Daily Photo – Navigating Te Komititanga Square in the Rain

To escape the heavy rain, I’d been at the New Zealand Maritime Museum in Auckland, located adjacent to the Viaduct Basin, and I was now heading back to my hotel. As the rain continued to fall, I came across Te Komititanga square where, among other things, stands the grand and ornate former Chief Post Office.

The building operates as a train station servicing the greater Auckland area, but it began life as one of the most important buildings in the country when it was officially opened in 1912 by then Prime Minister William Massey in front of a crowd of 8,000–10,000 people. The fact that it was located next to the harbour ferries, railway station, tram terminus, and commercial wharves shows just how important the postal service was at that time.

I’d read that it was recently transformed to service part of the Auckland train network; inside, you can see the original century-old stained-glass domes along with a massive 14-metre-long hand-blown glass chandelier that hangs in the main space, which really is quite impressive. The area immediately outside the building has been turned into a large pedestrian plaza that acts as a connection to the city, as people come and go from the station and head into the city and surrounding business and shopping areas or link up with the ferry terminals at the nearby wharves.

It also acts as a spot where you can take photos while standing in the rain, getting odd looks from people as you get extremely wet and then re-orient yourself to work out in what direction your hotel might be!

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Daily Photo – Navigating Albert Street in Auckland

In the morning I felt like going somewhere indoors, a museum perhaps, or anything with a roof for that matter. It was still raining, and the drenching I had received the previous day had left me with a limited selection of dry clothing. What I had on felt like an asset worth protecting. I went into the Strand Arcade, tucked between Queen and Elliott Street in central Auckland. It was long and thin, with polished tiled floors, narrow shopfronts pressed close on either side, and a high glass ceiling from which banners and an old-fashioned lift hung. The place carried the feeling of a slightly faded but dignified slice of a bygone era. I ambled around slowly for a while, but with nothing to hold my interest, I headed back out onto Queen Street, which, frankly, was a disappointment.

There was a time when Queen Street was the place to be, the social and commercial spine of the city. If anything was happening, it was happening here. Heavy traffic flowed past crowded footpaths, and the street carried an energy that is now difficult to imagine. These days, the crowds have drifted elsewhere. The pull of the suburbs and their sprawling malls has drawn people away from the city centre, leaving behind stretches of empty pavement, buildings sitting idle, and a place that feels in need of a good spruce-up. Perhaps it was the rain, but there was a sense of something slipping, quietly but steadily, into decline. I kept walking until I reached the Viaduct Basin, and the contrast was immediate. Here, the city felt awake again. There was movement, noise, and a sense of purpose. Cafés and bars hummed with activity, and people hurried along the waterfront in small groups, trying to avoid puddles and the bursts of sea spray whipped up by the wind. I carried on until I found myself outside the Maritime Museum at the Viaduct Basin and decided to take a look. This was not born of any deep passion for sailing, but rather a practical need for shelter. I spent several hours wandering through the exhibits, leaving a faint trail of small puddles wherever I went.

When it came time to leave, I stood in the foyer, watching the rain bounce off the pavement. Just as I was considering my next move, I noticed the café was open, so I decided to linger a while longer, sitting by the window, sipping coffee, and watching the rain strike the glass as if it were being sprayed from a garden hose.

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Daily Photo – St Matthew-in-the-City In Auckland

I stood in the museum foyer near the entrance, watching the rain bounce off the pavement and wondered what to do. The wind rocketed off the harbour and swirled between the buildings, driving the rain at odd and unexpected angles. Along the footpaths and streets, it had gathered where the gutters were blocked, forming large puddles that stretched across everything, creating a kind of liquid obstacle course that I was now faced with. Looking out into the damp, windblown murk that hid the city, I came to the conclusion that I couldn’t put it off any longer. I zipped up my vest, took a deep breath, stepped out into the watery chaos, then sprinted across the street to the first covered shopfront I could find.

From there, I spotted the next dry patch and made a dash for it, stopping briefly to reassess. I continued this zigzagging pattern up the street for some time, pausing at traffic lights where heavy traffic sped through puddles, sending sheets of water onto the footpath, right where I stood.

After several minutes of this, I came to a large, busy intersection. On the opposite corner, diagonally across from me, stood St Matthew’s Church, which just happened to be open. I dashed across and ducked inside, not for any religious purpose, but simply because it was open, it was free, and it gave me a chance to dry off before continuing my slow assault up the street.

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