The Busy State of Being

The guy in the photo with Jimi Hendrix is Wilson Pickett.  Just in case you wondered.

We're busy planning our trip to the South Island, looking at possibilities and time and costs.  We've decided that we'll head to Australia at the end of January, because our NZ visa expires (and the additional time here doesn't quite justify the price).  So this means extensive time going through brochures, looking online, talking to people - do we want to drive, fly, bus?  Where to go?  Where to stay?  And then, where next, how to get there, what will the weather be like (can we avoid cold?), all that.  Comparing prices, weighing options, freedom of movement (car) versus easier travel (fly or bus).

Being a rolling luggager is WORK, I tell you!

Our hearts go out to the people of Samoa and Fiji - both island nations (and other outlying islands) were slammed by Cyclone Evan, and we definitely know what a major storm can do to a small island.  The reports of entire towns being under water are incredible, and we've been watching the news constantly.  (The islands might be larger than St. Thomas, but they are also flatter - so the damage is different.  Winds were recorded up to 200 k/h.  Class 4 cyclone/hurricane.  Rotating clockwise, but that doesn't make the damage any less.)

Because New Zealand, while a European country at heart, is in the midst of Asian and Pacific Island influences.  This is the neighborhood of the country.  We are in Pacifica, as it is called here.

And because New Zealand seems to be in the path of Evan, who has taken a turn dead south and is aiming for us.  Fortunately, with the colder ocean temps (seriously cold) around here, he will quickly lose strength.  But some wind and much rain are expected over the weekend.  (Do you know any other two people who could travel halfway around the world and manage to find a major storm??)

Also, we're meeting up with friends tomorrow - they arrive in Auckland for about 40 hours before catching a cruise around Australia or something - and since we missed meeting up when we were in Washington DC, we look forward to spending time with friends on this side of the globe.

So plan your trips!  We'll meet up with you!!!  And I'll report in later, when life isn't quite as busy.

Weekend Down Memory Lane

Dec. 17, 2012  (Richard’s birthday!)

We’re spending part of our time in Auckland looking at different possibilities for tiki touring around the South Island – but we’re also enjoying everything that Auckland has to offer.

And with a sunny day, and warm weather, a wander through a few parks and time in the art museum seemed like a great Sunday activity.

There seems to be a park without a name surrounding the old clock tower building at the University of Auckland, a bit of a wild and untamed park with wandering paths, tall trees, mown lawns and uncombed flowerbeds overflowing their borders.  Plus the clock tower building, which had an old colonnade, somehow with the feel of a Regency abbey or convent, which was part of our route through the park.

Then into Albert Park, a very British and very manicured park, with symmetrically place flower beds and rows of palm trees and of course the fountain in the center of the paths.  The Auckland Art Gallery is in one corner of Albert Park, so this was an easy walk from our hotel (despite the fact that the park is actually a hilltop and much of the hill itself – but so much prettier than walking around the somewhat level route that circumnavigates the park).

We started with the show “Who Shot Rock and Roll” (and these are photos from the exhibited, collected from online - not my photos) – this has been touring the world, and is a retrospective collection of over 170 photos, from 1955 to the present, showing rock and roll in all its forms and stages – rockers before they were famous (a very baby-faced Elvis at a diner, or Jimi Hendrix in a tux doing backup), relaxing before or after a show, mid-show (and mid-mosh-pit), all that.  There were faves – Mick Jagger in a double-exposure with a cheetah, because it was deemed too dangerous when trying to get the cheetah to sit in the front of a sports car with Mick – Paul McCartney looking in the rearview mirror while driving down a London street, a pic taken by his wife Linda – Bob Dylan at a press conference holding a puppet as a prop – another Mick photo, post concert, looking exhausted on a stage covered in shoes thrown in tribute – John Lennon in New York – Chris Martin (Coldplay) looking pensive and almost like Rodin’s “The Thinker” – Bruce Springsteen smiling shyly for the camera, wondering why anyone wants to take his picture.  It was all there, captured by photographers who became famous through these photos, these moments of time caught on film and paper.  And so many singers whose lives were cut short, Janis Joplin, Cass Elliott, fellow Seattlites Jimi Hendrix and Kurt Cobain, Tupac, Biggy, Amy Winehouse, Michael Jackson, Lennon, and my favorite Beatle, George Harrison.  It was stimulating and  exciting, evoking an era in the lives of so many of us, and sad to see so many who have fallen.  It showed the highs and lows of rock’n’roll, the performances and the introspective moments, the brash posing and the vulnerability.

