Dec. 1 – Getting there

Flew Seattle to LA, hung around the airport for 3 hours, then hopped on the plane for the looooong leg to Fiji. The crew on the plane was so friendly and smiling and helpful, with flowers tucked behind one ear. Made me want to go live in Fiji if people there are so happy. It was a 747 and we had 3 seats between the 2 of us so we took turns lying down on the seats, heads on one another’s lap. We left on Monday and crossed the international date line into Wednesday, so we missed Tuesday altogether, and finally got there on at noon Wednesday, stiff and sleepy after 18 hours underway.

Day 1 – Dec. 3 - Auckland

Finally we saw the first sight of New Zealand, off in the distance. Just some islands at first, and cloud-enshrouded land. As we got closer we saw a jagged coastline, green fields, lots of trees, pastures, and the cars driving down the wrong side of the road. Glad to hit the ground in Auckland finally. Took a cab to the Freeman’s Lodge which we found on the internet. It advertised itself as a B&B but it’s more like just a B, since they charge $7 for a skimpy breakfast. It’s owned by an Indian couple who have 3 young children and a yappy, bouncy Lhasa Apso dog. Our room was barely large enough for us to stand in, once we put our golf clubs, 2 backpacks, and 3 large suitcases down. Bath is down the hall, we got one towel – no face towel or washrag. The bedstands have lamps to read by, if you can read by a 40-watt bulb. If you dropped a marble by the front door of the hotel, it would pick up speed until it was going 20 mph by the time it hit the back wall. There must have been a 1-foot differential in elevation from front to back, which made our door slam shut if we didn’t hold it open.

First thing I did was take a shower, but when I tried to plug in my hair dryer, discovered we’d brought the wrong kind of plug. I borrowed one from the owner, but when I plugged it into the socket in the bathroom, it fell out. Went to another bathroom, and it didn’t even have a plug. So I went to our room and made do with one that put me so far from the mirror that I had to ‘style’ my hair without a mirror. Oh, well, it’s so humid that my hair just went limp in 5 minutes anyway, so there goes any hope of having a good hair day for the next 3 months.

Staying here is like living in somebody else’s home, with children running around and screaming, dog barking, people coming and going up and down the hallway of all nationalities. Met Stephanie and Denny from Germany, a young couple who are spending 9 months traveling around the world. Mark from Eindhoven, Netherlands, on a month’s vacation here, who’d written a history book on the German invasion of Belgium during WWI (a real best-seller!), who smiled all the time, laughed a bit too loudly and was so aggressively friendly that maybe that’s why he’s traveling alone.

Day 2 – Dec. 4 - Auckland

Awoke in the night to a sound we’ve never heard before and couldn’t identify. About every 10 seconds, it would repeat, sort of doo-dah-doo-dah-doo-dah. It went on for a half-hour, then stopped. Went back to sleep, then half-hour later it woke us up again. We couldn’t figure out if it was coming from inside the hotel or outside, until Joe got up, stuck his head out of the window, which is easy to do since there are no screens, and heard it coming from outside. Closed the window and it shut most of it out. We thought maybe it was a traffic signal for the blind, but it wasn’t consistent enough and besides, there weren’t any traffic signals near the hotel. Finally I suggested it might be a bird. That’s my story and I’m stickin’ to it.

At 7:15 am the 2-year-old son yelled loudly, the dog barked, and that was the beginning of our first full day in New Zealand. Walked downstairs to the shower room, looked for a place to put my stuff, and found 2 hooks. However, there was no place to put things in the shower but on the floor. Oh, well. It’s a gorgeous day, perfect temperature. Good day to pick up our car.

Walked downtown for breakfast, only 15 minutes by foot. Ended up sitting next to a couple from Lyle, WA, down on the Columbia River. He works for a company that was just bought up by Boeing. Had a great chat, mostly about investment strategies.

Walking in the city is dangerous for us Amis. I nearly got run over 3 times today, once by a city bus that honked and slammed on his brakes or I’d be toast now. I have to remember to look to the right first, not the left!

