Steve Braunias: An ode to Auckland
Auckland held the two of us in a state of awe. We drove – very well, she drove; I sat in the passenger seat, the closest I have ever come to the action in my long non-driving life – across the isthmus on a recent Thursday afternoon, in the smoky light of winter, father and daughter having nothing better to do than hang out with each other in traffic. I was so happy. Our outing felt like a family holiday. We chatted about travelling to England together one day and I imagined that we were already tourists in somewhere like Cornwall or Yorkshire. In fact, we were headed for East Tāmaki.
Auckland has it all, as in it has all the sticky mangrovial creeks you could ever want, creating a giant kind of wetland interrupted by housing. No, she said, she never gets homesick. She loves Dunedin. She wears Speights jerseys to Highlanders games – she was shown on the big screen at one game, cheering, an avid blonde fan raised in West Auckland on the Te Atatū Peninsula. I suggested we drive out that way or maybe Henderson. She suggested East Tāmaki. Her cousin Nina told her it had great op shops. I would have said yes to anywhere. I am forever haunted by thoughts of parents who never see their kids, who don't know their kids – the scariest word in the English language is estranged.
Auckland is never the road less travelled. Every road is glued with traffic, a city of automobiles often not very mobile at all, stuck on motorways and at the lights – but such is the price you pay for living in New Zealand's best and biggest city, with its grassy volcanic cones and hibiscus blooming pink and orange even in winter. We headed south. East Tāmaki is veering towards the airport. She asked what I'd like to listen to and I said Taylor. She sang along to Fearless beneath the flight path.
Auckland is many Aucklands, moneyed and broke, living in mansions and in TENANTS PARKING ONLY units, cocktails at harbourside and sitting with a cup of tea on front porches watching trains rattle past their fence. East Tāmaki was something else altogether. It was six-lane highways with warehouses on either side. No one walked the pavements. I saw one person in a bus shelter – he looked as though he'd been waiting there for five or six years. We shopped and chatted, travelled and chatted, played Red and chatted. All parents develop patterns and languages with their kids; I tried to get us back to our old reliable dynamic, in which I play the idiot and she scolds my stupidity, but she had got too old for it. She wanted actual conversation.
Auckland is 1.65 million people (2023 census), including the happy Vietnamese woman who manages Country Roast next to the SPCA op shop in East Tāmaki. I ordered chips and a cup of tea, and got to talking. She said she worked from 9am until 9pm, six days a week. She had two kids, aged 16 and 13. 'They say, 'We never see you!' But we spend Sundays together.' I asked, 'Doing what?' She said, 'Drives.' I was lucky. I had a carefree Thursday to share with my kid, 18, on the yellow brick roads of Auckland's damp, magical Oz.
Auckland twilight has a fragile beauty in winter; in East Tāmaki, the sky sad and lonesome above Shower Solutions and Universal Granite Ltd. We headed home. I asked, 'What are the five most monumental moments of your life?' Her answers were like an edited highlights package of a happy childhood growing up in pretty, ambitious, desperate, watery, hard-working, hanging-in-there, traffic-jammed Auckland.
