Cordis Auckland to Miranda private car — Jolien's conference trip

The Cordis lobby in Auckland is always a bit of a whirlwind, especially on a Sunday morning. Smooth marble floors, hushed conversations, people juggling briefcases and last-minute calls. I found Jolien standing a little apart from the bustle, a small, neat suitcase at her feet, looking out the big glass doors. She had a thoughtful expression, the kind that suggests she’s already deep into her day before it’s even properly begun. She was visiting for a tech conference in the city and had decided to extend her stay a few extra days, wanting to see a bit more of the Hauraki Plains before heading back. Her flight wasn't for another few days, so this quiet excursion to Miranda was a chance to decompress.

We headed south, past the familiar Saturday morning traffic thinning out past the city limits. The air started to shift as we got onto State Highway 1, the urban sprawl giving way to pockets of green and then the rolling hills of the Waikato. Jolien didn't say much at first. She was content to watch the landscape unfold, occasionally pointing out a particularly striking stand of trees or a sheep farm clinging to a steep hillside. I could tell she was taking it all in, cataloguing the colours and shapes that were so different from her home country. We talked a little about the Netherlands, about the flatness and the water, the canals and the cycling paths. It’s always interesting to hear people describe their home – it makes you see your own country through fresh eyes.

Around Pokeno, I suggested a quick stop for coffee. It’s a classic move, grabbing a flat white and a pastry at one of the roadside stops. As we pulled away, the sky had taken on that soft, diffused light that often comes with a Waikato autumn. The greens seemed richer, the distant hills a deeper shade of blue. Jolien mentioned that her work involved a lot of travel, and while she enjoyed the conferences and the networking, these quieter moments, the journeys between places, were what she really cherished. She spoke about how different the light was here – more expansive, she thought, less direct than back home. It was a small observation, but it struck me as profoundly true. She was not just seeing the landscape, but actively processing it through her own sensory filters.

As we continued on, the terrain began to level out and broaden. The roadside verges were dotted with autumn leaves, a gentle reminder of the season. We were heading towards the Firth of Thames, and the air took on that subtle, salty tang that signals proximity to the coast. Miranda is one of those places that feels a world away from the city, even though it’s not that far. It’s known for its birdlife, and the flat wetlands come alive with visitors when the tides are right. Jolien had booked a few nights at a small motel there, wanting to explore the foreshore and perhaps do some birdwatching. She'd brought along a good pair of binoculars, tucked neatly into her bag. She told me that even though she was a tech professional, she found immense peace in observing nature, in the quiet patience of watching birds.

We arrived at her motel, a simple, clean-looking place with views across paddocks towards the water. The sky was starting to get that low, golden light that signals the end of the afternoon. I helped her with her bag, and as she paid the fare, she thanked me with a genuine smile. She mentioned she hoped I’d have a good drive back. It was a kind thought, and I wished her a peaceful few days by the water. As I drove away, the landscape seemed to settle into the evening. The road back to Auckland would be quiet, and I found myself reflecting on Jolien’s perspective – how a simple observation about the light could encapsulate so much about home, about belonging, and about the quiet moments that truly define a journey.