It was wonderful.

The rest of the Auckland Art Gallery – there were highs and lows – modern art that one wonders why it’s in a museum; portraits of Maori leaders painted in the 1800s, showing traditional tattoos and clothing; a collection of “Victorian paintings” in all their wonderful over-sentimentality, or, to be British about it, treacley.  (Or, in Yiddish, schmaltzy.) 

But, me being me, I had strange and interesting experiences.  In the modern section, I was looking around, and saw a tall thin man, accompanied by a museum staff woman.  He went to what I thought was just a wall (minimalist wall) and opened the door – turned out to be a room with a mirrored floor and ceiling, with striped walls, so that when you look in it appears to go on and on forever vertically, like you are walking into an empty elevator shaft – I looked in and immediately turned around, saying no, I just can’t do that.  So he and I had a long conversation about vertigo and dizziness and what triggers in, and stairs made out of grating, and elevators out of glass.  Then I moved along to another area, he and the woman staffer were talking about an installation of window frames and fluorescent lights, I added my take on it.  We chatted again.  Then another staff member came up and the woman introduced the man, saying, “You must meet the famous John Yadayada” (I didn’t catch the last name) and it dawned on me that this guy must be some well-known New Zealand artist – and there I was, chatting up with him like he’s just some shmoe in the museum.  Ooops!  Ah well, what do I know anyway?  I’m just an American tourist.  So I laughed at myself and quietly moved along.  (Not before hearing the dude tell the young staffer, in front of an installation of tiered glass bottles and vases, “Don’t you want to just crash into this?  Just like Peter Griffin!” – and of course, I had to laugh at that one, too.)

Second strange experience – as I went wandering into the Victorian overly-sweet painting section, I realized there was a young baritone singing in the arched gallery, doing operatic versions of sea chanteys or light opera like “I am the Pirate King” – he had a wonderful voice and the acoustics were great – but it just didn’t fit the paintings, which seemed to focus on women at home or couples in love.  Just a very weird juxtaposition of pink and white and frilly people with the deep voice singing of the sea.

Monday dawned grey and drizzly, so we’ve been taking care of business like researching the South Island and ways to travel around there, where to go next, all that.  We’ve pretty much decided to not extend our NZ visas, and we’ll head out at the end of January, probably heading to the southern part of Australia.  Not sure, but that’s the vague plan. 

An Auckland State of Mind

We're back in Auckland again, staying at a nice (but inexpensive) hotel, and settling in to a new neighborhood.  Actually, we're only about a mile or two from our previous neighborhood, but it's uphill for at least a mile or so - so that's our morning exercise, a long uphill to our free wifi coffee shops, a breakfast of tea for me, coffee for Richard, and a scone.  We both like date or sultana (raisin) scones. 

Our new neighborhood includes the university, and numerous lovely old buildings - I'll take a photo safari day and post some of the pics of the gorgeous architecture.  It looks like an older part of the city, or at least a part that retained the old buildings.

Anyway, we're focused on extending our NZ visa, obtaining a visa for Australia, vaguely planning our tiki touring around the South Island (as in, do we take a hop-on-hop-off bus or do we rent a car or do we get a flight pass?) - exciting things like that.  And, of course, wandering around, because we both like to walk, and we both like people watching.

