new zealand

The last of the pictures are up...

Head on over here and take a look.

doug

The Way Home

(Editor's Note:  this took place on January 13th.)

Cashing in United miles for plane tickets has its rewards, and its drawbacks. The obvious reward was two Economy Plus seats to New Zealand. The other reward was a bonus day in Honolulu on our itinerary back home. On that day, we went on a five-mile hike with 2000 feet in elevation gain at Kuliouou Ridge, just a few minutes outside Waikeke Beach where we had our hotel from 8 a.m. to 8 p.m. After New Zealand, we were a bit tough on the concierge there, challenging him to find us something that would even compare to the sights we’d just seen. His recommended hike absolutely did that, and at one point, the ridge line, was covered with the long, soft and wheat-colored needles of the trees that grew there. The view we’d been hiking towards was a 360-degree perspective of the south part of Oahu. We were quick to head back down, though, as the winds and sudden temperature drop at the top made us feel more like we were at Dog Mountain on the Washington side of the Columbia River Gorge than in Honolulu, Hawaii. Nevertheless, this unintended day and hike will be a highlight we’ll always remember, as will the Denny’s-like Hawaiian restaurant called Zippy’s that we ate at afterwards.

The major drawback to cashing in miles was an overnight flight from Auckland to get to Honolulu, then another overnight flight from Honolulu to bring us into Portland. And don’t forget the 3-hour layover in LA. We lost all dignity at this point, and slept as best we could, spread out across four armless chairs each, from 4:45 to 6 a.m. Coffee and breakfast at Starbucks never tasted so good. Small price to pay for such an enjoyable trip, though.

Did I ever tell the story of our backpacks? They’re actually one backpack, a large REI pack with a small detachable pack, that my parents bought for me when I was 20 and backpacking for a month in Europe. I hadn’t really used it in 14 years, but wanted to see if I could have REI fix it up to bring on this trip. Indeed they did, and for $17 we had a recycled pack and pack-in-a-pack. There’s always been something about the feel of those packs that I love. Maybe it’s because they signaled for me my first time REALLY away from home. They felt just as good to me on this trip. Maybe even better.

Now we’re back at home. At work. In the house. With family and friends. It’s nice to be here, but also hard to be away from the spirit of an almost three-week road trip, some planned, some unplanned. Don’t tell Doug this, but it was better than our honeymoon. I’m not exactly sure what a second honeymoon is, but if it’s this good, then the definition may apply here. We ate, laughed, slept, explored, moved, learned and wondered. We’re already dreaming of our next visit to New Zealand. In the meantime, we’ll keep finding ways to bring the Kiwi way of life into ours. Starting with a pav this weekend.

jill

The City of Sails

(Editor's note:  this all took place on January 12th and 13th)

When we were planning the trip, there were some people who intimated that Auckland didn't need to be on the radar.  We're very pleased that we ignored that advice.  Auckland is roughly the same size as Portland and there is water everywhere.  It is a fairly representative combination of Seattle and Portland: a little laid-back, very easy going people but still feels like a city.

We stayed at the Westin at the Quay.  It was equal parts hip and comfortable.  As fate would have it, the rock band Kings of Leon were staying there as well.  We ran into one of the band members in the elevator and he looked every bit the part including the circa 1980s mirrored sunglasses.  He was quite friendly but looked like he had not had very much sleep.  Ah, the rock star life.

After getting settled, we poked around town a bit and ended up grabbing a bite at a "Spanish" restaurant on the water.  It wasn't quite the 150-minute meal we were accustomed to, but it was close.  The meal was decent but not up to the standards we were used to.  The lamb in Motueka was far better plus we didn't have to endure the occasional plume of Marlboro smoke from the table at the restaurant next to us.

That evening, we began planning the next day.  Our concierge, Blake, was just outstanding.  He took the time to give us some very sound advice and helped us lay out our last day in New Zealand.  He certainly made up for the debacle that was the Westin South Boston Waterfront on one of my recent trips.  On tap:  a run through Auckland in the morning, a short trip to Waikeke Island and two hours sailing on an actual America's Cup boat.

