Not What I Expected

Dearest Rachel –

After nearly a week at sea, I wake up this morning and grab my phones, only to realize that they don’t agree anymore. The old, shattered one is still working on Hawaii time, while my actual phone has just now updated itself to be presumably in line with the local time. Why now?

I mean, yeah, we’re pretty much in port at this point, but it still seems a little weird that it’s finally decided to sync with the ship.

Also strange is the fact that it’s past 6:30 in the morning (still early, but not as bad as some times), but it’s still dark out as we pull into port here in Auckland. Wait a minute; it’s still summer down here. We’re thirty degrees farther south of Polynesia. Shouldn’t the sun be up sooner, and stay up later down here?

I have to go so far as to check my old Cruise Compasses in order to verify this – I keep all the paper records in a binder, so asked to be able to refer to them in the future (which, apparently, is now) – and sure enough, the sun was up a minute or two before six there, in both Mo‘orea and Tahiti. However, it only stayed up twelve and a half hours; down here, while it’s not expected to rise until after seven, it is supposed to stay up until five minutes before eight this evening. So half my assumption is correct; just not the half that would make sense this morning.

Throughout our travels, it seems that our captain has made an effort to avoid the worst weather – at least during the day – which I’m sure is made easier by modern navigation technology. However, there’s nothing he can do about the weather in port when we’re scheduled to be there; if it’s going to rain, it’s going to rain, and we’re just going to have to deal with it. It makes the city look less, appealing, sure, but it can’t be helped.

On the other hand, by nine o’clock, the forewarned precipitation still hasn’t really started, so I head up to the 13th deck to take a look around at the city before I have to disembark to meet my tour.

I’m out the fifth-deck gangway in short order – and, for all the hoops I had to jump through to obtain it, I’m not being asked for my visa or anything – and it doesn’t take long before I’m waiting for my tour group to assemble. Dad would be proud of me, as I’m more than half an hour early (and even the guide has yet to show up). You, perhaps not so much. Oh, you might be as happy as I to be on solid ground, for all I know – and it’s not as if 9:45 is dreadfully early – but I don’t know if you’d be as keen to sit around for so long when there’s city to see.

Then again, neither am I. I can’t help but make my way to the closest high street to walk around a bit, and maybe film a little. To be honest, it’s easier to do before I’m walking around with the others, especially since, once I we start off, I find myself trying to take notes at first…

…but there comes a point at which I can’t keep up with the descriptions and take pictures and video at the same time. I have to choose what to do as we pass through one thing and another. It doesn’t help that I can’t always follow their narration as we walk along, unless I’m virtually at their side, engaging them in direct conversation. It’s enjoyable to be able to do so – they are quite personable and approachable – but it adds an extra layer of difficulty, in that it’s hard (and actually feels a bit gauche) to take notes in the middle of what simply feels like a friendly conversation.

While I do manage a bit of filming while I’m in this walking tour, becomes so much easier to do so afterwards, once I don’t find myself worrying about falling behind the group. That, and I’m that much less self-conscious when I’m in a crowd of total strangers that I’ll never see again as opposed to people I’ll still cross paths with at any time for the next two months. I can’t help it; that just how I am at this point.

Still, once the main portion of their work is done, our guides do manage to direct me to a bakery where I can get my hands on the locally-made rewena sourdough… whereupon I proceed to make my now-customary reaction video to food (or at least flavors – it’s not like I haven’t had bread, soda or gelato before).

And while the rain finally starts in at two in the afternoon, it still doesn’t seem all that awful as we all feared, as the warmth (I can’t say ‘heat,’ especially not after Polynesia) of the day is cooled down by this almost welcome drizzle. But slowly, the drizzle gains strength and power, until by three, it’s very close to pouring. It’s at this point that I’m starting to tire, and wanting to return to the comfort of the ship, except there’s one thing I haven’t had the chance to do; I haven’t been able to cast you to the waters of the harbor – and much of said harbor is fenced off, even barring the uncomfortable fact that the rain continues to get heavier.

It’s at this point I do what I’ve not been able to bring myself to do yet throughout this trip; I ask for help, from the same big, burly guy working the port as originally directed me to my tour group hours earlier. I show him my shaker, and he points me to a spot beyond the fences, where, several stairs below the level of the main dock, I can have a moment to cast you off without any interference, even from the wind (well, for the most part – if it blows in from where the ocean is, it can’t be helped).

“We’ll look after her for ya, mate,” he tells me.

Those words, that reassurance, that this is okay for me to do, is the first time I’ve really felt emotional about this, honey. Normally, I feel like I have to be somewhat surreptitious about leaving you here or there, assuming that no one would want someone’s ashes cast in such a spot. But to be directed to a place to scatter them, with an assurance that you’d be considered ‘home’ here – despite never having had the chance to set foot in the country in life – well, God bless you, Keegan, and God bless New Zealand.

I never expected such a welcome, honey, so I really hope you feel at home here. They are welcoming you here like angels in the midst of the storm, and I want you to know how much I appreciated it, so that maybe you could appreciate it – and them (or at least him) – as well.

Anyway, that covers my stories from Auckland, pretty much from beginning to end. I’ll no doubt have so much more to tell from the Bay of Islands and the various stops along the way there, but I can’t imagine a better welcome (although a warmer one would be appreciated, to be sure) than the one I got from Keegan and his direction.

Anyway, as always, keep an eye on me, honey, and wish me luck. I’m going to need it.