I pulled into Auckland tonight after a wonderful drive down the northwest coast of the North Island. A perfect weather day, and spectacular scenery – beautiful beaches with massive sand dunes at Hokianga, green rolling hills and impressive coastal mountains. I also spent time walking among the Kauri trees, some of the oldest and biggest trees in the world, only found in this part of New Zealand.
After 4 ½ weeks on the road, I confess that I occasionally wax nostalgic about guilty pleasures from home. One of those pleasures is Mexican food. Good, bad or otherwise, I love it. It’s hard to find in this part of the world. So when I discovered that there was a place called the Mexican Café (known locally as The Mex – it was packed, and fun – the margaritas are the reason to go) a block from my hotel in the Auckland CBD, I caved and decided to have a very non-kiwi experience for dinner. After this, I’ll only eat fresh, delicious New Zealand cuisine the next three nights, or so I said.
I settled in at the bar and ordered a margarita to go with my plate of enchiladas. Brad, the New Zealander bartender, asked me where I was from in the States. He told me he’d traveled around the U.S. and had been to Florida, including Fort Lauderdale, my hometown. I asked him what he thought of Florida (we both agreed it was too hot for human habitation), and he said the highlight was attending an N.F.L. game. I expressed my pleasure and surprise – the other guilty pleasure I miss is our sports, which I confess to following by computer while away - and he said, “oh, I love American sports.” My jaw dropped – in Australia and New Zealand, that statement is up there with “your hair is on fire” or “here, have a $100 bill, I’m tired of carrying it” among the most unlikely phrases you’ll hear. The kiwis love their rugby, and the Australians love rugby and Aussie Rules, depending on where they live. Most people down here, when confronted with American Football, find it dull and perplexing. Notably, those who have seen it on TV – they televise the Super Bowl - are aghast at the number of stoppages for commercials (they’re dead on with that one).
Brad knew his American sports. We talked football, which he seemed to relish. He subscribes to ESPN on satellite dish so he can keep up with his very un-kiwi passion. I encouraged him to attend a college game the next time he was in the U.S. He asked which college I attended, and I told him “South Carolina.” Brad replied, “oh, Steve Spurrier. The ole ball coach.” I loved this guy. It was like a higher power directed me to this restaurant to satisfy my weakness for American sport. We talked about the differences between our college and pro games, and I mentioned that my second degree was from Duke (the first Duke/UNC game is tomorrow). Brad replied, “it’s good they got that Lacrosse mess cleared up.” Who knew? At least here, anyway?
Brad had an Orioles cap on, and he mentioned that he collected MLB caps – hard to come by in New Zealand and expensive, but he has 20 of the major league teams. He didn’t have a Florida Marlins ball cap, though. So I went back to my hotel room, pulled out the Florida Marlins cap I’d been packing in my suitcase, and brought it back to The Mex as a Waitangi Day present for Brad. I think I have a friend for life – apparently it’s a golden nugget for his collection (I decided not to tell him that the Marlins have the lowest payroll in baseball, and consistently sell off any good players they develop once they show an inkling of talent).
Though this post doesn’t necessarily extol the virtues of travel in Australia and New Zealand, and it definitely exposes my periodic outbreaks of weakness for things American while on the road in another country, it was cool to connect with a kiwi from 10,000 miles away about something I know like the back of my hand. And it was also nice to share a little piece of my culture, however base, and make someone’s day as a result. Maybe that’s what makes travel abroad so great, even when the subject descends to Tex-Mex and baseball.
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