CanUS & ANZCUS   I have stated many times in the past that, when it comes to travel, I take a Euramerican outlook, a phrase that includes a word I invented. This indicates that I feel that to me Europe and North America are two sides of the same travel coin, one that I identify with strongly. I do not find Europe or North America exotic, as some may, but they still aren’t quite the same, either. It also isn’t the English-language factor, as the UK and Ireland remain to my way of thinking quite European. Here is a possible basis for distinction: on a Cunard ship, put a Canadian, an American, and a Brit around the same table, and within ten seconds of listening, you’ll know who’s the Brit, but you will have a great deal of trouble distinguishing the Canadian from the American, and in more ways than just speech. (This of course excludes the French-Canadians, the Québecois.) It is certainly possible to distinguish a Canadian from an American, but it might take more than ten seconds. From a purely socio-travel and non-political point of view we could refer to the North American area as CanUS.

Other places I’ve visited (so far) remain “elsewhere”, many, but not all, belonging to the very exotic Third World. Barbados is English-speaking, but it’s very distinctive, and is not Euramerican. South Africa is an interesting case. It can be hard to pick out a South African of British heritage in a crowd, and one would be tempted to include them in the Euramerican sphere, but South Africa remains very distinctive and very exotic. There is an extremely heavy Afrikaans infusion into the culture, which I celebrate, and both are an overlay on the underlying indigenous African culture, so the country remains quite distinctive from the Euramerican sphere.

This sphere has been extended in my mind, though. In 2005, when I went to Siberia, I felt that without a doubt Siberia was an extension of Europe, and that’s how I continue to look at Siberia. No matter what geographers say, when you’re arbitrarily dividing one single continent, Eurasia, into two parts, only because of cultural differences (West versus East), the location of the traditional line between them bears adjusting. To me, Siberia (including the so-called Russian Far East), runs to what is de facto the Pacific shore of Europe. So much for an extension of the European side of the coin (at least in my mind).

And then I went to New Zealand, to be pleasantly bowled over. You see, as it turns out, it seemed that I hadn’t really left home at all. As much as I enjoyed the Samoas, for instance, I identify with New Zealand, which is different.

Just how, in my mind, Siberia extended the European side of the coin to the east, New Zealand (and I’m sure, Australia, where I hope to go next year) is extending in my mind the North American side of the coin a considerable distance to the west.

I’m really not quite sure what I was expecting, but it was as though I were in the US. No, I’ll modify that. It was just slightly different, as though I were in Canada. If New Zealand had turned out to have been the next province over west of British Columbia, it wouldn’t have surprised me.

And I’m sure Australia will strike me the same way. I’ve met and had long talks with a number of Australians, including on this trip, and the feeling of similarity remains very strong in my mind (and again, I’m being totally non-political here, this is just the point of view of a traveler viewing very similar cultures). I will also remind the reader that on the Siberia trip in 2005 I became friends with a group of some 27-28 New Zealanders (Kiwis) that I ended up giving instruction to in the Cyrillic alphabet (and they declared me an “honorary Kiwi”). Yet on first encounter, I didn’t realize they were anything other than Canadians or Americans until they told me. I would say that, more often than not, my experience has been that, more often than not, I cannot tell national differences on first encounter between Australians, New Zealanders, Canadians, and Americans (also British-heritage South Africans) sitting around the dinner table, most likely on a ship. Some will have distinctive speech patterns that will give them away immediately, but that’s also true of speakers from different regions within a country. Perhaps I should extend what I’d been calling the (North) American side of the coin to be the ANZCUS side of the coin (Australia, New Zealand, Canada, United States, with honorary association of otherwise exotic South Africa). My identification outlook therefore now extends as not only a transatlantic one, but a transpacific one.

I can also use a railroad analogy to thread together the places I particularly identify with. 2005 was the year of my Around the World by Rail via Siberia, and the second part of that included rail travel between Vladivostok and Southampton through Russia, Byelorussia, Poland, Germany, France, and the UK. That rail route can symbolize the axis, or the center, of the region I enjoy identifying with on the European side of the coin.

On the first part of the 2005 trip I crossed North America (CanUS) by rail from New York (via Halifax) to Vancouver. I want to also extend that to make a rail analogy for the ANZCUS side of the coin of places I identify with. My rail trip this year from Auckland via Wellington and Christchurch to Greymouth (all the remaining NZ passenger services), to be described shortly, extends that imaginary New York-Vancouver line through New Zealand, and when I cross Australia by rail on the Indian Pacific from Sydney to Perth (plus taking other rail connections in Australia), that will complete a rail route through all four countries from New York to Perth, forming in my mind an ANZCUS axis.