The most exciting thing that happened in the past two days here - we went to Burger Fuel, a gourmet burger place - put in our order (chicken burger for me) - and the machine wasn't working, wouldn't submit our order, wouldn't take our money.  So our waiter went to the kitchen to put in the order, and the manager tried to make the machine work.  Richard joked that if the machine wasn't working, that meant our dinner was free - the manager looked up, said "I agree" and comped us the meal!  I was in shock!  Stunned!  Thanked him, and walked around in a daze.

There are some holiday decorations, most notably a four storey tall Santa on a large department store - he's actually flanked by two equally giant reindeer, all in slightly weathered and cracked plastic or styrofoam or something - I find them quite frightening, being that huge.  (Some of the coastal town had the decorative holiday lights on lampposts, many of them featuring the various fish that can be caught in that area.  Right.  Christmas fish.)

We managed to disrupt foot traffic last night for this classic photo.  Couldn't resist!

Three Days in Raglan

Dec. 10, 11, 12, 2012

We decided to relax and explore this corner of the North Island - arrived on Monday (Dec. 10) and wandered a bit.  Then yesterday, it was quite grey and ominous much of the day - seemed to look as if it would rain torrents half the day - but it never really rained much.  We wandered around the town, which is small and quaint, and looked at the harbour.  This is one of those very long, extensive, winding harbours that we keep finding in New Zealand, with a river or two feeding into it, and the ocean at the far end.  And, of course, the black sand, because we're on the west coast and that's the kind of sand that's here.

I wandered around town and then down to the wharf, which is really a tiny little spot and more of just a small dock than a wharf - but I'm not going to argue with the Raglan founding fathers or sign makers.


I did find some strange and unique flowers - I have no idea what this giant pink thing is, but it looks like that meat-eating plant from the Addams Family, doesn't it?

The red bushy thing is a tree here, the pohutukawa tree.  They grow all over - and they have this red brushy looking flower.  The trees are kind of twisty and gnarled, and sometimes the bark peels and hangs down.  Actually, the trees often look like brown driftwood - that kind of gnarled and old looking wood, but in a living tree.


Raglan also has a number of very old trees, with signs that say "Notable tree" and for further information contact XYZ.  I had no idea what a "notable tree" was - a famous tree because someone tied up his horse or his boat?  Someone was tied to the tree and hung here (like the various traitors who were hung from trees all up and down New England)?  Or some young New Zealand Romeo and Juliet hid love letters in this tree?

No, nothing so interesting.  These are just really old trees notable for their age and size, and by putting up the sign it gives the trees protection - they cannot be cut down unless there's a reason (like storm damage or disease).  

But I liked the notable trees, and gave them hugs.  (Some of them are REALLY old, but none are as old as the kauri, Tane Mahuta, who is estimated to be about 2000 years old.)

Richard and I like the various bachs (or baches) - summer homes - made from trailers and set up somewhat permanently in the various holiday parks we've stayed at.   People take anything from tiny trailers to large almost motor homes and set them up in the holiday park - then add a solid floor (tile or concrete slab), add a tent or awning to the side, or like this one, some lattice work to set up their own porch - throw in a picnic table (chained in place) and voila, you have an inexpensive summer home to stay in each year!

You can see all the small trailer/tent combinations here - it seems to be pretty normal!

I guess the family selects a favorite spot and just makes arrangements with the holiday park.  I have no often how frequently they might visit, but the park owners have chatted with us about how the next few weeks are the crazy time of year, from mid December through mid January, when half the country is off on holiday camping somewhere.

Today (Wednesday) was warm and sunny, so we drove to the south side of the Raglan Harbour and visited several beaches - the usual black sand, turquoise water, and apparently some of the best left-curling waves in the world, according to our guide book.  (I know little about surfing.) 