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NZ Herald
3 days ago
- NZ Herald
Friction between visitors and locals has been around for centuries with pilgrims being the first tourists
Foreign tourists like to complain there are too many of themselves. The locals do too - and have horror stories to tell. A grainy CCTV video apparently shows a visitor to the crowded Uffizi Gallery in Florence awkwardly posing in front of an 18th portrait of a Medici heir only to buckle a bit and tear a hole in the painting with either his hand or elbow. Last northern summer, the mayor of Rome declared that 'there can certainly be no space for hooligans and idiots' after a visitor allegedly used a key to carve his name into a wall of the Colosseum. The previous year, a visitor from Bristol had done the same and pleaded ignorance of the monument's antiquity. A month ago, there were news accounts of an American tourist who impaled himself on a metal fence while trying to take a selfie at the 1953-year-old ruin. The veracity of those reports, however, has been questioned. For many Italians, however, it was the perfect fable of comeuppance: Foolish tourist gets punished by his own foolishness. To be fair, tourists weren't the impetus for Italy's 2024 punitive law against defacing art, monuments and scenic sites - with fines as high as $70,000. The targets of that legislation were so-called eco-vandals who'd gone after the Trevi and Milan's La Scala opera house in the name of saving the planet. For that matter, it was a tourist who alerted the police to the person who keyed in his name on the Colosseum. Still, real and imagined offences committed by tourists have fuelled local outrage from Portugal to Japan that verge on xenophobia. In Tokyo, one celebrity called tourists and migrants 'invasive species' and speculated that visitors could overstay and eventually dilute Japan's unique culture. A lot of the blame for the current flood of revenge travel can be fairly assigned to the Covid lockdowns, the end of which released pent-up demand. Many countries at first welcomed the profusion of profit until visitor numbers and bad behaviour swirled out of control. But the roots of visitors-versus-locals go back much farther in history. The nature of tourism - even before the English word was coined in the late 18th century - was always bedevilling. When Dante sketched out his eighth circle of hell, he had horned demons whipping queues of sinners to keep them in line, comparing them to the crowds of pilgrims in Rome who were policed into one-way lanes as they crossed back and forth on the bridge of Castel Sant'Angelo (which led to St Peter's Basilica). Even back in the 14th century, the tourist hordes were problematic, despite being encouraged by the popes themselves, in part to juice local businesses. Saint Peter's Basilica in the Vatican City. Pilgrims were the first tourists. Photo / Getty Images Pilgrims were the first tourists - and they travelled not only to gawk at the holy sites but to buy blessings and souvenirs and, often, to fraternise with the locals (yes, they did have sexual relations). The ex-mistress of Pope Alexander VI made a healthy living by running inns in Rome, one of which incorporated the pontiff's family crest into its own coat of arms and still stands near the Campo de' Fiori. British aristocrats set off on their own elitist Grand Tours in the 18th century, eating, drinking and fornicating their way through the great cities of Europe. It wasn't until the middle of the 19th century that Thomas Cook scaled up and democratised travel with his familyfriendly, respectably middle-class excursions. Cook's tours pioneered what many today expect from tourism: cocooned experiences where people can remain comfortably and extraterritorially themselves in the middle of a foreign country, perhaps the root of some of today's privileged behaviour among travellers. The tours were also the genesis of an industry that now accounts for about 10% of global gross domestic product, including close to 8% of Japan's and more than 10% of Italy's. So, our so-called crisis has age-old roots. The alleged miscreants are an amalgam of clueless pilgrim, bougie sightseer and loutish scoundrel. And the situation is also exacerbated by the super-sizing of expectations by airlines, hotel chains, the luxury business, the restaurant trade and a host of industries whose aim is to separate this mass movement of people from their disposable income. You can blame go-for-growth commerce. It's not ideal, of course. But everyone has derived some benefit along the route. The point is to prevent local irritation over bad behaviour from going madly off track. Misdeeds - even if committed by a fraction of a fraction - can inspire holier-than-thou ethnocentrism and exclusionary rules. It's important to remember that domestic tourists can behave like yokels too. So calm down. Large countries like France, Italy, Japan and others will find it difficult to restrict tourism without making themselves less attractive - including to their own citizens. The obvious case in point is the United States, where anecdote after anecdote of travellers being accosted or detained at the border has led to a decline in tourism. New York City has revised its expectations for international visitors downward by 17%. Spending by foreign tourists may come down as much as US$12.5 billion in the US in 2025, according to the World Travel and Tourism Council. Before this round of strictures, travel and tourism made up close to 10% of the US$30.5 trillion GDP. New York City has revised its expectations for international visitors downward by 17%. Photo / 123rf Perhaps there is a kind of solution to be found in human guides, accredited to personalise tours and save the more hapless visitors from themselves. It's not new, of course. An essay by the English polymath Francis Bacon in 1625 advised travellers to take along 'one that hath the language and hath been in the country before; whereby he may be able to tell them what things are worthy to be seen'. As for disputes and quarrels, he said, 'they are with care and discretion to be avoided'. So behave. Building a system of capable guides may just end up with more bureaucracy. We tourists should therefore be more conscious of why we are travelling. It's important to get out of one's comfort zone, to experience a different existence. As Bacon wrote, let the traveller 'sequester himself from the company of his countrymen and diet in such places where there is good company of the nation where he travelleth'. My corollary: Skip the generic bucket list and come up with an original one. Do the research. Don't go flowing downstream with the perspiring masses of humanity that know only to stare at the Trevi Fountain. The bigger cities - as crowded as they are - almost always have quiet alternatives that allow you to absorb their ethos without suffocating in the equivalent of mosh pits. In Rome, opt for the elegance of the Via Giulia over the coarseness of the Corso. Being far from the maddening crowds could make all the difference.
