As it turns out, friendly people were waiting for me. When I handed over my arrivals card, with “new resident” ticked instead of the usual “visitor/temporary entrant” – it wasn’t exactly a “Border Security” moment. The lady asked me why I had chosen to move here. I said “Oh... work?” And she replied “Oh, that’s nice. Well, welcome to New Zealand!” Cool. Not exactly an onerous screening process. She didn’t even stamp my passport.
One of my future colleagues was waiting for me at the gate, ready for the hour long drive to my serviced apartment by the beach. I hadn’t expected anyone to meet me, so this was such a nice surprise that I could have cried. We eventually arrived at the office after a tour of the sights along the motorway. I was unceremoniously given the keys to the second car I ever called “mine” – a huge 4WD ute. Well, it seemed huge after the Festiva I’d donated to my sister.
|My view of Orewa. Pacific Ocean to the left.|
|Enjoying my first evening as New Zealand resident|