I began my second day in Auckland by boarding a train from Henderson,
transferring at Newmarket, and heading south—
a journey that felt heavier and hotter than expected,
wrapped in 25-degree humidity under a sky of mixed grey, white, and blue.
A sky that reminded me of people:
how depending on which side you face,
you meet a completely different mood.
Arriving in Pukekohe,
I stepped into a quiet town that somehow felt familiar—
a little like Picton, though there was no sea.
Just a gentle stillness.
I explored the main street,
noticed how few people were around,
and then sat at C3 Café for lunch.
On the trains, I saw two passengers reading real paper books—
how comforting that felt.
Pages turning, worlds unfolding
the analogue way that I still love.
Earlier, in Ellerslie,
I wandered in circles looking for the European-style village.
I must have passed the same block three times.
A local man noticed, smiled,
and I smiled back.
A tiny, human moment that felt warm.
But that’s solo travel, isn’t it?
You get lost, you sweat, you wander,
and somehow everything becomes part of the story.
A thought from Jared Diamond, author of Guns, Germs, and Steel,
returned to me today:
“The environment we are born into shapes our destiny.”
But as I walked alone through a strange town,
another truth formed in my heart:
“What we learn can rewrite the destiny we were given.”
Today, I learned through footsteps—
through wrong turns,
through the kindness of strangers,
through the rhythm of trains linking unknown places.
22,400 steps.
22,400 little lessons.
And this is why I love traveling alone:
because no matter how many mistakes I make,
I can follow my curiosity all the way
until the journey quietly becomes my own story.
glorialeeart.blog 
Leave a comment