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About Tauranga

Now, me, I’m picturin’ it all cinematic-like, Del Toro style. Fog rollin’ in, her standin’ there, sassy as hell, givin’ me that “What’s your offer, painter?” look. I’d be nervous, sweatin’ like a pig, thinkin’, *Bob, don’t screw this up, keep it chill.* Maybe crack a joke—“Wanna split a canvas, darlin’?”—but nah, she’d prolly roll her eyes. Realism check, Bob!

My property

In a ramshackle maze of dirty alleyways, women and girls work day and night in tiny cubicles, meeting the men who pour in from the nearby highway. Many of the prostitutes have always .

But then, BAM! My phone buzzes again. It’s work. They need me back ASAP. I’m like, “Seriously? Can’t a guy enjoy his day?” I rush back, and on the way, I get stuck behind this slow-moving bus on Ngaio Gorge Road. I’m yelling at the bus like it can hear me. “C’mon, move it!”

Ngaio Marsh House is a hidden and unique cultural treasure