Hotel DeBrett to Rotorua private car — Khalid's family visit

The lobby of Hotel DeBrett always has a certain hushed elegance about it, a quiet hum of expensive travel. It’s a good feeling to pick up from there. A Saturday morning in November, the air already holding a hint of the coming summer heat, a bit of a buzz on the city streets. I’d parked the Audi just outside, ready to go, when Khalid emerged. He was dressed smartly, a crisp white thobe that looked just right against the polished wood and leather of the hotel.

He introduced himself as Khalid A., and explained he was heading to Rotorua to see family. It’s a common enough trip for us, and the route via the Southern Motorway, out past the Bombay Hills and through the Waikato, is one I know like the back of my hand. He settled into the back seat, a small travel bag at his feet, and we pulled away from the curb, the city receding in the mirrors.

The initial part of the journey is always a good time for me to get a feel for the passenger. Khalid was quiet for a while, observing the passing scenery – the busy motorways giving way to rolling farmland, the scattered urban sprawl thinning out into open country. He seemed to be taking it all in with a quiet appreciation. We passed through towns like Pokeno, famous for its ice cream, and Huntly, with its distinctive power station, the landscape steadily transforming under the bright November sun.

We stopped at a service centre just past Hamilton for a coffee and a stretch of the legs. The air outside was warm, carrying the scent of freshly cut grass. Khalid purchased a small bottle of water and a local snack from the shop, and we were back on our way. It was then, as we drove towards the Karapiro lake district, that he started to talk a little more about his visit. He mentioned that his sister had recently moved to Rotorua, and this was his first time visiting her in New Zealand. He spoke about his home in Jeddah, the different climate, the busy port city life, and how he was looking forward to experiencing the more relaxed pace of the Waikato.

I put on some music – a quiet instrumental playlist I keep for longer journeys – and it filled the quiet space as we continued South. The road towards Rotorua can get busy, especially on a Saturday, with weekenders heading to the lakes and the coast. I kept an eye on the traffic, navigating the gentle curves and undulations of the countryside. We passed through Tirau, the corrugated iron town, and then the landscape started to change again, becoming more geothermal, more open. The volcanic cones of the Rotorua region began to appear on the horizon, a subtle shift that always signals we’re getting close.

Khalid seemed to perk up as we neared our destination, pointing out details he noticed. He spoke of how different the vegetation was compared to what he was used to, the rich green of the pine forests and the vibrant flowering plants. He made a comment about the cleanliness of the roads and the well-maintained environment, something I often hear from international visitors.

As we pulled up to his sister’s house in Rotorua, a modern home nestled in a leafy suburb, a welcoming figure was already waiting on the driveway. He thanked me for the comfortable journey, his eyes crinkling slightly at the corners. I watched as he gathered his small bag and stepped out, greeting his sister with a warm embrace. It’s always a satisfying feeling, taking someone from one part of their life to another, seeing them reconnect. The drive back to Auckland that afternoon was quiet, the car empty but for the lingering sense of a day well spent, another journey completed, another small connection made across the miles.