There and back again

Hobbiton!

(the saga continues)

On our last day in Rotorua, Robert and I went to Hobbiton.

Oh, come on. We were in New Zealand. We had to go to Hobbiton.

I haven't seen the  Hobbit, by the way. I can't quite bear to go through with it all. 3 hours! 3 hours of my life!

Times 3!

Sorry. Probably too much exclamation marks.
It's a subject on which I feel strongly.

As a long term LOTR fan, it was a very disconcerting and familiar feeling, stepping into that scenery...

And Hobbiton was a strange place, all different sizes and scales.

Look at the tiny pears!

It was all unbearably cute and right in every detail. A model village, in fact.
I found myself quite wanting to live there.
Some of the holes were even just my height......more or less.

The guide took us around and showed us all the familiar things. The party field and the big tree, Bag End and the oak growing above it...

Speaking of which -
The tree growing above Bag End?
It's fake.

Or rather, it used to be real. Peter Jackson saw a real live tree he liked
The leaves are from Taiwan, and they're wired on.
Now they're falling off.

These artistic types eh? Imagine that. Imagine seeing a tree somewhere and thinking, "MY GOD. That is the ONE. I must have that tree OR I DIE. No other tree will do." And believing so strongly in the integrity of this that you have it taken to pieces, labelled, reconstructed, wired, and glue millions of tiny fake leaves onto it, to achieve your perfect tree forever.

The guide told us this happened with a plum tree as well - the book said the hobbits were eating plums, but they couldn't find a miniature plum tree, so they took a miniature pear tree, and took all the pears off, and glued tiny plums onto it. Because that was authentic.

I wonder how his personal life is.

Anyway, here is the leaf from the tree for your viewing delectation.

And here is Bag End, and the Fake!Tree
I feel that Frodo is just about to come out
Oh, Elijah Wood

The whole place was so carefully gardened and set out to look like the English countryside I found myself getting quite nostalgic for England. Even though all this would, if it were in England, be under 6 inches of snow.

I know. I've seen pictures.

A tiny stool!

*snigger*

After all that strenuous enjoyment, we went to the cafe where, of course, they served 2nd breakfast.

I didn't have it. Though I quite wanted to. 

I have some regrets.

After Hobbiton, we went to the Waitomo gloworm caves, and marvelled at the glowworms. This was a slightly more gentle version of the terrifying underwater dark climbing up waterfalls trek I'd done previously, involving a gentle downhill stroll, and then a little cruise on a boat.

Clearly I've grown old during my stay in New Zealand.

All those strenuous activities. They've aged me. 

Unsurprisingly, Robert and I were both destroyed after this relentless schedule of events.

But there was more to come. 

The next day, we went to Taupo and mooched about by the lake. We swam - turns out Lake Taupo had warmed up rather a lot in the 3 months since I'd been there, embarrassingly for me since I'd gone on and on about how bloody cold it was to Robert and really built it up and then it turned out to be quite balmy. Which was pleasant for swimming but not so pleasant for my ego. And we bathed in the hot pools. And we saw a bungee jumper (definitely putting paid to any ideas of ever doing this in the future). And we ate prawns at the prawn farm. And and and

And then - we went home!

And that was a relief

And I slept for a VERY LONG TIME

And then I went back to work
- which was very interesting
- and I got my South African work-seeking permit - the first on a long series of steps to the South African part of our adventures - which was very exciting
- and I finally bought a new pair of shorts

THE END

Coromandel

We arrived at Coromandel late, late, late, and the next day failed completely and utterly to catch the low morning tide to see Hot Water Beach. Boo hoo. Instead, we went to Cathedral Cove, apparently scene of one of the Narnia films, Stingray Bay, and Gemstone Cove, to paddle the day away until we could soak our bottoms in natural hot water. Yes? Yes.

It was another glorious day - we have been blessed with delicious sunshiney goodness - and the Coromandel region was really very, very beautiful. Like New Zealand in general.

This reminded me of a conversation we had with Alex before she left for the UK

Alex: "Yeah and then you go somewhere else and you see another stunning vista of gorgeous scenery and you're like, 'yawn, more stunningly beautiful mountains? Another pristine beach? Boring boring boring.'"
Us: "Really?" :-0 :-0 :-0
Alex: "Nah I'm only kidding. It's amazing. All the time."

