Hating on Auckland town

Sometimes I despise the rest of this country for its knee-jerk hatred of Auckland. For the way the word ‘latte’, spoken by an Aucklander anywhere out of their city, is cue for an eye-rolling jazz-handing “oooh, fancy!” The way doing anything more sophisticated than chopping carrots julienne style is a sign of the most condescending social snobbery. The way peoples’ faces drop when you’re on holiday and say that you’ve come from Auckland, then brighten when you add “but I was born on the Mainland”. For the way this charmingly provincial white-picket-fence harbour town is viewed, by the rest of the country, as a roaring, money-hungry, I-stayed-once-but-the-traffic-kept-me-awake centre of somehow un-New Zealand commerce, greed and vice – and then you drive home late and see the neighbours’ new festive season Christmas lights and think “Yeah, nah…

“Fair enough.”