The car company that we’d contacted via e-mail from Seattle was good to its word. They sent a car to pick us up and Bruce, the only employee, took us to the Devonport Car Company, where the owner, Derek, filled out all the paperwork, then took us on a half-hour tour of the area. Took us to the top of a volcano from which we could see all of Auckland and its gorgeous bays, islands, and 49 other volcanoes that comprise the town. Fortifications up there to keep the Japanese at bay during WWII.

Now that the car is ours for 3 months, we have to re-learn how to drive on the left side of the road. To say that the trip back to the motel in big-city traffic was harrowing doesn’t begin to convey the terror I felt on several occasions.

When we finally did get back to the hotel, we parked it and we don’t plan to drive it again until we head out of town for good tomorrow!. Walked down to the museum, on Derek’s recommendation, and went into the ‘Volcano Room’. Sat on a sofa, and watched a realistic movie scenario of a new island being formed in the bay. Our sofa lurched and nearly tossed us onto the floor, scaring the Bejeezus out of us. Then steam started spewing out of the water, then lava and fire, then a black cloud, that expanded and rolled toward us, closer and closer and closer, bigger and bigger, until we knew we were going to die. Then it engulfed us and went black. My heart was racing as if it were really happening. It’s funny how your mind works when it KNOWS you’re going to die. First, abject terror, then resignation and, for me, the thought "I always wondered how I’d die."

The 2 islands comprising NZ sit astride 2 tectonic plates moving in opposite directions, hence all the volcanic activity down here.

Day 3 – Dec. 5 – Auckland to Wellsford

We finally drove away from the B&B, and nearly got killed in the process. We got 10 feet into the street and saw 2 cars coming straight at us from in front, and one from the left. The 2 in front parted and passed us, one on either side while we sat stopped and terrified, the one from the left just stopped, stopping traffic behind it. It was a cop. He let us in, since we were going the same way he was. He didn’t even stop us, and nobody honked. What polite people. I guess the cop knew what the score was by the big letters on the rear view window blaring ‘rental’ and since most people renting cars come from a country where they drive on the right, he figured it out. Who knows?

Seems weird to have it be so warm and know that it’s Christmas season. But it’s really good to be out of Seattle’s gloom, cold and rain and see the sun, blue skies and wear shorts and short-sleeves.

Drove –slowly and tentatively at first – along the coast towards Warkworth. Made several detours to get better views of the gorgeous coastline. There just weren’t any bad views, though. Everywhere you look is eye candy. At a town called Leigh we drove down to a wharf where boats take people out diving on the reefs. A girl drove up in a dinged-up truck, backed it to the end of the wharf, where a battered-looking boat that appeared to be made out of tinfoil pulled alongside. They tossed a bunch of tanks, fins, spears and other scuba gear on board, going out for a ‘fun dive’ for a change, planning to catch their dinner. She was from Vancouver, WA, is here for 6 months, broke, young, wholesome-looking, happy, doesn’t have a clue what she’ll do next but is enjoying every minute.

A small lad of about 10 was tossing a line into the water and caught 2 8-10-inch fish in the 15 minutes we were there, adding to the 4 he’d already caught, dumped them into a dry bucket, where they wheezed silently and futilely until they slowly expired. His dinner, he said.
At one beach where we stopped we heard an enormous ruckus – about 200 kids from an Auckland 7th grade were splashing, swimming, playing ball and chasing the ducks that live to some degree on handouts from tourists. Three busloads of testosterone and estrogen make an incredible roar when they’re all screaming at the same time. The ducks came running our way when we opened our trunk (that’s a boot in our country, Derek notified us), conditioned for a handout. We pinched off tiny bitsof our newly-bought bread, tossed ‘em to the loudest quackers, which they caught in mid-air. The one who reached it first scooped it up with the rest in hot pursuit, pecking and quacking. Sometimes a fight broke out between 2 who didn’t get it. If it was a big piece, 3 others would try to extract it – often successfully – from the throat of the owner. Reminded us of how Wall Street works.

