The plane touched down at Auckland airport, and the view from the window across the tarmac through the drizzle was.... Scotland?! At least it was the first thought that popped into my head. A loch, hills, rain.. So very familiar.
Of course, I had expected the rain, after all it is still Winter here, but I didn't expect to feel a familiarity, but as I had been told by my friends before I came out, a lot will seem familiar, but there will be little things that cause you to double take, and momentous things that will just knock you for six.
Through passport & luggage collection, and into security.
I was asked if I had any mud on my shoes, or if they'd be used on farmland or around livestock. I half smiled as I was thinking what a house proud country this is, Welcome to New Zealand, please wipe your feet, and don't put your drink down without a coaster.
Security isn't normally a good or recommended place to smile, but the officer was chatty enough and asking about the Olympics, and what I was looking forward to seeing, to which my answer of 'Everything!' seemed to please him greatly.
Once they'd established that I hadn't smuggled in any livestock or soil from the UK, I was off through the doors and into NZ proper.
Waiting for me was Bernadette (BM), who got me loaded into her car and out of the airport.
The industrial area around the airport reminded me somewhat of the industrial areas around where I used to work in Italy. There was just something about the layout and buildings, and then the first company name I saw emblazoned on the side of one building was an Italian furnishings company.
I will assume it was the jet lag that made me question if I'd arrived in the right country, and if not, what the hell was Bernadette doing here to meet me?!?!
That thought was corrected and disappeared as BM swore at other drivers in her Kiwinglish accent. Apparently the standard of driving here consists of either mad & fast, mad & slow, or just oblivious to the surroundings.
Out of good manners, I won't say which camp BM fell into.
Anyway, we reached her house in record time, even after stopping at her local coffee shop. A groovy little place called Fuze, which I'm sure I'll be dropping into on many occasion. Although, as I was fresh off the plane, they decided to see if they could convince me that $100 was the right price for two coffees...
Not a chance, I knocked them down to $70, they won't try to outsmart me again, who's laughing now?!
Back at 'the Fortress', as BM's house is affectionately(?) known I was introduced to my room, which looked surprisingly like, a room.
For those who don't know Ms.BM, or the usual conversations I have with her, the room being 'room like' was a surprise as I thought I may have been offered a cupboard under the stairs, or ended up manacled in the basement, but no, my room was indeed a room.
Very nice it is too, and as if the room wasn't nice enough, there on the bed, lying seductively against the pillow, showing off her rubenesque curves.... Was a sweet little Uke.
BM has been so very welcoming, and considering I'm here for a while, disrupting her life, I'm very grateful to her.
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