The reward: A Chinese Opera

I thought I spend a few days in Auckland on my way "back" from Tahiti onto Fiji. Visiting some of the island states in the South Pacific as "stop-over" with a Star Alliance ATW ticket on-route to L.A. requires nowadays, compared to my route Auckland - Fiji - Cook Islands - Tahiti - L.A. some 20 years ago, each time a departure from Air New Zealand's homebase. No worries, it is still summer time down south. And three days are just enough to take time for some unfinished business, including a decent farewell.

I decided to stay this time at X-Base, one of the popular new generation "brand" backpackers: offering a bed in top centre locations, with lobby, reception, internet and WiFi, bar & restaurant, equipped kitchen and dining room, TV/video room, laundry, as well as tailored travel services and even a job promotion center. With revenues of at least 200 dollars per 8-bunk-bed-room/night, and clients that won't complain a lot, a highly lucrative business model.

It seems to me their guests changed too. Fruit picking eventually was also 20 years ago on the agenda. If I remember well, mostly young people from UK. Still, the majority in "classic" backpackers, offering a bed for 10 dollars, were tourists and globetrotters. That ratio changed, indeed. Richard Katz probably would produce that kind of "didn't-I-tell-you-stupid" smile, having his observations made on his journey in the time of great economic turmoils in-between the two world wars confirmed: the vast land of Australia and New Zealand not used to its potentials due to its small population, versus the large number of labor work force in an overcrowded "old" Europe - exploited, without jobs, resulting in increasing poverty and consequently social unrest.

Well, when I entered my room late night at the 6th floor to climb up to the "upper deck" of one of the 4 double bunk beds - somehow squeezed into each of the four corners - I saw in the screen reflection of a PC some of my inmates sitting on the floor assisting a video. Love Actually - Hugh Grant as prime-minister in that kind of romantic comedy Christmas-eve movies around family reunion, love, and charity. At least that's what I got attending involuntarily the "audio-only" version with my small travel pillow covering my ears. Beside the 3 female room mates - from Ireland, England and Germany - I could identify also the voice of the Irish guy below my lit, as well as two or three other male voices. Half asleep I didn't bother much about the crowd, though upon arrival I was told all 4 upper lits are not occupied at that time and I may select anyone of these. However - the movie wasn't finished yet - some words of Spanish brought me back from the land of dreams. A group of new arrivals entered the room. Three young guys from Argentina that just finished their first 12-hour working day on their 6-month working holiday visa. One might say, the boat was full by now. However, early morning, when I fought my way through all the personal belongings covering the floor and space between the bunk-beds, I felt some of the beds had double occupancy - including that below mine. No worries, no rules - I am the only "pure" globetrotter in this room, while replacing the party dress of my Irish room mate, who eventually is jobbing for 3 months in a bank, attending loan inquiries.

  

That's what I'm talking about when I say things changed in the backpacker landscape down under. There is a large group of young people in their 20s and 30s looking, even on a short-term basis, for means to enjoy a the life-style of a globalized world - earning and spending money in an exchangeable urban environment, be it common brands, shopping malls, fast food, or even price levels. The new generation of backpackers, like X-Base or Nomads, are just a response to that change - it's less about travelling but rather a form of mobility that needs to be catered for. For that reason you'll find the job center just next the in-house travel agency: have fun & work. So it's not of any surprise picking up Spanish words along the corridors of my place. Here they meet and exchange information. Like my 3 young friends from Argentina. They just arrived, but tomorrow they're going to play soccer at the central park. "One knows", using Facebook and staying at X-Base.

Eventually I had in mind to write about my "unfinished" business and a phenomena that you cannot plan, nor demand: Feeling rewarded! That type like "The journey is the reward".

The first issue is quickly told. Though I overcame long years ago that kind of collector's attitude, it came up along my first trip around the world keeping a coin of each of the countries. That hobby failed, as I thought it should be coins of eternal value: gold.

But as time goes on - meaning one gets more romantic - I extended my stop-over to reward myself for my trip "ATW+20" by getting a Kiwi - in gold. In fact, the Kiwi found company - the brand new FijiTaku, displaying the unique and endangered South Pacific Hawksbill Turtle. All in exchange of my cash-surplus in dollars ... with the US still ahead. No worries, as long as my credit card covers my basic travel expenses.

But that's not the REWARD I'm talking about. It's about saying "good-bye" to a place, and time, that you enjoyed for 2 months, without knowing if you ever will come back again. Extending my stop-over for 3 days allowed me walking on mild late summer days through the streets and harbor of Auckland. At the last day I found myself sitting at the town hall square, hosting the Auckland Arts Festival 2013. "When the Gods came to Earth" opened the afternoon, a short video composition of S. Krishna, followed by some live Jazz in the nearby park till sunset. On my way back I passed the Civic Theater  full of people ready to enter. I saw before in a brochure that today's big festival event is a performance of the Kronos Quartet, featuring Wu Man - "A Chinese Home andGhost Opera". I hesitated. Might be sold out. Might be expensive. I walked on, but wouldn't that be the kind of farewell a last day deserves? I turned back. Though I calculated and used up my cash in NZ dollars, I still had my credit card. Spending money on gold can't be called a reward.

Oh, the entrance hall was already empty - the performance just must have started. However, take a chance. Go in, and ask at least. I was sent to the ticket office, where I asked if I still might get a "cheap" ticket on the side or up on the veranda. "We have one ticket left that just was given back. It's a very good place in the middle. You may have it.", said the lady with a smile, "It's for free! Quick, the concert just started, you still might sneak in."

I won't enter into details, but it was an amazing, last evening. A journey in a journey. A performance that doesn't fit in a defined genre ... taking the audience on an audio and visual time travel from China's past to its presence. So, tell me, how else I may describe the emotional part of a reward. 
For me there's no doubt: always the journey is the reward!