According to the teachers of the screamers, they’re all high scholastic achievers., from affluent parents. "All nationalities?" I asked. "Lots from S. Africa, most from NZ, none from ‘the islands’ and no Maori". We’ve seen almost no Maori. They’re easy to distinguish from the paler English-looking Kiwis by their dark skin, stocky builds and Hawaiian-like facial features. Considering that this used to the their land, the ‘white man’, or European, has thoroughly taken it away from him. He’s left the place names alone for the most part – Mangakura, Pukapuka, Pukenui, Pohuehue, Te Pua. But the Scots have obviously been here – Loch Norrie, McLeod Bay, Glenberrie. And the Welsh – Brynderwyn, Braigh, Brynavon. And the Brits – Royal Heights, Parkhurst, Balmoral, Victoria Valley, Port Albert, Woolleys Bay.

The Maori alphabet’s ‘wh’ is pronounced like ‘f’, so Whatuwhiwhi sounds like Fatufifi. As one Kiwi told us, "Thet’s th’ woi th’ bleck best’ds wohnt us t’ soy eet’. Racist.

About 95% of the town names, at least in the Northland, are Maori – all very forgettale, since they don’t make any sense to me. I can remember Frenchman’s Swamp, but ask me in 2 weeks (or even 2 minutes) about Kaukapakapa or Pukekaroro or Rakautao and you’ll no doubt get a blank look from me.

We thought we’d find a place to stay in Leigh and spend tomorrow snorkeling. Couldn’t find a vacancy, though, so we continued on to Wellsford, where we scoped out a golf course we hope to play tomorrow. Found a real motel in Wellsford, with a huge bathroom,l huge bedroom, kitchenette with dishes, toaster, fridge and table for the same price as that dump in Auckland - $50 US. Room has a big deck off it, where I’m sitting as I write this. View is 5 miles at least, rolling pastures, lots of trees in the ravines that criss-cross it, a few cows and a railroad track about 200 feet away. Weird bird noises in Auckland, trains in Wellsford.

We’d read that the food wasn’t the reason people flew halfway around the world to get here. So we expected a lot of boiled cabbage, soggy beans, fried potatoes and limp toast. So we were ecstatic to find delicious sweet ‘n sour soup in a Chinese restaurant, tasty (though a bit tough) beef and garlicky potatoes in a local upscale place in Auckland. But tonight we found out how NZ got its reputation for mediocre fare – both of us ordered Bolognese pasta in an Italian dive in Wellsford. We stuffed it down but I’m not sure why except that we were bored. 95% noodles and one tablespoon of sauce that I think was good but I couldn’t ever get a large enough sample of it to really taste it.

After dinner we still had a lot of daylight left, so we headed out to the public course where we plan to play tomorrow. A sign said it was men’s day tomorrow so maybe I won’t get to play. At 5 pm nobody answered the phone so we will have to wait until tomorrow to see if I can play, even if Joe can for sure. There were 2 cars in the parking lot at 6 pm (there are still nearly 3 hours of daylight left). As we drove in, Joe said, "there’s the driving range." A net with 1 mat. Groan. No chipping area. We chipped some balls onto what must be the 18th green, and putted a couple of times on the s l o o o o o w greens.

Day 4 – Dec. 6 - Wellsford to Whangerei

No trains in the night, slept like a log. Called the golf course for a tee time. They said they’re having a tournament, if we came ‘right now’, we could play in the tournament and be first to tee off. We hopped in the car and sped off. Jumped into our golf shoes, slung our bags on our backs, paid our $13.25 each, and headed for the 1st tee, shoes untied, hats askew, no suntan lotion on. Everybody else was already paired up so we went off on our own. First people on the course.
The course traverses hills and dales, surrounded by fat cows peacefully munching on belly-high grass who watched us curiously as we passed. We’d bought tiny 1-pound bags in Seattle just for this occasion, barely big enough to hold all our clubs, 3 balls and some tees. This was the maiden voyage for them. It was a piece of cake for me. At the end of 9 Joe stopped by the clubhouse and rented a ‘trundler’ to haul his clubs, a very rudimentary job, a straight pipe with an axle, 2 wheels, a curve at the end of the pipe for a handle, and a crosspiece to keep your clubs from falling off.

