Wellington hillside as seen from the ferry

What do public showers and gelato have in common? El numero dos. During our five days in Wellington, I visited both the gelato shop and the public shower* exactly twice.

Approaching the green, hilly, capital city by ferry, felt like being on Google Earth slowly zooming into the port. Much like Portland, Oregon, this town’s development was planned from day one. A “town belt” – a green belt of forest surrounding the city – was set aside over a century ago. As a result, it’s gorgeous but full of horrendous. Couple this with a pattern that is decidedly not a grid and numerous one way streets, and you have a recipe for definite driver/navigator bickering!

Bucket fountain on Cuba street - fun, random entertainment!

The “best museum in New Zealand” is in Wellington. It’s free and it’s called “Te Papa” or ‘Our Place.’ [Papa is the Maori word for mother!] I spent hours (at least ten) exploring the very-well-done exhibits over five days. Film footage of a home’s interior during an earthquake in the simulation house finally made me understand how scary a real monster of a quake would be. (I’ve only been in smallish ones). One of the displays showcased a Kiwi scientist who invented “Quake Breakers” for large buildings — basically giant rubber blocks shot through with lead cylinders (for shape security) that the whole building sits on. Lead doesn’t crack under pressure like other metals.

The display on immigrants was also illuminating, and included tables with a conveyor belt of stories rolling by that I could pick off and put back. It’s incredible to see how some people wait for an entire decade in a horrible refugee camp shack for a chance at a new life. It was also thought-provoking to be reminded that the difficulties don’t end after they clear customs. It’s so easy for us ‘haves’ to get irritated with the ‘have nots’ when the gift of a new life and new opportunities doesn’t completely erase who they were or put a permanent smile of gratitude on their faces.

On our ride back to the city, the fountain came on!

I really enjoyed the museum displays that highlighted Maori and Kiwi culture. Some of the ancient Maori wisdom — from latitude finding water devices to knowledge of lunar effects on planting — made me feel wildly ignorant. I had an “oh yeah!” moment when I learned that boat builders always carefully observed a tree before chopping it down. The most windswept side (with the fewest branches) will be more dense and act as a natural ballast if the boat is carved out correctly! An interactive game took me through what it was like to grow up Maori in the mid 1900’s. I made choices about ‘my’ life — whether or not to go by my Maori name at school, whether or not to stay home with my siblings when my mom died, who to date, where to live. But sometimes, I’d make my well-thought-out selection and the computer would say, “Because you’re Maori, _______, so you can’t do that.” “Because you’re Maori, you’re not allowed to drink at this restaurant unless you’re married to a Paheka (white) man.” Overall an excellent civil rights empathy exercise!

Red rocks - an ancient intrusion that gives the area it's name - where we spent a lovely afternoon

From browsing the museum, I finally learned why, until a few years ago, there were NO local banks in New Zealand! Australia has owned all of them for over twenty years.   Even the Bank of New Zealand and National Bank, which sound like they must be owned by NZ are not! Why? In the 80’s, New Zealand’s economy took a huge nosedive, forcing the sale of many government assets from banks to telephone companies, to electricity services. A few years ago they finally started up Kiwi Bank (which is who we chose to bank with), by adding services to all the post offices!

Other interactive exhibits I enjoyed: deciding which four species to take with to a new planet and finding out whether or not I survived, choosing a tsunami-creating-force and watching how it plays out in the ocean, and being the prime minister having to make a decision based on the Treat of Waitangi (New Zealand’s hotly contested founding document — the English version is signed by Maori and European leaders, but the Maori leaders could only read the Maori version which put things in quite a different context than the English version.)

Blooms at the lovely botanic gardens

But, Wellington wasn’t entirely about the museum! We visited Mt. Victoria overlook to enjoy views of the city and relax, we met up with a former Wanaka co-worker of mine and biked the waterfront, we shared a few pitcher’s at the lamp-shade ridden Mac’s Brewpub, we checked out the underground (literally) Saturday market, we educated ourselves at the hilltop wind turbines, we lazed an afternoon away 4WDing out to Red Rocks beach, we visited the Embassy Theater restored to its impressive Victorian glory by Peter Jackson for the Lord of the Rings premiere, we made tacos for Olivia and Eugene (my former co-workers), and we spent an evening as the only patrons doing karaoke at the Fringe Bar!

