Who needs the rock star treatment when the lovely folk in the Far North so easily make you feel at home.
Mick Jagger strolls into a pub in Russell and the patrons, though shocked, leave him alone. Wonder if they'd be the same with our own legend, Richie McCaw? Probably, as New Zealanders don't do this big celebrity trip. Sure, people would thank Richie and want to shake his hand. But they'd otherwise leave him be.
Last month I was back to visit schools on our literacy programme in the Far North. And yes, I did stroll into one bar in a tiny place called Pukenui. But no one was shocked. The first pleasant surprise was being taken fishing off the wharf by a teacher aide, a delightful young man who couldn't do enough for me. Beats sitting in a motel unit with the rest of the afternoon and all evening to kill.
I've never seen a kingfish caught, let alone seen their shapes moving swiftly in clear water. Thrilling. My host used a live piper fish as bait and within moments a kingie struck. He handed me the rod. What was I meant to do? "Just haul it up, mate."
All right, so the one that got away was actually a very big kingie. But, like all fishermen's tales of woe, it didn't matter how big or small, it got free. It would have got thrown back anyway, like the kahawai I'd caught earlier. Several hours passed very pleasantly.