Outside the airport it begins. Pat pat pat on the window of the bus into Auckland. Everyone sheltering. No-one to be found. Just when the traveller wants to chat to the locals. Discover where to go, where to stay, where to get a good meal at the end of the day.

Squelch goes the traveller's shoe as he steps onto the coach heading south to Wellington. And when he sits down, pools of water form around the bottom of his trousers. Suddenly, he understands why New Zealand is such a green and luscious land.

At dusk, the coach pulls into Rotorua, a small spa town. All around, steam rising from the ground. And still the rain comes tumbling down.

The traveller throws down his sodden luggage. In a hurry, he plunges his weary body into the warm and soothing waters. Outside, in pools between the rocks, he relaxes and lets droplets roll off his nose.

Then on the road again. To the Caves of Waitomo. Deep underground in the darkness, the glow worms light up the universe and the traveller marvels at their work.

Last stop Wellington. End of the line. Now, the weather is better. Almost fine. But the traveller, he has run out of time. He must be back in Auckland to catch a plane.

So the traveller runs to the station. He pushes past the barrier. And with all his might he clambers aboard the Tranz Scenic express train as it chugs off into the hills.