Grand Mercure Auckland to Coromandel Town private car — Jing's special occasion

The Grand Mercure is always a bit of a gamble on a booking day. Sometimes it’s a quick pickup, a happy couple heading for a weekend away. Other times, especially when a cruise ship is in port, it can be a bit more chaotic. This Tuesday in late March, it was the latter. Disembarking passengers streamed out, a river of luggage and excited chatter, and I found myself scanning the faces for Jing.

She was holding a single, small-ish suitcase, a stark contrast to the oversized bags being wrestled by many. Her clothes were neat, a smart navy jacket over a lighter blouse, and she had a quiet composure about her. She offered a polite nod as I approached, and her English was clear, if a little hesitant. Straight to Coromandel Town, she confirmed, a destination that always feels a little like stepping back in time. The sea air would be noticeably saltier by now, I thought, as we navigated the morning traffic slowly inching us out of the city centre.

The initial miles were spent in comfortable silence, punctuated only by the hum of the engine and the occasional passing truck. I’d learned long ago to let passengers set the pace of conversation, especially on these longer runs. Coromandel Town isn’t a place you just pop over to for a cuppa; it’s a commitment. Something about weddings, I vaguely recalled from the booking notes. Not her own, I presumed, given the solo journey, but perhaps a family event.

As we cleared the Bombay Hills and the landscape opened up into rolling farmland, Jing started sharing a little more. She was here for her niece’s wedding, a small ceremony planned for the following day. Her sister, who lived in Auckland, had arranged the transport from the city for her. She showed me a photograph on her phone – a beaming young couple standing in front of a charming old villa. The bride, she explained, had always loved the Coromandel, its slightly quirky, artistic vibe. It sounded like a perfect fit for a wedding venue.

We stopped at a bakery in Thames, a necessary pause to break the journey and refuel. I opted for a steak and cheese pie, my usual. Jing bought a slice of lemon tart and a coffee, savouring both with quiet appreciation. While she ate, she told me more about her niece, how they’d grown up close, even though Jing herself had lived in Shanghai for many years. She’d seen her niece transition from a child with scraped knees to the elegant young woman in the photo. It was clear there was deep affection there, a subtle pride that transcended the miles and the years.

Back on the road, the scenery began to change again as we headed north towards the Coromandel Peninsula. The rolling hills became more rugged, the pockets of native bush thicker, and the glimpses of the Firth of Thames more frequent. The air itself seemed to shift, carrying the promise of the sea. I pointed out a particularly stunning view as we rounded a bend, and she thanked me with a genuine smile, her eyes taking in the expansive coastline. That’s the beauty of this job; you get to witness these moments of quiet appreciation for Aotearoa, especially from those who haven’t had the chance to see it before.

The final stretch into Coromandel Town wound along the coast, the road narrowing and becoming more intimate. Old bach-style houses dotted the shoreline, and the scent of salt and flowering rata filled the air. It felt like a destination that demanded you slow down. I pulled up to her accommodation, a lovely historic cottage near the waterfront, just as the late afternoon sun was casting long shadows. She thanked me, her gratitude warm and sincere, and gathered her small suitcase. As she walked towards the gate, I felt a sense of quiet satisfaction, knowing I’d played a small part in bringing her here for such a special occasion. Another journey complete, another story tucked away, and the quiet beauty of the Coromandel waiting for a family celebration.