SkyCity Hotel to Hamilton private car — Anja's family visit

The mid-March sun was already beating down on Auckland’s CBD by the time I pulled up to the SkyCity Hotel. It was just gone ten, and the usual mid-morning buzz was starting to fill the streets. My car, cleaned and ready, gleamed in the sunlight. I always like to be a bit early, especially for hotel pickups. You never know how long it might take for someone to navigate the lobby, find the right car, or just get organised.

Anja S. was waiting just inside the main entrance, a compact suitcase at her feet and a sensible jacket on, despite the warmth. She had that efficient, almost purposeful look about her, common among German travellers I've found. She’d flown in from Frankfurt a couple of days ago, she mentioned, and had a short visit with a friend before heading out of the city. Her destination was Hamilton, a family visit. Her sister lived there, had for some years now.

We loaded her bag into the boot, and she settled into the back seat. The drive south out of Auckland is always a test of patience on a weekday, and even on a Wednesday morning, the traffic was building. We crawled past Dominion Road, the Khyber Pass on-ramp traffic barely moving. Anja didn't seem fazed. She pulled out a guidebook, its pages well-thumbed, and began marking maps with a small pencil. She was clearly organised about her trip to Hamilton and whatever came after.

As we cleared the city’s southern sprawl and hit the open road towards the Bombay Hills, the conversation, what little there was, flowed easily. She was interested in the landscape, the rolling green hills dotted with sheep, so different from the more manicured fields of Bavaria she’d described. I pointed out the fertile farmlands as we descended towards Pokeno. She admired the way the land was divided by the dark green lines of hedgerows.

We stopped at a small service centre just past Huntly for a quick coffee and a stretch of the legs. Anja bought a bag of Kāpiti cheese crackers, saying she wanted to try some local snacks. She told me her sister was a doctor and had been living in Hamilton for about ten years. This was Anja’s first visit to New Zealand, and she’d planned a three-week itinerary, staying only a few days with her sister before heading up to the Coromandel Peninsula for a bit of coastal exploration, then back to Auckland for her flight home. She was excited about the hot springs near Rotorua too, though that wasn’t on this particular leg of her journey.

Back on the road, Anja’s mood shifted slightly. She spoke about her sister with a warmth that hadn't been there earlier. She mentioned how they hadn’t seen each other face-to-face for over five years, largely due to the pandemic and the distance. "It is a very long way," she said, looking out the window at the wide skies. I could tell this trip was more than just sightseeing for Anja; it was a reconnection.

The Waikato landscape, flat and fertile, rolled by under a sky that was beginning to gather a few wispy clouds. We passed the turn-off for Cambridge, a familiar landmark. Anja asked if it was a significant place. I explained its association with equestrian sports and its charming town centre. She nodded, making a mental note, I supposed.

As we approached Hamilton, the atmosphere in the car settled into a quiet contentment. The tension of the city traffic was long gone, replaced by the anticipation of reunion. She pointed out the Hamilton Gardens as we drove past their entrance, a place she’d intended to visit later in the week. I dropped her off at a tidy suburban house in Chartwell, where a woman with a striking resemblance to Anja was already standing on the porch, waving.

Anja offered a brief, polite thank you as I unloaded her suitcase. There was a moment, just a flash, where her eyes met her sister’s, and I saw the years melt away. It was a private moment, one I often witness in my work, these fleeting glimpses into people’s lives. As I pulled away from the kerb, I saw them embrace. A simple journey, but for Anja, I suspected, it was the start of something much more significant. My drive back to Auckland was a quiet one, the setting sun casting long shadows across the motorway, already thinking about my next trip.