The Hotel Britomart to Waitomo Glowworm Caves private car — Mateo's business trip

The Hotel Britomart is always a bit of a different vibe. You get the sharp suits, the hurried travellers, the buzz of the city. So when Mateo R. stepped out, looking more like he was heading for a beach than a business meeting, I raised an eyebrow. He had this relaxed strength about him, a certain calm that seemed out of place amidst the downtown bustle. His suitcase was one of those high-end, almost-too-light ones, not showing a speck of dust. I greeted him, confirmed his name, and he gave me a genuine, warm smile in return. "Waitomo, please," he said, his English carrying a soft, melodic accent that hinted at his origins.

He'd flown in from Mexico City that morning, a long haul, and was due at a conference in Hamilton the next day. This stop in Waitomo was a personal pilgrimage, he hinted, something he'd dreamed of for years. He settled into the back, and I pulled away from the kerb. The city traffic was its usual Friday afternoon self, a slow crawl through the CBD and then the familiar bottleneck heading south on the motorway. Auckland’s urban sprawl eventually gave way to the paddocks and greener pastures of the Waikato. Mateo seemed content to just watch it all go by, occasionally pointing out a particularly striking vista or a flock of sheep that had wandered too close to the fence.

We stopped at a small service station near Pokeno for a quick coffee and a stretch. He bought a packet of L&P chips, a classic Kiwi choice he’d apparently picked up from a travel guide. He seemed endlessly curious, asking about the different types of trees lining the road, the names of the towns we passed through, and the history of the region. He told me a little about himself, his work in sustainable agriculture back home, the passion driving his research. It wasn't forced, just easy conversation that flowed as naturally as the drive itself. There was a quiet confidence about his pursuits, a deep sense of purpose that I found quite admirable.

As we got closer to Waitomo, the landscape began to shift. The rolling farmland started to give way to denser bush, the air felt a little more humid, and the road narrowed, winding its way through steeper terrain. Mateo was silent for a longer stretch, his gaze fixed on the darkening greenery outside. He told me he’d seen pictures of the glowworms since he was a child, that they represented a sort of magical, hidden beauty in the world that he’d always wanted to witness firsthand. It wasn't just a tourist stop for him; it felt like a journey to encounter something profound, something elemental.

I dropped him at his accommodation near the caves. He thanked me with that same warm, genuine smile. I watched him walk towards the reception, a lone figure against the backdrop of the vast, ancient landscape. The drive back towards Hamilton, where I’d spend the night before heading to the conference, felt quiet. I thought about Mateo, his journey across continents to see tiny bioluminescent creatures in a cave. It’s one of the things I love about this job – you get to be part of these small, significant moments in people's lives, however briefly. You see the world, and the people in it, through so many different lenses.