Several stores have a wonderful photo, taken locally, of four or five surfers catching a wave and being followed by a baby orca, who is surfing the wave right behind them!  This happened a few years back, and the mama orca was also playing in the waves - but she didn't get into the photos.

It was low tide, so the water was way out there, exposing some rock and shells, creating nice little tide pools.  I found one sea star (with about nine or ten arms) who was drying out, but the underside had moving tentacles, so I threw that one back into the ocean.

Then I found this cute little sea star in his own little pool of water - he was moving around, got to one end of the water where it was shallow, picked up one arm and waved at me, put his arm back down, and went wandering off to the other side of the pool.  Seriously.  The little sea star waved at me.  I'm not kidding.

We watched some surfers, though there wasn't much surf at some of the beaches - best surf was at a very rocky beach, so we watched from the bluffs up above.  (Not a cobble beach - more like small boulders on the beach.  Not conducive to walking around in sandals.  I don't know how the guys we saw managed to walk through, in wet suits and carrying surf boards.  Dedication!)

Anyway, it was a beautiful day and one of the warmest we've had thus far - I think summer may finally be here!

Plus we have several families of rabbits living at the holiday park - they go hopping around the trailers and under everything, nibbling clover and grass, stopping at the sound of footsteps, then hopping away and hiding under another vehicle.  There are some of the smallest little bunnies hopping around with their parents!  I tried to sneak up close to a few, and the mama rabbit turned and stomped her feet at me a couple of times - not sure if she was trying to scare me away, or warn the babies that I was dangerous.  (I'm not.)  

Yup, bunnies stomp their feet at me, sea stars wave their arms at me.

Up the Tasman Coast

Dec. 10, 2012

We had a leisurely morning in Kawhia, which is an interesting little town.  In Maori history, the Tainui waka, the ancestral canoe, made its final landing in Kawhia.  There’s a whole long story about that, but essentially the waka was tied to a specific tree, and eventually buried on a hill, with sacred stones marking the burial place.  So Kawhia hosts a huge Maori festival each year, when ten thousand or more people come for feasting, dancing, catching up with family and friends, all that.  (Our Lonely Planet book says there are only 670 permanent residents in this town – I can’t even imagine having 10K extra people show up!)

Kawhia sits right next to the harbour, but it’s a short drive to the ocean beach – another black sand beach, this one with huge black and white sand dunes.  Keep in mind that black sand absorbs and holds more heat than white sand.  We tried climbing the dunes barefoot but quickly realized that this was not going to work – so sandals on, we headed back up.  This was one of the tallest dunes we’ve encountered – really huge – and the black and white grains of sand are mixed with flecks of mica, so the beach shimmers and glitters in the sunlight.  Nice sized waves rolling in and breaking into white foam, the sea a gorgeous turquoise, hills and mountains on both sides in the distance – it really was a beautiful spot.  And, as if that weren’t enough, this is another hot water beach – so we arrived at low tide and found a few hot water spots, enough to dig in and get our feet into some toasty hot water.  There were two young women who dug quite a pool for themselves, and were enjoying the relaxing hot water bubbling in.

And there was a random Maori gate or entrance standing in front of someone’s property – nice carvings, no idea what or why.

Then we headed inland, on state highways, and made our way to Raglan – another beach town on another harbor, with the ocean off somewhere in the distance, a short drive away.  Raglan is a bigger town, and has become better known since the surfing movie “Endless Summer” – not that it’s a huge town, but it definitely is bigger than Kawhia.

Our holiday park is out on a flat peninsula (or maybe an island) just outside the town itself, but there’s a lovely pedestrian bridge connecting the park to town.  We had a walk around to see what’s going on, but Raglan is still in pre-tourist-season mode, and was closing down by 6 PM.  We’ll see what’s going on tomorrow, as we wind down our caravan part of the trip.