Two thoughts on this ANZCUS rail axis: (1) I will actually have traveled it in the reverse sequence: US-C-NZ-A; (2) It’s a very long imaginary line, since New York and Perth are twelve hours apart. They have “flip-side” times (barring DST), so that noon in Perth is midnight in New York and vice-versa.

New Zealand   We need just a little bit of basic structuring. Dutch explorer Abel Tasman in 1642 charted the west coast of these two islands and named them after his home province in the Netherlands, Zeeland, as Nieuw Zeeland. The first word was translated into English and the second one respelled. The waters that he traveled are now known as the Tasman Sea, separating New Zealand from Australia. The Australian island of Tasmania is also named after him.

Polynesians were already on the islands, the Maori people (rhymes with dowry). The Maoris are the largest of the Polynesian groups. Within NZ they tend to live in the north, around Auckland, giving Auckland the largest Polynesian population of any city in the world. They have asserted their rights, and Maori is an official language of NZ along with English. Maori may be used in Parliament, and in courts of law. There is a Maori television station, which, I was told, is a recent development. I watched it once in a while, since some programs had English captions. I also saw a bit of a program that teaches Maori. A mother in a restaurant said her son learns some Maori in school, although I strongly suspect it’s just simple stuff for recognition purposes only.

[Note that words in Maori can be recognizable from Hawaiian and other Polynesian words we’ve seen, such as nui (big), wai (water), tapu (taboo). Also man/woman, that in Hawaiian is kane/wahine, and in Samoan tane/fafine, in Maori is tane/wahine, and in Tahitian (coming up later) is tane/vahine. Thus the Polynesian triangle asserts itself.]

As you will find place names in North America of both English and Native American origin, you will find in NZ names in both English and Maori, such as a Hamilton and a Waitomo (notice the wai), a Hastings and a Mangonui (notice the nui).

Given that we had just celebrated Australia Day on the QV, it was odd that the day I returned to NZ from Fiji, 6 February, was NZ’s national day, Waitangi Day (note the wai), which celebrates the signing of the Treaty of Waitangi, NZ’s founding document, in 1840 between Britain and Maori chiefs from the northern part of North Island. It should be noted that the Maori name for the country, Autearoa, is widely known and displayed.

NZ consists of two major islands, logically named North Island and South Island. (Someone I was talking to conceded that the names aren’t too original, but—when Australians are in earshot—he likes to purport that Australia is referred to as West Island.) North Island has four peninsulas, making it dagger-shaped; the southern peninsula down to Wellington is the handle, two peninsulas to the NE and SW form the hilt, and the long slender peninsula to the NW is the blade. Auckland lies perhaps 1/3 of the way up the “blade” from the “hilt”. South Island is more of a longish rectangle.

If you look at a map you’ll see by their positions that more accurate names would have been Northeast Island and Southwest Island. Also, the islands don’t face each other as the names might suggest. If you moved South Island up, it would not bump into the peninsula with Wellington on it, but would instead nestle between the southern and western peninsula. Therefore, to cross Cook Strait by ferry from Wellington, at the western end of North Island’s southern peninsula, to South Island, you go WEST.

The major city on South Island is Christchurch, about 1/3 the way down the east coast, on the Canterbury Plains.

Auckland, in the north, is NZ’s metropolis. Of NZ’s population of 4.1 million, 1.3 million, or about 1/3 of the population, live in Auckland. Wellington and Christchurch each have populations in the 380,000 range, making Auckland triple the size of either one of them. Auckland was originally the capital, but early on it was moved to Wellington.

There is a stark population difference between the islands, as the population skews heavily north. Only about ¼ of the population lives on South Island as opposed to 3/4 on North Island, and, beyond that, 2/3 of North Island’s population lives in the upper half.

Geologically, the islands have a curious location, riding astride both the Pacific and Australian Plates. Most of North Island is on the Australian Plate, with only Wellington and a SE slice of the island on the Pacific Plate. Extending the line of that slice to the SW, it cuts diagonally across South Island, just along the Southern Alps mountain range, leaving just a west-coast sliver on the Australian Plate and most of South Island on the Pacific Plate. Therefore, the east and west coasts of South Island are moving apart, Christchurch moving 25 mm per year to the SE. As a comparison, fingernails grow at the rate of 30 mm per year.

