KEY POINTS:
Cardiff IS a city with desperately few charms. It's laden with the worst architecture of the 1960s, shapeless blocks stuck up in a hurry with the cheapest materials man can buy. And that's the pretty part.
The rest is half-brick hell - interminable terraces of housing so depressing you'd rather go to prison than live there.
Nightfall brings a conundrum. Cardiff is at its most majestic in the dark, particularly the sort of dark where you can barely see your hand in front of your face.
Spirits, though, are crushed when you step outside and realise the streets have been invaded by armies of beer-swilling youths who would define a posh restaurant as one that insisted upon patrons using cutlery.
At their sides roam their short-skirted harpies, smoking and cackling their way from one pub to the next. By morning the streets are awash with chips, most of which had at some point been uneasily perched on the stomachs of the afore-mentioned harpies.
There is broken glass aplenty, tossed beer cans, junk food wrappers and a leisurely early morning stroll through Cardiff inevitably ends in the angry realisation that these Welsh jokers actually fleece people of £5 to cross the Severn Bridge to sample these non-delights.
But amidst the squalor, the cheap shops selling their tat and the pubs of such dubious cleanliness it would be wise to bring your own glass, there stands a magnificent beacon of hope and ambition.
The Millennium Stadium - smack, bang in the middle of Cardiff - is a structure to last the ages, it has a wow-factor like no other.
Here stands this 75,000 seat stadium, all 40,000 tonnes of concrete and it's entirely possible to wander within spitting distance and not even realise it is there. Were it not for the 90m steel masts at each corner, the stadium wouldn't be visible above the skyline.
The wow-factor really kicks in when you get inside and realise a stunning optical illusion has been pulled off. The Millennium Stadium is like Dr Who's Tardis in that it is a whole heap roomier than it appears from the outside.
It is one of the great sporting amphitheatres, a superbly modern stadium that, given it sits on the site of the original Arms Park, doffs its cap to history.
It is a stunning feat to have dropped this wonderful ground - maybe even the best rugby ground in the world - into the centre of a major city.
And the Welsh did it with minimum fuss.
Once they knew in 1995 they would be hosting the 1999 World Cup, they conducted an extensive review to determine how they should achieve their goal of building a state-of-the-art national stadium.
They decided to tear down the Arms Park, spin the field 90 degrees and stick up the Millennium. The National Lottery chipped in £50 million and, with a shortfall of £114 million to make up, the Welsh Rugby Union rallied the corporate troops and the cash was raised in a flash.
The building fell behind schedule so the Welsh started round-the-clock construction. Night and day they were at it and the Cardiff City Council said go for your life.
They reaped the reward of their efficiency as the Millennium Stadium was used for various big English football clashes when Wembley was under construction. The Millennium is also a regular host of the Heineken Cup final and of course has snaffled a few World Cup games.
The stadium is a huge money-spinner for the city. It is a tribute to the people's pride in their national team and the passion they have for their national sport.
Those Aucklanders in Cardiff this weekend might gasp at the unsavoury elements. They might moan about not being able to get a decent latte anywhere, or the absence of Eggs Benedict.
But for all Cardiff's fallibilities, it has succeeded where Auckland failed horribly and the only people who need be ashamed this weekend are those from the City of Sails.