Anyway. coromandel was amazing. All the time.

The water was pretty warm and the day was shaping up to be a hot one, so we thought it best to get int he water as soon as possible. 

After everything Robert said about 'always having beach holidays as a child' and 'happy not to do beach things since I'm so used to it', there was no keeping him away from the water.

To get to Cathedral Cove, you have to pass underneath a cave (the 'cathedral' itself) and past a rocky outcrop where the waves crash on coming in - a very wet journey if mistimed!

Robert grabs his things in readiness:

And this is what happens when you don't time it quite right...

Being too preoccupied with keeping my Canon out of the way, this is what happened to my shorts on that crossing:

Poor, faithful shorts!

This picture also serves as an obituary, for these shorts, which have accompanied me to Guatemala, Belize, Mexico, Cuba, the USA, Spain (three times), and, ill-advisedly, India (where I only wore them once, and was so ashamed at my ankle-displaying antics I never wore them again), are now No More. These Shorts have Ceased To Be.

Sob!

While playing in the surf in Cathedral Cove (which turned into a slightly frightening rip-current exercise in not drowning), a large wave must have come up and taken them away from me.

RIP shorts!

I had to be no-shorts Connie for the rest of the day. Luckily this was not a problem for me (is it ever a problem?) as we mainly stayed in the sea for the rest of the day. Phew!

Speaking of no shorts.

I love Mexico.

We spent the rest of the day skimboarding, eating ice cream, and generally having a good time on the beach. Skimboarding, it turned out, is fairly easy (in a way. In a way it is also impossible) on Hahei beach - a flat beach with plenty of water coverage - and we skidded about and looked generally foolish. It's not as much fun as surfing, but definitely a good addition to my current list of Stupid Things Connie Can Do On a Board.

This is Robert about to throw the skimboard down and skim on it.

He wasn't very good (mock.)

The key thing with boards, I have realised, is just to Go For It. If you try and look dignified, you'll never make it. The key is to break through the Embarrassment Barrier without breaking your wrist.

The sand was alive with tiny sand critters.

Can you see it?

They were brilliantly camouflaged!

I promise you it is there.

Robert, despite my exhortations to put sunscreen on for God's sake you idiot, insisted on not putting any sunscreen on and instead taking away a lovely memory of his sandal imprinted on his foot, as below.

He also decided to change the skin on his shoulders twice, for the hell of it.

He put some sunscreen on after that
Connie is always right, folks.
When you're a pasty white-ass person from the Northern Hemisphere, I suggest you slather sunscreen on like there is no tomorrow. Even if you're a big ethnic, I'd suggest you do the same. That ozone over NZ isn't going to repair itself*** you know.
Amen.

*** strictly speaking untrue, however geological time does not apply to my calculations

As well as sand critters, there were a number of hopeful looking seabirds hovering about waiting for our fish and chip lunch

These are the tracks they left behind...

After all that waiting, Hot Water Beach turned out to be a bit of a let down. The surf was so violent that day (Hahei beach, which is normally full of children, was designated a no-swimming zone after several adults got caught in the rips and had to be rescued) that even at low tide, the sweepers kept coming up and up the beach. While on Hahei, at the very top of the high water mark, we were still inundated by a silent sweeper that crept right up behind us and drowned everything we had.

That's where I lost my phone.

RIP phone and shorts!

Hot Water Beach suffered from the same problem, and after desultorily digging a few holes only to have them filled in again, we gave up and drove on our merry way to Rotorua. To finish off that day's near death escapades, Robert then promptly decided to skid for a good 4-5 skids on the wet road without putting the brakes on. 

Me: (in my head) Holy shit! We're in trouble! Robert's braking for all he's worth and the car is STILL SKIDDING.

Robert: (as he told me later - in his head) !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!skid!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!skid!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!skid!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!skid!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!skid!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!I wonder what will happen if I put the brakes on?

Car stops.

Me: "Holy shit! I can't believe it took us that long to stop when you were braking all that time."

Robert: "Actually I wasn't. I'm not sure what my right foot was doing."

Me: (in my head) WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT

Me: "Ok. Well. At least we're safe. Please press the brake next time you cannot control the car."

Robert: "Yes. I think in fact I may have been pressing the acclerator."

Me: (in my head) AAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH

Robert: "And I was just steering away from the skid. Which....I know you're not supposed to. But the road was really narrow and we were going really fast! But...I guess if I'd braked then that wouldn't have been a problem. But I didn't think about braking."

