Thoughts on Moving Back to Auckland

I recently moved back to Auckland, the city I grew up in, after about 35 years away. Obviously, lots of things have changed.

I’ve changed, for one. I left the city as a naive thirty-something, still hopeful of a happy future despite having already experienced poverty, a string of romantic, social and friendship failures and some health problems. I’ve returned older, grumpier, way more cynical and with way worse health problems. Much of the middle years have been disastrous, with more poverty and more failures including that relationship, and much moving around the country from rural to small town to larger town locations, before finally realising that my heart was really still back in the city. Along the way, I’ve learned a lot, including way more self-awareness and how to stand up for myself.

So I’m different. But the city is also different. I didn’t expect it not to be of course, I have visited plenty of times over the years. Visiting is not quite the same as living in a place though, and the changes have really struck me now I’m here.

There are three things in particular that are noticeable. The first is housing. Starkly modern skinny townhouses jutting two or three stories into the sky are crammed in next to the tired old bungalows of the 50s, 60s and 70s, and even the occasional abandoned house. The mix of people living in them reflects this contrast.

Because the second thing I’ve noticed is the far greater diversity of peoples in Auckland now. There were always some non-white people here even when I was growing up, mainly Māori, Pacific Islanders, Chinese and Indian (from India I mean, not Native Americans). But now there’s a far bigger panorama. Don’t get me wrong, I’m fascinated by this, not appalled! They add so much to the city, including to the selection of foods available. (Yum!)

Simply for fun, I find myself often playing the game of ‘what language are they speaking/what nationality are they’. A few weeks ago, I heard people speaking what sounded like Spanish near my home. Spanish! In West Auckland! This would have been considered bizarre when I was growing up, but I was enthralled. (They were probably South American immigrants, of which there are quite a few in New Zealand.)

The third thing, which I kind of knew but had to be reminded of, is though officially Auckland is ‘The City of Sails’, it should really be called the City of Cars. Basically, you need a vehicle to get anywhere except your local shops. (I haven’t braved public transport yet.) As far as West Auckland goes, a lot of this goes back to the suburban ‘wastelands’ built out here in the decades after the war.

In the mid-70s, my then-husband and I looked at building a house out on what was then the edge of the city. We couldn’t afford it in the end, but what struck me was just how isolated these housing subdivisions were. There was literally nothing out there but the houses plonked down in the landscape, some footpaths, and the roads themselves. You were considered wealthy if you had a driveway or a fence. There were no parks, libraries, shopping centres, medical or community facilities, few buses except for morning and afternoon commuters. It was just… empty. So people made their own amusements, and acquired cars, because how else were you to get anywhere? I think this was the beginning of the classic ‘Westie’ culture (think like the Aussie ‘bogans’, I’m sure every country has its equivalent). My generation of Young Things were I guess ‘proto-Westies’.

Something similar must have been happening in the rest of Auckland, because now the city is choked with cars. And it’s built for them too, even the newest parts. There are footpaths around the city’s vast shopping malls and centres, but they’re still obviously arranged around the needs of cars and their occupants. And despite various efforts by central and local government to encourage public transport, I don’t think that’s going to change any time soon.

So here I am, adjusting to this, after over 20 years in a town I could walk at least halfway across on a good day. Never mind. The tediousness of motorways are far outweighed by the new and fascinating – there are whole parts of the city that didn’t even exist when I lived here last, even much of the old has changed almost beyond recognition. I’m enjoying exploring all this and (re-)acquainting myself with old and new.

And the annoyances are just little things, like I’m still trying to find somewhere nearby where I can buy all of the supplements I need, rather than having to go several different places, and I still haven’t found a good (and inexpensive) unisex haircutter yet. The gender division is hard around here, very masculine men’s barbers and women’s hairdressers which reek of perming lotion (which makes me ill). Um, no thanks.

So yeah, little problems, some adjustments, but overall, I’m glad to be back. Home has changed, but so have I. It’s still Home.