Tagged: Kiwi
i’d like to thank…
So, the day that once seemed so impossibly distant has arrived – the one where I board a plane for the 27½-hour jaunt back to Canada (including layovers). Hawke’s Bay, however, seems to be doing its best to keep me seduced up until the very last minute, barraging us with what I’m told is unseasonably warm and sunny weather during what should be the climate equivalent of BC’s December. (Remember how balmy it was during the February 2010 Whistler Olympics? Gorgeous like that.) I know I’m heading back into what is turning out to be a glorious summer up north, but my goodness, my current weather pleasantries aren’t helping make leaving here feel like a welcome winter escape.
These last weeks have been a jumbling time for my emotions as my heart now finds itself divided between two homes. I have people I love in both hemispheres. Belongings too, as I’ve storaged stuff needed for living on opposite sides of the world. Instead of “goodbye”, I’ve been saying “see you soon” with a hopeful sense of that being the case. In the meantime, I’m choosing to welcome this time away from Napier as a chance to properly process these past 9 months and all they’ve come to mean for me – something I haven’t really done yet, having been too busy living the moments rather than examining them. And there have been so many wonderful ones. My cup runs over.
But before I close my computer and turn my face north for the next season I have a few thank yous. (This list is hardly exhaustive – and I know I’ll think of plenty more after the fact – but right now this is what’s coming to mind.)
Thank you to:
– my friendly neighbourhood Tui bird with the Maria Callas voice for waking me up each morning with its clarion 5-note singsong.
– the view from my bedroom for awing and inspiring me every day. If I had no other reason for getting up in the morning, that view would be enough.
– the eateries that have kept my stomach and tastebuds very happy: especially F.G. Smith, Monica Loves, Crazy Good, and Kilim Café.
– outdoor washing lines, for making laundry smell so sunny.
– double rainbows and caves for existing.
– island time.
– the Wednesday evening Library book club for enlightening me to the fact that if I ever want to read all the delicious-sounding books you mentioned I have to retire right now.
– the Waghorne St. heroes for showing us that it’s passion that defines “cool”.
– Aaron and Paul for helping make those very first weeks here friendly, fun, and forresty.
– Kay, for being that first kindred spirit I met here. Next stop, Broadway.
– Sally, for rambling coffee chats and for being a full-package treasure in the friendship department.
– landlady Sarah, and flatmates Kate and Aaron, for making coming home to Fitzroy a happy thing.
– Ian Robertson – half wild mountain man, half normal adult, and, I swear, the long-lost Kiwi relative of the “Duck Dynasty” Robertson family – for being the stuff of legends.
– Alan and Susie, and Bernie, for long meals and friendship that runs deep. (Susie, leave room for dessert!)
– the kind folks at Shed 64, the best New York-style loft apartment space in town, for letting me spend countless hours loving its 4 walls and the people inside.
– and most of all, the entire Powrie clan, who have opened their arms and lives and have embodied the warmth and love of home and family for me these past 9 months – Nick, Anne, James, Lucia, Hugo, Ollie, Becs, and the girls (as well as Don and Jude, John and Leslie, and the UK clan – John, Lizzie, Guy, Mary, and their girls). Words fall short in the face of love this beautiful. JAMES… yours most of all. I can only stare at you in wonder and thank Dad for the everything of you. ♥ Click here.
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I frustratingly realize I’m leaving out a lot – not intentionally, but maybe it’s my heart’s way of coping when there are so many memories that all want to surface at the same time. They come out in a forgetfulness-inducing blur. You back in Canada will be hearing snatches of the memories as I strive to catch up with all of you over the next weeks. I want to thank you too: for joining me on this journey by reading, for having made me not feel crazy for taking this step in the first place, and for cheering your encouragement along the way.
To my family, tausend Mal DANKE!!! I would not have done this without your support and encouragement and push out the door. It’s such a gift to have roots as strong as the ones you gave me to ground me.
And to the One who turns life into the best. adventure. period. You’ve blasted my mind again.
And with that, I’m off to catch a plane. Thanks, all. It’s been amazing! 🙂
blink 298
I’m confused. I swear I only blinked and turned away for a quick second, but suddenly my remaining days here in Napier are now countable on 1 hand and 1 finger, a fact that sits in my soul with no small measure of sadness and discomfort. How did these almost-298 days fly so fast?!