NZ Herald
4 days ago
- NZ Herald
Steve Braunias: An ode to Auckland
Steve Braunias: "Auckland is never the road less travelled. Every road is glued with traffic." Auckland held the two of us in a state of awe. We drove – very well, she drove; I sat in the passenger seat, the closest I have ever come to the action in my long non-driving life – across the isthmus on a recent Thursday afternoon, in the smoky light of winter, father and daughter having nothing better to do than hang out with each other in traffic. I was so happy. Our outing felt like a family holiday. We chatted about travelling to England together one day and I imagined that we were already tourists in somewhere like Cornwall or Yorkshire. In fact, we were headed for East Tāmaki. Auckland has it all, as in it has all the sticky mangrovial creeks you could ever want, creating a giant kind of wetland interrupted by housing. No, she said, she never gets homesick. She loves Dunedin. She wears Speights jerseys to Highlanders games – she was shown on the big screen at one game, cheering, an avid blonde fan raised in West Auckland on the Te Atatū Peninsula. I suggested we drive out that way or maybe Henderson. She suggested East Tāmaki. Her cousin Nina told her it had great op shops. I would have said yes to anywhere. I am forever haunted by thoughts of parents who never see their kids, who don't know their kids – the scariest word in the English language is estranged. Auckland is never the road less travelled. Every road is glued with traffic, a city of automobiles often not very mobile at all, stuck on motorways and at the lights – but such is the price you pay for living in New Zealand's best and biggest city, with its grassy volcanic cones and hibiscus blooming pink and orange even in winter. We headed south. East Tāmaki is veering towards the airport. She asked what I'd like to listen to and I said Taylor. She sang along to Fearless beneath the flight path. Auckland is many Aucklands, moneyed and broke, living in mansions and in TENANTS PARKING ONLY units, cocktails at harbourside and sitting with a cup of tea on front porches watching trains rattle past their fence. East Tāmaki was something else altogether. It was six-lane highways with warehouses on either side. No one walked the pavements. I saw one person in a bus shelter – he looked as though he'd been waiting there for five or six years. We shopped and chatted, travelled and chatted, played Red and chatted. All parents develop patterns and languages with their kids; I tried to get us back to our old reliable dynamic, in which I play the idiot and she scolds my stupidity, but she had got too old for it. She wanted actual conversation. Auckland is 1.65 million people (2023 census), including the happy Vietnamese woman who manages Country Roast next to the SPCA op shop in East Tāmaki. I ordered chips and a cup of tea, and got to talking. She said she worked from 9am until 9pm, six days a week. She had two kids, aged 16 and 13. 'They say, 'We never see you!' But we spend Sundays together.' I asked, 'Doing what?' She said, 'Drives.' I was lucky. I had a carefree Thursday to share with my kid, 18, on the yellow brick roads of Auckland's damp, magical Oz. Auckland twilight has a fragile beauty in winter; in East Tāmaki, the sky sad and lonesome above Shower Solutions and Universal Granite Ltd. We headed home. I asked, 'What are the five most monumental moments of your life?' Her answers were like an edited highlights package of a happy childhood growing up in pretty, ambitious, desperate, watery, hard-working, hanging-in-there, traffic-jammed Auckland.
