I arrived in New Zealand excited to be seeing Nick and happy that finally, after several years of waiting, I may actually get chance to reclaim the many tops he has borrowed off me and never returned. New Zealand is country number three on the ‘Big T’ and will be the one in which I spend most time; unless I meet some tango-dancing Argentinean stunner. I stroll through customs and pop my head round the sliding doors of the arrival entrance expecting Nick to be standing there. He isn’t. In fact, he’s not in the building and my comedy antics have somewhat backfired. The security guards don’t look too impressed either. He eventually arrives almost thirty minutes later, proceeds to walk past me, and then, after a double take, recognises me. His first words focus on my lack of hair. Home for the next day is Mairangi Bay, a suburb to the north of Auckland where Nick and Tracey live. I spend the day relaxing, watching films and visiting the local beach whilst they are out at work. We spend the night eating burgers down on the beach watching the sunset and I tell Tracey all about my adopted brother. Understand I don’t want to put her off too much so I decide against mentioning the time he spent inside or the sheep incident. On the Saturday it is time for Nick and Tracey to move and my first job is to help them. Two removal guys turn up in a truck to help, the older of the two stays in the van to pack whilst the younger, a 19 year old Maori lad, helps us shift the furniture. He’s build like a tank and picks up items around the house like Nick and I would a book. Time to spend more time in the gym I reckon. The new house is an apartment in Northcote, the first suburb to the North of Auckland as you go over the bridge. We soon discover the area has many redeeming features, not only is it a ten-minute ferry ride into the city, but it also has a cinema and a café which, according to Nick, employs attractive women, his words not mine, I promise….. The following day is all about breakfast at the aforementioned café prior to going and meeting Tracey’s parents and younger brother. Afterwards we go shopping where I buy Nick his belated birthday present; a t-shirt with a map of New Zealand on it. Apparently it’s designer, so Tracey and I get one too. The premise being we never wear them at the same time. Auckland is known as the ‘City of Sails’, a term referring to the many boats moored in the marina. It would seem that nearly every one of the one million inhabitants has a boat. Indeed, in New Zealand there are just over four million residents. The ferry ride into the city offers great views of the skyline which is punctured by the tallest building in the Southern Hemisphere; the Skytower. At 328 metres, it’s one of the main attractions in Auckland and the place to be seen eating out. After a couple of shopping days in Auckland and some time trying to find my bearings, I manage to get a job in the local cinema. The pay is not great but technically I’m working in the film industry and the money I earn here will pay for all the clothes I have bought and the bus ticket around the South Island. I meet Rupali the next day before I begin work. After having one pissy customer on the first day; he sat through the ‘wrong film’ for 45 minutes then tried to blame me for his ineptness at not being able to read basic signs before then asking me who I think I am. I restrained myself from making any sarcastic comments. I get inundated with comments about where I am from and how lovely my accent is. I have been mistaken for being Scottish and Lancastrian. I tell them proudly that I am from ‘Yorkshire’ and follow it up with the words ‘God’s County’. The job is very simple, all I have to do is sell the OAPs their cinema tickets before trying to convince them to buy ice cream, coffee and sweets. I also have to check the cinema for litter at the end of every performance and I am also allowed to make popcorn. I think it’s safe to say that anyone under the age of 50 in the cinema either works there, is lost or has a thing for old people. Indeed the only films that are shown are either French films with subtitles or else they have to contain one of the following: Helen Mirren, Judi Dench or Julie Walters. The job might not be rocket science but the people I work alongside are all nice and decent and I have a good laugh at work. So much trust do they have in me that, on my second day, they show me how to open the safe. The idea being that I manage the place whilst the manager is away. Soon realising that despite working next door to the café, with it’s stroppy waitresses, I still don’t get a discount, I decide to broaden my horizons and head down to the local French café, run by a real Frenchman who greets you with a ‘Bonjour’ when you enter. On my first visit I rather hesitantly acknowledged him back in French only for the