Aubrey Rangi White sits in the sun on the concrete step of a unit at a Bay of Islands motel and says quietly "this here is a special place, you know".
He is talking about Waitangi, a small settlement of modest homes and a marae leading to a one-lane bridge, which takes a steady flow of tourists by coach and by foot to the better-known part of Waitangi, the historic and spectacular grounds where the treaty of this nation was signed in 1840.
Waitangi hits the headlines once a year when protesters arrive to interrupt the annual celebrations. They raise the ire of many of the locals and then depart, leaving Waitangi calm once more.
White works at the Waitangi Motel and lives here too, in a small house with beautiful views overlooking the sea and hills dense and dark green with native bush behind.
The motel is mostly empty today and this Waitangi where the locals live, just a few streets of housing for a few hundred people, is as peaceful and unhurried today as it is all year round.
At night you can hear the kiwis call, says White. There are about three living here, he thinks.
"There's one that calls from that hill there and it's answered by another one from that hill over there, and if you listen from about four in the morning, I don't know why, but a kiwi will call and it's answered by a morepork."
It's magic, he says. When you hear it, no matter how many times you've heard it, you think "wow".
Most of the land at the Waitangi settlement, including the land the motel sits on, is Maori land, governed by a trust.
The Treaty Grounds themselves, 205ha, were gifted to the nation by then Governor-General Lord Bledisloe in the early 1930s, and they too are run by a trust board, but this one is made up of descendants of Treaty signatories and representatives of people, Maori and non-Maori, who are associated with the site.
Many of the staff at the Treaty Grounds, though, are from Northland tribe Ngapuhi, the biggest tribe in New Zealand. It was their ancestors who argued over and changed parts of the Treaty before signing in the hope their lands and way of life would be protected in the face of the relentless arrival of white settlers.
About 500m in the other direction and a short walk around a bluff, Waitangi turns into Paihia.
Where Waitangi is quiet, its locals living in modest homes on Maori land, Paihia's land is carved into European titles.
Holiday homes, motels and apartments are built into the hills, down to the seafront, and the shopping strip has souvenir shops and restaurants, an ice cream shop and bars.
This place where the missionaries set up shop nearly 200 years ago is today a tourist hub and the commercial centre of the area.
Ferries depart from the pier to Kororareka (Russell) across the bay and boats take people swimming with dolphins or on fishing trips out around the islands.
White seems surprised when questioned whether there is any resentment from the people of Waitangi toward the cash-rich folk around the bluff.
After all, when the media descends once a year on Waitangi Day the images flashed around the country are of protest and dissent, a Prime Minister in tears, a bit of mud-slinging here and the jostling of politicians and officials there.
This place is portrayed as a hotbed of racial tension, divided by Maori land grievances.
"Is there tension?," says White. "Phew, I don't know. I'm a family person so I don't look for tension."
The idea of tension seems, in fact, to have never crossed his mind. Laid-back and charming, White would surely get along with anyone.
He says the kids from Paihia and Waitangi go to school together and everyone gets along. But yes, there probably is a different way of life this side of the bluff.
He chuckles and says if you sit here you can watch the big, expensive boats go out to the islands from Paihia on fishing expeditions.
"And they are flash. When you think of it, you get $40,000 of boat and you think, that's an expensive snapper. And you see, the old man here, he just rows out to that red buoy [he points to the harbour] and comes back with huge snapper, a bit of kahawai, there's his lunch. It's hard case."
People in Waitangi fish for different reasons to the tourists, he says.
"They don't fish for fun here, they fish to feed their families. That's why, if you take anything from the ocean just take enough for family, put back the little ones."
A Waitangi kuia, who did not want to be named, said the settlement had the marae and that was what kept the community together, as a whanau.
"We try to stay natural and free of commercialism. At Waitangi we're more into holding on to our culture."
The protesters make her angry, coming in from outside and behaving badly then leaving, making the locals look stupid - "it's okay for them, they can walk away".
She says there is "never, ever" any racial tension for the rest of the year.
"There are issues with the Treaty itself and the interpretation of the English to Maori and I think that's okay, to protest over that. But it doesn't mean we hate Pakeha."
Over in Paihia where sunburnt tourists stroll, people say the same thing: "There's no racial tension, love," said 77-year-old Alf Little who retired to Paihia.
"Everything is just peace and quiet," said another local.
A British man on holiday said he understood Maori grievances: "Let's face it, the Brits have been bastards everywhere they have been."
Many of the people who live at Waitangi can trace their ancestry to the chiefs who signed the treaty on February 6, 1840, and then back much further again.
