Mount Eden address to Papamoa private car — Anja's special occasion

The drizzle was doing its usual Auckland thing, a fine mist that felt more philosophical than wet, as I pulled up to the Mount Eden address. It was early June, the kind of crisp morning that makes you appreciate the heater in the cab. The house itself was one of those grand old villas, the sort that have seen a fair bit of history. The reason for the early start soon became apparent an absolute heap of luggage was being wrestled out of the front door. Bags, boxes, the works. It was a clear sign of a significant journey.

Out stepped Urs M. He was immaculately dressed, not in a suit, but in smart casual that hinted at an important event. He explained, as he settled into the back and I stowed the endless luggage, that he was heading down to Papamoa. Not just for a visit, mind you. He was going for a wedding. His daughter’s wedding, to be precise. This wasn’t just any wedding; it was a big, family affair, and he was travelling from Switzerland for it. He’d been in Auckland for a few days visiting another relative, but Papamoa was the main event.

As we navigated the familiar streets of Auckland, bypassing the usual morning traffic snarls on the motorway on-ramp, Urs shared a bit about life in Switzerland. He talked about the mountains, of course, but also about the meticulous organisation of everything. It was a stark contrast, he implied, to the more laid-back approach to timing he often encountered during his travels. He wasn’t complaining, not at all, just observing. It was one of the things I enjoyed about this job, hearing these little snippets of different lives, different perspectives.

We headed south on State Highway 1, passing through the Bombay Hills. The landscape started to change as we moved away from the urban sprawl of Auckland. The green rolling hills, dotted with sheep and the occasional contented-looking cow, gave way to flatter terrain as we approached the Waikato. The air changed too, carrying the distinct scent of farmland, even through the closed windows of the cab. Urs seemed quite taken with the scenery, his face pressed close to the window for much of the journey. He pointed out different types of trees, some familiar to him from European landscapes, others entirely new.

As we turned off towards the Kaimai Ranges, the conversation, or rather the shared observations, turned to the wedding itself. He spoke of his daughter, her upcoming marriage, and the joy it brought him. He mentioned the other family members who had travelled from various corners of the globe. It seemed like a real coming together of continents for this special occasion. He’d brought gifts, carefully packed, and he was looking forward to seeing his daughter walk down the aisle. He described the venue, a place near the beach, with a kind of quiet anticipation. He was clearly proud and a little emotional about it all. He explained that while he missed his home and family in Switzerland, these moments, these celebrations, were what travel was all about for him – connecting with loved ones, even across vast distances.

As we neared the turn-off for Papamoa, the sky began to clear. The June sun, a rare but welcome visitor, broke through the clouds, casting a warm glow over the landscape. The roads became a little more winding as we got closer to the coast, the air taking on a salty tang. I could see the glint of the ocean in the distance. Urs’s excitement was palpable. He straightened his jacket, a final check in the rear-view mirror. He mentioned how he had chosen to fly into Auckland first, then take a car south, rather than fly directly into Tauranga, wanting to enjoy the journey and the scenery, and also to ensure all his luggage made it safely with him.

Pulling up to the address in Papamoa, a modern beachside property, it was clear this was a place built for celebration. More family members were milling about outside, adding to the festive atmosphere. I helped Urs with his bags, and as he stepped out of the cab, he looked towards the coast, a wide smile on his face. He thanked me, a sincere gesture that spoke volumes. The wedding was clearly the focus, the culmination of a long journey from the Swiss Alps to the shores of the Bay of Plenty. I watched him walk towards the house, another happy passenger delivered, another story etched into the memory banks of NZ Intercity Cabs. The sun was shining, the ocean breeze was beginning to pick up, and I had a good feeling about the day ahead for him, and for his daughter.