Penniless in Tauranga

After picking up our luggage, we passed through customs in Auckland a little before 2:00 a.m.

Surprisingly, they let us keep the salt, rice, and cooking oil we’d bought in Tonga. Our passports were stamped yet again.

Next, we searched for somewhere to rest – finally settling on a booth upstairs, near the fast-food chains. 

Beside us, an older couple drank cups of coffee and watched us, suspiciously, from the corners of their eyes. I think I fell asleep sometime after 4:00, feeling a little paranoid about our unwatched valuables.

Two hours later, I woke up (a little disoriented) to the alarm. Our bus to Tauranga would depart in half an hour. Groggily, we carried our things downstairs, through the bright and chaotic airport. Everyone seemed to rush toward us, and we wheeled our trolley through the crowd, like a shield.

It was cold outside, and suddenly quiet. The dawn was just a distant light beyond the eastern mountains and we could see our breath, clouds of vapour escaping as we talked in low voices.

It was four hours to Tauranga, and we had barely eaten or slept. The bus did make one rest stop, at a café that served premade sandwiches wrapped in cellophane, watery coffee, processed hashbrown patties, pre-cooked mystery sausages, runny eggs, and toasted white bread.

Starving, we settled for meat pies, and then felt sick all day.

By the time we pulled into Tauranga, we were exhausted. We hiked our packs a few blocks, and then caught a city bus to our chosen hostel: “Just the Ducks Nuts.” (The logo entails a cartoon duck looking down his shorts with an expression of bewildered delight.)

We rang the bell, and were admitted by Ken, the owner, and his utterly beautiful little girl, who ran up to introduce herself as Tai-Li and announce that she was two. I congratulated her on both counts, and she proudly showed me her kiwifruit, which she ate in dramatic bites before it fell off her fork.

Ken recommended that we sign up for work at all of the employment agencies in town, and he marked them on a map for us. He said that he’d do his best to find us orchard or pack-house work in the meantime.

So, without food, rest, or even showers, we dropped our packs and walked back into town.

We managed to hit all five of the agencies (and even a pet store and an Asian market) before finally stumbling through Pak-n-Save for some much-needed groceries. We spent a small fortune on meat and cheese, eggs, bread, vegetables, fruit, noodles, spices, and soap.

By the time we made it back to the hostel, it was after 6:00 p.m. We hadn’t slept in two days, and we had spent most of the past few hours walking around in an unfamiliar town. Strangely, we seemed to gain energy as the dusk thickened. We met some of the other guests – many of them from Korea, Malaysia, and Taiwan – who were having a little party.

The other guests were very refreshing to me. They were polite, very generous, kind, and funny. A few of the boys built a cozy fire, and the kitchen filled with the delicious, and slightly unfamiliar, smells of Asian cooking.

Finally, the two of us showered and ate.

A full belly, a crackling fire, my hair drying after a hot shower – it was time for bed. I heard the familiar tune of “happy birthday” sung in a mixture of foreign languages, and felt happy.

The next day, at 7:00 a.m., we had an appointment to sign up for work at the local fish factory. Once more, we made the half-hour walk into town. The induction lasted all morning, and it was past noon by the time we’d had the necessary interviews, filled out the hours of paperwork, and listened to the important safety talks.

I didn't relish the thought of gutting fish for a living, but I was feeling a little desperate.

We hadn’t had breakfast, so we were suckers for a $12 Chinese food buffet we happened to walk past – especially after the succulent meal we’d missed out on the night before. We agreed to go in with hardly a word passing between us, and joyfully indulged ourselves in sushi, spring rolls, salads, noodles, rice, soup, pork, and saucy vegetable dishes. When we were so full we couldn’t finish our plates, we had coffee and dessert. We had been eating for more than an hour.

$24 poorer but content with life, we walked belly-out into an internet café to look for jobs. We ended up chatting with John’s mom on Skype, and decide to print out resumes for walkups the next day. On the downtown waterfront, there are dozens of bars and restaurants, so we planned to look for kitchen work.

As it turned out, though, Ken had found us a few days’ work in a kiwifruit pack-house. The season was 90% finished, so it would only be temporary – but it was still work, and we were in desperate need of it. We’d start in the morning – and Ju, our new Korean friend, offered to drive us.

With the kitchen once more full of friendly voices and good smells, with an income on the horizon, with the fire glowing and a new book to read, I felt utterly at home, welcomed and safe.

I felt that I was going to like living here for the winter.