Thanks to a pretty compact downtown, we also got some much needed alone-time — parking the car and going our separate ways. In my wandering, I discovered the huge Sunday farmer’s market doesn’t have ANYTHING organic, I explored the breathtaking observatories and tidy trails in the gorgeous botanic gardens, and thrice I indulged in the delicious, cheap Malaysian food for which the city is famous. Yum!

So many flavors, so little room in my belly!

By the end of day five, the old saying about taking the girl out of the country was ringing in my ears as we struggled through painfully jammed traffic and an attempt to find parking. Relief flooded me when Pat agreed we should give up and hightail it out of the city! Goodbye, Wellywood!**

Rainbows, unicycles, ladies of the night, etc: visuals here.

*While public showers may seem gross, here they are decidedly not.   Why?   NZ doesn’t have any homeless people.   One of our kiwi friends told me how shocked he was to travel in U.S. cities and see homeless folks.   So who uses a public shower, if there isn’t anyone who doesn’t own a shower?   Well, basically, no one.   Since it doesn’t get used, it’s a sparkly, shiny public facility for which you just check out the key!

**Wellington is apparently well-known in the film world, in league with the likes of Bollywood, and Hollywood. As such, it is often referred to as Wellywood. A controversy broke out a few months ago when the city government approved the construction of a giant Hollywood-esque sign on a hilly by the city’s airport. Eventually, the sign promoters had to give up their dream.

The view on the plane coming in to Auckland. We haven't been here yet. NZ is so diverse because its latitudes stretch from the equivalent of just over the Canadian border all the way down to Baja Mexico

New Zealand was so, so kind to us upon our return from the U.S. summer. We’d left these nearly-antarctic latitudes buried in cold and darkness. I steeled myself for more of the same, but it was sunny when the wheels touched down in Auckland!   In a way, it felt like we were coming home. The familiarity of the place filled me with the same sentiments that I used to feel at the end of a long U.S. road trip in the minutes before pulling into the driveway. Sunshine and warmth graced our initial ten days, the first of which we spent in Diamond Harbour.

Our friend Emily’s brother, Will, did us the huge favor of van-sitting. The plan was just to spend a day recovering from jet lag, and take off the next morning. However, we had so much fun that night with him and his partner Ross that we ended up staying two more days! We had an absolutely hilarious night of fun and

The harbor from Will and Ross' front yard

card playing. I can’t remember the last time I laughed so hard. After a group tidying session just in time for the realtors to photograph the house (Will got a new job!), we spent the rest of our time relaxing in paradise! Hikes around the harbor cliffs, an expedition to the local pub, delicious dinners, running through the early-morning countryside — heaven!

It’s always fun for us to be around other couples — a bit of comic relief and just plain relief that your idiosyncrasies are actually pretty common. Getting to ease back into van life was also a god-send. Will & Ross’s place is a one bedroom affair, so we slept out in our van but spent most our time under their roof. From Christchurch, we headed up the coast to the infamous Kaikoura (Maori for “crayfish [lobster] food”) and stayed in a free campground! My readjustment to driving on the left side of the road went smoothly, thankfully. I didn’t tell Will I was nervous to drive his car, while jet-lagged, in a traffic pattern opposite what I’d been doing for five weeks!

The view from 'downtown' Kaikoura - not bad!

The free campground (really just two picnic tables and some grass, but that’s all we need!) lured us into an extra night in the area. Not having to worry about where to park for the night, or find a place to cook that won’t offend anyone is worth its weight in gold! Not to mention Kaikoura (kai-koo-rah) is STUNNING. It looked like Alaska with it’s snow capped peaks crashing right down into the sea. We made fantastic dinners, slept in, made leisurely breakfasts, explored the quaint town, and went to a sheep shearing show! I just about died of cuteness when the farmer told us to kill time before the show by cuddling the lambs that were born yesterday, and viewing the one that’d been born an hour before.

Day old lamb!

We watched a sheep lose its coat, learned about different wool that different sheep produce, which is used for carpets and which for clothing, etc. Wool on its own isn’t very profitable. It’s less than $18 from each sheep! Merino wool is coveted because the fibers per square inch are exponentially more than any other wool. We also got to feed “Ram Man” and see the sheep dog do tricks. And visit the lambies again! Awwwwwww!!!

