Transtoxic: Encountering The Real New Zealand

In September 2006 the passenger service between Wellington and Auckland was threatened with closure. Supporters argued that the 12 hours journey could survive as a tourist attraction. Duncan Graham took an overseas visitor on the trip – and wishes he hadn’t.

Good morning ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Tranztoxic, a memorable journey through the scenic heartland of the North Island, enhanced by the marvellous array of colourful graffiti you’ll encounter during this 681 kilometre journey.

Feel free to ask questions, as I’m sure many of the things that you see will be quite different from your own countries, and don’t forget to take lots of photos.

In fact we’re currently running a best picture competition that we challenge you to enter. It’s a tough one: The task is to spot and photograph just one piece of untagged railway property. The best entry will receive a beautifully embossed collection of the first volume of ministerial statements on the issue dating back to 1999 and titled Zero Tolerance.

The second prize will be volumes one and two covering the past two decades.

For those interested in economic facts and figures New Zealand imports more spray cans per head of population than any other country in the OECD. These are made readily available under the pioneering Freedom of Expression laws that we’re proud to uphold.

Kiwis just love to litter and at most stops along the way you’ll see some fine examples of plastic bag and beer carton distribution, particularly around the national capital.

Another quaint custom, going back to the 19th century, is to build shacks that back onto the railway.

This allows the sections facing the street to present a pleasant picture of trimmed lawns and well-stained decks. Such scenes are boringly predictable – on the Tranztoxic you can see the real New Zealand, a land of dead cars, ripped mattresses, rusting iron and all the other bric a brac that will come in handy someday.

You’ve probably heard it said that we’re a robust nation of Do-It-Yourself people. We never know when a pile of empty plastic milk-bottles and broken glass will come in handy on a rainy day.

As you’ve noticed, the train is far from full giving you all an opportunity to move around the carriages at your leisure. Please don’t smoke, drink liquor you haven’t bought from our over-priced bar, walk in bare feet, throw things out of the windows or flash your bums in return at the funny folk north of Marton. Those privileges are reserved for the locals.

Why are they doing that? That’s a traditional regal greeting, expressing their pleasure at having visitors. That’s why this is called the King Country.

Primary production is the heart of this nation’s mooving economy, something we keep bleating about, ha, ha. We Kiwis love cracking jokes and here’s another. Our farmers really care for the land because they know they have the responsibility for passing it onto the next generation.

Those frothing brown streams flowing from the Waikato milking sheds, past the silage heaps covered in white plastic tastefully adorned with tyres, and through the farms’ open rubbish pits are all proof of our quest to do things better and more efficiently.

This is all part of our Clean Streams Accord, which allows 12 per cent of our farmers to pollute the nation’s rivers without penalty. Along with the spotted kiwi the polluting farmer is a protected species.

Many studies have shown that we can trash the land far better than Australians who are internationally known for their skills at environmental destruction – that’s why we call them cockies.

Film buffs will recognise majestic mountain scenes from Lord of the Rings and decrepit townships from Once Were Warriors.

Those men in orange jump suits watching the train are not Guantanamo Bay inmates. They’re railway workers taking one of their many well-earned breaks from maintaining the line. No sir, it’s not their job to collect rubbish or clean up the graffiti.

That task is allocated to criminals who have been sentenced to community service orders, but who respectfully decline to participate. Many of these people are what are known as ‘beneficiaries’. You may have come across this word during your stay in New Zealand and wondered what it meant.

It refers to those of us who get all the benefits from living in this marvellous country but prefer not to contribute to its upkeep. Which is, of course, our right under the Bill of Rights – legislation they don’t have across the Ditch as we laughingly call the Tasman Sea. That’s our way of miniaturising big problems so they’ll go away by themselves.

The train is currently running an hour late because speed restrictions apply once the temperature tops 20 degrees, something our engineers last century didn’t anticipate. No, we don’t apologise for the delays. That might make us legally liable for your failure to make connections at the other end.

We do hope you’ve enjoyed your journey and the scripted monotone presentation. Thank you for choosing to travel with Tranztoxic rather than fly at half the price and we do not expect to see you again.

ENDS

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