Auckland 2    Mar 30-Apr 3
  Kohukohu      Apr 4-6
  Auckland 3    Apr 7-8

Despite vocal complaints from most backpackers, and most of the rest of the country, Auckland continues to exist. Southies hiss "JAFA" -- that's short for "Just Another Fuckin' Aucklander" -- anytime one reveals himself. It's supposed to be just joshin' around, but it says a lot about the Kiwi if he says "JAFA" with a smile or angrily.

Auckland's got two problems. Its population tends to be self-centered, not even travelling that much around a country that everyone come thousands of miles to see. Thirty percent of the country lives here, so sometimes it seems this is the "there" here. But, paradoxically, it's a bit bland. It's pretty clean and easy to get around, but something is missing. Perhaps it's the same young city syndrome that San Jose, CA, Atlanta, or Stuttgart (razed in WWII) suffer from -- there's just not enough history to give it character.

And Auckland suffers from wicked internal and external competition. See, Auckland is like an embryonic London. Many smaller neighborhoods along the outskirts -- Mt Eden, Parnell, Ponsonby, Devonport -- have vestigial character. These individual areas, together, constitute a federation of a city, but being young, they don't add up to much. And it has no center, either. Bohemian Karangahape Road steals too much energy from nearby Queen Street, the main commercial street.

The city also suffers in comparison to other cities. Wellington has the cosmopolitian thing locked-up in this country. Christchurch owns quaint. Dunedin is the squinty working town. The Kiwi inferiority complex must flare when they compare Auckland to Sydney and Melbourne, both cities with plenty of It. (I hear.)

All that said, I, frankly, don't see what's so bad about it. Queen St isn't exactly Picadilly, and K Rd isn't exactly the Village, but they do, at least for a somewhat travel-weary American looking for a NZ coda. I think Auckland's detractors have spent just a night or two here, probably around Queen St. They missed skimming along the harbor to Rangitoto, a quiet afternoon in Devonport, a stroll through Cornwall park capped with a climb up One Tree Hill, or sunset from Mt. Eden. You discover the most unusual of cities -- a *relaxing* city -- if you slow down a bit.

My last week in New Zealand started inauspiciously. A minor but debilitating cold hit me. It sucked hard. I had planned a trip to Waitomo and the fabulous Lost World cave Steph sold me on. But with my head swimming the night before, I thought a 100m abseil would be ill-advised. Instead I burned a couple of days in the quiet Mt. Eden area, and healed up.

Still a bit sick, I headed up to scarcely populated Northland, the fingertip extension of the North Island pointing to Australia. Steph, and many others, sold me on a farm hostel called the Tree House. I would normally spend a night, but given my sickness and the quality of the place, I gave it three.

And what a great place! 2 kms from the ferry across the Hokianga Harbor, the place has at most 20 beds and feels like it's miles and miles away from anything. Phil and Pauline Evans originally founded their place as an organic farm, but when people started missing the ferry across the harbor they rented beds. Then they built a small lodge. Then a couple of cabins. Then they extended the lodge. Each extension was done with the thoughtfulness and care that only comes from fellow long-term travellers. It's one of those rare hostels where, somehow, the owners and the layout of the place miraculously congeal into people smiling at each other and saying "hi."

Now imagine growing up there. Louise and Reese, the Evans' teenaged children, are home-schooled. Their real schooling, and favorite thing to do, is to hang out and play volleyball with the travellers coming by. And they talk a lot. Louise in particular has gotten bored with school, preferring playing violin and teaching dance, with mom and dad's approval. They're 17 and 19 going on 25.

In the Tree House, I got a single, so I slept well. I cooked. I read. I listened to the birds. That's about it for that 72 hours. It was a great way to get well.

I'm back in Auckland, briefly, for a couple of errands. Tomorrow I fly to Fiji. I have 5 books and lots of batteries for my CD player. My plan is to go to the Octopus Resort on Waya and tan for 5 days. Then I go home.

I don't expect any Internet on Waya, so don't expect any more analysis from me for a while.