Family in Sydney

A crazy start to the day. We woke at 4 to make sure we got to the airport in time to drop off our rental car, check in and be ready for our 7 a.m. flight. We were told the rental car office at the airport opened at 5. But they don’t. We got there, and there’s nobody. The sign on the kiosk says we should go into to the terminal to the Hertz desk. We go into the terminal and can’t find it. We ask security and they tell us there isn’t one. We go back to the kiosk to drop the key in the key drop. The key drop is sealed shut. So we leave the keys and the paperwork in the car, parked in a Hertz slot, and head for our gate.

Once there, I call our travel agency’s North American office, where it’s the middle of the afternoon. I tell them the story and ask them to deal with it. When we landed in Sydney, I had an email from the travel agency saying they had called Hertz at the Auckland airport and told them our story. They also told Hertz to email me confirmation when they checked in the car. I still haven’t received the email. So either Hertz has its car and everything is cool, or they don’t and there’s a big mess to clean up. I’ll keep you posted.

Here in Sydney, we met Roslyn’s cousin Barbara for lunch. Barbara is a second cousin Roslyn did not know she had until just before we came here. Their grandfathers were brothers, making Roslyn and Barbara second cousins. We had a lovely lunch at the art museum cafe, and really enjoyed getting to know each other.

Then later in the afternoon, we met Roslyn’s first cousin Warwick at the Opera House Bar for a drink. The Opera House Bar is an outdoor affair in a location you can probably work out on your own. From there, we hopped in a cab to East Sydney to get a bite to eat.

“Have you been in an Australian pub yet?” Warwick asked upon alighting from the cab. When we confessed that we had not, he marched us into a pub on the nearest corner. He and I had half-pints, and Roslyn had a club soda.

Then we walked up a block to a wonderful little Italian restaurant. Lots of really good food and lots of drink. Warwick ordered a bottle of wine for him and me, ordered grappa for us after the meal. I am undoubtedly over the legal limit as a type this. I wasn’t driving, so you don’t have to worry. Roslyn, on the other hand, is quite concerned I might be snoring tonight.

A View from the Top

We spent our last day in New Zealand climbing and enjoying the view from the top of Mt. Eden. Before you envision us emulating Sir Edmund Hillary, I should tell you that climbing Mt. Eden means walking up the paved pedestrian pathway from the parking lot to the summit about 600 feet above. In other words, it’s a nice, easy walk. And the view from this highest point in Auckland really is pretty cool.

Mt. Eden is what’s left of a volcano that last erupted about 1,500 years ago, according to the volcano scientists. I’m relying on their estimates because humans only came to New Zealand about 800 years ago. Most if not all of Auckland is in big trouble if it ever erupts again, but it had the good taste not to erupt today.

After our descent, we returned to our hotel. Because of our dinner plans and our 7 a.m. flight tomorrow, we decided to get showered and packed up this afternoon. And that’s what we did, all while watching the Oscar telecast live. You know how the hosts always mention the world-wide audience of hundreds of millions? I suspect it’s true. The ABC telecast was carried live here on New Zealand’s Channel 2. And it did not bleep out Spike Lee’s “mother-f#$%&r.” We had to leave right after Olivia Colman won Best Actress in order to meet cousins David, Anthea and Izzy for dinnner.

Dinner was lovely, and we said our goodbyes. Back at the hotel, I dropped off Roslyn while I went to the nearest gas station to fill up the rental car we’ll be dropping off in several hours. Gasoline here is expensive. It’s $2.16/litre here, which works out to almost $6.00/gallon in American dollars.

I will not miss that. I will not miss driving here; the other drivers are very aggressive and the streets and roads hardly have any straight stretches. And in the cities, streets are marked so cavalierly that they might as well not be marked at all. Even New Zealanders complain about it.

But the people are friendly and outgoing and a pleasure to be among. And it is so beautiful here. I don’t know when or if I’ll ever come back here, but I’ll be thrilled if I do.

Tomorrow we fly back to Sydney for our final two days of our trip. We have lunch plans with another of Roslyn’s cousins we’ve never met, and then I’m not sure what.

Culture Club

We had a lazy morning. No hurry getting going, big breakfast, then back to the room to connect with our cousins. Our plan was to visit the museum. They took a pass on that. It’s within walking distance of our hotel, and cool and rainy early morning had given way to a warm and sunny day. The museum sits atop a big hill, providing a great view of Auckland harbor. It’s really a beautiful city when the sun is shining.

The museum is impressive. The main floor is filled with Maori artifacts, the story of how the Maori came to New Zealand and how the British colonialists did them wrong and are now trying to make reparations. The upper two floors have other exhibits, including natural history and memorials to the wars in which New Zealand has fought. We spent three hours in the museum, then enjoyed the walk back to hotel.