Me: "Sweet Jesus."

So anyway we reached Rotorua all in one piece.

In Rotorua, we visited Whakarewarewa village (it has 6 syllables, not 3 as Robert insisted on pronouncing it)  which is a living village full of pleasant Maori folk showing us around and feeding us food and purveying bubbling mud

It was pretty good bubbling mud: and can cure 'everything' as far as the advertising seems to suggest.

It was a warm place, and even the cemetery had to have chimneys for venting steam, which I found quite entertaining:

The main attraction in the village was the geysers, Pohutu and the Prince of Wales' feathers, two geysers next to each other. The Prince of Wales goes off before Pohutu does - it's an 'indicator' geyser, and so named for the feathers on the Prince of Wales' crest.

I suppose there's a passing resemblance.

It was too hot a day really to be wandering around a geothermal village, with the sun beating down and the soil heating up (they have a little garden - but the plants have to be raised up on insulated beds otherwise their roots get scorched), and so we had to repair to a nearby hill for a quick ice cream and a view before going onto the Kiwi Encounter.

Now the Kiwi Encounter is a fab place, a nature park nearby Rotorua which I strongly suggest you visit had you the time and inclination. The Kiwi is, of course, New Zealand's national bird, and I do quite like that NZ has chosen for its national emblem a hugely endangered, flightless, almost blind, nocturnal, shy bird that walks like it's permanently about to fall over.

Kiwis are an oddity: they have feathers that look like fur, almost no wings, a keen sense of smell and poor eyesight; two ovaries rather than one like most birds, and are just the most endearing, perplexing, inept little round balls of wonderfulness you've ever seen. There are a few Kiwis around the world - some in San Diego zoo and some in Japan - but nowhere else. This was a pretty awesome opportunity to see some Kiwis in the flesh.

We were taken through the incubation chamber, looked at the eggs (which are MASSIVE - 0.5 kg, when the female only weighs about 3kg! She can't eat for 3 days while gestating the egg, because there is literally no room for her to eat.) After laying the egg, the female totally abandons her eggs to the male to look after; no wonder, she must have PTSD from producing such a large thing ("equivalent to a human giving birth to a 3 year old child"). And best of all was when they brought out a 2 day old chick (they happened to be moving the chicks around, and therefore brought one out for us to see) who just wanted to sleep, curled up on the staff's hand. It looked so soft! Ad then we went into the nocturnal kiwi house to see some little kiwis running about. But best of all was whne we came back at 9pm to see the actual Kiwi House open, and the 4 current residents run about in the darkness and generally look as inept and cute as you possibly could look. It was frankly magical.

Even Robert enjoyed the Kiwis, though he pretended he just wanted to eat them:

Our first night in Rotorua over, we finally went to bed at a reasonable hour, for tomorrow we had a long day ahead....

To be continued!

Dear folks, 

I've just finished another set of nights in ED. Hurrah! 

Tim is making his wet, windy and cold way back from Nelson (I say cold - it is still 23 degrees) on the ferry and I am pootling around the house, baking cookies and not getting dressed properly and not brushing my hair and eating peanut butter out of the jar and listening to Pink * on repeat all the other things you do on your own when there's no one watching (admit it. You want my life.) 

(*side note: I have become accidentally addicted to this song. Does anyone else play a song to death when they first hear it? Is it just me and my dearth of an imagination? Also, mesmerising video. I first saw it played in the doctors' lounge at 15:57 - those last few minutes in Palmy where everyone sits around and hopes their bleep doesn't go off - and thought it was a bit sexy for the afternoon. Also, the guy has the most incredible 6-pack I have ever seen. It's a medical miracle.)

Anyway.

Night shift does terrible things to your social life and your inclination to socialise. On Saturday night, I missed the going away part of one of the ED staff partly by accident, partly because I was too tired to move, and partly because I just didn't want to get dressed. So on Sunday, I forced myself to get up and go to a BBQ.

Tim (Little - it was his BBQ): "Did you go to Steve's leaving do on Saturday?"

Me: (ashamed) "No...no, I was too tired. I...I just sat around and ate cereal in my underwear instead."

Gary: "Oh my God. You have just described my Saturday with uncanny accuracy."