However, in the same way that I left Canada 9 months ago for an overseas adventure to New Zealand, I’m choosing to see this shift as me leaving New Zealand for an overseas adventure in Canada – I just happen to know a lot of beautiful people on the other end of the plane trip this time. I am determining to be gentle with myself as I navigate this path of rollercoaster emotions. I’m giving myself the luxury of being in as much denial as I can be (despite the chaos of bags and boxes that currently decorates the floor around me as a reminder of the inevitable) just so I don’t stop fully embracing each experience as if it’s an open door to new and wondrous possibility. I purpose to simply be thankful for each moment of these last 9 months.
Here are a few more moments that I’ve enjoyed in recent weeks:
Crazy Good – the best tiny coffee & pastry shop in Ahuriri. A Saturday morning fixture in my world (even though I don’t drink coffee) just because you can’t help but love the passion this guy has to provide his customers with a world-class cup of coffee. And the pastries… don’t get me started!
Look what I found!! But for $12 (yep – TWELVE dollars!!!!!), I’ll wait the 6 more days till I can buy them for about $3 back in maple leafy Canada.
The beautiful rolling hills of Hawke’s Bay on the road to Waipukurau.
A perfect sister city match.
I also went to Hell…
… for pizza. The menu will have you either shocked or chuckling, because it’s some brilliant creative branding, if a tad infernal.
We got snow!!!!!! (unheard of in Napier)
And 1.5hrs later, this.
It’s a lousy photo, but this is a snap of one of the two kererus (wood pigeons) that lives in the palm tree outside my bedroom window. Gauge it at about 3x the size of a normal pigeon.
The newly refurbished Clive Square fountain in the heart of Napier.
I went to Taupo with my adopted family for the first annual “Grumpy Uncles” family reunion. It was a fun, boisterous weekend with about 50 new-found “relatives” and I got the low down on what makes this family so lovely.
In Taupo, we saw the icy blue Huka Falls, where over 200,000 litres of water go over the 9m drop every second. Apparently that’s enough to fill 5 Olympic-sized swimming pools every minute.
And we went to the DeBretts Hot Springs for a “cool” 38°C volcanic mineral water dip. Nothing nicer on a chilly Taupo day.
A few days later, I joined my friend James on a business trip to Martinborough where we got held up by some rambling bovines along the way. No guns were involved in the hold up.
Martinborough is the epitome of a throwback-quaint, blink-and-you-miss-it kind of town… except for all the fancy cars and designer outfits that pass you by on the street – immigrants from Wellington, less than an hour away.
And a few days after that, I ended up here, in windy Wellington, for a weekend look-see around the “coolest little capital” in the world.
Before I show you the city I’ve got to give a shout out to Gourmet Stay, my “home” for the weekend. Amazing hosts, clean, comfy, modern rooms, phenomenal breakfast (included), only a few blocks from anywhere you’d want to be downtown Welly.
Taking a scenic drive around the Miramar Peninsula.
I got up close to Bilbo’s feet at the Weta Cave. (They’re not as smelly as you’d think.)
And I tried to make the moves on Gollum, but he didn’t seem too impressed 
But I did manage to get face to face with a seal chillin’ out on the seashore. It wasn’t until later that I found out you’re supposed to keep a 20m distance from them. Oops!
A visit to Wellington isn’t complete without a visit to Te Papa, New Zealand’s national museum. I didn’t get anywhere close to seeing everything, but what was there was awesome!! And it’s free!!!
Also awesome and free was getting to see this busker, Graeme James, on Cuba Street. He manages to create a one-man band by looping and layering his instruments. And the crowds LOVE him! Click here for a musical sample to see why, and click here to hear his recent TedX talk in Queenstown (really interesting! Plus he does a bunch more songs).
I can’t not mention the Wellington restaurant culture. In a town famous for its eclectic and exciting eateries, Grill Meats Beer is one of the popular ones if our long wait to get a table was any indication. Friend and I finally got seated by the namesake grill for a front row view of the kitchen action, even watching them make our meals. We waddled out, rubbing our bellies and wearing cheshire grins. Ombra and Loretta were two other places that left us smacking our lips. That’s three restaurants down, only another thousand to eat our way through 🙂
Finally, you can’t leave without taking a ride on the cable car. It’s the iconic thing to do, so I did it.
And that’s where my decent photos worth sharing run out, even though (as always) there was more… SO much more. Yet, with things wrapping up for me here in Napier, and no more outings planned, this will probably be my last photo post… but not my last post, so no goodbyes at this time.
