• Wellington was so marvy but we sadly didn’t have time to do all that is needed there, such as see the WETA studios (Peter Jackson is the modern patriarch) or tour the Te Papau museum. But very cool modern art and architecture adorns the whole waterfront and made for some nice morning touring.
• On to the Waitomo Caves where we did the coolest most unique thing ever: “Black Water Rafting” , which entails rapelling (or “abseiling” as they call it down unda) through dark caves and floating and walking through icy cavewater, stopping of course for the proverbial civilized tea and crumpets before slidingdown more waterfalls and floating on our backs on inner tubes to view the galaxy-like glow-worms (or more accurately, glow gnats which is of course, less marketable). Yes, we really looked this stupid (we still aren’t sure why they made us wear those oversized shorts unless it was for their own personal entertainment).
• Note to future travelers: the website for the Waitomo Caves Inn is far nicer than the real deal. Stay somewhere else and spare yourself a Bates Motel experience!
• Divine intervention in planning our last leg on the Bay of Islands…about which we can’t say more beyond the fact that it is PARADISE – pure and simple. Aquamarine waters. Dreamy catamaran cruises on the Bay with stops at islets to snorkle. Dolphins that really DO swim right up next to the boat and in large pods to boot. Great hiking. Bright inense sunshine. Fun, age-agnostic bars. Feels like the top of the Maslow ladder to me.

Do we hafta go??!?

I admit, the sterile perfection of this country (which, in a complete reversal of South America, explicitly advises guests to PLEASE flush the toilet paper down the toilet rather than disposing of it elsewhere to maintain the hygienic standards) was getting to me a little bit…as in, “where’s the beef (or flaw or humanity)?” But I sure was grateful for it today when, upon returning from the Tolkien-like theatrical trail outside of our hotel room that provides a not-too-shabby place for morning reflections, I realized that I left my “bum” pak (ask us or Ruth Varney why we use that term) on the bench well within that walking trail.

In a frantic run that provided the only physical exertion I’ve had in the past several weeks, I high-footed it back to the bench, grimacing at all of the ED-TV Stepford wife nodding and smiling folks along the way only to find two travelers happily nestled on the bench.

“Is a bag there?” I asked desperately, searching for some culturally-neutral words to describe the container for my credit cards, camera and cash. “Oh yes — we were going to take it back into town when we were done.” Smile smile.

• Vegan horror movie! Me and my travelmates will never forget the sight of the hearty “salad” bar we encountered in Te Anau…replete with raw meat cuts all ready to take to the cooking counter…Mongolian “barbie”, as they say in these parts. The British influence was also evident by the other selections, which included pickled onion bulbs (mmm mmm) and hard boiled eggs (or so we think; it was a bit tough to find them floating underneath the pools of curry).
• Please adopt me!! We fell into our best accomodations yet at Ian and Sue McCracken’s marvelous Bay Vista House in Pohara outside of Nelson…simply dreamy — the photos are accurate (even if you can’t se the lavender that adorned each window overlooking the bay or hear the birds that chirped each morning!).
• Proprietors Ian and Sue are the parents we all want…they even handmade our raspberry jam each morning AND are related to the famous Kiwi who invented the Tantrix board game sensation here. But you need to be comfortable with a personable, cosy setup: the guest manual instructs guests to “shout loudly” in the event of a fire in order to notify the management.
• The hottub at the aforementioned locale was worth the hour windy drive to and from our kayaking locale on Golden Bay, because, after a full day of kayakaing (ask Lisa to tell you about my paddling prowess, which I of course make up for in my DJ skills), we were able to return to a hot tub. The only lamentable issue was Julie moaning that her arms were too tired to hold up her Pinot Noir glass….the horrors of wealth.
• Hiking Abel Tasman Nat’l Park wasn’t so bad either — especially when God re-did the Hannukkah thing by making our insufficient supply of petrol last the windy, precarious drive back (had it not, however, we were well-prepared for doom by Christine, who told us exactly how we things would feel just before we veered off the mountain).