Easter - and not an egg in sight

Today I left the city on the 199 westbound to a tip of Auckland, a place called Point Chev (it's short for Chevalier but no one calls it that) to see what life was like out west.

But not before a wake-up double flat white in the Strawberry Alarm Clock and Easter greetings to its resident animals. Today it was the tortoise and the octopus. The bunny was busy.

So, Point Chev. First stop's a cafe called Vicino, where I sit outside with a flat white and a reheated wodge of beef lasagne ($6.50) and the Dog has some water (free). At the table next to us a mobile rings It's Not Unusual and two women behind us talk leisurely about sewing and growing vegetables. They're all locals.

A lime green chevette chugs rustily by. Twice. Point Chev is a slow-paced place, even for boy-racers.

We walk down to the beach then up a hill where we pause at a bench in the sunny breeze and take in the city views across the shiny water. An ice cream van somewhere behind us belts out Greensleeves but when it stops the birds start up again and the grasses rustle around.

It's lovely.

But as the sun starts to dip, a cold beer becomes an inviting prospect.