Like many true Dunedinites I've always viewed Auckland as another country. It may be warm there, but it rains too much, there are too many people, too many murders and nightmare traffic.
Some of this has been confirmed the few times we've passed through rather quickly.
When my husband Mike and I had the opportunity to visit Dunedin friends, now living in Auckland, we went with some misgivings.
Our friends Helen and Bill have a first-floor apartment right on Mission Bay.
"It's very small," Helen told us, "but you might like the view."
Might like the view? We loved it.
Their lounge overlooks the beach, the pohutukawa, the children's playground and Rangitoto Island.
We were warned by our friends that when we did venture out, the bus drivers would be grumpy and the locals unhelpful. We were to trust no-one.
We spent five days visiting the zoo, the Sky Tower, Kelly Tarlton's, the museum, Devonport and the shops.
We used the buses, the trains and the ferries. Everyone was friendly, helpful and polite. This was not what we expected.
One evening I went into the city without Mike to meet a friend. At 11.30 at night I stepped out of a Thai restaurant on Queen St to look for a taxi.
The area I was in was deserted and I felt a little nervous.
I could see a taxi some distance away and waved. Within minutes I was heading back to Mission Bay.
The driver was a friendly young man from Afghanistan. As we drove along he talked about his life.
He had been at high school and university in Auckland and seemed to be enjoying his life in New Zealand.
His English was good but accented.
Then he dropped the bombshell.
"My brother and I have another business", he said.
"We import drugs from Afghanistan."
I didn't know what to say. Everything I had thought about Auckland was coming true.
"You know," he said.
"We import drugs."
I smiled weakly.
Is he going to offer to sell me some? If I refuse will he kill me? "They're drugs, you know," he insisted with a very flashy smile. "Hand-knotted drugs."
It took a moment, but I got it. He meant rugs.
"I'll be selling in Dunedin next month," he told me.
"You come and see."
"Yes," I smiled.
I wouldn't miss seeing those hand-knotted drugs for anything.
- Had an interesting, rewarding or amusing travel experience recently? For a chance to win a Lonely Planet book on the country of your choice, send a 300-400 word article and photographs to email odt.features@odt.co.nz or post to Reader Postcard, Travel Editor, PO Box 181, Dunedin.