David drove to pick us up at 5:45. We drove a little south of the city center to a temporary theater, The Pop-Up Globe. The theater company puts on several Shakespeare plays during the summer. We were there to see “Measure for Measure.”

The theater is set-up like the original Gobe was (if you don’t remember, watch “Shakespeare in Love” again). The production is The Bard’s play, but with many playful asides,ad libs, and even some songs and dances. It was thoroughly charming.

Tomorrow is our last day in Auckland and in New Zealand. We’ll hit the beach if the weather cooperates. Watch this space.

Family time in Auckland

We spent most of Friday at the home of Roslyn’s first cousin, David. He lives in an Auckland suburb with his wife Anthea and their 10 year old daughter Izzy. David had invited us to come in the afternoon, stay for Shabbos dinner with friends, and spend the night. We accepted. While it rained on and off during the afternoon, we caught up with David and Anthea and Roslyn also did a few loads of laundry. The dinner with five of their friends was delicious and fun..

We woke up a little after six to get an early start on the day. We needed to be at the main Auckland harbor to catch the 9 a.m. ferry for the 90 minute ride to Tiritiri Matangi island. The island is an open sanctuary for native New Zealand birds and reptiles. Everyone who arrives on the ferry is sorted out into small groups and led around by volunteer guides. We spent almost five hours there; the return ferry left at 3:30. If you ever come to Auckland, I recommend a day trip to Tiritiri.

Back at Auckland harbor, we went to the fish market for a dinner of fish and chips. Then it was time for our cousins to go home, and for us to retire to our hotel. Getting back should have taken only ten minutes—a left out of the parking deck, another left and then a right. No problem.

Except we couldn’t make the right turn because of road work. We had to turn left, away from our destination. Now we were in some trouble. Auckland street signs make it very easy to find your way around, provided you already know the entire street system by heart. And the map we had was as useful as a fucking ouija board. It took us almost 45 minutes, but we made it. Roslyn would have burned the map, but she didn’t want to waste a match.

Underground

A post-script from yesterday’s blog. We were walking along Eat Street, when a young couple passed us going the other way. On his shoulders was their little girl. She took her dad’s cap and threw it to the ground, landing at our feet. It was an Atlanta Braves cap! I told the dad we were from Atlanta and he said they were, too! He had gone to UGA and lived in the Atlanta area, but they now lived Melbourne, as did his and her parents. Small world.

We bid goodbye to Rotorua this morning. We got to breakfast by just past 7 so we could be on the road by 8. We wanted to give ourselves plenty of time to make the drive to the Waitomo Caves. We were told to allow almost 2 1/2 hours. It didn’t take that long, even with two delays caused by road work.

We were about half-way there when we saw a road sign telling us we were approaching a fairly common occurrence on New Zealand roads: a one lane bridge. The sign also told us the oncoming lane had the right of way. What made this bridge different from the many others we’d traversed was it’s elbow macaroni shape. There was no way to see if something was coming. I’m happy to report traffic was light and we made it across without incident.

The Waitomo Caves is a major tourist attraction in the central part of the North Island. This is probably because some of the caves are home to glow-worms. Our guide told us they’re actually not worms; they’re mayfly larvae. Whatever they are, they glow in the dark.

We had booked our tour with Spellbound, because our chief scout Annette told us they did such a great job for her and her traveling companion Esteban. Annette’s reliability is unquestioned in these quarters. We were part of a small group—just a dozen of us—with a knowledgeable and entertaining guide. Our first stop was a cave with very few glow-worms but lots of cool limestone formations.

After leaving that cave, we took a short drive to another. For this one, we needed to wear hard-hats with flashlights attached. Once inside the cave, we walked a short distance before coming to a dock at a subterranean river. There, we got into a large raft, turned off our headlights, and floated along. The cave ceiling looked like it was carpeted in lights the size of pin heads. And at the end of that tour, we were able to take pictures of the glowing and sticky tendrils the “glow-worms” use to catch their food.

We really enjoyed the tour. It was Roslyn’s idea, and I just went along with it. But I really had a great time!

Back in our car, we headed north to Hamilton. Regular readers will recall that we met and had lunch last Sunday with Angie, whose daughter Bridgette used to work with our son David in Boulder. We met her last August when we were visiting David out there. Bridgette is now back in NZ, teaching school in Hamilton. We met up for dinner and had a wonderful time catching up.

We had made it an early supper, so that we could leave Hamilton and get to Auckland before dark. Even with the 120 km trip being mostly on a four-lane highway (a rarity in NZ), we just made it. We’ll be here for the next four days. It looks like rain may be here, as well. But we have family here and there are lots of indoor diversions here, so no worries.

Good night from Auckland, and mazel tov to Tar Heel fans everywhere.

Among the Maori

The native people of New Zealand, the Maori, are still a strong influence here. Most place names outside the bit cities have Maori names, and many of the places with names given by European colonialists, e.g. Milford Sound, also have their Maori names on signage. Today we learned a bit more about culture by visiting an actual Maori village.