Aside from the stunning scenery, the most memorable things about the area were the tide pools devoid of any active species and a lobster meal being touted as ONLY $115!! Now, technically “crayfish” is not exactly the same as lobster, but they are closely related creatures. I’m not paying $115 to taste the difference though!

Salt factory!

On our way north, we passed a factory with giant white hills piled up beneath an over-head conveyer. I couldn’t resist taking the turn-off. The men in the parking lot fixing a leaky water line were employees and told me all about their salt making! They pump sea-water in, send it through a series of mostly gravity controlled ponds to slowly increase the salinity, pump off the excess water at precisely the point where half the sodium chloride is deposited (to keep the salt pure), dry it over winter, and harvest it in buckets!

Picton was our final south island stop. The “sounds” that the area is famous for are inlets from the sea that twist and turn for miles and miles. After a morning run on the seaside trails, a work afternoon, and a visit to the public showers, we treated ourselves to a long, gorgeous

In the queue to get on the ferry

drive and some wine and cheese overlooking the stunning water and untouched wilderness. In the morning, I said goodbye to the south island, drove onto the Bluebird ferry, watched some middle eastern men delight in every aspect of being a ferry passenger, and kept vigil on the windswept deck enjoying the jewel-like waters and tall green hills all by my lonesome!

Click for photos of Maori carvings, a funky pumpkin, goofy ram’s horn photos, and cultural oddities.

Crossing one of the waterways leaving Pupu Springs

Our foray into Abel Tasman marked the beginning of the end. The following days comprised the final pages of our first New Zealand chapter. We visited “Pupu Springs” – the “world’s largest freshwater spring” at sunrise one day. The water appeared to boil up out of the ground into a giant, clear pool — stunning!   It’s against the rules to come into contact with the water in any way, shape or form. “Say No to Didymo” is a phrase every Kiwi must know — a parasite that infects waterways and turns them into slimy, orange-brown messes. We also got as close as possible to Farewell Spit — the arm of land that stretches out into the watery abyss. Wharariki Beach (Far-rah-ree-kee) is infamous for is furious winds, which introduced sand into every crevice of our clothes, ears, shoes, eyes, noses, and mouths that it could find. (For the record, the intensity of a screaming wind tunnel was fun to experience).

The rains did arrive, which became a snow storm as we crested Lewis Pass. One morning, just moments before a downpour, our carton of eggs crashed to the pavement. Dedicated to the religion of ‘waste-not-want-not,’ there was nothing to do but make scrambled eggs in the rain! We did get to see the high-elevation results of all that precipitation bathed in a sunrise one morning. What a way to start a day! We even found a hard-to-come-by side-of-the-road spot to camp one night that didn’t require the usual ritual of vacating before sunrise. What a luxury!

Playing Gin in the van

We found creative ways to burn time the last few days before departure. We spent a long afternoon at the Hanmer Springs library getting work done, we tasted at our first-ever distillery, and we played rummy and drank sherry in the van all while unknowingly making the security guards at the earthquake-relief housing across the street very uncomfortable. In preparation for our forty-hour airport travel stint, we stayed at an atypical holiday park. While we enjoyed the usual amenities, we were treated to several characters. Usually holiday parks are full of people on holiday. This place ended up being more like a trailer park full of permanent residents, but with communal facilities like an RV park. After dinner, a man who claimed to be a shaman and a spirit priest told us about his visions. Later that evening, a wild-eyed, wild-haired, rough-neck sort laid claim to the poster on the wall encouraging passersby to order their free copy of a publication that clears up confusion regarding the “Great Conspiracy.” The A-frame check-in lobby had several mounted animal trophies. Of all the dinners being cooked, ours was the only one that contained something green and didn’t involve frying in butter. Among the plethora of jigsaw puzzles, we found a complicated San Fransisco scene that gave us hours of entertainment and something to do while listening to the crazies.

Working on our jigsaw puzzle at the weird holiday/trailer park.

Finally it was time to go to Christchurch, meet Emily’s brother Will, and fly to our families! We had an awesome evening sharing stories with Will and chatting about everything under the sun. I think he forgave us for keeping him up late on a work-night, and we are incredibly thankful to him for sharing his slice of paradise in Diamond Harbour with us. (And for babysitting our van during the New Zealand winter!)

