M Social Auckland to Raglan private car — Mariano's family visit

The morning started with a certain dampness to the air in Auckland, the sort that promises a fine day but makes you layer up just in case. M Social is a sleek place down on the waterfront, all glass and polished concrete, and my passenger was already waiting when I pulled up.

He was a man named Mariano R, originally from Argentina, with a quiet intensity about him. He was dressed smartly, a bit too formally perhaps for a trip to Raglan, but then again, he was heading to surprise his sister, who he hadn't seen in five years. Five years is a long time to be apart, and I could sense the anticipation buzzing beneath his reserved exterior. He’d flown in from Buenos Aires a couple of days prior and was keen to get on the road.

We cleared the city traffic, a familiar slow crawl through the Viaduct and then onto the Southern Motorway. The Bombay Hills were familiar territory, a green incline that always felt like the true beginning of a journey south. He pointed out the new developments at Pokeno, commenting on how much it had changed since his last visit to New Zealand a decade ago. He’d lived in Auckland for a few years back then, he told me, studying engineering. This trip, however, was purely personal. His sister had settled in Raglan after university, becoming very taken with the surf culture and the relaxed atmosphere.

As we passed through the outskirts of Hamilton, turning west onto State Highway 23 towards the coast, the landscape began to flatten out, dairy farms giving way to more rolling hills. The sea air was starting to make its presence felt, a subtle shift in the breeze. Mariano spoke a little about his family back home, his parents, his brother. He’d always been the more itinerant of the siblings, he admitted. He was an architect, he told me, and the long hours and the demanding nature of his profession hadn’t left much time for lengthy trips. He’d finally managed to carve out a decent block of leave, deciding to turn the visit into a bit of an adventure, starting with this surprise reunion.

We stopped at a small petrol station just outside of Huntly for a coffee top-up. The shop smelt of old pies and hot machine coffee, a quintessential New Zealand roadside experience. I watched him as he gazed out at the green paddies stretching towards the horizon. He was clearly a man who noticed things, a quiet observer like myself, though from a different corner of the world. He’d mentioned his sister was learning to surf, and he was both amused and a little daunted by the prospect of watching – or perhaps even attempting – it himself. He’d always been more suited to buildings than waves, he joked.

The road to Raglan is a winding one, shaded by trees that met overhead in places, creating a tunnel of green. As we got closer, the sky opened up, and the distinct salty tang of the Tasman Sea filled the car. Raglan itself appeared, a cluster of colourful buildings nestled around a harbour, with the iconic Mount Karioi standing guard. The surf breaks were already dotted with figures, even on an April afternoon.

He’d asked me to pull up a little way from the house so he could make his entrance on foot, a bit of dramatic flair for the occasion. I watched from the car as he walked towards the driveway, a solitary figure with a suitcase, before he disappeared around a bend. I knew, of course, that the real journey for him was just beginning. It’s always a privilege to be a small part of these reunions, even if I’m just the guy driving the car. I picked up my gear, knowing I had a fair drive back to Auckland in front of me, the memory of a long-anticipated family embrace warming the quiet miles ahead.