The Che Guevara Incident

My last full day in Auckland and it was up and off to the waterfront again to catch a ferry over to Waiheke; another island in the Hauraki Gulf. I had high hopes for Waiheke island; a place for millionaires to live and for city dwellers to escape to for days out. The ferry ride out was beautiful, leaving me in a pretty little bay called Matiatia bay. From here I took the walking track too the main north shore town of Oneroa. I had a wander up and down the high street and onto the beach. The beach was pretty enough, but I felt a little disappointed that it didn't blow me away with its beauty; maybe it was because the sun was hiding behind the clouds. I decided to take the bus east to visit Dead Dog Bay, where a private residence had opened its land as a garden and sculpture park for visitors to walk through.

Matiatia Bay

 Stepping off the bus I began what turned into a 30minute walk downhill to reach the sculpture park, by which point I was feeling pretty whacked and not in the best frame of mind to appreciate the gardens. I dutifully left my dollars (a rather over-priced 10$) in the honesty box, picked up a pretty ambiguous map, and had a flick through the visitor book; the latest comment simply stating 'Meh!'. Not to be put off I headed into the gardens. Some of the sculptures were great, and the gardens were certainly well kept, but I wasn't really feeling it and after three quarters of an hour later, I decided to head back to the bus stop; bearing in mind it was this bus or wait another hour!

My favourite Sculpture

The bus trundled along whilst I consulted my guide book as to what too do next. Feeling weary I decided to hop off at Little Oneroa, the next bay along from Oneroa. Here I sat on the beach and enjoyed a truly delicious lunch from Dragonfired – a little black caravan selling wood fired pizza, polenta plates and pitta pockets. Feeling full from a very yummy lunch indeed I walked back to Oneroa and onto the ferry terminal to go back to Auckland. All in all a good day, but I certainly felt let down in that Waiheke did not live up to my expectations, which had been growing in my mind's eye for weeks before coming out to NZ. I would definitely return to Waiheke, but next time I would go on a sunny day and try and visit some of the vineyards that Waiheke is also famous for; perhaps by not visiting these I missed this paradise island's character.

I wearily made my way back to the hostel from the city centre and collapsed for a few minutes before gathering my strength to go for a long hot shower. I had just grabbed my towel when in walked my chatty American friend. During a previous epic (one-sided) conversation he had told me all about his troubles finding a travel adapter for his iPad. In the US appliances run on less (wattage?) than other countries – something I can confirm with experience from my trip to NYC a couple of years ago, when full power on my hair-dryer was reduced to a breeze somewhat akin to an asthmatic blowing through a straw after a long run! As a result Phil said he needed not only an adapter to physically convert the American plug to a NZ one, but also one to convert the power so that his iPad could be safely charged without blowing up. About to head for the shower I spotted him plugging in his iPad; “Ah, I see you sorted your adapter problems then” I said in passing. “Oh yes I did! Now, you see in the US we run on a lower power..............”

I spent the next 45minutes listening to a detailed conversation on power adapters, data packages and pretty much anything else you can think of, whilst clutching my shower things and slowly edging to the door, opening the door, and edging out. Finally, as I am literally edging the door closed it clicks “Oh” he says, “are going for a shower? Am I keeping you?” “Yep” I cry and make my escape.

Closing the door I breathe a sigh of relief and bump straight into Edward, the resident psychic. “You alright Edward?” I ask as I pass him. “Not really no” he says and balletically twirls and slumps into a chair”. My dreams of a long hot shower, having once again been within my grasp, slipped away as I inquired what was wrong with his dad. Edward explained that psychic voices(?) had directed him to a certain bookcase, shelf, book, page, chapter. He wordlessly handed me the book and tapped the relevant section, saying “read it for yourself!”. I dutifully read the lines – a description of the death of Che Guevara. I resisted the temptation to ask if his father was involved in a communist uprising on an island nation somewhere near the US, and instead went for the vague “oh right?”. Edward went on to tell me that this clearly meant his father may die soon. I suggested he call his dad; perhaps this would reassure him, but Edward disagreed and instead said he would begin to grieve for his father. After a further half hour of discussions on psychic power and Edward still a little upset about the Che Guevara incident, I sheepishly made my excuses and headed for the shower, where there was now a queue.