We had to fly to Auckland a day early, since our international flight departed at 7 a.m. To save on an already astronomically expensive trip, we activated ‘Operation Sleep In the Airport.’ I researched it online and found the sweet spot in a few travel forums. The ‘Observation Deck’ wasn’t always quiet, but it was dark and we caught enough Z’s to feel fairly normal in the morning. Twenty-eight hours, five airplane movies, three airports, and one confiscated pair of tiny medical scissors later we greeted my father in the sweltering Arizona heat and began a priceless adventure!

Quake destruction, fierce beach winds, and more by clicking here!

Fern Trees feel tropical!

Find a seasoned New Zealand tourist or a well-traveled Kiwi. Ask them to name their favorite New Zealand destination. Chances are six in ten that one of the first phrases you’ll hear is “Abel Tasman National Park.”

This slice of paradise is near the end of an unexpectedly sun-warmed road. An untouched coastine boasts tropical-esque white-sand beaches, emerald and sapphire waters, and green hills that reach down often to dip their toes in the water. Thanks to a little lucky geography, the seas are generally calm.

Isolated coastline!

Of course a place of such natural beauty would be hard-pressed to escape the “Great Walk” status. Regular readers of this blog will know “Great Walk” really means extortion-grade prices. Fees for staying in huts or at campsites triple, cutthroat wardens beat the trails demanding to see permits, and by-the-day prices don’t decrease in the winter when “day” means eight hours instead of seventeen.

Given the latter, we opted out of the sea kayaking option (we’ll save it for later in the spring when we get to the Coromandel). Our collective passion to sleep in our van for free whenever possible motivated us to taste Abel Tasman by day, and drive away at twilight. Thanks to multiple access points, it’s possible to day-hike right into the heart of the park.

Scraping ice off the INSIDE of the car windows at sunrise!

Despite waking to frost on the INSIDE of our van windows 1,000 feet up from the valley floor and thirty miles down the road, the day blossomed into sunny perfection. Memories of the quaint sea-side towns we’d wandered through on the journey out lingered during our breakfast of surprisingly-tasty-Motueka-bought mussel pate. Down the road, through the mists rising off the icy-fields, we spied a tiny young woman with her thumb out. Laura is a former university student from Wellington caretaking her friend’s rural property in exchange for living on it. She gardens a few days a week for grocery money. She has no car, but manages to hitch the 10 miles pretty reliably every work day!

Lovely little sea creature!

A few adorable towns after our Laura-drop, and we crossed the park boundary. We made Separation Point our goal, and passed through every type of Abel Tas landscape on the way there — bogs, hills, woodlands, cliffs, beaches, and lowlands. I’ve recently fallen in love with barefoot running theories and spent a solid hour picking my way through the slow-to-warm pea gravel and hard pan. The park was deserted on this unexpectedly gorgeous winter weekday, and we saw not a soul. We hunkered down to eat lunch in the sunshine, watch the sea lions lounge, and bask in the sparkles from the glittering sea.

One of my favorite beaches, with lots of tiny, washed up jellies

On the hike back, we got to prove just how in-need we are of a vacation from the more trying aspects of our current lifestyle. (Living in a tiny space, spending every hour of every day attached at the hip to the same person, daily finding a successful compromise between our goal to sleep for free in our van and our goal to avoid offending anyone or giving van tourists a bad name.) We ended up using the hike back as an opportunity to have a little break. We eventually kissed and made up, right after Pat felt his very-first-ever earthquake!

More photos by clicking here.

Franz Josef glacier - during the last ice age, it terminated out in the sea!

After months of a travel speed that can only be described as terribly casual, we flew up the west coast. Early to rise at our possum hunter’s camp, we bid Josh adieu and made to Fox Glacier at sun up. We beat all the tourists and had the half-hour stroll up the moraine to ourselves! Although we couldn’t get terribly close, the glacier impressed us! Then we were on to Franz Glacier where it was more of the same plus a few bus loads of Asian tourists. Personally, I prefer to see glaciers in the majestic solitude of the silent mountains, versus the Disney-fied setting, but still gorgeous!

