Day 6: "Welcome to Auckland, do you have health insuraaaaaaaaAAAAAAHHHHH--"

Oooooh boy.

First, I want to apologize for the lateness of this entry. Friday was the sort of madcap day that left no room for anything other than experiencing it. Essentially, it was as though Auckland was trying to make up for its mundanity.

Claire and I blasted off with a bus ride to the Auckland Food Festival. Those of you who know me also know that I loathe buses, because they are impossible. This bus ride was not an exception. Suffice to say, it ended with our burly bus driver dropping off on a random street corner with no bus stop in sight, saying, "You should never panic. I'll take you where you need to go." On one hand, it was great of her to reduce our walking time, but on the other, it meant we had no idea where we had to be on the way back.

Anyhow, we trotted on by and "miles and miles" later (bus driver lady's words, not mine) we arrived at the ASB Showgrounds, where we proceeded to eat tiny thimble servings of food for three and a half hours straight. I have no idea what we ingested, but it was great. I recall an amazing chorizo sausage and lamb, a few nice wines, and an exceptionally kicky limoncello. There was also a Bailey's fudge and several shotglasses of various teas. The entire thing was just an orgy of flavor, and in no particular order.

One interesting thing about the festival was that a decent number of stands were just trying to introduce certain brands to New Zealand markets. For example, there was a giant stand for PHILADELPHIA CREAM CHEESE which was doing its damnedest to appeal to people. There were several television screens displaying saucy commercials and they had pastas and crackers to sample. The lines for both samples were huge, and it was odd to think of Philadelphia Cream Cheese as anything other than terribly usual.

After hours of incremental feasting, Claire and I staggered out of the ASB Showgrounds. We noticed the giant park across the street, complete with hill and monument, so we took a detour to walk off some of the food. It was, in fact, One Tree Hill.

One Tree Hill, the place, is actually absurdly gorgeous. It was all very scenic and beautiful with lots of wholesome people jogging with their dogs and pushing baby carriages. There's a main road that loops all around the hill and slowly narrows to a footpath to its peak, and it has a pretty shallow incline. We ooh-ed and aah-ed on our way up, then took photos at the peak. Rather than walk that on the way back down, Claire and I decided to follow a tiny dirt trail past a rickety fence rather than the main road. I was pretty skeptical about it (past the fence were many cows and sheep and signs saying not to bother the cows and sheep), but Claire resolutely forged onwards. As it so happens, it was a mountain bike path, so at some points I just sort of skidded and slid my way down the hill. (Claire, being the intrepid hiker, was jauntily making her way down. I fail at nature.)

Once we reached the main road, we unsurprisingly got lost trying to find the bus stop that would lead us back to the hostel. Eventually, we found our way somewhere, and ended up being scolded by another bus driver when we didn't indicate that we wanted him to stop (mostly because at the time, we were staring at the bus sign trying to figure out if we wanted him to stop for us or not).

Considering how much food was in us and how much walking we'd done, Claire and I were ready to turn in for a quiet evening in. However, I realized I had a voicemail from our couch surfing buddy Craig, and the evening promptly took a turn for the absolutely hilarious.

It's difficult to exaggerate how much personality Craig has. To give you the smallest example, when I called him back, he was in the middle of a Critical Mass bike ride. He said he'd see what he could do, and that maybe he'd swing by Queen Street later to hang out for a bit. Silly me, I had assumed that he would meet up with us afterwards. No, he rang me about two minutes later, saying that he'd pick us up. Mind you, this would be on his bike in hilly Auckland. So Claire and I stepped outside and a guy wearing a red stole and a bike helmet with a mortarboard furiously taped on screeched to a halt in front of us. We did introductions and hellos, he swapped bikes with a man he'd just met who had more luggage space on the back of his bike, and ten minutes later I was balancing on the back of the bike while Craig heaved his way uphill, and Claire literally ran alongside us up Queen Street. Twenty minutes later, Claire and I were clutching each other on the back of the bike while Craig hurtled us downhill through traffic (see also: today's subject).

To add to the surreality of it all, at some point, we passed by a bus whose passengers included a ninja, Wonder Woman, and at least five Hogwarts students. Craig reported that he was beginning to lose sensation in his legs. Then we met up with the rest of the biking crew in Albert Park, talked shop for a bit, then Craig hurtled off on his own bike to grab his car to shuttle us to a party that we would be crashing.

The party reaffirmed that house parties are all the same across the world, and that Claire and I are not huge fans of them no matter the geography. It was not a total bust though: I learned things about theology and we got to draw on a sweet chalkboard cabinet.

At around midnight, Craig swooped Claire and me off to a small Chinese restaurant called New Flavour, and we feasted on vegan dumplings and kelp salad. (So many dumplings! So much kelp!) Then, after yet another insane amount of food, he drove us to a relatively quiet part of town. In retrospect, it could have been a little bit shady, as we had no idea where we were at that point, but in the moment, it was lovely. From that vantage point, there was an amazing view of Auckland and the city looked beautiful over the water. There, in the quiet calm of the early morning hours, he sang a Maori tranquility song and Claire sang a French lullaby. (I, being me, did not sing, but I did try to think of a suitable song that I might be able to croak my way through.)

Afterwards, we went over to his place, which was an ex-office converted into a living space, for another cuppa. That ended up not happening, as his brother Ian, newly arrived from Wellington, popped in to gush about how amazing everything was. Ian was pretty much the definition of contagious enthusiasm, and I learned a ton about New Zealand wildlife (including the mating habits of the tuatara) and about how cool these dudes are.

It's really hard to describe what a crazy adventure the two of them are. Craig, twenty-six, is a vegan teetotaler who does not say no to anything (except alcohol). He had planned to host us the day he arrived in New Zealand from Japan, but that ended up falling through because he got so excited about hosting us that he didn't realize that he wasn't arriving in Auckland until the following day. Oops. And then he graduated, then he hosted a wild party, then he did something else that he had originally planned for us to join. He regularly plays "dressup," which as far as I can tell, really means he and his friends roleplay a variety of different scenarios, all of which are hilarious and wonderful. He's worked a ton of different creative jobs, and he's planning out a novel. I'm not sure if this was dressup or real, but he may or may not have played a cartoon pupiko that tells children how to save the environment(?). And this isn't including stories about going to Japan or his mad biking adventures. His brother Ian, twenty-two, is also a vegan teetotaler, and he is one of the sweetest guys I have ever met. He's like a puppy who just wants to share his extensive knowledge with everyone. Just existing in the same sphere as them leaves you feeling a tad breathless.

Anyhow, as we were rounding three o'clock, Craig gave us a lift back to the hostel, explaining dubstop as we went.

Claire and I were rather googly-eyed about the whole day's adventure, so we decided not to pack our bags for the day and went to bed instead.