M Social Auckland to Rotorua private car — Anish's conference trip

The early December sunshine was already warming the concrete canyons of Auckland when I pulled up outside M Social.

The hotel itself was all sleek lines and glass, a bit of a contrast to the more floral, sprawling feel of places I often end up at. My passenger, Anish, stepped out of the revolving door right on time, lugging a rather smart, compact suitcase. He had a friendly face, tanned from the sun, and a neat, crisply ironed shirt that hinted at the purpose of his journey. Fiji, he told me as he settled into the back seat, was a long way from the dry air of Auckland, but it was good to be back in Aotearoa.

He was heading to Rotorua for a conference, something in the tech sector, he explained. I could tell he was pretty engaged with it all. He spoke about the rapid changes in software, the way it linked people across continents, and how he was looking forward to seeing some of the new developments being showcased. His enthusiasm was infectious, and as we cleared the city and headed south past Ellerslie, the conversation flowed easily. We navigated the usual Saturday traffic build-up around Bombay, the lanes thickening with people heading out of town for their summer holidays. Anish pointed out a distant, hazy view of the Hunua Ranges, remarking on the lushness of the green – a familiar, yet still captivating, sight for him.

Our first stop, as always for me in this area, was a quick coffee at the Pokeno service centre. The air was thick with the smell of bacon from the famous pie shop, a constant siren call on this route. Anish opted for a flat white and a small pastry, and we stood for a moment by the car, watching the steady stream of vehicles heading both north and south. He mentioned how different the pace of life was back home in Suva, more relaxed, more connected to the sea. He spoke of the easy rhythm of island life, the importance of family gatherings, and the vibrant colours of the local markets. It was a quiet reflection, not a complaint, more a fond remembrance of a different rhythm.

Back on the road, we passed through the Waikato's gentle, rolling farmland. The landscape softened, the urban edges giving way to pastures speckled with Herefords and Friesians, the occasional stand of poplar trees adding a touch of European elegance to the antipodean scene. Anish reminisced about his time studying in Wellington some years ago, the vibrant capital city a world away from the humid tropics he called home. He said he’d never made it to Rotorua on that trip, and was keen to see the geothermal wonders everyone talked about.

As we skirted Hamilton and then headed towards Tirau, the land began to undulate more noticeably. The air started to feel a little heavier, carrying the faint, unmistakable scent of sulphur. Anish lowered his window, taking it all in. He pointed out a small, almost hidden waterfall trickling down a rock face near the roadside, a detail I might have missed myself on a less talkative day. He was clearly finding fascination in the everyday transformations of the land we were travelling through.

We entered Rotorua under a sky that was beginning to deepen from bright blue to a softer, afternoon hue. The air was noticeably warmer, carrying that unique blend of geothermal steam and damp earth. I dropped Anish at his hotel, a modern building close to the lakefront, its architecture seemingly designed to catch the light. He thanked me, the smile on his face genuine. He’d enjoyed the trip, he said, and was looking forward to the conference and exploring the area. As he headed inside, I watched him go, a hint of the Fiji sun still lingering in his demeanour, a fellow traveller taking a moment to connect with a different corner of our small, varied world. The drive back north was quiet, filled only with the hum of the empty air-conditioned cabin and the fading glow of the setting sun on the horizon.