New Zealand (January to February)
Seal, Kaikoura
Part 11 - Christchurch
We have clearly become complacent about our international travel days. New Zealand is only a short hop, we thought, so we left ourselves just 3 hours to get from our hotel to Sydney Airport and onto the plane by 10am, putting all our trust in the hired GPS device that spent half the journey ‘looking for satellites’ during which time we crossed the harbour bridge twice and spent 20 minutes driving away from the hotel in the wrong direction and then back past it. When the GPS found its satellites, it then spent most of the remainder of the journey ‘recalculating’ in a strange accent, by which point we had picked up signs for the airport and where duly following them, but half an hour behind schedule. Two hours does not go far in an airport and by the time we had returned the hire car that we’d had for the last day, checked in, had our onward tickets scrutinised to make sure we wouldn’t be staying too long, taken the car seat to the oversize baggage drop at one end of the terminal, waited in line to change the cash from the car sale, and manhandled very wilful kids, baggage, stroller and hand luggage through security it was time to peg it down to the other end of the terminal (because your plane is always the one at the gate furthest away) and get straight onto the plane, with no time for a spot of breakfast.
Andy is a bear that needs to eat, so missing breakfast is always a bit of a worry, but we were sure we’d be served lunch on board. Andy had the very clever idea before we set out on these adventures that he would request ‘vegetarian’ and where available ‘vegetarian asian’ meal options on all our flights as in the past he has found that these options are slightly more palatable than the ‘chicken or pasta’ dishes most airlines churn out. Imagine my hungry husband’s demeanour when the stewardess handed him a small plastic dish containing some chick peas, cucumber and red onion, with a yogurt for pudding, while Amy was served a ham and cheese filo pastry pie, with potato salad and chocolate brownie. It was a good job the meal was accompanied with a couple of stiff vodkas. Thankfully, the Tasmanian devil that is Holly fell asleep for half of the flight and I enjoyed a movie and a glass and a half of wine with my meal. The second half of my second glass of wine fell victim to the severe turbulence we encountered over the Tasman Sea. There’s not much between the tip of South America, on the other side of the world, and the Northern tip of New Zealand, except a big old ocean, so the weather can get a little choppy up in the thermals. Still, not as bad as the time we took a two month old Holly on the 12 hour flight to Phoenix and she puked all over Andy’s t-shirt and beard at the very beginning of the journey. That was a cheesy affair!
We have clearly become complacent about our international travel days. New Zealand is only a short hop, we thought, so we left ourselves just 3 hours to get from our hotel to Sydney Airport and onto the plane by 10am, putting all our trust in the hired GPS device that spent half the journey ‘looking for satellites’ during which time we crossed the harbour bridge twice and spent 20 minutes driving away from the hotel in the wrong direction and then back past it. When the GPS found its satellites, it then spent most of the remainder of the journey ‘recalculating’ in a strange accent, by which point we had picked up signs for the airport and where duly following them, but half an hour behind schedule. Two hours does not go far in an airport and by the time we had returned the hire car that we’d had for the last day, checked in, had our onward tickets scrutinised to make sure we wouldn’t be staying too long, taken the car seat to the oversize baggage drop at one end of the terminal, waited in line to change the cash from the car sale, and manhandled very wilful kids, baggage, stroller and hand luggage through security it was time to peg it down to the other end of the terminal (because your plane is always the one at the gate furthest away) and get straight onto the plane, with no time for a spot of breakfast.
Andy is a bear that needs to eat, so missing breakfast is always a bit of a worry, but we were sure we’d be served lunch on board. Andy had the very clever idea before we set out on these adventures that he would request ‘vegetarian’ and where available ‘vegetarian asian’ meal options on all our flights as in the past he has found that these options are slightly more palatable than the ‘chicken or pasta’ dishes most airlines churn out. Imagine my hungry husband’s demeanour when the stewardess handed him a small plastic dish containing some chick peas, cucumber and red onion, with a yogurt for pudding, while Amy was served a ham and cheese filo pastry pie, with potato salad and chocolate brownie. It was a good job the meal was accompanied with a couple of stiff vodkas. Thankfully, the Tasmanian devil that is Holly fell asleep for half of the flight and I enjoyed a movie and a glass and a half of wine with my meal. The second half of my second glass of wine fell victim to the severe turbulence we encountered over the Tasman Sea. There’s not much between the tip of South America, on the other side of the world, and the Northern tip of New Zealand, except a big old ocean, so the weather can get a little choppy up in the thermals. Still, not as bad as the time we took a two month old Holly on the 12 hour flight to Phoenix and she puked all over Andy’s t-shirt and beard at the very beginning of the journey. That was a cheesy affair!