What to choose when visiting a “new” country varies with the individual. I’ve been given various “must-sees”, according to other people’s tastes. According to my tastes, being an urbanist and a railroad enthusiast, I wanted to see the three major cities, and also wanted to travel return trip (round trip) on the three remaining rail passenger routes, Auckland-Wellington, Wellington-Christchurch (including Interislander ferry), and Christchurch-Greymouth, which runs over the Southern Alps to the Tasman Sea.

Auckland   I felt it that first evening at the airport hotel on the way to Fiji. Then, when I came back to Auckland for some dozen nights in New Zealand, I was sure of it. The only visible difference you notice (and this is so trivial), is that New Zealanders (and Australians) drive on the left. Beyond that, other than the odd person who did have a bit of a noticeable accent, that entire one-day stopover between Samoa and Fiji in Auckland, where I stayed at the airport hotel, could have taken place in Seattle, where I stayed at the airport hotel before flying to Hawaii in November, and I couldn’t have told the difference. You might say that airports, airport hotels, and freeways that surround them are the same world-over. They’re not, but let’s consider my second (real) arrival in Auckland from Fiji a few days later. I purchased a round-trip ticket (return ticket) on the airport bus and then went to downtown Auckland, where I’d be staying. The suburban streets could have been Canadian or American. We then went down Queen Street, the main street downtown. Granted that royal names (Victoria, Albert, Queen, King, Royal) are more common in Canada, New Zealand, and Australia, they are not unknown in the US. New York alone has the neighborhood of Kingsbridge, along with Kingsbridge Avenue (named for the King’s Bridge of 1683); Brooklyn constitutes Kings County and Queens, Queens County. New Orleans has Royal Street, and there are other such names elsewhere. The last stop of the airport bus was at the ferry terminal at the foot of Queen Street.

I had chosen a location that I was very pleased with. I’d need the ferry terminal that was right there, I’d need the new Britomart Rail Station a half-block up Queen Street, and everything else to see was accessible from Queen Street. My hotel was on the shore just two blocks down Quay Street from the Queen Street intersection and was located on the marina that had been built in connection with the America’s Cup. Auckland is known as the City of Sails, and they do take their sailing seriously. The hotel had a view of not only the marina to the left, but of the entire harbour/harbor to the north in front, including over to Devonport. Do realize that my north view of the harbor was the sunny view, since this was the southern hemisphere, and with the sun being over the equator to the north, the south side of a building is the shady side.

Auckland is a comfortable place to see, although there aren’t too many specific destinations other than those connected with the harbor. After the arrival night, I’d allowed two more nights before I was to leave on the train. The first day I took advantage the nearby City Circuit, a free bus circulating around the center, to get more acquainted with the area, and then I strolled around an art gallery, and along Queen Street.

SKY TOWER The main point of interest in Auckland was built only in 1997 just a few blocks off Queen Street, the Sky Tower. It’s another one of those tall towers that many cities have (Seattle, Toronto, Berlin) to provide good views of the area. The Sky Tower is the tallest building in the southern hemisphere at 328 m (1076 ft), and is higher than the Eiffel tower (324 m). Its elevators zip you up in 40 seconds to the main viewing level, with large glass windows with views in every direction, most notably north to the harbor with vessels everywhere, especially sailboats, and to Devonport on the opposite side of the harbor. You also can locate many of Auckland’s signature volcanic cones around its perimeter, including the petite one over in the center of Devonport named—what else—Mount Victoria. (The main street in Devonport is Victoria Street, and in Auckland, the Sky Tower is located on another Victoria Street, at the corner of Albert Street. You couldn’t get away from those names, even if you wanted to.)

The Sky Tower has two unique features, a minor one and a major one. The minor one is the glass floors. As you go up in the external lifts, the central part of the floor is glass, where you can stand if you wish. In any case you can see the ground falling away as you rise. Then, on the main viewing level, the perimeter of the floor, at the windows, has a number of glass areas that you can walk across and look down through. Somehow, the stable ones in the viewing area are more disorienting than the ones in the lifts. In any case, it’s posted that the glass, at 38 mm (1.5 in) is plenty thick, and just as strong, if not stronger, than the concrete in the rest of the floor. It still is a rather unique experience to stand over apparent nothingness between you and the ground way below.

And then there’s the jumpers. I’d read something about people jumping off the Sky Tower, but dismissed it, basically as idiocy, but primarily as something that maybe some jokers might sign up for once or twice a year. I found out differently.

