Russell to Auckland City private car — Jana's family visit

The ferry horn gave a mournful bleat as it pulled away from the Ramada dock, leaving me with the early morning sun glinting off Russell’s historic waterfront. It was January 15th, a crisp, bright summer day unfolding. From the Ramada’s porte-cochère, I could see my passenger, Jana K., waiting near the entrance, a compact suitcase at her feet. She had a certain stillness about her, a quiet observant quality that I’d noticed in many travellers from Central Europe. She’d arrived a couple of days ago, I recalled from the booking, visiting family somewhere up here in the Far North. Now it was time to head back to Auckland.

I pulled the Intercity Cabs sedan up smoothly, the engine a low hum against the gentle lapping of the water. Jana offered a small smile as she settled into the passenger seat, her Czech accent soft but clear as she gave me her Auckland address. We chatted briefly about the car ferry crossing from Okiato to Opua, and she mentioned it had been a lovely few days catching up with her cousin and the kids, who lived out towards the coast. It sounded like a classic Kiwi summer visit – beach trips, barbecues, the whole nine yards. As we drove away from the sleepy charm of Russell, navigating the winding roads to the Okiato ferry terminal, I could tell this wasn’t a woman who rushed. She took in the green hills, the patches of native bush, the glimpses of blue water, with a thoughtful gaze.

Back on the mainland at Opua, we joined the steady stream of vehicles heading south. The roads started to open up as we passed through Kawakawa and then onto the main highway. My usual stops were on the cards: a quick fuel top-up in Whangārei, a coffee from a roadside café just past the city. Jana seemed content to watch the world go by, occasionally pointing out a particularly striking vista or a flock of sheep grazing on a steep hillside. She told me she’d been living in Auckland for the past five years, working as an archivist at one of the city’s major institutions. It was a quiet job, she said, suited to her nature, sifting through old documents and piecing together stories from the past. She’d followed a job opportunity, but confessed the pull of warmer European summers had been strong at times.

As we trundled through the rural landscapes of Northland and then the rolling farmland of the Waikato, the conversation drifted towards family and traditions. Jana spoke of Czech Christmas markets, the smell of mulled wine and gingerbread, and family gatherings that stretched into the early hours. She missed them, I gathered, but had found a new sense of belonging in Aotearoa. Her cousin’s family was a big part of that now. She’d been helping them prepare for a summer gathering, a slightly different pace to the big fireworks displays of Prague or Brno, more about friends and shared food. She mentioned that her cousin had bought a small bach near Matauri Bay years ago, and this year they had all decided to spend it together. It sounded idyllic. The journey north for her Christmas visit had been the highlight of her year, she told me with a quiet sincerity.

We ran into a bit of traffic as we approached the Auckland urban sprawl, the usual holiday season slowdown. The distinctive volcanic cones of the city began to appear on the horizon. Jana watched it all unfold, her expression unreadable for a moment, then she turned to me. She spoke about how New Zealand felt like a place where you could truly breathe, despite the growing cities. The wider spaces, the sky, the sense of possibility – it had captured her imagination, just as it had many others. It was interesting to hear her perspective, after five years here, still seeing it through fresh eyes.

By the time we reached her apartment building in the city centre, the late afternoon sun was casting long shadows. She thanked me, a genuine warmth in her tone. I helped her with her suitcase, and then she was gone, heading into the building. As I turned the car around and headed back out into the traffic, I thought about the journey. It had been a reminder of how many different stories crisscross this country, each one with its own motivations, its own layers of memory and belonging. Jana K., the quiet archivist from Prague, heading back to her Auckland life after a breath of fresh air up North. Just another chapter in the ongoing story of Aotearoa, and another trip for NZ Intercity Cabs.