Hotel DeBrett to Rotorua private car — Anja's conference trip

July in Auckland is usually a bit of grey, a bit of drizzle, and that crispness that reminds you winter’s got its teeth firmly in. The sort of day that makes you appreciate the warmth of the car and the promise of a clear run down the highway. I pulled up outside Hotel DeBrett, that boutique place with the lovely art deco feel, on a Sunday morning. The lobby was quiet, just a few early risers nursing coffees. My passenger for the day, Anja, a Swiss woman who’d been attending a tech conference, was already waiting by the concierge desk, a smart travel bag at her feet.

She was heading to Rotorua. Not for a holiday, though, but for the final day of the same conference, an extension happening in the geothermal city. She’d decided to travel down on the Sunday instead of the Monday morning rush. She looked organised, settled, the kind of person who had packed their itinerary down to the minute. As we loaded her bag and settled into the leather seats, I could tell it was going to be a comfortable, quiet drive. The sort where you can just focus on the road, the scenery, and let the passenger have their peace.

We cleared the city centre smoothly, heading south on State Highway 1. The sky was that muted silver you get in winter, with occasional breaks where you could see the paddocks and the rolling hills looking a bit more defined. Anja was looking out the window, a subtle smile playing on her lips as she watched the familiar suburban sprawl give way to farmland. She’d mentioned she’d spent a few days exploring Auckland before the conference, doing the usual tourist circuit – Sky Tower, Waiheke Island on a ferry trip. She seemed to enjoy the contrast between the city buzz and the open road.

We bypassed Hamilton, taking the dedicated route towards Tirau and then the turn-off for Rotorua. The landscape got a little more interesting here, the hills steeper, carpeted in a mix of pine forests and pasture. In Tirau, the corrugated iron sheep and dogs stand sentinel by the roadside, a quirky landmark that always gets a comment, usually from me. Anja just nodded, her eyes tracking the quirky statuary with quiet interest. She’d told me a little about her work – something in data analytics, highly technical. She’d been in New Zealand for about a week, and her conference sessions had filled most of her days.

Around lunchtime, I pulled into a small café just off the main road near Tirau. It was a busy spot, lots of other cars parked outside, probably filled with conference-goers like Anja, or people heading to sports games on a Sunday. I suggested she grab something to eat, and I’d top up the fuel and stretch my legs. She thanked me and headed inside, emerging a little while later with a hearty-looking pie and a flat white. She didn’t have much to say about the food, just that it was ‘good, very good’, with her typically measured Swiss politeness. The conversation, such as it was, remained light and observational – the quality of the road, the changing colours of the vegetation in the late autumn chill, the sheer number of trucks using the route.

As we got closer to Rotorua, the air started to change. You can always smell it first – that faint, distinct scent of sulphur, the unmistakable perfume of the geothermal activity. The land itself starts to look a bit different too, more exposed earth, steam rising in wisps from distant hillsides even before you reach the main thermal areas. Anja pointed it out, a slight lift in her eyebrows. “It is… different here,” she mused. She’d never experienced anything like it before. We talked briefly about the geothermal power generation in the area, the unique ecosystem, the Māori culture that is so deeply intertwined with the land. She’d clearly done her research, and her questions were thoughtful, informed.

She’d been to other parts of the world for conferences – Asia, Europe, the States – but this was her first time in New Zealand. She spoke about the vastness of it, how different it felt from her home in the canton of Bern, where everything is so densely populated and historically layered. She mentioned the quietness, the space, and how much she appreciated the slower pace outside the major centres. I dropped her off at her hotel in Rotorua, a modern place near the lakefront. Another conference session awaited her tomorrow, but for tonight, she had the evening to herself. She thanked me for the ride, her smile warmer now, a hint of the relaxation that comes after a long journey. As I drove away, I thought about how different our worlds were, yet how a simple car journey can connect them, even just for a few hours on a grey July afternoon.