Auckland, but not as we know it

By Warren Gamble

A bomb has hit central Auckland. A strangely selective one. The only survivors are police, celebrity shoppers and VIPs in Ford cars quietly gliding around at random.

The odd pedestrian who wanders past the barriers is in for a lot of waiting, but the reward can be strange, and occasionally wonderful, sights.

Yesterday, a small crowd outside President Bill Clinton's hotel got to see one - the biggest motorcade on the smallest journey.

His mission was to get from the Stamford Plaza in Albert St to the Maritime Museum in Quay St. It is a minute and 400m away - but it took 28 presidential vehicles to get there.

By the time the lead police car was almost at the museum, the ambulance at the rear had barely left the hotel.

Like those silent movie stunts when impossible numbers of people emerge from phone boxes, the motorcade kept coming out of a small side-street: police car; tan car; presidential limo one; presidential limo two; big, bad black van; bigger, badder black van with Perspex dome; cars carrying officials, advisers, and finally the White House press corps.

Mr Clinton - how he must pine just to walk somewhere - gave a wave from the back of the second limo, which the loyal watchers believed was directed at them.

But many seemed even more impressed with the beastly, black machines. You almost wished for an incident so the dark windows would slide down and the boot would fly open, revealing sleek, dark-suited men armed to their perfect teeth with sleek, dark weapons.

But for a tranquil view of the ghostly heart of Auckland, you cannot beat the Sky Tower.

Yesterday, as leaders all headed to the Carlton Hotel for their official welcome, they provided a weird motorcade dance, conducted by pirouetting policemen.

Some looked headed for an undiplomatic tango, forcing a couple of smaller ones to actually halt and prove that it is the size of your motorcade that counts.

For all that, and the valiant retail efforts of Bill and Chelsea ("Why is that girl with him?" asked one confused Queen St pedestrian), the heart of the city is barely beating.

And despite the strange sense of freedom jaywalking across usually crowded streets gives, and the thrill of empty parking spots, the end of the Apec show tomorrow will bring the reassuring rumble of life.