 

Lost – Even Without A Translation

Dec. 9, 2012

Yesterday (12/8) we headed south to the town of Tongaporutu, on the west coast (facing the Tasman Sea) and in the district of Taranaki (named for the volcano, which we could just barely see in the distance).  We wanted to check out the beach there, but it’s only accessible at low tide, which meant overnighting.  There wasn’t a motor camp or holiday park anywhere nearby, and the carpark which used to be available for freedom camping had NO CAMPING signs all over – so we drove back to the scenic overlook picnic area, and that was our overnight spot.  And our first night of Chanukah 5773.  (Yes, I carried my portable menorah, and we bought Chanukah candles at the synagogue in Auckland.  I mean, these are the important things for travel, right?)

There are two things I love about freedom camping – it’s quiet because there’s no one around (other than the occasional car driving by), and since there aren’t any lights the stars are incredible!!!  We saw the Southern Cross out the front of the caravan, as well as the Milky Way; and I swear Orion cruised by the back window, presumably to our north.  It was a fabulous star show last night! 

We got up this morning and waited a bit for close to low tide, then headed back town to Tongaporutu Beach.  The Tongaporutu River runs to the sea right by the beach, creating a huge sandy delta inbetween two carved sandstone bluffs – and the sand is all the black igneous sand leftover from the volcanic eruptions eons ago.  Plus there are bizarre spherical boulders sitting on the beach – some solid stone, some almost like clay – but perfectly spherical!  Our Frenzy guidebook said that there are more down on the beach, at the north end – which meant on the other side of the river.  So Richard and I wandered down our side of the beach/delta, planning to cross the river at the beach itself, when the water usually is quite shallow.  Well!  Our side of the delta has various piles of rocks and boulders, or outcroppings of rock, which had to be climbed over and around.  Then some more jet black sand.  Then another pile or two of rocks.  After several dots and dashes of rocks and sand, we hit a point where the bluff came out like a huge corner, cutting off all access to the beach unless we waded through the river and out onto the beach on the other side.  Problem was, the water was at least knee or thigh deep, there were rocks on the bottom that we could see, we couldn’t see what else there was, and the water was COLD!  Richard and I tried to figure out how to get around the bluff without going through the water, but there just didn’t seem to be any way to do this.  I finally took off my shorts and tried to cross at that spot, but the water was just too cold for me – so I came back out, and we abandoned the effort.  I’m disappointed that we didn’t get to see all the stone spheres, but, well, cold water is cold water, and there’s a reason I spent 25 years in the Caribbean!

So we headed north again, having lunch in Mokau (cute little beach town) – then followed highway 3 north to Awakino, where we took a local road heading to Marokopa, another little beach town but visited by fewer people.  Our local road turned into a gravel road.  It went around bends and turns and crossed single-lane bridges.  Eventually we came to an intersection of two gravel roads, and were totally baffled – one way went back to Te Kuiti, the town we’d been in two days ago – the other road went to some village we couldn’t find on the map.  We picked that one.  It continued on and then turned into a single lane gravel road.  Went up and down hills and mountains, and the road got worse and worse – it was the road equivalent of our track on the side of the mountain – with sheer drops and washouts on Richard’s side of the vehicle, and overhanging rock cliffs on my side – plus the road was banked in weird directions for drainage – so we’d go around a corner (no railing) close to the left side of the road because Richard could see there was a missing bit of road, but we’d be leaning into the cliff and missed knocking off the mirror by an inch or two.  Over and over again, Richard saying “Ah-ah-ah-ha” and me going “Eeeeeeeee” and the poor Mighty Whitey Mercy B groaning and trying not to slide off the mountains!  Once we realized we were obviously on the wrong road, there just was nowhere to turn around and go back, so the only option was to keep going!  And then, there was the spot where the fallen rocks was really more of a landslide, with half a tree and some big boulders taking up half the single lane road – so I jumped out of the car and threw a bunch of big rocks out off the way, rolled some boulders out of range, Richard moved the tree, and I guided him between the fallen rocks and the drop off side of the road.  Agh!