Like Portland and Seattle, Auckland is a very "runnable" city.  We made our way west towards Albert Park, through the University of Auckland, past the main museum and down Parnell, a street with very posh and quirky shops, boutiques and restaurants.  After a quick clean-up, we dashed to the ferry for a 35-minute ride to Waikeke Island.  After we arrived, we walked 20 minutes to the main town center to grab a bite.  We were very lucky that the sky had decided to clear up and it actually felt like summer.  It was truly beautiful there but a bit bittersweet in knowing that our time in New Zealand was coming to a close.  We ambled down to the beach and soaked it all in before we caught the ferry back to Auckland for our America's Cup adventure.

For some strange reason, I have always liked the America's Cup.  I tend to enjoy obscure and strange sports and this would qualify.  What made this side trip even more rewarding is that I have a colleague who was involved with the America's Cup back in the 80s and we talked about it at length on my last trip to New York.  It was fresh in my mind and I was ready to quasi reclaim American glory in the sport.  OK, that's a stretch.  But I do have a healthy appreciation for the sport including some fairly strong respect for Ted Turner.  He's a swashbuckler in business and he certainly was one on the water when he helmed "Courageous."

The next two hours were an absolute blast.  The crew was remarkable, affable and tremendous fun.  We set out and I started as a cranker, raising the sails.  Imagine the most intense tricep workout and triple it.  There are four cranks, manned by two people each and it was a struggle to get that huge sail out.  To give you an idea of how tough it is, when we cranked out the third sail, it took us 37 seconds.  It takes an America's Cup crew 8 seconds.  I then took over the helm where Jill snapped this epic picture (matched up with Ted Turner).  What you didn't see was another sailboat bearing down on us.  I had to swing the boat hard left to get out of the way.  We had right of way so it wasn't my fault, I promise.  I mumbled something about 1987 and Dennis Conner and continued on.  We made it back to port, got off and realized that our next stop was the airport. 

Just like that, our 19 day adventure had come to a close.  But we couldn't have planned a better day.

doug

Bay of Islands

(Editor's note:  Though this was published recently, these events took place on January 9th and 10th.)

We arrived in the Bay of Islands after a long, almost four hour drive north of Auckland to nearly the northernmost tip of New Zealand. After a great night and day in Wellington and nearly two weeks of gallivanting around the South Island I think we were weary, and not quite prepared for the serious differences between the two big islands (we hope to get to the smallest island, Stewart, on our next trip to New Zealand). The best way I can sum it up is that the North Island, to me, feels like the East Coast of the United States. European settlement happened here first. Lots of people, even in the remote parts, and while beautiful, without the breathtaking and rugged quality of beauty on the West Coast. The South Island by comparison, feels more to me like the West Coast of the U.S. Fewer people (more than two-thirds of the country’s population lives in the North, with 1.3 million in Auckland alone). Both are beautiful, but different. We are very glad to have spent time on both islands to understand more of the country.

When we arrived in Pahia, our base for the next three nights and two days, we were comforted by the sound of the waves crashing into the beach right outside our apartment, and excited to see things in the light the next day. When we woke up it was overcast and misting, and continued that way until the morning we left, with just a few breaks, not even sunbursts of any length, that let in just enough light for us to see and believe that the water in the Bay of Islands ranges from cerulean, to medium to dark blue.

We took the weather, a cloud-covered sky with periods of warm and gentle rain, as a sign that it was finally time for us to chill. We shopped for souvenirs in nearby Kerikeri, I went on a couple of road runs (two of only five runs for me on the entire trip—hiking by far became the sport of choice for the time being), we drove the nearby golf course and admired the view of the bay (during one of the slight clearing periods), we enjoyed choose-your-own fresh seafood fish and chips, and we spent one whole morning and afternoon in a town called Russell just a short ferry ride across the bay.

