I'll Try Again Tomorrow

I hate busses!
But they are the only game in town in Auckland except for my own feet.  My target for today was the Auckland War Memorial Museum.  The name is misleading.  It is far more a cultural and ecological exhibit.  It came highly recommended to me and sounded fun.  I looked it up on the internet, and it seemed easy to get to.  Ha ha ha ha ha.
It rained over night but this morning it was not drippy, and I even caught a glimpse of the southern sun.  My first chore was more groceries, so I proceeded to the store and had a good look around.  Among my takes was a small box of that Twinnings New Zealand blend, which we shall be tasting tomorrow at breakfast.
After dropping my food and drink off, I betook myself to get a bus pass.  They are called AT HOP, and yesterday I saw signs for the everywhere, but I didn't know what they were.  Predictably I saw no signs this morning, but I walked down to the ferry port where the internet told me I could obtain one.  They are rather like Oyster Cards.  You pay for the card, and then you can load it and reload it with value. You tap in on the sensor on entering the bus and tap out when exiting--just like the Oyster Card and the Magic Transportation Card from Amsterdam.  The exception is one has to register the thing on line, which is a pain.  I could use it today unregistered, but unless it's activated, and since I am a foreign visitor the information I was asked to give is completely useless to them, it won't remain valid.
I asked where to get the bus to the museum and attended the bus stop.
Now.  If there is a stop called "Museum" on the bus, it is a reasonable expectation, is it not, that the bus actually goes to the museum?  No.  This is not a reasonable expectation.  The bus apparently goes near--sort of--the museum.  I am always anxious on busses, but I began to feel even more anxious when no stops were displayed.  I resolved to stay alert because I knew what the museum looks like.  What I got instead was a fairly extensive tour of Auckland winding up and down hills.  We went through posh looking neighborhoods as well as rather sleazy ones with strip joints and dive bars.  We went past commercial districts, the university, and hospitals.  What we didn't do go by is the museum.
When we got back to the part of town I recognized, I hopped out.  Not wishing to waste the day, I went for a walk in Albert Park.  The hills are steep, and my legs got nicely stretched.  I entered a green world of trees whose trunks and branches resembled nothing so much as the giant squid from Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea.  Many massive branches sprout from the central trunk and they go writhing and spiraling around. They even criss cross one another.  I have never seen anything like it.  There are also conventional flower beds, statues and fountains--but those trees! I find that they are called Ombu Trees.
And then when I came home, I opened my fridge to get a drink of water and a wine bottle fell out and broke.  I picked up the biggest pieces and was able to sweep up the rest.  This has not been my best travel day ever.  Sigh.
To distract us from my frustrations, let's have some observations.  I have been surprised and intrigued by the variety of accents among the New Zealanders.  Some of them sound like North Americans, but others have a more marked New Zealand accent, which is similar to, but not identical to Australia's.  Why is this? Is it regional or the result of pervasive American entertainment.  Downtown Auckland "boasts" a MacDonalds, a Burger King, and Wendy's.  But most of the food on offer is Asian of some kind.  I am guessing that everyone in New Zealand speaks English, but I have seen many signs in Chinese and Japanese.  Normally signs and titles are bilingual in English and Maori, which I think is a nice touch.
I am going to try for the museum again tomorrow, and if it's not raining, I have figured out a way to walk there--up hill alas, and I can take a bus back.