Camping NZ
You see, this international hobo lifestyle is not all glamour. On arrival in New Zealand our ineptitude continued. We struggled with a very wriggly Holly, determined to go running off through the crowds, while we waited in line to go through immigration. Normally I fill out the landing cards on the plane, but on this occasion could not juggle that task with the turbulence and a Holly determined on in-flight adventure so I gave the cards to Andy to complete. As we approached the immigration desk it became apparent the passports were still on the plane. Off Andy ran, back towards the plane which was just 15 minutes from taking off again, to retrieve our most crucial documents. (Andy would like to thank Christchurch Airport security for not gunning him down as he vaulted the barrier back to the Airbus). Having made it through immigration, collected our luggage (the last lonely cases going around the conveyor belt) and been reunited with the stroller (that most marvellous of toddler restriction devices), we then couldn’t find Holly’s bottle. Andy went off once more, and humbly asked the immigration officer, who already suspected we were none too bright, if we could please have our bottle back. We declared our tent on the arrivals customs form (for fear of an immediate $200 fine if we didn’t and they figured out what it was when the bags went through the x-ray) so we had to wait while they took that off to hoover it out and rinse it down to make sure we were bringing in no nasties in the soil from Australia. Despite all that, just 6 hours after leaving our hotel in Sydney, we were in possession of our latest hire car and on our way to find our hostel. Our shortest international journey yet on this trip, but the most hectic and least prepared for. I think we’ll allow a bit more time for the next flight, and maybe check the route to the airport first.
But here we are now in Christchurch, the largest city on South Island, New Zealand. We are staying in the suburb of (New) Brighton, and we crossed the Avon River and came through St Albans and Richmond to get here. We ate fish and chips by the sea last night, listening to the familiar seaside sound of gulls. We are now the furthest we could possibly be from home (without going to the Antarctic, which has crossed my mind but is highly impractical), and yet it is so familiar: the place names, the seagulls, the town, the weather. The weather is far more temperate for the type of camping a Brit is used to. That doesn’t mean it’s blowing a hoolie and lashing with rain, but it is a more comfortable 20 something degrees.
But here we are now in Christchurch, the largest city on South Island, New Zealand. We are staying in the suburb of (New) Brighton, and we crossed the Avon River and came through St Albans and Richmond to get here. We ate fish and chips by the sea last night, listening to the familiar seaside sound of gulls. We are now the furthest we could possibly be from home (without going to the Antarctic, which has crossed my mind but is highly impractical), and yet it is so familiar: the place names, the seagulls, the town, the weather. The weather is far more temperate for the type of camping a Brit is used to. That doesn’t mean it’s blowing a hoolie and lashing with rain, but it is a more comfortable 20 something degrees.
Coffee break
Part 12 - South Island
If I believed in God I might say that this is his country. New Zealand is magnificent! The weather has been beautiful, the people are just so nice, there is something to do for everyone and the scenery is just incredible. It is a landscape of awesome mountain ranges, rivers and creeks that flow with the freshest ice blue water, snow capped peaks and glaciers, rain forests, thermal pools, lakes of clear water that reflect the mountains perfectly, and the most beautiful beaches. It is aesthetically perfect. It is as if a giant with a touch of OCD has painstakingly created his utopian model landscape, rugged yet very neat. There is real depth to the views and they surround you on all sides so that you regularly appear to be imitating an owl in order to take it all in. And it is everywhere! Around every corner! The attractive little towns just sit neatly in amongst it all. We have a little gas burner that we keep handy in the car, along with our mugs, water, coffee and a small cooler of milk and we stop several times a day for a coffee break to enjoy some scenic location or other.
We’ve also been avoiding the campsite kitchens in favour of dining alfresco while out and about. A week or so ago we stopped at a long wide beach in Abel Tasman National Park. In the process of sculpting a parade of sand penguins near the water’s edge we discovered some mussels and clams under the sand in the shallows. A frenzied half hour of digging yielded a bounty of fresh shell fish. It has been Amy’s dream since we decided to make this trip to catch and cook her own food. One sand sculpture sea horse later and we left the beach in search of a shop that might sell garlic! There was just one shop nearby and it did indeed have jars of crushed garlic and butter (I suspect we are not the first to do this!) We found the perfect picnic spot a little further back through the park, surrounded on all sides by mountains, next to a crystal clear river. Andy and Amy washed the clams and mussels in the river, then boiled them until the shells opened. We sautéed them with the butter, garlic and some scrumptious Marlborough Sauvignon Blanc I – naturally - just happened to have in the car, and tucked in. Amy, Holly and I thought they were delicious! Andy tried some and his head nearly turned inside out in distaste. He’s not a big fan of seafood. Good job we had a stack of sausages, burgers and ham steaks to finish off with. The food devoured and the rest of the bottle of wine consumed, Amy, Holly and I swam au naturel in the river, as Andy set up the fishing rod and grumbled something about indecent exposure. He’d have been better off joining us though, as then he wouldn’t have gotten his clothes soaked when he cast the line and followed through! Splosh! Soggy pants and a naked drive home! We drove home through the mountains as the sun set and cast an orange glow across the range, listening to the Foo Fighters. Perfect day!