The holes criss-crossed one another, so we had to look up each fairway to see if anyone was teeing off and might bean us on the noggin. The one bunker I got in had a badger hole in it that looked like the badger had been in residence for about a month. The rake handle was broken in half and the tines were metal and so rusty they looked to be about 20 years old. Made us really appreciate our home course.

Well, I should have taken a bit more time before teeing off to put on suntan lotion. The ozone layer is much thinner down in this hemisphere, meaning that you get much more sun than at our latitude. My arms are lobster-colored and hurt. The back of my neck is red, too, so I’m now a true red-neck.

After we finished our round, we drove down to the coast and found a lovely beach, a cove really, where we pulled in. Coming and going through the sand were tractors, pulling boats on trailers from the parking lot to a launching area about ½ mile down the beach and back. Guess that’s the only way you can get a boat from your car’s trailer hitch into the water. Joe decided to go for a swim, but all I could think about was what my hair would look like if I joined him, so I headed out in the car (with trepidation) by myself to see if any of those gorgeous huge homes perched on the sides of the surrounding hills might rent us a room for the night. No such luck. But what views they all had!!! And guess what everybody had parked in the driveway – not a golf cart, but a tractor!!! Huge, rusty things, but if you have one yourself, you don’t have to hire one of the entrepreneurs who makes his living hauling tractor-less families’ boats to and from the water.

After leaving the beach, we wandered north into Whangerei. Because Wh is pronounced like F, this place is called Fahn-ga-RAY. It’s the largest city in Northland, north of Auckland, and has the first harbor sailors hit when they see New Zealand. We found a motel, checked in, and headed straight out for dinner, as Joe was at the end of his diabetic rope and needed to eat. The motel owner told us about a great place down by the marina that had great views of the boats. Right she was. For the first time we saw lamb on the menu, so I screwed up my courage and ordered it. Anytime I’ve ever eaten it before, it had such a strong taste that I decided I didn’t like it. "But NZ lamb is different, not so strong. You have to try it," say people here. So I bit the bullet, and soon lying on a plate in front of me were two legs of some poor lambie-pie, plopped down on top of some mashed potatoes and lying in a pool of gravy. I bit into it, rolled it around in my mouth and my eyes flew open in sheer delight. It was wonderful, and didn’t taste anything like the lamb I’ve eaten before. By the time I’d finished it, though, being so much food, I decided that I’ve now eaten lamb and I don’t need to do it again.

Being right next to the marina, with so many huge and beautiful sailboats and power boats, it was a given that many of the people eating at this good restaurant would be boat owners. Indeed, seated at a table next to us were 2 obviously American couples who were bragging about where they’d sailed – Bali, Mexico, Tahiti, you name it. They eventually parted and we ended up talking with them. They were from Seattle, live about 20 minutes from us, had been sailing for several months, and had no idea how long it would be before they went home. ‘When we get tired of sailing.’

Their friends were from Baltimore, had pre-retired 3 years ago and had been on the high seas ever since. Their income had been cut in half by the recession, so they might have to cut their practice retirement short and go back to work.

A lady from Scotland sitting at the next table was a ‘hand’ on a sailing vessel owned by a grumpy old man of whom she had grown enormously tired and she wanted to jump ship. Two young men who hired on at the last port of call had jumped ship when they landed at Auckland so she was the only hand left. And now she was ready to call it quits and get a ‘real job’ if she could just figure out what she wanted to do. She’s a lady who has been sailing all her life and still gets so seasick that she threatens to quit all the time. She has a captain’s license so she can actually captain her own boat but hires herself out to other people. I told her to quit and get another line of work that she’ll love. One that doesn’t make her puke every day.

So here we are sitting at a marina, talking with people I never in my life thought I’d be thrown with, and finding out that they just have boats instead of golf clubs but are basically just like us. One of them told us about Minerva Reef, a place in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. People sail there to get out of high seas and storms. It’s one of only 2 places in the world where a coral reef comes almost all the way up to the top of the water, a perfect circle, about a mile in diameter, where the water inside the circle is perfectly calm even if the seas are 20 feet high on the outside. It’s 60 feet deep and clear as a bell, so you can snorkel and dive inside while a storm might be raging all around you. Mariners come from many miles around to take advantage of its shelter.

