Albany office to Taupō private car — Khalid's business trip

The big office building in Albany always felt a bit like a fortress, all glass and smooth concrete, looking out over the busy North Shore. My late afternoon pickups from out that way often have that touch of urgency about them, the start of a long journey before darkness truly sets in. This particular Tuesday in January, the air was already thick with the hum of summer – a good day for driving, really. The chap I was meeting, Khalid A., was coming out of the lobby with a briefcase that looked as sharp as his dark suit. He was polite from the moment I opened the door, a quiet energy about him.

He was heading down to Taupō, a solid few hours from Auckland. He’d flown into Auckland earlier that day and had a meeting the following morning. He’d been in Auckland for a few days prior, he mentioned, dealing with some business matters. He settled into the back seat, his phone already out, presumably letting someone know he was on his way. The sky was a hazy blue, a few fluffy clouds drifting east. We joined the traffic heading south, the familiar crawl through the city centre, then the release as we hit the southern motorway.

Khalid was an observer. He didn't say much but his eyes took in the landscape as we passed through Bombay Hills, Pokeno, and onto the Waikato plains. The rolling green paddies with their scattered sheep, the neat rows of farms – it was a different world from the one he likely knew back home in Saudi Arabia. He asked once about the Dominion Road turnoff, and I gave him the usual, 'Yeah, that's the main drag through Mt Roskill, gets pretty busy.' He just nodded, content to watch the world go by.

We stopped for a coffee at Tirau, the corrugated iron sheep town. He seemed amused by the giant corrugated iron sheep and dog by the roadside – a classic Kiwi roadside attraction. He ordered a black coffee, strong, and watched a couple of kids chase each other around the small park area there. He mentioned that his work involved a lot of travel, but usually between cities in the Middle East or Europe. New Zealand was a significant departure, and he seemed to appreciate the slower pace, the unhurried rhythm of the countryside.

As we continued towards Taupō, the light began to fade, painting the sky in shades of orange and purple. The air grew cooler as we climbed towards the central plateau. He’d left his home in Jeddah, he told me, a bustling coastal city. He described the intensity of the desert heat, the vastness of the sand dunes, and the stark beauty of the Arabian peninsula. It was a world away from the lush greenery of the Waikato and the volcanic landscapes we were now entering. He spoke of his family, his children, and the anticipation of returning home after this trip. The usual sentiments of a traveller, I suppose, but delivered with a quiet sincerity.

He was quiet for a long stretch then, perhaps lost in thought or just enjoying the passing scenery through the window. The road straightened out, the geothermal power stations with their plumes of steam appearing in the distance as we approached Taupō. The lake itself was a dark, shimmering expanse under the rising moon. I dropped him off at his hotel, a modern building near the lakefront. He thanked me, a warm handshake and a genuine smile. He was an island of quiet observation in the midst of a busy journey, and I wished him well for his meeting and his flight home, another interesting slice of life on the road.