If I believed in God I might say that this is his country. New Zealand is magnificent! The weather has been beautiful, the people are just so nice, there is something to do for everyone and the scenery is just incredible. It is a landscape of awesome mountain ranges, rivers and creeks that flow with the freshest ice blue water, snow capped peaks and glaciers, rain forests, thermal pools, lakes of clear water that reflect the mountains perfectly, and the most beautiful beaches. It is aesthetically perfect. It is as if a giant with a touch of OCD has painstakingly created his utopian model landscape, rugged yet very neat. There is real depth to the views and they surround you on all sides so that you regularly appear to be imitating an owl in order to take it all in. And it is everywhere! Around every corner! The attractive little towns just sit neatly in amongst it all. We have a little gas burner that we keep handy in the car, along with our mugs, water, coffee and a small cooler of milk and we stop several times a day for a coffee break to enjoy some scenic location or other.
We’ve also been avoiding the campsite kitchens in favour of dining alfresco while out and about. A week or so ago we stopped at a long wide beach in Abel Tasman National Park. In the process of sculpting a parade of sand penguins near the water’s edge we discovered some mussels and clams under the sand in the shallows. A frenzied half hour of digging yielded a bounty of fresh shell fish. It has been Amy’s dream since we decided to make this trip to catch and cook her own food. One sand sculpture sea horse later and we left the beach in search of a shop that might sell garlic! There was just one shop nearby and it did indeed have jars of crushed garlic and butter (I suspect we are not the first to do this!) We found the perfect picnic spot a little further back through the park, surrounded on all sides by mountains, next to a crystal clear river. Andy and Amy washed the clams and mussels in the river, then boiled them until the shells opened. We sautéed them with the butter, garlic and some scrumptious Marlborough Sauvignon Blanc I – naturally - just happened to have in the car, and tucked in. Amy, Holly and I thought they were delicious! Andy tried some and his head nearly turned inside out in distaste. He’s not a big fan of seafood. Good job we had a stack of sausages, burgers and ham steaks to finish off with. The food devoured and the rest of the bottle of wine consumed, Amy, Holly and I swam au naturel in the river, as Andy set up the fishing rod and grumbled something about indecent exposure. He’d have been better off joining us though, as then he wouldn’t have gotten his clothes soaked when he cast the line and followed through! Splosh! Soggy pants and a naked drive home! We drove home through the mountains as the sun set and cast an orange glow across the range, listening to the Foo Fighters. Perfect day!
Fisherwoman
While Andy and Amy have become addicted to fishing since we’ve been in NZ, I have had this growing feeling that one really ought to try a spot of adventure sporting. You know, being in the adventure sport capital of the world and all. Now as long as I live I shall never feel compelled to throw myself off a very high bridge attached to an elastic band. Nor am I inclined to climb down wet ropes and crawl around in a dark cave or swing from one side of a canyon to the other on a bit of wood attached to some rope. So with bungy jumping, caving and the canyon swing ruled out, I fell out of a teeny little plane from 12,000 feet at terrifying speed attached to a very nice man called Ollie with a big kite. Skydiving ... what an intense feeling that is! One of the scariest but the most exhilarating things I’ve ever done. I was reasonably calm as I climbed into the very sexy jumpsuit and harness. I was a little shaky and the deodorant I had put on that morning was fighting a losing battle against the ‘fear sweat’ but I could still speak, so I call that reasonably calm. As I walked towards the plane it crossed my mind that it was a very small plane, and would be very cosy with the nine of us in it (the pilot, 4 jumpers and 4 pros) and that I’m not a great fan of light aircraft. Once in the plane it crossed my mind that the only way now out of the plane was to jump. Due to the lack of protestation and panic on my part, I don’t think these thoughts were really fully registering in my brain. I found an inner force that enabled me to go through with it. I was third up, and as the two jumpers before me were unceremoniously pushed out the plane by their pros, I was giving myself a good talking to and resolving to keep my eyes open at all times. Then we shuffled to the hole in the plane and I was dangled out as Ollie got in position behind me and checked his chute. It is very difficult to describe the feeling of being shoved out a plane and then falling through the sky at 9.8 meters per second, but your face goes a funny shape. I think I was a bit alarmed by the force of it (quite a radical way to experiment with gravity), shocked that I had actually done it, and amazed by the views. My faculties failed me and I lost the ability to speak. I just fell, wondering how long I would be falling for and if we would stop falling before my tongue fell out my head. My thoughts went something along the lines of, “Oooooooooooooo, that was a bit sudden, I’m falling, oh shit we’re turning upside down, ooh look, there’s the plane, I’ve got nothing to hang on to, my face is being forced through my brain, I don’t think I’m breathing, my lips are dry, ooh look, there’s Mount Cook, shit, what just happened, aaaaaaargh, we’re being yanked up again, oh it’s the parachute, nice red parachute, weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee, hello sheep, I’m a bit tired now.” There is video footage. I’m not sure I want to share it.