Our accommodations just keep getting bigger and better. Tonight’s is the best yet. A huge bedroom, a kitchenette with microwave, fridge and hot plate. Big bathroom. And whereas we only got 1 towel each last night, tonight we each have a towel, face towel and washrag – a first.

Day 5 – Dec. 7 – Whangerei

Spent the day just driving around. A bunch of Maori kids were swinging from a rope and letting go into a pool of water just above a pretty falls. I took pictures of them and showed them to them, which made them just keep doing it over and over so they could see themselves ‘on the big screen’. When they got cold, they would lie full on their stomachs on the cement sidewalk, forcing people to go around them to get by, but warming themselves for another go at the cold water.

Several hours along a winding, curvy road took its toll on our heads, making us woozy and light-headed, but rewarded us with incredible views of the pounding surf and white curving beaches, deserted but for a few isolated beachcombers.

We’ve gotten into a pattern of eating breakfast in the room, making sandwiches for lunch, and eating out for dinner. Saves $$ and time, too.

Day 6 – Dec. 8 – Whangerei to Russell

Because the kids get out of school for the summer, and Christmas is just around the corner, the Kiwis are poised to leap into vacation mode and invade the same spots we plan to invade. So in the event that we end up in a place that is full to the brim of the traveling Kiwis, we stopped off at a sporting goods store in Whangerei before heading north and, in 5 minutes, bought a cheap tent, sleeping bags and foam pads, all for about $110 US. Now we’re not worried if we can’t find a place to spend the night, as we can just stop at a flat spot, toss our stuff on the ground, and we’re all set.

On our way north out of Whangerei, we passed signs indicating that if you walked past this point you were in danger from cyanide being used to kill possums. Now why in the world does the world want to get rid of possums? Don’t they like them splattered all over their roads?

Also saw our first clear cuts, where all the trees had been felled and hadn’t been re-planted, leaving bare hillsides open to erosion. I thought we and the Amazonians were the only ones who ravaged our land so rapaciously.

Today we were on a road that rivalled the ‘Road to Hana’ on Maui for the number of curves on it. Joe was driving and both of us got woozy after a couple of hours of twists and turns. But what made it bearable were the swoops around blind curves, and down into coves that were so beautiful it took your breath away. We simply had to stop and stare open-mouthed at the raw power and beauty of the sea. I took so many pictures that I was afraid I would run out of memory in my camera until Joe said he brought enough memory to take 35,000 pictures. So I snapped away with impunity.

We ended up in the quaint town originally named Rororareka (love those Maori names that nobody can remember for more than 3 seconds). It was known in the 1830’s as the Hellhole of the Pacific, due to the savage behavior of all the drunken whalers and sealers who stopped off here to let off steam after months at sea. This attracted the attention of missionaries from all over the world who swarmed here like flies to honey to try to save their sorry souls. When the maligned Maoris got in the middle of all this, tempers flared, somebody tossed a match and the whole town went up in smoke. When it was rebuilt, they called it Russell, and today it’s a sleepy little town until the tourists inundate it in the summer.

I saw a bus with 4 people sitting in it in the center of town (which has only 3 streets) and yelled to Joe, "Hey, let’s do the tour!" So we hopped on just as it was pulling out for a one-hour swing through the town and surrounding area, during which a very knowledgeable lady in her 70’s man-handled a 50-passenger bus through hairpin turns and up steep hills on roads so skinny I’d have been afraid to drive a VW bug. She took us on every road on the entire peninsula, pointing out, among many other things, the house where generations of the same family – the Bakers - had lived since the mid-1800’s, and it looked like the last generation to paint it or do any repairs lived in the 1800’s, too; and everything that had been collected by the family was still sitting on the porch that wrapped around the entire house. Today the youngest Baker still living in the house is 2, the oldest is 95. Wouldn’t you love to be a bird on a shoulder at their dinner table???