Our last night was a super quiet one, we mainly spent the time reading about obscure radiological findings (obscure to me, I mean: 

Luke: (poring over a spinal XR) "What a subtle sign! I like it."

Me: "I like the way we use 'subtle' to mean 'sign I wouldn't spot.'"

Luke: "Spot on.")

This is how quiet it was: sometime during the night one of the nurses, who is from the US, mentioned super morbid obesity, a term I have never heard of. Man! So of course we ended up googling it. The first link I came across was to a blog by an ER nurse, bitching about how terrible the toilet habits of super morbid obese people are. And the very next link was a blog by a super morbid obese woman, complaining about how terrible her toilet habits are. Man oh man. You couldn't make it up. 

Later on in the evening, Tim L, who is on O&G, came down to see one of my patients. 

Tim L: "As you've already done a speculum exam then I won't put her through it again."

Me: "No - she particularly didn't enjoy having a speculum. More than usual, I mean."

Luke: "You mean women don't enjoy speculum examinations?"

Me: "Amazing, I know. Maybe it's just my manner. I'm sure Dr Little is much more winning."

Luke: (high pitched voice) "Oooh! Doctor Little! Or should we call him...Doctor Not-so-Little!"

Tim L: "Ha. Ha. Ha."

I've been thinking how ED is funny, and surreal, I think because I work with my peers much more than I have ever done before - there isn't the same hierarchy that you operate in constantly in other parts of the hospital. It makes for an odd odd experience, as all these people you know socially run around in scrubs and exercise their medical opinions, people you saw dancing on tables the last week or sliding head first down sand dunes, coming along and asking me for a second opinion on something. All very strange. Which I suppose only goes to show what a rarefied existence I lead, amongst such highly trained folk, all speaking the same language. And occasionally being quite silly.

****

Where did I get to in Northland?

Robert!

We got back from our beach outing to find a little note from Robert saying that the place he was staying at was all closed up for the summer (classic NZ) so he had to come to our Pagoda Lodge - a little hippy paradise of hippiness and baby ducks. The atmosphere was so peaceful that it turned Robert introspective and meditative (see picture below):

I know. Hard to believe it's the same person.

And I wasn't joking about the baby ducks. There was also a large rooster outside our room, which Arthur had long conversations with in the morning in chicken-talk, probably rousing all the other guests for miles around. No doubt deep philosophy treatises on Nietszche and the Void.

Robert stayed in a tiny little 'tree house' called Pear tree house. This picture was taken just outside his room. 

Peaceful, ain't it? 

Very!**

**If anyone can tell me where this (almost) quote is from, I will shake their hand on my return to the UK.

(Clue: it is a book.

Double clue: it was the author's favourite work, of all their works

Triple clue: the author was a man)

I don't know how I've got onto this tangent. This is what it's like in my brain all the time. all the time! I just wish I could get some peace and quiet for once. 

The day I abandoned Tim and his family, I took the skimboard, my luggage, and I knocked on Robert's door, who promptly lost the car keys because he was so excited to see me.

And we went and had a Perfect Day!

Literally, for we went on a Perfect Day Cruise. The 'much raved about' Perfect Day Cruise, according to Lonely Planet, consisting of a cruise out into the Poor Knights Islands, snorkelling, kayaking, eating, and generally splashing about loving your life to the max. 

Can you see the blue wrasse?

The ocean was full of them.

The Poor Knights islands are some of the most beautiful and most dived islands in New Zealand. The water was so clear, the day was so perfect, it was hard to believe I was in a place so like paradise. I never thought I would be in such a place. It was really like a scene from an advert. 

Come to New Zealand folks! It's literally amazing. 

As with 90 mile beach, there are a number of theories regarding the Poor Knights Islands, and why they got their name. One was that it looked like a knight lying on his back, one was that it was a series of names - there were some islands called the Squires, south, and some islands called the Kings, north - so this was a rank progression. And the last was that, due to the blooming pohutukawa trees (gorgeous trees, a glorious sight at Christmas) on the island, and the white cliffs below, it resembled a pudding called the Poor Knights, which had bread and milk below and jam on top.

Naturally this was my favourite, as it involved pudding. 

I'm nothing if not consistent. 

We snorkelled and ate and kayaked, and it was all so so beautiful.

Tiny tiny jellyfish swam in the water all around us

This was a male red pigfish, which lived around the entrance to the cave, a little grotto which contained MILLIONS of fish.

