I’ve always wondered whether Londoners visit Covent Garden or ride the open-air bus or walk the endless pilgrimage to Buckingham Palace. We see tourists in our own cities (well, used to): they’re the ones with the daypack and a map in their hands. But what are they trying to find? What would a tourist settling into a hotel room in Auckland do with only 48 hours before they’re onto the next destination? With that in mind, I agreed to play visitor in my own hometown.
I packed strategically, never mind that I could practically run home if I forgot something. I took sensible walking shoes, something chic for the evening, and an umbrella. I also took a
