The outgoing Korean greeter asked us where we’re from and promptly reminded us how to say hello in French. Then he fired off detailed trivia about the four Canadian prime ministers who were born in Quebec.

Apparently, he has memorized tidbits for just about any visitor nationality.

This, it turned out, was the highlight of our visit to the Polynesian Spa in Rorotua, which, baffling enough, boasts being one of the world’s top 10 spas according to Condé Nast Traveler.

They say that those who fail to learn history are doomed to repeat it. “They” are morons, because the same could be said for chemistry, math, or French.

Yet learning something is no guarantee that one won’t make the same stupid mistakes later. I, for one, know the legend of King Canute, and I still tried to stop the sea from washing away my hot tub.

A little background:

New Zealand, is after all, the land of extreme sports. So it’s only fitting that taking risks is integral to the culture experience.

Instead of buying a car an sleeping in backpacker hostels every night, we decided on a campervan that converts into a bed. Bonus: you have your meals with a different natural landscape every night.

You can even give it a nickname and, if you’re a child of the 80s like us, you might fully realize your fantasy of living like a hippie for a month.

After a few days in Auckland, I started to suspect a government conspiracy with the hostels.

Grim, dreadful things, they are. Entirely practical without the slightest attempt to make guests feel cozy. The rooms are barren white with little ventilation, no curtains and the smell of feet baked into the carpets. The guests look like they’re serving time in juvenile detention. No one makes eye contact or says hello, as though doing so would make them someone’s bitch.

It’s like the hostels were purposefully built to keep people the shortest time possible in Auckland and go spend their tourism dollars in New Zealand’s isolated regions.

We were told that parked outside of any Auckland hostel would be several cars for sale, just waiting for recent arrivals to claim them. This turned out to be mostly false.

A few Googling minutes at the city’s public library (why us there no other public Wi-Fi in this modern city?) showed the way. Sites like trademe,co.nz and carz.co.nz were popular online markets. But the classifieds at backpackerboard.co.nz is the real treasure bin.

Lots of options, updated daily. A cheap pre-paid mobile plan with 2degrees and we’re shopping.

May we proudly introduce the campervan that will be our home and wheels for the next five weeks.

This is Edgar.

His name was John. But we re-baptized him. Bianca said the table in the middle reminds her of our neighbourhood bar in Montreal, Edgar Hypertaverne. So be it.

This is Edgar is daytime sitting-room mode:

… a generic downtown that looks like any other.

… a pleasant harbour with sleek architecture and lovely sunsets.

… a temperate climate where the temperature swings wildly between sun and shade.

… tons of Japanese, Korean, Chinese, and Turkish fast food joints.

… a liquor store on just about every city block.