In Russell, after taking morning tea and cake (again, coffee and scones for us), we did some more shopping. I found a Dame Kiri CD of Maori songs and during the transaction found out that she owns a home in Russell. I also found the three-book Puhutukawa Babies collection by author and painter Avis Acres. The books are from the 1950s and are much like the “Dick and Jane” books of the U.S. but with a decided conservationist twist and adorable illustrations of characters that are all named after native plants and animals. The babies are Hutu and Kawa, and they are illustrated to look like the red, soft string-like blossoms of the Puhutukawa tree, also known as New Zealand’s Christmas tree because of the timing of the blooms. It should come as no surprise that I found these books in Russell’s Department of Conservation building. I should have been watching an educational video, but alas I was still shopping. Great books. Come over with your kids and I’ll read them, I promise.

At one of the shops, the radio was playing, and that’s where we first heard of Sir Edmund Hillary’s passing. For the next two days, we read coverage out of the paper from Auckland, realizing that there was, and may never be, a person so admired in New Zealand as him, the person who most solidly embodied all of the characteristics of what New Zealanders hold most dear about who they are. 

Afterwards we enjoyed lunch—fresh trevally—at the country’s oldest restaurant overlooking the bay. I read aloud the first book of the Puhutukawa Babies collection. Doug didn’t mind.

The sun finally came out, but only slightly, on the day we were due to head back down south. We went for a 2-hour kayak in singles in the morning, enjoying the beauty of the bay, and feeling good that the currents were so much less exciting than at Abel Tasman, and that we didn’t have to change our course.

The drive back to Auckland was much more enjoyable than the drive from it to Pahia. I’m always fascinated at how different a journey looks going the other way. We stopped at Sheepworld for coffee, then passed through the small settlement of Puhoi which boasts famously delicious cheese and that weekend, the Axeman Festival. We didn’t stay for that part. Auckland awaited.

jill

Wellington

Get yer pix here.

"Is it me? It's him, right?"

On this last little side-trip, I was starting to feel a little bit like Nathan Thurm, Martin Short's SNL character who gets grilled by the brilliantly done Mike Wallace, played by Harry Shearer in 1984.  I wasn't being defensive, but the title quote is all I could think about after asking the second of two highly innocuous questions to a couple of our tour guides on this trip.

Here are the questions:
1)  How many people hike this glacier? (Fox Glacier)
2)  What's the story with that culinary school we just passed? ("Arts and Crafts" Tour in Kerikeri)

Seems pretty mild, right?  It might be that both of these guides were from the UK.  I'm still trying to figure out why English, Scottish and Irish people get so bent out of shape with my questions sometimes.  (For the record, the UK is one of my favorite places on the planet and I've never had any problems with Welsh people.)  Is it my hair?  Is it because I'm American? 

The first response, on the glacier, is near the end of this post.  The second "powderkeg" of a question was answered by what I thought was an affable, older Scot.   We had just passed a culinary school and I meekly asked about it.  Mr. Single Malt got a little frisky..."Oooh.  Well, that's just a little school.  You know, the best chefs come from the Army, the Navy or the Air Force.  Preferably, the Navy."  I ran through a mental rolodex of the world's greatest chefs and I'm pretty sure Nobu Matsushita and Jean-Georges Vongerichten didn't do stints on the SS Eatalot though I could be wrong.

I didn't really catch the rest of his speech, but I'm sure it was impressive.  What was funny is that the guide warmed up to me when I told him my name was Douglas Scott.  Scottish first and middle name also known as The White Cross Exacta.  The tour was actually quite fun and entertaining but I think the lesson learned here is that I should never ask anything to anyone from the UK.  Unless, of course, they are from Wales.

doug

Local NZ Advertising

It's just as annoying as local American advertising.

Thought you would all want to know.

doug

Overheard in NZ - Part 3

The Scene:  Dinner at a pizza joint in Paihia.  Husband, wife, son (around 14), daughter (around 12) from England.  Dad resembled Phil Collins after a 2-week Scotch bender, mom just looked frumpy.  The children looked really uncomfortable.

Topic #1:  Sir Edmund Hillary had just passed away and dad waxed sentimental on the best achievements of the 20th century.

Dad:  "It was remarkable, being able to scale that.  (pause)  The greatest achievements of the 20th century may have, well, you have Neil Armstrong as the first man on the moon.  (pause)  But, that wasn't a big deal because it was all backed with technology."