My eye was caught by a sign for a B&B sitting on the edge of the sea, so when we got back to town, we hurried back to see if they had any vacancies. They did, and showed it to us. We walked into an entire house, living room with fireplace, 2 sofas and coffee table, tv, piano; dining room; 2 bedrooms, kitchen, and spotless, modern bath with lots of towels, soap, and all sorts of little amenities as if a family already lived here. But the killer was the view! A 40-foot long porch 8 feet wide stretched the entire length of the ‘house’, completely enclosed, falling away nearly at your feet was a 100-foot high cliff below which were jagged rocks with waves crashing, a small crescent beach forming a cove only a few hundred yards across. We could only stand and stare and know that it had to cost more than we’d be willing to pay. So when we asked how much and she said $240 NZ, Joe said, "If you’ll make it $200, we’ll take it." She agreed and we unpacked in a flash.

We’ve now sampled the worst of New Zealand, with the dump in Auckland, and now we’ve stayed in a place that we saw listed in the book "Accommodations for the Discerning Traveler" that was lying on their coffee table. Life is good.

"There’s a nice hike to the top of that little volcano," our hostess told us, pointing to a peninsula jutting out into the sea not far away, and off we went in our hiking boots. After a half-hour of scrambling up and down really steep slopes, we came to a spot, about 100 feet above the water, where the land stopped and there was nothing but sea all the way to South America. Dolphins were racing a nearby tour boat and leaped completely out of the water, 3 at a time. We watched, mesmerized, for about 15 minutes as 15 or 20 of them cavorted and twisted and played right below us. Some kind of sea birds were flying about looking for dinner and when they spotted a fish below, they’d fold their wings and plunge headfirst, straight down into the water, coming up with a fish more often than not.

Day 7 – Dec. 9 - Russell

Slept like a log all night, with the sounds of the surf pounding outside lulling us to sleep. The owners of this gorgeous home, Ron and Maureen Redwood, came in just as we were putting the last of our stuff into the car preparatory to getting underway, and we spent an hour yakking and getting lots of good information on what there is to see around here. Then she said, ‘Why don’t you just stay on another night? I’ll charge you half-price for tonight." That means we’re paying only $75 a night for this incredible place! We took her up on it and headed out to play golf at Waitangi Golf Course. We wanted to find somebody to play with, but there just wasn’t anybody around. The few who were teeing off were foursomes, so we ended up playing by ourselves again. We’re disappointed, since we so enjoy all the people we’re meeting, and learn so much from them. But we talked with a very friendly man who was born and raised in this town, then spent his working years in the UK, then moved back here and is going to live out his days here. He gave us some good tips on other golf courses around here to play, so tomorrow we’ll prolly play Kerikeri.
The course sits on a huge piece of property known as the Waitangi Treaty Grounds, 500 acres that is where the Treaty of Waitangi was signed in 1840. A rich Brit bought it in 1932 to keep it from falling into the hands of some rich Americans who wanted to use it as a base for deep-sea fishing. Now it commemorates the spot where the poor Maori signed a treaty with (or be killed by) the British. Here, in essence, is what they signed:

The Maori Chiefs give all rights and powers of all their territories to the Queen. They can keep their lands, estates, forests, fisheries, and anything else they own until the Queen decides she wants them. Then they have to sell them to her at a price her lackey sets.

Pretty good deal for the Queen, huh? No wonder she’s the richest woman in the world, next to J.K. Rowley, that is.

The Maoris had a pretty good life until the Europeans came. Then these usurpers chopped down all the kauri trees, which were the size of our redwoods and grew all over the north part of the north island. Now they’re just a handful left, and they’re protected by the government, in little tree parks. They killed almost all of the whales that the Maoris used for their food supply. They built houses and towns all over the place, displacing the Maoris. And then they killed a lot of the Maoris who didn’t like them doing this. Sound a lot like us and our Native Americans???

After such a full day, we’re now back at this idyllic setting, perched high on a cliff over the pounding surf below, sitting on the long porch gazing at the gulls fishing for their dinner and watching the sun go down. How could life get any better?