North Island Holiday

Visiting Auckland kicked off our tour of the North Island. Auckland is a great walking city with lovely gardens interspersed throughout and quaint suburbs surrounding. They also have crappy weather which makes me feel better about our Southland climate.
Karl and I found a "real" Mexican restaurant in the Parnell district of Auckland. They had real black beans!! Our hotel room view from the Heritage Auckland looked out over the harbor. We stayed there again at the end of our trip and had a view of the Sky Tower. Apparently, your real estate value goes up in Auckland if CANNOT see the Sky Tower. We made the mistake of going into the Sky Tower and connecting Sky Mall. I'm not sure why it's called a mall. It is actually several floors of garish casinos and a gift shop full of Kiwi bird tea towels and All Blacks tee shirts. (Don't worry, I got everyone one of each.) (The All Blacks is the NZ national Rugby team.)

DOES THIS LOOK LIKE FUN?

We drove down to Rotaroa which one can smell miles before actually arriving in the city proper. The aromas of hot sulfur springs greet your nose. This is where Karl decided he should break me into camping. Not cool. If I wanted to live like a refugee I would do aide work in Africa. I'm sure I sound like a princess but COME ON. What part of sleeping on the ground in a mummy bag listening to the rain and wind try to rip the tent out from under me was I supposed to enjoy? Perhaps the joyful part was supposed to be brushing my teeth with a bunch of strangers in the freezing cold before a cup of coffee? Needless to say, we booked a hotel for the next night. I object to the princess argument. Do princesses shovel their own coal?
Karl and I toured a Maori living village with a third generation Maori guide. We treated ourselves to a traditional Hangi meal. The encased food is lowered into the hot springs or placed over a geothermal heat vent and left to slow cook. The end result is very tender poultry and root vegetables.


Our decision to take the scenic route through the Te Urewera National Park to Napier is a decision of which we are still considering the merits. We are both still alive and the rental car company is not suing. State Road 38 winds through several small charming villages before it turns into a one lane, unpaved hell ride with no shoulders. It makes the road up to Rocky Mountain National Park look spacious and straightforward. What we estimated to take three scenic hours turned into six hours of, "are we going to make it?", "where the hell are we", and "That wasn't on the map."
The next day we walked out into the Napier and took a look at the glorious mountains we had driven through, they were covered in snow.

An earthquake destroyed the city of Napier in 1931. The town was rebuilt nearly entirely in the Art Deco style. There is Art Nouveau and American Arts and Crafts Movement mixed in, which is fine with me. The effort of the town to maintain the architecture and history is endearing. I'll admit that I'm a sucker for an old building with a story,
but to see a whole town recognizing the social movement behind their bank, and their main streets is amazing. Even the manholes in Napier are molded with Art Deco designs. We took a boat load of photos, check them out.

We took a wine tour around Hawkes Bay. Our next stop was Gisborne which is not really that nice. We high tailed it out of there first thing the next morning and discovered Ohope. Ohope is the perfect place for a vacation from your vacation. There is nothing to do there except relax and walk the beach, which is exactly what we did. This is also where we watched our very first and hopefully only, bootlegged movie, Ocean's 13 or 46 or whatever they are up to now. At first I thought the film was grainy for stylistic effect. Our next clue was the German and Thai subtitles and overdubbing. That is the last time we borrow a video from a 12 year old.

That was fun...we are sick of writing. (are you sick of reading? are you just looking at pictures?) See photos. North Island Photos

Coal paranioa and why I hate canaries

Karl and I returned from our whirlwind tour of the North Island and have moved into the Vercoe house, which we love. However, there are challenges and chores of the sort I have not been previously responsible. For example there is a coal range in the kitchen which is not only for cooking, it also heats the water and the floors. Heated floors are nice but I am paranoid of burning the entire house down. Constant coal fetching, fire stoking, and temperature controlling lend themselves to pyromania. I am only slightly embarrassed to admit that I had never actually seen coal before. Let me tell you something about coal, it shatters like glass when dropped on tile. Take my advice, keep your gas and electric ranges. Maybe give your stove a little kiss today for being there for you when you push start or bake or whatever.

Here at the Vercoes' we also have Louis and Neko, the cats, around 30 white doves, and Alfie and Baxter, the canaries to look after. Baxter thinks he is Frank Sinatra. I think he may make a good snack for Neko. Neko brought me a gift this morning letting me know that he may indeed be interested in helping me with the Baxter situation.
Karl and I have been reprieved from tending the sheep which is good thing. A ewe and her lamb escaped yesterday into the front yard. After chasing them in circles for around 10 minutes I decided to just lock them in the yard. Karl managed to heard them back into their proper paddock (or "field" to you city-folk). Of course the sheep in that paddock were also interested in getting out at the same time, making it a bit challenging for him. (The grass is always greener...I know.) He got the two renegade sheep in without any further escapees just in the nick of time. Perhaps we should get a sheep dog.
While I've been indoors plotting the end of Baxter and maintaining my barely healthy level of obsession with the coal stove. Karl has been trying to get to work and back again alive. There have been tropical storm strength winds, hail and rain. Lots of rain. Three large trees fell across our driveway Monday night. Karl had to take an ax to them and drag them away before we could get a car through. Did I mention it is about 4 degrees Celsius in the afternoons. We won't mention how beautiful the weather is at 7:00 am.

I was about to go to the grocery store, but the hail has picked up again, so I am sitting in my coal heated kitchen having a glass of wine. Hey, Baxter don't you know any other songs?!!
Oh I forgot to tell you about the grocery store! It's called "Count Down." Count down to what, I'm not sure. Perhaps it's count down to better prices. Produce prices and quality vary and are not related in any way that I can detect. Last month Parmesan cheese was $3.00, this week it's $8.80. Why? Asparagus was $3.89 for around 6 pieces bound when I arrived at the market which, of course I did not select (highway robbery!). At the end of my shopping I realized I had forgotten to get olives, so I went back to the produce department only to see that the price had changed to $1.89. Interesting.
Checking out was interesting too. The cashier inspected all my produce individually and then gave me discounted rates based on her personal opinion of their quality. You start to question yourself. Do I really want these limes at all? Are they as bad as she says? Why is she making that disgusted face? What does she know?

See more pictures of: The Vercoe House