RNZ News
24-06-2025
- RNZ News
Teen campaigner on hand as first Jetstar flight arrives in Dunedin from Gold Coast
The first flight touches down at Dunedin Airport on Tuesday. Photo: RNZ / Tess Brunton Orange fever has struck Dunedin as it welcomed the return of international flights after a five-year hiatus during the Covid-19 pandemic. The Jetstar service to the Gold Coast was met with cheers, celebration and airport staff clad in orange shirts as the first plane landed on Tuesday afternoon. It was an exciting moment for local teen Benjamin Paterson who launched a campaign in 2023 to bring trans-Tasman flights back to the city. "It's thrilling aye, worked hard for this and it's just shocking that it's happening right now," he said. He and his family were preparing to catch a flight to the Gold Coast - courtesy of Dunedin's mayor Jules Radich who paid for the tickets. He could not wait for the Gold Coast sunshine after lots of studying for his exams. A welcome sign at the airport. Photo: RNZ / Tess Brunton Dunedin was keen to show some southern hospitality for those arriving and to mark the milestone with orange shirts, music, welcome packs and kai. Among those landing was Dunedin resident Ben Patston who had been celebrating his birthday on the Gold Coast with his family and leapt at the chance to take a direct route home. Their trip over was much longer. "6am from here, Dunedin, to Auckland and then we actually got delayed on the way there and then Auckland to the Gold Coast, we got in at about 6pm so overall it was just a seriously long day," he said. "Compared to today, which was nice and short. We flew out at 9:30am, no delays, crew members were amazing. We had a great experience and we're back at 2:30pm." The flights will run three days a week, introducing about 58,000 seats a year. Photo: RNZ / Tess Brunton Dunedin Airport chief executive Daniel De Bono was thrilled, saying it had taken years of hard mahi to get to this point. "The best way to describe this for me is that this actually makes the world just that little bit smaller for Dunedin so we're stoked to be actually welcoming these people back," he said. Forward bookings were already looking good and he hoped travellers would use this new flight to explore the lower South Island, De Bono said. For those travelling to Australia, he said the Gold Coast did not have to be their final destination with plenty of connecting flights on offer. He was not ruling out adding more transTasman flights in the future. "For us, building to daily services to Australia is the ambition but we need to make sure that the Gold Coast service succeeds before we start adding additional flights," he said. "That's really the next phase is focusing on making sure these services remain sustainable and then potentially build frequency and then add another destination after that." On Tuesday night, the city's iconic buildings were lit up with orange lights to mark the milestone. A person watches the flight's touchdown. Photo: RNZ / Tess Brunton Radich could not wait to see more Australian travellers touch down. "Sometimes on the Gold Coast it gets too hot, so they want to come to somewhere cooler and we're cool in a couple of senses of the word," he said. "We're very cool with wildlife, we're very cool with the beaches and the surfing. We're very cool with our heritage architecture, and it's a cool place just to come and hang out and make a change from the Gold Coast." Dunedin resident Mavis was on the first flight and said it made travelling to see her family easier. "It's great. I love it. I'll be flying more to the Gold Coast now," she said. Tourism and Hospitality Minister Louise Upston said it was a milestone for the region. "When a new airline comes into an airport like Dunedin, it really shows that there is confidence in the visitor experience, confidence about growing numbers," she said. After a successful campaign, was Paterson planning to push for more direct flights? "Pretty happy to mark the Gold Coast and maybe it's someone else's job to do that," he said. Sign up for Ngā Pitopito Kōrero , a daily newsletter curated by our editors and delivered straight to your inbox every weekday.
