Newmarket office to Tūrangi private car — Budi's holiday

The late afternoon sun, already starting its slide towards the west, cast long shadows across the green lawns of the Newmarket office park. My usual Auckland pickup, but this one was a bit different. He was waiting right by the main entrance, a small, neat suitcase at his feet, looking a little out of place against the modern glass and steel. Budi, he’d said on the phone, from Indonesia. This was the start of a holiday tour for him, stretching all the way down to Tūrangi.

He settled into the back seat with a quiet efficiency. His English was good, very clear, with a polite lilt. He mentioned he’d just finished a short business trip in the city and was keen to see more of the North Island before flying home from Wellington. Tūrangi was his first proper stop, a place he’d read about for its proximity to the Tongariro National Park. I remember thinking it was a bit of an unusual starting point for someone wanting to see a lot, but who was I to question the itinerary? My job was to get him there comfortably.

We cleared the city traffic via the Southern Motorway, heading towards the Bombay Hills. Even in August, the sky was a washed-out blue. Budi asked about the landscape as we climbed. Sheep dotted the rolling hillsides, a stark contrast to the bustling city he’d just left. He told me he’d lived in Jakarta his whole life, a place of immense scale and constant movement. He seemed to appreciate the quiet unfolding of the Waikato plains, the wide-open spaces. I pointed out the small towns we passed – Pokeno, a quick stop for a coffee usually, but tonight we kept moving – Huntly, Ngaruawahia. He was taking it all in, a gentle curiosity in his eyes.

As we approached Hamilton, he mentioned he’d always been fascinated by New Zealand's natural beauty, particularly the geothermal areas and volcanoes. He was hoping for clear skies for hiking. I told him Tūrangi was a good base for exploring Tongariro, and that the drive south from there towards National Park village would offer some stunning views, snow-capped peaks depending on the weather. He nodded, a quiet smile. His initial nervousness seemed to have evaporated, replaced by a quiet anticipation.

We stopped at a small service centre just past Tokoroa for some fuel and a stretch. The air was cool, carrying the scent of pine from the surrounding forests. Budi bought a pack of biscuits and a water. He seemed content, just watching the world go by for a few minutes. The further south we went, the more I noted his appreciation. He’d point out the colour of the farmland, the shapes of the hills. It wasn't just about the destination for him; the journey itself was part of the experience.

As darkness began to properly fall, the last of the light catching the distant ranges, he spoke more about Indonesia, about the islands, the heat, the different kinds of green. He described Indonesia as a place of vibrant energy, something he sometimes missed, but he also loved the peace he found in places like this. He was here to find that different kind of peace, a stillness that New Zealand’s landscapes offered.

The final stretch towards Tūrangi felt quiet, the car headlights cutting through the deepening dark. The signs for the town appeared, a cluster of lights in the valley. I pulled up outside his accommodation, a small motel on the edge of town. He thanked me warmly, his hand offered in a polite shake. He seemed ready for the adventure ahead, a slight spring in his step as he retrieved his suitcase. As I drove away, the lights of Tūrangi receding in my rearview mirror, I thought about the different worlds people travel between, the quiet journeys of discovery, and the unique attraction of our own corner of the planet.