For most New Zealanders, Waitangi Day comes once a year. But for the people of Waitangi, especially those who work at the Treaty Grounds, the day is relived every day as visitors are told and retold the story of the nation.
At the entrance to the grounds tourists can watch an audio visual presentation on what happened here, and if they pay a little more they can go for a guided walk.
Those who only watch the audio visual display will leave without a full sense of what happened.
The presentation has a rosy feel. It talks about "white goblins," that is, the settlers, but it does not get much worse than this.
I am told later the presentation used to be much harsher but tourists complained. English people did not like to be portrayed as bad guys so it was toned down. But some complain still, even to be called "white goblins".
The presentation does not tell tourists there were two different versions of the Treaty and that to this day it still causes controversy and protest.
And, while it tells how Hone Heke was the first to sign, it does not then tell them he went on to repeatedly chop down the flagpole at Russell to stop the British flag from flying.
Those who wander the site are blown away by the view. From the cliff top - where two national flags of New Zealand fly - they can see way out to sea.
They are intrigued by the meeting house, and its contrast with the colonial Treaty House. They say "ooh" at the lovely English gardens, and a pohutukawa tree next to an oak tree.
Those who take the guided tour are in for an entirely different experience.
Meet guide Wil Napier, a descendant of Hone Heke. Napier grew up here, the Treaty Grounds were his playground as a child.
Napier brings his history alive. His commentary is dignified and powerful - so powerful, Lorraine Archbold from Dublin is clearly moved: "It's been a very emotional experience, I wasn't expecting that," she said later.
Napier talks about how Kupe discovered New Zealand, travelling here from Hawaiki on a double-hulled canoe with a canopy on board to house the ailing and the young, trailing a long ribbon with mussels woven into the fibre to provide food rich in iron, which were also used for bait on the long journey. He explains how carvings were books for Maori, recording people's history, genealogy, traditions, culture, stories and legends.
He walks the path the chiefs walked on their way to sign the Treaty and tells how the original document had a clause saying Maori had to convert to Catholicism or Anglicanism - Maori deities were not to be recognised. Maori refused, and the clause was thrown out. Napier explains why two flags fly at Waitangi, the national flag the country uses today, but also another, earlier flag.
Before the Treaty was signed, both Maori and the British were concerned at the French presence in the country - and became even more concerned when a French man arrived in the Hokianga and declared himself sovereign ruler, so in 1835 the Declaration of Independence was signed. This meant Aotearoa could not be claimed by other nations and a flag was commissioned.
It has a red cross representing the British and a blue quarter representing an island surrounded by sea. Within the blue quarter are four stars with eight points, representing the four corners of the earth. It was an acknowledgement by Maori of the time of the other cultures already living here in the 1800s - Dutch, Portuguese, Spanish, English.
At the meeting house - the Whare Runanga, with a representation of Kupe gazing down - Napier explains the carved panels which were contributed by different tribes who signed the Treaty.
When he talks about ta moko (tattooing) he becomes even more passionate, telling how the lines were chiselled on to faces then ash was rubbed into them, a painful process, but the lines were earned by warriors and had meaning, telling of genealogical lines. But he questions the young - and not so young - Maori who go to tattoo parlours today and display ta moko on their faces.
Napier touches the markings on a carved warrior in the meeting house: "Those marks were earned. I challenge them [the young people] to tell me what war they got theirs from."
As the sun goes down, another coachload of tourists arrives at the Treaty Grounds.
They gather, chatting and joking, ready to go to the meeting house for a night show which will bring the Treaty alive, tracing the history from Kupe to the present day.
This collection of mostly middle-aged white people from overseas do not know what to expect.
Before the official welcome into the meeting house they are given a brief talk about the history and are told how they should behave as they are challenged by warriors outside the meeting house. When they are challenged it is clear that this is not just a nightly run through the motions for the Culture North actors.
The challenge is intense and the chatter of the visitors quietens.
The show uses historic quotes by chiefs during the debate about the Treaty - "go home Mr Governor and take the white men with you," says one. It tells of broken promises and cheating settlers, of flagpoles chopped down and of wars.
Afterwards Kena Rameka Alexander, director of Culture North and the man behind this night show, says he is descended from Kupe, but also has English ancestry.
He wanted to give a balanced picture of the history of this land. His ties to Waitangi are strong. There is a musket in the Treaty House given by King George IV to an ancestor, Waikato, who had travelled to England in the 1800s. Alexander wanted to find a way to not just tell the tourists what happened here, but to show them.
"We live the Treaty all the time," he says. "It's not just on Waitangi Day for us. The Treaty is every day of our lives, because this is our story, the north is our story."
Waitangi, a town of two halves
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