There were funny moments, too – we’d stop to just breathe and de-stress, and Richard moooed at a few cows – suddenly, all the cows in the field came running down the hill and running over to see what was going on!  (He gave them a speech trying to get them to stage a cow protest.)  I baaaaed at some sheep, but, well, sheep are followers, they don’t take kindly to insurrection.  The scenery was gorgeous, but the road was like nothing we’ve ever been on!  And the first sign of human life was a man on a mini ATV with two dogs on the back, who didn’t seem to care about the severe drop offs and sheer cliffs!

After over an hour, we reached another intersection and couldn’t figure out which way to go – as we looked at the sign and the map, trying to pick a direction, a truck with two men drove up and we waved them down.  They came out of the truck laughing and said, “A camper van out this way, you must be lost!”  They were very funny, very helpful, and after a lot of laughing they sent us on our way.  Twenty more kilometers of gravel road (but at least two lane gravel road) and we hit pavement – then a few turns and we were on the road to Marokopa Falls!  Finally!!!

More driving, and we found the car park for the falls.  Hiked in, it was about 6 PM, no one was around, all good tourists being settled in their accommodations by then.  So we had the forest and the falls all to ourselves.  The Marokopa Falls are truly majestic – a 90 meter fall of water (that’s over 300 feet), falling over layered rock cliffs, making a veil of water that is tiered and semi-sheer, semi-solid, thundering to moss-covered boulders below, and sending up so much mist that the rainbows show up even in photographs.  This waterfall is one of those sights that just takes your breath away – and as Richard said, it turned a really horrible day into a really wonderful day!  Of all the waterfalls we’ve seen on the trip, this is probably THE BEST waterfall!!!  EVER!!!!  (These really are three different photos of the waterfall, trying to capture the rainbows as well as the structure of the rock creating different patterns in the falling water - you need to enlarge them to see the details.)

We tore ourselves away from the waterfall, and headed north again – our destination was the town of Kawhia (pronounced like Mafia but with a K), on the coast.  We drove, and drove, and drove – signs pointed the way, we drove around the Kawhia Harbour, we stopped to eat dinner in the camper parked by a field of Black Angus bulls and sheep – then we drove on.  

As we approached Kawhia, we pulled into a gas station and shop area – one young man told me the place was closed, so we turned around and started pulling out – another young man was standing by the side, staring at me, and doing something like the haka, the Maori war dance – or maybe it was a welcome dance – anyway, it involved a lot of staring and chest thumping with arms and feet stomping – and I seriously didn’t know what to do – does one smile and nod?  Say thank you?  Was he sending me war messages?  Was this a courtship ritual?  I’m clueless, but it was one of those strange little moments that happens when one travels.  (He most likely was just a teenager trying to confuse a tourist, but who knows.)

We finally found the Kawhia Motor Camp, and we’re settled in for the night.  Tired, happy to be here, and not lost and wandering on the seemingly endless road that we still don’t know where it was.  The road to nowhere.

Adventures in Showering

Many of the holiday parks have metered showers, so that people don't waste the water by taking long long showers, or leave the water running, or whatever.

Last night's park had six minute metered showers.  With the meters OUTSIDE the shower stalls, not inside.  Not good planning.

So I went to take my morning shower.  Set up clothes, towel, soap, shampoo, all in sequence so I could rush through my six minutes of water.

Only to find that shower stall #1 only has about 1 minute of water at a time.

So I wrapped up in my towel and moved everything to stall #2.  Then went back out of the shower to push the meter for a shower.

Shower stall #2 has a 4 or 5 minute shower.  I managed to get through the shower but didn't get to wash my hair.  Back out again (in towel again) to punch the meter again.  Then rush back in, latch the door, and wash my hair.  Plus time for the conditioner.

Luckily I finished just before the meter ran out again.  I really didn't want to have to go for a four-punch shower!