Preparing to enter the Tower, I walked across Victoria Street onto the plaza around the structure, and passed a square platform, about one story high, on four legs, right at the corner. As I, totally unaware, walked right by it, something told me to look up. In retrospect, maybe I might have seen other people here and there looking up. When I did so, I saw the silhouette of a figure, arms and legs stretched outward, apparently coming right toward me. I staggered backwards, and barely kept from falling. The jumper was not headed for me, but for the platform I was unknowingly walking next to.

The jumpers are a lot more frequent than I thought. Every few minutes another one (shall I be polite and just call them “flying fools”) goes, and they’re lined up all day long. It is NOT a free-fall jump, but a so-called “controlled jump”. The jumper’s harness is connected to an (apparently loose) cable, and there are two guide cables all the way from the tower to the landing platform.

When you’re on the upper viewing platform, one of the things (besides the view) that you can see is the line of jumpers harnessing up, then one of them going over the edge, but from there, you just see the first second of the fall. It’s from the main viewing area just below that you get to see what happens. A red sign lights up saying “Jumper in Two Minutes”, then you wait and see a figure pop down right in front of you, and just hang there for several seconds. Then comes the release, and down he/she goes, along the cables to the landing platform, which, appropriately, has a large bull’s eye on it that you can see from above only. I asked, and about as many women as men do the jump, which surprised me. I had suspected it was just a macho thing, but apparently not. When I left the tower, I went down to the plaza to watch a few more jumpers from below.

I found just what I need on YouTube. It doesn’t show the upper viewing level where you can see the jumpers being prepared, but starts at the lower viewing level, where it’s more impressive, anyway. At about 0:43, note the landing pad down in the plaza. Another jumper is then shown from down below, as in my first encounter. Pause it at 1:09 and you’ll see what my very first impression had been. Auckland Sky Tower Jumpers

DEVONPORT My second and final day was a Sunday, and I bought a return ticket on the Devonport ferry. It takes about 10-12 minutes to cross the harbor to Devonport on the North Shore. The lay of the land reminds me of San Francisco. Auckland lies on the south side of its harbor, as San Francisco lies on the south side of the Golden Gate. The North Shore, connected to Auckland by the Auckland Harbour Bridge to the west, is the equivalent of SF’s Marin County, connected by the Golden Gate Bridge, also to the west. The only principal difference in the two areas is where the land connects to the north. While the Marin County peninsula is connected to the mainland to the east, around SF Bay, the North Shore here is connected to the mainland to the west, and ships exit Auckland harbour to the east. In any case, Devonport is an early 20C Victorian town, easily walkable. I had a walking tour map, which led me along the typically Victorian commercial structures on Victoria Street, which have a pleasant architectural harmony in the style of their shops, and then completely around Mount Victoria, to come back to the ferry along the shoreline. Even today, as you walk along the shaded promenade along the narrow beach, it is obvious that at one point you are crossing the black rocks of an ancient lava flow from once-no-so-gentle Mount Victoria.

Although I don’t abide heat well, the longish walk in Devonport was not particularly bad, as long as I sat down periodically. Only when I got back to the ferry did I see the headline at a newsstand: 40°-SIZZLER SUNDAY. Apparently, while the February summer weather otherwise had been pleasant, the heat this day was highly unusual, reaching an amazing 40°C (104°F). Maybe it was less humid than otherwise, I don’t know, but it didn’t seem all that bad to me.

Does the standard spelling of the name Auckland strike you as unusual? It should. The spelling CK is always used in English after short vowels as in “sick”, “buck”, and “dock”, making the spelling Auckland, named after a certain Lord Auckland, irregular. This sort of thing often happens with family names. Logically it should be spelled Aukland. For instance, there’s a kind of bird called an auk. The Auckland airport sidesteps the issue, since its code is AKL. This unusual spelling situation also comes up in name of well-known Bleecker Street in New York’s Greenwich Village. Again, it was named after a person, a certain Anthony Bleecker, though whose farm it originally ran. A more logical spelling would be Bleeker, similar to the word “bleak”. Then, of course, Greenwich should logically be Grenich ….