Extreme sports aside, we are all having the best time in New Zealand. The camping is great, fishing and swimming in the lakes, rivers and seas is great, the stargazing at night is great, the picnics are great and we’re having fun just hanging out together. I will try in the next update to better sum up New Zealand. For now, I am still so overwhelmed with the greatness of it I’ve run out of adjectives. Words are beginning to fail me so suffice it to say, it’s proper lush!
Extreme sports aside, we are all having the best time in New Zealand. The camping is great, fishing and swimming in the lakes, rivers and seas is great, the stargazing at night is great, the picnics are great and we’re having fun just hanging out together. I will try in the next update to better sum up New Zealand. For now, I am still so overwhelmed with the greatness of it I’ve run out of adjectives. Words are beginning to fail me so suffice it to say, it’s proper lush!
Haka
Part 13 - North Island
And so we leave the enchanting southern hemisphere behind. We’ve had an unforgettable summer, and have now headed north to Japan for a spot of winter. In doing so we headed slightly west, the first time we have travelled backwards on this trip. We are not so much circumnavigating the world as zigzagging our way around it. We are now 4 hours behind New Zealand, and 9 hours ahead of the UK.
Compared to the full on pace of our first few weeks in New Zealand, the last two were quite quiet. We concluded our tour of South Island, via Invercargill, the most southerly city in the world, and then up through Alexandra and stunning Lake Tekapo, with its milky blue waters, shores lined with lupins and views of Mount Cook, before heading back to Christchurch for a few days.
Finally, we spent a week on North Island, in Auckland, staying with Nina (a friend of old of Andy’s) where we enjoyed some home comforts, good company, good food and good drink. Apart from the obligatory and very enjoyable day trip to Rotorua to see the bubbling mud pools and geysers and an awesome display of the Maori Haka, we didn’t do a lot. A walk along the beach, a trip to the mall, an afternoon in the park with the kids ... just normal everyday things. It was good just to stop still and chill out for a while, recharging ready for the next chapter of our trip.
Either I have run out of steam temporarily or New Zealand hypnotised me into a catatonic state, but that is all I have to say this time around. New Zealand blew us away with its natural beauty, the loveliness of its people, and the countless opportunities it provided to hang out and have some fun together as a family. We soaked it all up and had a blast.
Now for something completely different as we experience the land of sushi, sumo, shoguns, sake and snow.
And so we leave the enchanting southern hemisphere behind. We’ve had an unforgettable summer, and have now headed north to Japan for a spot of winter. In doing so we headed slightly west, the first time we have travelled backwards on this trip. We are not so much circumnavigating the world as zigzagging our way around it. We are now 4 hours behind New Zealand, and 9 hours ahead of the UK.
Compared to the full on pace of our first few weeks in New Zealand, the last two were quite quiet. We concluded our tour of South Island, via Invercargill, the most southerly city in the world, and then up through Alexandra and stunning Lake Tekapo, with its milky blue waters, shores lined with lupins and views of Mount Cook, before heading back to Christchurch for a few days.
Finally, we spent a week on North Island, in Auckland, staying with Nina (a friend of old of Andy’s) where we enjoyed some home comforts, good company, good food and good drink. Apart from the obligatory and very enjoyable day trip to Rotorua to see the bubbling mud pools and geysers and an awesome display of the Maori Haka, we didn’t do a lot. A walk along the beach, a trip to the mall, an afternoon in the park with the kids ... just normal everyday things. It was good just to stop still and chill out for a while, recharging ready for the next chapter of our trip.
Either I have run out of steam temporarily or New Zealand hypnotised me into a catatonic state, but that is all I have to say this time around. New Zealand blew us away with its natural beauty, the loveliness of its people, and the countless opportunities it provided to hang out and have some fun together as a family. We soaked it all up and had a blast.
Now for something completely different as we experience the land of sushi, sumo, shoguns, sake and snow.
