins, and even wool ties, but finally decided on photos of the ovine residents of the park.
Regretfully, these four are the only photos in today’s blog. But there is more story to be told.
About 40 km out of Rotorua is the hamlet of Tirau. We must have driven through there on the trip south, but it looked particularly charming and tranquil as we passed through going north. It’s situated in the foothills of the mountains around Rotorua, just above the central plain containing Cambridge and Hamilton. As I recall, there wasn’t much of a division between these two latter burgs–it was like one big city as we drove through. Lots of roundabouts, including some that weren’t quite finished yet.
Another 100 km or so and we were driving up the Auckland freeway toward the airport, since our hotel was one that specialized in airport patrons. Of course I knew what the general area looked like and that the hotel would be easy to find once I got on the right road. The wrinkle was that the roads in the area go through two or three name changes in quick succession. I exited the freeway once to look at the (barely adequate) rental agency map, and it turned out that the road we wanted was the next exit. I later learned that the best exit was the 2nd one, the road that connected the freeway to the airport, but it was early and we got to see a bit more of the Mangere neighborhood.
We checked in to the hotel and, true to the word of the clerk that first night, we got the exact same room. We got the car emptied and our things to the room at about 4:40. It was quite warm, and we had the slider open, so we could clearly hear the power tools being used for repairs two rooms down. Fortunately, the noise stopped promptly at 5:00. I was a little surprised I didn’t hear a steam whistle and a raucous “Yabba-dabba-doo!”
After washing off the road fatigue, we decided to visit downtown Auckland. We again went the way we’d been instructed to get to the freeway north, but this time we exited at one of the city-center exits. We drove around town for almost an hour, admiring the old buildings nestled among the newer skyscrapers. We found, miraculously, a parking space that was not being metered just a few blocks from the downtown shopping area. We wandered around the area, taking in the sights, sounds, and smells. Yes, there were several small restaurants open for dinner, and we realized we were hungry. After passing up a few seafood places, Italian places, and even a kebab eatery, we settled on the California Burrito shop.
When we had finished the huge burritos (we should have split one), we made our way back to the hotel and turned in the rental car. We had spied a convenience store/café about 1.5 km from the hotel, and were in the mood for a little dessert, so we walked there and got a couple of cookies and coffees. We walked back, eating and drinking, along the other side of the street. About halfway there was a largish cemetery, and we went in to have a look.
The first section we came to was quite new, and occupied mainly by Chinese and other Asian immigrants. Having visited the Chinese cemetery in Manila, the Philippines, I was familiar with the custom of bringing food and items with which the departed could occupy their time, like crossword puzzles or handheld video games. Still, it was fascinating to see some of the elaborate displays created by loved ones.
We wandered over into the older central section, and found some graves from the early part of the 20th century. I don't recall any from the 1800s, but there were a couple from the 1910s, pre-WWI. On the way to the hotel that afternoon we had driven on Kirkbride Road; there in Mangere Cemetery was the Kirkbride family plot.
We were just about to leave when we heard a whoosh and a low roar come from a small building about 50 m from us. We realized it must be a crematorium, and there were clients to be processed. We continued our egress to the street, then back to the hotel. The room had cooled off, so we relaxed for a while, finally falling asleep to the faint sounds of jetliners. Our flight the next day did not leave early, but we were leaving all too soon.
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