From Paradise Island To Mount Eden

I finish my diving course with 90% after a hard night. The last dive goes to 18 metres and is very nice. While diving instructor Andrew tells me about marriage plans on my last evening, his is on the mainland. Saki is also spinning his wheels. He asks a French woman for a massage while his wife listens. She pecks the chickens in the evening in a remarkably aggressive manner.

In the morning, I watch the paradise island of Mana sink into the sea from Saki’s little fishing boat. I keep taking pictures, zooming in closer and closer. At some point the zoom runs out. Paradise sinks into the sea.

I finish the homepage for Saki at the last minute. Then I head for the airport. There I meet Marc and Lisa again. Marc has to buy an expensive onward ticket to Australia because otherwise he won’t be able to get into New Zealand. We fly over to the Kiwis with loads of tax free. Once we arrive in Auckland, I have a fixed destination. Mount Eden should make it easier to say goodbye to paradise.

We land on an inactive volcano on the edge of Auckland city centre. Everything here is like Haight Ashbury in San Francisco. Victorian wooden villas mixed with Art Deco, Bauhaus and much more. A wonderful colourful mix. We pass through a residential neighbourhood before arriving at Yaping House, a beautiful old white wooden villa on one of the highest points in Auckland. View of the whole bay.

I thought it couldn’t go any further after paradise. Now I’m in Eden on a volcano. It’s so nice to have a hot shower. To have light and electricity. Still freezing with the window closed. Checking emails in seconds instead of minutes. Drinking water from the tap that isn’t already brown in your hand. Sipping real cappuccino. Doing laundry in a machine.

We sit on the terrace of Yaping House on the first evening. The bright lights of the city twinkle below us in the night. A Yank joins us. At just 26 years old, he hates America more than I ever could. He doesn’t want to leave anything good about his homeland. For the first time, I want to emphasise the good things about America. He won’t let me. Something changes in me.

On day two, I finally have to go back to work. It’s not until the afternoon that I head to a Vietnamese soup bar for breakfast. 1.5 litres is a bit too much for me. A Brazilian hairdresser gives me a much better cut than the last Asian woman in San Francisco. I chronically look in the wrong direction when crossing every street. I almost hit myself in the eye twice.

Housing and car hire is super cheap in New Zealand. Eating and drinking is easily 30% above European standards. For a few baguettes, vegetables, fruit and some cheese, I spend a whopping €35. In the evening we climb Mount Eden. It’s cold and a strong wind is blowing rain in our faces. But at dinner, the view of downtown Auckland is unbeatable. Soundtrack: Raindrops keep falling on my head and Everlast, Put your lights on.