SkyCity Hotel to Miranda private car — Yael's business trip

The December sun was already doing its best to bake the concrete in the SkyCity precinct before I’d even loaded the last of Yael K's luggage. Her flight from Tel Aviv had been a long one, she mentioned, a quick connection in Singapore, and now this final leg to Auckland, then further south towards the Firth of Thames. Business travel, she said. She had a small, sturdy suitcase, a carry-on that looked like it had seen more than its fair share of airport trolleys, and a sleek laptop bag.

Yael was of medium height, with dark, kind eyes and hair pulled back neatly. She had the kind of quiet confidence that doesn't feel the need to announce itself. Her English was clear, precise, with that subtle lilt I'd come to recognise from travellers from her part of the world. She’d confirmed the booking through the website, a straightforward Auckland to Miranda transfer, and I’d arrived at the SkyCity Hotel just after her scheduled hotel check-out, ready to whisk her straight through to the Hauraki Plains.

The drive out of Auckland on a Friday afternoon in summer is always an exercise in patience. The city seemed determined to cling to its people, the traffic a sluggish, glittering serpent all the way through the southern suburbs. Yael didn’t seem bothered, though. She watched the urban sprawl gradually give way to fields and trees, her gaze thoughtful. We passed through Manukau, then Pokeno, the landscape flattening out as we headed towards the Hauraki Plains. I found myself talking about the challenges of Auckland traffic, the cost of living, the usual things people chat about on these kinds of drives. Yael listened intently, occasionally offering a brief, insightful observation. She’d been living in Tel Aviv for a few years, originally from a smaller town in the north, she told me. She worked in tech, a part of the industry that was always looking for new talent, new markets. Miranda was a place she’d only ever seen on maps, but her company had a significant operation set up there, a small manufacturing hub, and she was here to assess a potential new development.

As we left the main highway and turned onto the quieter roads leading towards the coast, the air outside began to feel warmer, the humidity rising. The road through the rural landscape, with its gentle hills and winding rivers, was a pleasant change. Even on a busy summer Friday, the sheer beauty of the Hauraki Plains, stretching out towards the Firth of Thames, is something to behold. Yael was captivated, her phone out, snapping photos of the wide-open spaces and the distant ranges. She told me she found New Zealand’s geological history fascinating, so different from the comparatively young lands of Israel. She spoke of ancient riverbeds, volcanic activity, and the sheer, slow power of erosion. It wasn’t the typical business-trip conversation; it was a genuine curiosity about the land itself, about the forces that shaped it. She mentioned wanting to visit Wai-O-Tapu Thermal Wonderland if she had time on her return journey, but this trip was strictly business.

We stopped briefly at a small roadside cafe near Kaiaua. I stretched my legs and let Yael have a few minutes to just experience the place. She walked a short way along the foreshore, breathing in the fresh, salty air, listening to the gentle lapping of the Firth of Thames. When she returned to the car, there was a serene expression on her face. The final stretch towards Miranda was short, the landscape opening up into wide, flat pastures dotted with Friesian cows. Yael pointed out the stark contrast between the densely populated agricultural land and the wilder, more rugged terrain she imagined lay further inland. She said that even though she was here for work, she felt like she was also on a different kind of journey, one of discovery.

As I pulled up to her accommodation in Miranda, a quiet motel unit by the coast, the late afternoon sun was casting long shadows. The air was warm and still, the sound of distant sheep the only interruption. Yael thanked me warmly, her eyes reflecting the quiet satisfaction of arrival. She unloaded her own bags, a silent efficiency to her movements. As she closed the car door, she gave me a small, genuine smile. I wished her well with her meetings and business developments. Watching her walk across the neat lawn towards her temporary home, I thought about the vast distances people travel for work, and how sometimes, the journey itself, the slow passage through different landscapes and the briefest of conversations, can offer a perspective that no board meeting ever could. She was off to build something, I supposed, here on the edge of the Hauraki Plains, a continuation of her own journey, just as I was continuing mine.