Blonde on a Road Trip

This one is going to be hard to write…

Crucially, because I don’t want to leave.

We have all morning together and then I realistically need to be at the airport by 1ish to get my 4pm flight to Sydney and then on to Bangkok.

We’d seen that the farmer’s market in Matakana ran from 8am-1pm and it had piqued our interest, so that was the plan for the morning. This required another fairly early start, but we were used to this by now! We sipped some coffee and packed up our things (mostly me) because we wouldn’t be coming back to Anneke’s house before heading to the airport.

We took Vader with us because it was going to be a hot day and it would be a while before Anneke would be home again. Sadly, the cats stayed at home, but they seemed happy enough in each other’s company.

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Matakana Farmer’s Market

As we pulled into Matakana, we patted ourselves on the back for getting their early as it was already really busy and a parking spot was tricky to find. Plus, we wanted one in the shade for Vader. Anneke found one on a grassy verge and as she pulled up a man walked by tutting and shaking his head, but there really weren’t that many options and several cars were clearly doing the same thing.

We walked to the bustling market and had a wander past all the lovely stalls. There are craftspeople in old-fashioned aprons standing with their wares and lots of lovely fruit, veg, savoury and sweet things and kiosks you could order hot food from. My eyes quickly homed in on the bakery stand selling big pastries.

I got myself a cinnamon bun and Anneke ordered something freshly made from one of the kiosks. We went and sat by the river and had our breakfast and coffees near where we’d had the ice creams a few days previous.

There was lovely live music provided by a female singer. It was country/folk-style soft singing and a perfect accompaniment to our al fresco breakfast.

After breakfast, we wandered around more market stalls, shops and the craft area.

I talked to one of the stall holders who made lovely vases out of native NZ wood like Kauri, Matai and Pōhutukawa (NZ’s Christmas tree, which produces a red flower late in the year but usually sheds them all before Christmas Day, a bit like a poinsettia…).

I wanted to buy a vase for Anneke to go with the flowers I’d bought her, which could be dried and kept for a lot longer, but I couldn’t find a way to pay him, so I had to walk away and give up on the idea.

There were a fair few charity or ‘opportunity’ shops selling old books, and I was tempted to buy one for the beach next week so searched through the weird and wonderful choice of second-hand books. During my search I stumbled across a blast from the past… the very distant past at Sunday school… It even has pictures in! Absolute classic.

Reluctantly, we got back in the car knowing that the next step was probably the airport and therefore the end of our wonderful time together. Matakana is about 75 minutes from Auckland Airport, so we made a quick stop in a town near the airport to grab something to eat for lunch. I got a BLT wrap, conscious that airport food prices would be stupid and I’d have time to kill while I waited for my flight.

The mood darkened as we neared the departure terminal. We went up into the car park and I stuffed a few bits of clothing I’d left to dry in the car. I also said my farewells to Vader – such a lovely and very loved dog.

Annexe and I walked into the terminal and said our goodbyes, tears springing into Anneke’s eyes and lumps forming in my throat. Who knows when we’ll next see each other… hopefully before too long.

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Solo

Now on my own, I stood in the interminable security queue and waited for the strictest border force on the planet to screen my bag. To briefly fill the void left behind by Anneke, I briefly befriended an American girl who said her bags always get pulled to the side, but here, almost every bag gets pulled to the side for extra examination, so she didn’t ruin her streak and neither did I. After confirming that my spare batteries were safely packed, they let me have my bag back and I made my way through the corridor of duty free. Overwhelmed by a sudden sense of being alone and missing my friends, I text Ollie to see if he was still awake, having made the tedious journey from London to Brighton after Tomasz’s party. He gracefully let me call him at 1am GMT and cheered me up no end.

4pm grew closer and I walked towards the gate, only to see that our plane wasn’t even at the airport yet, so we wouldn’t be boarding for a while. I was trying not to panic that this would have a knock-on effect on my transfer at Sydney, but before too long the metal bird taxied in and we were allowed on the plane.

I’d been looking forward to watching the rest of The White Lotus on the plane, which I’d started on my previous Qantas flight, and was happily enjoying my second episode when the guy sitting two seats across from me started initiating conversation. It turns out he’s an Aussie, but he lived in the UK for six years, met his wife there and captained the Leicester Tigers for a few seasons. He goes by the name of Jonathan Quick and is now 84.

As he told me his life story, I sipped my red wine and slowly ate my weird cold lunch. There was a fair bit of turbulence, so I was only pouring out small amounts of red wine at any given time to avoid spilling any precious drops. Instead of watching The White Lotus I learnt about John’s past and present, the different countries he’d been to, how he’d been on fox hunts in the UK, been fishing all over the place with the Kangaroo Valley Amateur Fishing Club, and even had a drink with Liz Taylor and Richard Burton.

I guess I’ll just have to pay for Paramount+ if I ever want to find out what happened at that fictional hotel in Hawaii…