Cordis Auckland to Turangi private car — Priya's conference trip

The thing about September in Auckland is that the city can still feel a bit like it’s holding its breath. The summer rush has definitely ebbed, but winter’s grip hasn’t quite let go either. I was parked outside the Cordis, a sleek building that always feels a bit too ‘us’, a bit too polished for the grubby reality of driving for a living. My client, Priya, was arriving from Fiji, landing at Auckland Airport and then transferring to the city hotel before her journey south. She’d booked through a platform, a solid Airbnb booking that meant she knew generally what she was getting into, but you never quite know when you’re picking someone up after a long haul flight. You brace yourself for jet lag, for disorientation, for a general air of exhaustion.

Priya emerged from the lobby looking remarkably fresh. She was a compact woman, her dark hair pulled back neatly, a floral print dress peeking out from under a light jacket. She carried a small, smart-looking suitcase. She’d told me on booking that she was attending a sustainability conference in Turangi, a place not exactly known for its global stage, but evidently important for this particular gathering. Apparently, the unique geothermal environment of the central North Island lends itself to discussions on renewable energy and ecological balance. Interesting. I loaded her bag into the boot; it was lighter than I expected.

We pulled out of the city, catching the tail end of the mid-morning traffic heading south on SH1. The usual suspects: the Bombay Hills, Pokeno where the ice cream shop always has a queue, Huntly with its steam vents. Priya was quiet for the first hour or so, observing the landscape slowly shift from urban sprawl to rolling green farmland. She asked a few questions about the route, what towns we’d pass through, whether it was a long drive. I gave her the usual rundown – about three and a half, maybe four hours to Turangi, depending on stops. She seemed content to just watch the world go by, her gaze fixed somewhere on the middle distance.

As we bypassed Hamilton and turned onto SH5 towards Tirau, the conversation opened up a little. She mentioned how different this landscape was from home. Fiji, she explained, was all about the bright blues of the ocean and the vibrant greens of tropical foliage, with a much more... relaxed pace of life. She worked for an NGO back in Suva, focusing on environmental protection, hence the conference in Turangi. It was a way, she said, to connect with people working on similar issues in a different context. She spoke about the challenges of implementing sustainable practices in island nations, the reliance on imports, the impact of rising sea levels. It wasn't the usual tourist chatter about beaches or resorts; this was the focused, earnest conversation of someone deeply invested in her work.

We stopped at a small service station just past Tirau, a common sort of place with a coffee machine and a vaguely greasy bain-marie. I got myself a flat white, and she opted for a bottle of water and a small packet of biscuits. The air outside was crisp, carrying the damp scent of recently turned earth and distant pine forests. We got back in the car, and as we continued towards Rotorua, she told me about a particular project she was involved with, trying to reduce reliance on single-use plastics in coastal communities. She described the practical difficulties – the lack of infrastructure for recycling, the cost of alternatives, the deeply ingrained habits. It sounded like an uphill battle, but her tone was determined, not defeated.

The landscape began to change more noticeably as we approached Rotorua, the smell of sulphur becoming a faint, almost imperceptible haze in the air. We skirted the geothermal areas, the steam rising in lazy plumes from the ground in the distance. Then, it was a straight run towards Taupō, and finally, Turangi. She wasn’t going on to Taupō, but staying right in Turangi itself, a town that felt a world away from the glitz of the Cordis and the bustle of Suva.

As we pulled up to her accommodation, a simple motel on the edge of town, she thanked me with a genuine warmth. She mentioned she was looking forward to the quiet focus of the conference after the long journey. I unloaded her suitcase, the same one that seemed so light, yet carried the weight of her important work. As she headed towards the reception, I reflected on the quiet passion she’d shared. You meet so many people on this job, chasing holidays or family or business, but sometimes, you encounter someone like Priya, who carries the hopes of a community and the future of a fragile environment with such understated strength. It makes the journey feel about a lot more than just getting from A to B.