Don't say I was exaggerating.

I took a huge number of extremely poor quality videos, splashed around endlessly, and ate a huge amount of food. Pretty much my ideal day. Perfect, some (me) would say. Too soon it was time to say goodbye. 

That night, we drove to Coromandel, up the other arm of NZ's North island, and on the way we were lucky enough to stop and see an awesome friend of mine from Uni, Sam Wetherell! 

I'd known for ages that Sam often spent Christmas in NZ, and that he had an NZ passport (which he had to produce when we were in Russia, having - typically - lost his British one) We hadn't seen each other for 2 years, the last time he was in Oxford and I was just graduating from med school - and before that we hadn't seen each other for 2 years either. Sad times for a close friend I'd spent so much of my Uni life with, but it turned out we were both terrible at keeping in contact. 

And then while I was in Northland, I got a facebook message from Sam wondering if I was near Auckland. 

Was I near Auckland? 

Yes!

So on the way to Coromandel Auckland provided a much needed break, and a very, very surreal meet up with Sam.

Sam: "None of my friends have ever seen this part of my life. My New Zealand life! It is slightly surreal to see you here."

Me: "I can't believe this is the most convenient place for us to meet up."

It did seem ridiculous that NZ was the nearest place we'd both been for the last 2 years, when for 4 years Sam was living down the road from me in Balliol. 

Sad!

Who says pink and red should never go together?

That is the view, by the way, from Sam's mum's balcony. Sam's mum had met me years and years ago, at Magdalen, and when I told her she had the most beautiful view I'd ever seen (the living room, which you can just glimpse inside, has one wall entirely of glass - it is incredible), she told me that she thought Magdalen rather won.

I think not, actually. 

We had a long chat about NZ and how peaceful it is here and how bloody amazing everything is. Too soon it was time to go. 

That evening we drove some windy, windy, windy roads (nothing new there really for Nz - everything is windy windy windy) to Coromandel. Half way along the road, we stopped to admire the stars. You've never seen so many stars as there are over NZ - ther eis so little light pollution, the night sky is just one mass of stars, unbelievably beautiful pins of light. We just turned off the car, and gazed and gazed.

***

We snuck into our hostel at 11pm - unbelievably late by Kiwi standards- the owners had long gone to bed, there was no one there, and all the lights were off:

Me: "Will you leave a door unlocked for us so we can get in?"

Them: "Oh....there are no locks."

Me: "Of course there aren't."

Silly me. I forgot what country I was living in. 

We were pretty tired after our long drive, so we just went to sleep straight away. All through the drive, I kept on bothering Robert with, "so, what do you think of New Zealand?" even though the poor boy had only been here for 2 days. I can't remember now when I started loving New Zealand with such a fervent passion, but I think it was about a week into my first week here. Robert, as per usual, answered non comittally with, 'umm, ok?'

By the end of the week, this has progressed to, 'it is very nice, actually, yes, it is nice", which I count, from Robert, as massive praise indeed. 

Day 4 of our epic journey - are you tired yet?

To be continued...................................

Hurrah!

Just got the news today that my little sister has been accepted into Christchurch, Oxford, to study medicine! Very, very pleased for her - it seems so surreal that it was such a long time ago that I started, and finished, and now she is there too! And of course, I am delighted at having an excuse to visit Oxford again for the next 6 years to come. Wonderful!

The winterless North

Dear delicious folks,

Just back from an absolutely epic trip around the far North - the winterless North as they say here (har har har. Quite different from Newcastle then.) Tim's parents and Robert have all been to visit, which has been lovely, very exciting indeed, and I have shown them all as much NZ as I can manage. I am exhausted. And I have lost almost all my possessions to a very grumpy sea in Coromandel. 

But to start at the beginning, the last time I posted was before New Year. 

Happy New Year!

New Year in NZ is an odd thing because we reach the New Year almost before anyone else. Also, it's boiling hot. Confusion. Also, I found myself wondering what would be on the TV as New Year rolls in. You know - there wouldn't be celebrations all around the world, because no one else has got there yet. Puzzling. Perhaps they just show re-runs of the Crowd goes Wild and Shortland Street. 