woman who was being served, a snob who thought she was special as she could converse, well order anyway, in French, decided to make some smart comment about my accent to the owner. Her comment was in French and I understood enough of what she said to get a gist of what she was implying, that was at the very moment her husband acknowledged me and enquired where I was from. They were both Kiwis and I told them I was English and that my parents lived in France, indeed, my Yorkshire version of French may not be brilliant, but I can understand most things that are said. His face was a picture as I told him this, I reckon her face was too, only she was too ashamed to turn round and look at me as she left. Sadly, I don’t know the French for ‘toffee-nosed old bat’ but if you do then please let me know. Despite working most of the time I have been here, there have been a few moments where I have gotten out-and-about. I’ve spent time catching up with Rups as well as eating out with Tracey’s parents and helping them move furniture, none-Maori style. Her dad owns a rather nice convertible Chrysler Crossfire which accelerates to 100 kph rather quickly, even on residential streets. Thanks Mr C. Part of the deal why I’m staying at Nick’s is I am the researcher, typist and proof-reader for his Masters. I am now proficient in the world of Ponzi schemes and transnational fraud, sadly the letters will go after his name and not mine. I have received some help from the infamous travelling monkey, and occasionally Nick. My time in Auckland has also coincided with the visit of Nick’s friends: Gerry ‘the Berry’ and Louise. Including Tracey, the two couples took it upon themselves to embarrass me at every moment, whether it be out drinking, plastering call cards with my details in women’s toilets or indeed making comments to waitresses whilst eating breakfast at the café. Revenge was in the form of ‘Gerry on the phone’; a sight to behold. Gerry has the weird habit of marching around the house rubbing his stomach whilst on the phone. Understand he lifts up his shirt for all to see whilst he does this, a characteristic which was copied several times whilst out in Auckland at the Skytower as did Nick’s ‘on duty’ pose which means arms folded and feet pointing outwards. A pose you will see perfectly displayed by Tracey and I in the pictures. You may also like the picture of Gerry in the shower, it caries an 18 rating. The five of us went out for a meal last week at the Skytower’s revolving restaurant. The meal was lovely but it’s quite disconcerting to think that dessert alone costs more than I earn in an hour. We then headed out for drinks galore in the many bars that make up Auckland’s posh Viaduct area. My last day off was Sunday and after climbing Mt Eden in the morning, the highest volcano in Auckland, Tracey and I headed out to Piha on the west coast. The area is famous for its black sand and beautiful rugged scenery. We spent the afternoon driving along the coast watching the surfers. I would have joined in but had sadly forgotten my swim shorts plus, I am still having nightmares after the ‘kissing of the board’ incident in Coffs. Other than working this week, I have managed to get out…..to the cinema. I went to see a film on Tuesday before becoming all patriotic and deciding to watch the Queen on Wednesday night. Thankfully, the seats are free, plus I get free hot chocolate. This weekend should be a good one. I am off out Friday night with Nick and Tracey and then, after working until late, will be heading out with a couple of friends from work to celebrate St Patrick’s on Saturday. It’s weird spending so much time in Nick’s company. We’ve not been together this much since he was last living at home and although we argue ‘occasionally’, it’s great to see him and have a laugh. It doesn’t feel like we’ve been apart, indeed, I’d like to think ‘brotherly love’ is stronger than ever. Working everyday makes it feel like I am back home but then I pinch myself and realise that I am on the other side of the world. Sadly, the tan is fading fast but the hair is growing and the curls are starting to come back. The weather has been pretty rubbish this week and thus the shorts have been confined to the house; it’s going to be long trousers from now on it would seem. I’m looking forward to continuing my travels in the South Island and seeing more of Auckland. The walk to work every morning offers a view of the Skytower and despite not being a career, the job is enjoyable and I like the people I work with. Indeed, I’ll be sad to leave it, but leave it I must. I recently added another destination to the grand tour of South America, a place so remote and fantastically different it could best be described in Australian as being ‘far out’. I’ll refrain from telling you too much now, you’ll just have to wait until next time.