Editorial (Doug):  You're kidding, right?  I just laughed on the inside and curbed the urge to punch this clown straight in the face when I realized that the most profound upcoming English export is the Spice Girls reunion tour.  Hell, the English can't even keep their most high-profile soccer player in their own country.

Topic #2:  The theory of relativity and Einstein.

Mum:  He was from Central Europe, right?

Dad:  Yeah.  Austria.  (pause)  Well, I know that he was an Eastern European Jew.

Editorial (Doug):  Pops the raging xenophobe then proceeded to bore his poor young children on the theory of relativity.  Actually, he got two sentences into it, then conceded he didn't know anything about it.  He scores cool points for giving up.  He loses cool points for mocking his daughter's obvious lack of comfort in speaking to him.  He loses even more points for being a racist.  We can only hope that Karma catches up with this dimwit.  Oh, and for the record, Einstein was born in Germany.  I didn't even have to look it up.  U-S-A!  U-S-A!

doug

More Pix

New photos are up right here.  Wellington shots will be up when we get to Paihia.

doug

Wellington (hold the beef)

Into each vacation some rain must fall. After a soggy Monday in Marahau, the rain followed us to Nelson Tuesday morning, and gave us only a bit of a reprieve once we crossed the Marlborough Straits to Wellington Tuesday night. The reportedly gorgeous 3-hour ferry ride turned for me, as I was still coming down from a harrowing 2-hour ride to the ferry town of Picton. The country looks small, but any straight line on a map is actually no more than a two-lane twisting and turning road here. If it weren’t for the gorgeous sites (me) and dodging campervans either crossing the line on the opposing side or simply going too slow in front of us (Doug), I’m sure one of us would have succumbed to a wee bit of motion sickness by now. (:
Wondering what we were doing in Wellington on a warm but soggy day, we quickly figured it out. The city is truly the smaller, Kiwi version of San Francisco, mixed with a little Portland West Hills. It sits on the water, hugging the surrounding hills, and is a verdant green and blue mix of natural views with both old and new architecture making up the city streets. We walked the length of the waterfront, pulled away only to explore a set of steps leading up one of the Rice-A-Roni style streets into an urban bush so lush we both felt giddy and slightly intoxicated. Perhaps we weren’t properly warmed up. It didn’t matter. We were part of the 6 o’clock shuffle in Wellington, as throngs of runners and walkers of every age take to the waterfront walkway and bush-lined soft trail we soon discovered as the Southern Walkway. We went to the top, and were rewarded with   a birds-eye view of the city--nothing lost on us, even as the fog clung to the peaks above the city.

Back down, we found a restaurant called The White House, and were one of two couples to enjoy a true culinary treat. We started with Watermelon and Cucumber salad with Spearmint leaves and a mesculin salad. Our meals were pumpkin ravioli with burnt butter and amaretti-flavored cookies and salmon with macadamia nut crust and wasabi mash. No pav on the menu, so we pressed pause on our quest for the ultimate pavlova and kept walking the city.

Making our way back downtown to the cable car, we rode it up the hillside to the botanic gardens. 8:30. A good 45 minutes of light left before sunset. The next 45 minutes are going to be nearly impossible to describe. The best was I can sum it up is to say what I said to Doug at about 8:50: “I feel like I’m in a dream.” We walked up and over the top of the hill, through a hydrangea and succulent garden. We heard music coming from below. An outdoor concert somewhere. We kept walking, now far enough down that we were in a small valley about halfway down the garden walk, with houses scattered up and down the hillside, softly glowing from the lights inside and from the white clouds and hovering mist. The further down we walked, the lighter it became, with purple and orange and green and blue light coming up into the bush, illuminating the garden. The duck pond. Tulip garden. A bed of wax begonias. A waterfall. And the bandstand shell, with bubbles percolating from the sides of the green, yellow lantern light tracing their path across the length of it. Surreal indeed.  The band played “Orange Blossom Special.” Like much of Zealand, it felt like home.

jill