Hokitika was our lunchtime stop where we strolled the streets, admired their historic buildings, puzzled over the machines at the sock making museum, and got info about shower opportunities. They pointed us up the road to Greymouth, where the aquatic center offered locker room use for $5.50. When you haven’t showered for days (a week?!), it’s hard to complain even about showers that operate in 90 second bursts after pressing a button. Ahhhh!!

Arthur's Pass falls

Most of our evening was spent attending to laundry at a strange facility in a parking lot cum RV park behind a gas station. The residents kept coming into the tiny room to use the toilet — weird! Then we scouted wi-fi, and followed up our finds in the morning for my weekly chat with my lovely CASA girl. We spent the best hours of the day climbing the very steep Arthur’s Pass, rubbernecking a brutal accident from the day before, passing under a waterfall that had been re-routed OVER the highway, and stopping for the view from DEATH’S CORNER! (Seriously? This is a highway, you official naming people. What are you thinking?).

Once in the town of Arthur’s Pass, we found the DOC (Department of Conservation) Visitor’s Center staff to be lovely and not at all condescending as we so often experience. (I read in a university publication that “it seems DOC tries to discourage anyone with a North American accent from tramping.” Pat and I have definitely, to our supreme annoyance, experienced this). Having settled upon an attempt to summit Avalanche Peak the following day, we spent the rest of our daylight hiking to an enormous waterfall and running the info routes among limestone formations at a cave site and at Castle Hill. It was incredible to be among surreal, hulking rock forms as the sun set. COOL!

dinner time at the shelter

Our evening at the shelter making dinner, drinking wine, and packing was perfect preparation for our sunrise departure up Avalanche Peak. We made it to the bushline just as light was filling the valley and got peephole views across to the waterfall and up to higher peaks. As we climbed higher and higher, the trail became more gnarly and intense. I often felt like I was back in the Andes, carefully picking my way along the razorback of a ridgeline, glancing an the thousand foot drops six inches on either side. Woooo!!! The views were EPIC. At the very top, we reluctantly sacrificed the last 100 yards to ice covered climbing surfaces (you’re welcome, Mom). The Kea, the world’s only alpine parrot, made frequent appearances throughout the day, including a showstopping display during our almost-summit lunch. So curious and fun to watch!

lunchtime kea!

We didn’t expect to be down the mountain until after dark, but we made record time AND had a moment of brilliance at the bottom: we can make the 6p.m. beer tour at Monteith’s! The tour, as far as knowledge expansion goes, was an utter fail. Paul (?) was a retired butcher who was NOT INTERESTED in doing anything but repeating verbatim his usual tour. It was just us and a couple from the east coast (U.S.). Each time the poor woman asked a question, Paul would respond, “We’ll get to that later.” He officially earned the “Worst Tour Ever” award when we found the beer tastings to be measly little squirts of their entirely mediocre line of beer. The saving grace was Paul’s clarification on meat cuts and the tip to make pumpkin wine by adding water and champagne yeast to a hollowed out jack-o-lantern! Wedding novelty?

 After one last night sleeping on the streets of Greymouth (in the van), we got up with the sun to see the Pancake Rocks and Blowhole up north at Punakaiki (Poo-nuh-k-eye-kee). Somehow layers of marine creatures had become compressed between layers of hard rock. Layer A errodes faster than layer B, leaving an awesome every-other pattern in the towers of exposed formations. After a half-hearted wander at an almost-cave, we took the stroll down to Tasman Bay and enjoyed a cool secluded little beach.

Pancake rocks at poo-nuh-kai-kee

Westport — the last major town on the northwest coast — was our lunchtime break. We strolled around the town and happened upon a brewery (fate?!.   After tasting, they pointed us in the direction of the “best fish and chips” — and they were! We had to partake in this national dish at least once. Not for those without a strong stomach, but delicious! Then we wound our way up through the rainforest and down the other side to reach Karamea — the last stand on the northern west coast. We bumped down a gravel road for an hour and hiked along a trail for 20 minutes before happening upon the Oparara Arch — the longest, biggest, best… blah, blah, blah. It was impressive, but so were the caves up the road! We hunkered under a picnic shelter to pack our bags for our Wangapeka track journey the following day and make dinner, and the wekas kept us company all night! Another successful thread on an ongoing journey. Woot!

See hilarious NZ road warning signs, ancient cave formations, a sock making machine, and a gnarly spider nest by clicking here.