The Overlander   I had watched over the years how the passenger rail situation in NZ was holding up, just as it had struggled in the US, Canada, and elsewhere (but not everywhere). It was even threatened with complete closure, but the development was that three main lines were maintained for passenger service, although others were closed down (no service goes south of Christchurch any more, for instance). I was speaking to a man in a Christchurch restaurant who pointed out that you can fly from Christchurch all the way to Auckland in about an hour and twenty minutes, and it’s cheaper than the train. Of course, you see nothing of the area you overfly. In any case, three lines remain, and connect to each other (via ferry). The proud main line in North Island connects Auckland in the north with Wellington in the south, and is called the Overlander. The overnight sleeper service is long gone. In the summer travel season (which includes February, remember), a train runs daily in each direction. In the winter, service is less than daily. The full day run is twelve hours, roughly 7:30 to 7:30, running 681 km (423 mi).

Both Auckland and Wellington have maintained, and are improving and expanding, their commuter rail. What Auckland has done about its station is impressive. From 1885 on, there was a rail cut, crossing under Queen Street with a simple station down below. It was well located, a half block from the Ferry Terminal on Quay Street. (Where the Brits say “key” for “quay”, both NZ and US speakers [and probably the other ANZCUS speakers as well] say “Kay”.) In 1912, the Chief Post Office was constructed in Edwardian style over the cut on one side of Queen Street. It was an impressive structure, and was for decades a central meeting place downtown.

In 1930, an “improvement” was made. The Queen Street rail station was closed in favor of a newly built Beach Road Station some 15 minutes away, so the central rail location—with the ferry link—was no more. Then in recent decades, as in many other places, (1) rail travel declined and the foolish move away from Queen Street made even less sense; (2) downtown, including Queen Street, declined; and (3) the former very popular Post Office declined and was closed down. What to do?

Anyone interested in historic preservation, revitalization of downtowns, and revitalization of rail service should be very pleased with what was done. In 2003, the rail station, including all the commuter rail, was moved back to Queen Street and its ferry link, with the 1930 Beach Road Station being recycled into a university building. There were rail improvements in the cut below, but that isn’t where the station returned to. Instead the former post office up above on Queen Street was converted into a magnificent entryway, with escalators down to something like nine tracks below. The whole complex is now called the Britomart Transportation Centre, after the name of an area that was lost when landfill long ago reshaped the dock area. The area had earlier been named after a ship, which is another example of ship names showing up in island areas, where ships had been the only link to outside. Anyway, Britomart has bus service surrounding it, the Ferry Building a half-block away, and commuter rail service, plus some long-distance service, principally the Overlander.

All of NZ rail is a narrower gauge than standard. As a matter of fact, it’s Cape Gauge, based on the South African model at the Cape of Good Hope. It’s defined as 3’ 6”, which is 1067 mm, or just a little larger than meter gauge. This makes the coaches/carriages a little snug, but still comfortable. There’s a well-stocked snack bar, and part of one car up front is an open deck for outside viewing. The back of the rear car is a glassed-in sitting area. There is a crew change at the midpoint, which is cleverly done, since the Auckland crew coming south just changes over to work on the northbound train to go home, and the Wellington crew does the same.

It is said that on the Overlander you see every kind of scenery NZ has to offer, and it’s true. You see farmland, rainforest, volcanoes, snow-covered mountains, and coastline, down near Wellington. At the midpoint, there’s a most impressive snow-covered mountain to one side, and to the other is the pointiest volcano I think I’ve ever seen. When you pass the farmland, you KNOW you’re in NZ because of all the sheep, which invariably run away from the train every time. Still, I’ve been told that there are far fewer sheep now than in the recent past. (Never refuse to be served NZ butter, lamb, or wine.)

The official name of the route of the Overlander is the North Island Main Trunk Line. One well-known part of it is the Raurimu Spiral, which raises (or lowers, depending on the direction you’re going) the level of the route to overcome a height change in the mountains by turning the route in a complete circle. The Spiral also incorporates three horseshoe curves and two short tunnels, and is described on the train on the PA as the train navigates it, as is much of the route. In the Wellington Station is the plaque declaring the line an International Historic Civil Engineering Landmark, constructed 1885-1908, and signed by the NZ Institution of Professional Engineers and the American Society of Civil Engineers (those Americans do get around). The North Island Main Trunk Line opened for service in February 1909, so during the very month I rode it (each way), it was celebrating the centenary of its completion.

At the opposite end of the trip, the Overlander arrived at the impressive Wellington Railway Station, purpose-built in 1937, and also described as an important part of NZ’s engineering heritage. It was once NZ’s largest public building.

The best YouTube video I could find of the Overlander shows it in the northbound direction, starting with the traditionally impressive Wellington Railway Station, and ending with the contemporarily impressive Britomart Station in Auckland. It will be presented at the end of the discussion on New Zealand, at the point where I myself actually went northbound on the Overlander.