It’s called Whakarewarewa. The pronunciation is FAH-kah-ray-wah-ray-wah. You trill the r’s, as in Spanish. The village is not far from the Rotorua CBD, and it’s located on land filled with thermal hot spots and geysers.

We learned the tribal history and how they live today. And as with the other Maori cultural tours you can take, you get to see a performance that includes the Haka, the warrior dance.

This shot is from another dance they did, with men and women passing the tossing sticks. Very intricate.

After the show, we had a lunch of chicken, beef and vegetables cooked in one of the thermal hot spots.

In the afternoon, we took a long walk along the Lake Rotorua lakefront. We dined for the third and final time on Eat Street, which is only a few steps farther from our hotel than the Arogeti house is from the Yellin house on 9th street. Tonight, it was the Craft Brew and Kitchen, where Roslyn took the highly unusual step of ordering and drinking a beer.

Today marks the 30th day of our trip. We have seven full days left. The weather looks iffy at best for most of that time, thanks to a cyclone hundreds of miles north of here. So we may get some rain. But probably nothing like what Atlanta is getting this week. I’ll keep you posted.

Into the woods & into the waters

It’s been a fun, active and exhausting day. We began with a short drive to The Redwoods. In the late 19th and early 20th century, someone had the bright idea of planting California Redwoods here in Rotorua. Maybe they’d yield a good timber crop. They didn’t. But they’ve thrived in this climate,and grown to heights of up to 230 feet.

They’re tiny next to their California cousins, but that’s because they’re so much younger. Give ‘em a few centuries more and see how they’ve grown. Other varieties of trees and other native flora abound there, and there are dozens of hiking and mountain biking trails there.

We did two of the trails, and after three hours of hiking, we were ready for a break. And we had the perfect one all lined up.

There it is; photographic evidence of your obedient servant and intrepid explorer testing out the therapeutic waters of the Polynesian Spa. These geothermal mineral baths have been here for well over a hundred years. Several offer a nice view of Lake Rotorua. They range in temperature from about 96 to about 104.

We spent almost two hours at the baths, taking breaks in between dips. At the end, I felt wonderfully like a piece of overcooked linguine—limp and loose. We came back to the hotel and chilled until the dinner hour. I may or may not have taken a nice nap.

Rotorua

The drive from Napier to Rotorua was one of the least stressful we’ve had on our trip. Fewer mountains meant fewer twists and turns. We arrived in Rotorua in the early afternoon and set about exploring the city.

Rotorua is in the center of the North Island, and it appears to be on every tourist’s itinerary. It’s easy to see why. Rotorua has natural geothermal hot springs and geysers. You can go see them, as you would if you were visiting Yellowstone. You can go to spas and enjoy a soak. This is a center of Maori culture; there are several places were you can go to see a performance of native dances, and learn about how these people used to live and still carry on today. It’s also quite lovely here. New Zealand has beautiful lakeside towns the way I-75 through Georgia has Waffle Houses.

We walked a few blocks over to the tourist information center. That’s where we got some help figuring out which Maori cultural program to see. It was booked up for tomorrow, so we’ll do that Wednesday. We also bought tickets for the Polynesian spa; that’s where we’ll soak in some of the geothermal baths. That’s part of tomorrow’s agenda.

We strolled around the rest of the central tourist area, checking out the restaurants and shops. Our hotel is right next to a covered pedestrian mall that’s lined with restaurants on each side. We made reservations at one for our dinner tonight. As we were leaving, Roslyn overheard a man and two women talking. One of them said something about a shul. So Roslyn asked where they were from. And that’s how we spent a half-hour getting to know Murray and Lorna Rosenberg from Philadelphia and their friend from near Toronto. It took five or ten minutes, but Roslyn and Lorna finally found someone they both knew. Jews finding Jews, on Tutenekai Street in Rotorua.

After saying goodbye, Roslyn and I walked to end of the mall for a spot of what has been our usual lunch: ice cream. The mango sorbet was quite good. We can do this because most days, we get a full breakfast included with our hotel stay. So we eat big in the morning, and then just have a snack in the afternoon to get us to dinner. Thanks to Annette for that pro tip.

And more thanks to Annette for suggesting we have dinner at Atticus Finch. The fried squid, ginger-sesame fried chicken, and fish dishes were all delicious. The portions are small and meant to be shared, and it was just enough food. We assumed the restaurant owner was a big fan of “To Kill a Mockingbird,” but our waitress said, no, she just liked the name.

We took an after-dinner walk, and then came back to our hotel. Our room was described in the hotel literature is a “cutie.” If the seasoned travelers among you think that must mean it’s a small room, you are quite right. But it’s big enough. And it has really soft bathrobes. I’m going to climb into one now.