Anyway, for New Year one of the ED nurses invited us to a Hangi, which is not pronounced the way it looks, and is a traditional Maori way of cooking special meals, under the earth with a fire burning on top:

It renders everything quite earthy but delicious and tender

A large amount of carbs and meat are involved in a typical hangi

Hats were produced and we all had a good good time, only slightly perturbed that, by the time we'd finished celebrating, it was barely midday in the UK.

Sigh.

Speaking of hats: 

The next day, we set off for the Northlands - the far North of the country and the (in?)famous Bay of Islands.

We caught the ferry at Russell - once described as 'the hellhole of the Pacific' with the number of escaped convicts, ruffianly sailors, and ladies of negotiable affection around.

It's very pretty and genteel now.

Tim's parents both purchased suitable hats for the occasion:

If you are in the Bay of Islands, you must sail: and we did, on a tall ship!

It was very exciting, and complicated. 

There were many ropes to pull:

Luckily the knowledgable crew helped us through it all with minimal rope burns and affliction. 

We were lucky with the weather, and it was beautifully sunny and windy

The wind made climbing up the rigging slightly fraught

But I managed it, feeling like I could be a ship's boy if I tried hard enough

(authentic?)

We stopped midday on an island in the bay of islands (there are >100 to choose from, so I am glad they didn't dither about it) and swam in the lagoon and on the beach. 

I have to be honest, it was pretty idyllic.

We looked at all the boats in the harbour and wished we could live here forever.

***

The next day, it rained. 

Oh it really really rained

The above is of 90 mile beach

And so is the below

It is actually not 90 miles long

It is only 68 miles long

Still, it was quite impressive

It rained all along its 68 miles

There are many theories as to why 90 mile beach is called 90 mile beach, and I have forgotten most of them. One of them was that early explorers reckoned they walked around 30 miles per day and it took them 3 days to explore the beach - hence 90 mile beach. One of them reckoned that it was nautical miles - which makes even less sense because nautical miles are shorter. And one of them reckoned there are 90 mile beaches in Australia (none of which are 90 miles long) and New Zealand just wanted one of its own.

regardless, it was a very pretty beach.

Tim and I had booked a coach tour to Cape Reinga, the northernmost point of NZ, and all the way through the rain absolutely bucketed it down - selectively, it turned out, because every time we got out of the coach, it stopped for a little while. So it turned out the best thing we could have done that day. 

Thanks, rain. 

Train.

 The coach driver clearly considered himself basically a chilled out entertainer and talked all the way through the journey in a way that started off grating but ended up endearing. 

This is him, demonstrating how to sandboard

Sandboarding is quite fun, if 1) it's not raining and 2) you're wearing a swimming costume and not clothes which collect sand in every wrinkle 

So, anyway, sandboarding was probably about as fun as we could expect it to be under the circumstances

(we still went twice. Naturally.)

You haven't experienced a true bad hair day until you've boarded down a sand dune in the pouring rain. Sand and rain together make your hair into a sculpture you will never forget. The closest I got was when I was in India, except in that case my hair sculpture was made of dust and sweat.

I know you wanted to hear that story. 

Having survived sandboarding (and another stormy gust of rain), we finally ended up where we wanted to be: where the Pacific ocean crashes into the Tasman sea: that meeting of waters swirling into white foam in the picture below:

The Tasman sea is green and the Pacific is a dark blue and it was quite impressive, overall.

And then we went back to our lodge and had a BBQ and fell asleep, completely exhausted.

And this is only day 2

I am tired, man.

***

The next day, we went to the Waitangi Treaty grounds!

You can read all about the Waitangi Treaty here: it occupies a very special place in the hearts of Kiwis and everyone makes very much of it, except before the 1970s no one really thought about it at all. 

History, eh.

This is Tim, studying a very beautifully carved war canoe.

And in the afternoon, we tried to go skim boarding.

It was an abject failure - a tragic failure of abysmal proportions. 

So we just swam around and ate ice cream instead. 

It wasn't too tragic, after all. 

***

And the next day, I met up with Robert.

To be continued......

Technologically incompetent!

Totally unable to effect a system where people sign in to read this blog, I have only succeeded in blocking everyone in the whole world from it. Typical! So I have opened it up again and just made it invisible to search engines, which will resolve, hopefully, my google-related panics.

A happy new year to you all! I am in Taupo at the moment with Robert - expect a proper update at some point soon. Suffice it just to say now: I hope you've all missed me?

xxx Connie