It’s Friday night here and my weekend is ready to start. I’m off to Monica Loves soon, that great bar I mentioned last post, to meet up with some friends and gab and laugh the night away. I hope yours is as lovely. 🙂
merry in the month of may
It’s a whopping thought for my average brain to digest, but today in 5 weeks I’ll be landing back in Canada!! Where have the months gone?! Just as a downhill-pointed car gains momentum when you take the brakes off and let gravity do its thing, so these last, precious days here in Napier with the people I’ve come to love so much are passing much faster than I’m comfortable handling. I now always make sure I have Kleenex in my pocket for those unexpected heart pangs, and I’ve already said my first goodbyes. Yet, the grace abounds too, as each meeting and moment takes on a fresh depth of joy and thankfulness for getting to experience it. And there is much to be joyful and thankful about.
It’s easiest for me these days to stay short on the words and longer on the photos, so if you’ll indulge my making-the-most-of-the-time-I-have-left priorities yet again, here’s the most recent batch of photos from life in Napier.
My fav Saturday brunch fixture, F.G. Smith in Ahuriri – a popular mecca for all people artsy and trendy. I’m hoping some of it rubs off on me.
What F.G. Smith is to the daytime crowd, this bar, Monica Loves, is to Napier’s night owls. It’s small and loud and usually crowded, but packed with big city attitude and awesomeness. (Is it me, or is that ‘Big Bang’s’ Sheldon Cooper at the till??)
The ANZAC Day ceremony, April 25, 2015 at the Clive Square cenotaph – the 100th anniversary of the Australia New Zealand Army Corps (ANZAC) landing at Gallipoli, Turkey in 1915. Very similar to Canada’s Remembrance Day ceremonies, many cities, including Napier, also observe a dawn service.
Land maggots (as my friend likes to call them) – these ones seen along the scenic but isolated Taihape Road (aka. Gentle Annie), considered one of New Zealand’s top stretches of pavement worth exploring.
The Ngaruroro River along the Taihape Road in the beautiful Kuripapango wilderness. The trout fishing here is said to be second to none.
Fishing boats docked at the Ahuriri West Quay.
It’s a beautiful day for a walk along Ahuriri’s East Pier by Perfume Point.
Out for dinner with scientist Peter Molan, the man who in 1982 discovered the exceptional antibacterial properties of Mānuka honey. He was in town to speak at a conference on growing Mānuka as an industry in New Zealand, which I got to volunteer at.
Delegates from the Mānuka conference take a field trip to the Hawke’s Bay Regional Council’s Mānuka trial site at Lake Tutira, which is managed by my friend James. Once torn out and burned by the hectare for being a nuisance, Mānuka is now famous for its medicinal “magic” in treating wounds. They’re faint to the eye, but the upper half of the golden hillside is dotted with plantings 1-3 years old, while the lower half is indigenous growth.
They’re mere dots on the screen in this photo, but these two Iroquois Air Force helicopters circled the skies above Napier for about an hour the other day. It was curious and a bit disturbing to see military presence hovering about so obviously without knowing why. The reason, it turns out, was a good one. These two helicopters are being retired and are flying their way across the country, stopping in different communities along the way to give Vietnam vets one last nostalgic ride before the Hueys are retired on July 1.
Some of my fellow ACOL Bridge learners, with beautiful Anne (in the red scarf) at the ready to patiently guide us. Twelve of us show up weekly at the Napier Bridge Club to learn through practice practice practice and not just a bit of headache as we work to wrap our heads around the strategy of the game. It’s harder than it looks, folks, but fingers crossed, I’m almost sure that one of these days it might all fall into place in my brain. 🙂
No more for today. A cold, stormy weekend beckons as the South Pacific slides further into its winter months. It will be perfect for helping a friend scrub their garage floor, and doing some leisurely visiting. Ordinary as they may sound, these are the memories I will be cherishing upon my return to Vancouver. So, if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to make as many as I still can. Till next time.
napier lookbook
There’s a praying mantis manoeuvering its way across the ceiling towards me as I write this and I find myself simultaneously fascinated and freaked by it – fascinated by how determinedly it jerks and wobbles its way across the precarious heights; freaked by the odds of this ugly, alieny thing plummeting into my hair. But I’m not getting up to do anything about it, am I? No, so I guess I’m hoping the odds may ever be in my favour.
It’s been almost 2 weeks since my last post, with a 4-day Easter long weekend sandwiched in the middle and a long list of normal, everyday life stuff to otherwise fill my days. Nothing to really write home about, yet, there were memorable moments a-plenty. I celebrated a birthday in Mission Estate Winery style (that was an excellent evening!), thrifted for furniture in Hastings (where we saw the most drool-worthy mid-century modern credenza. If friend doesn’t buy it, I’m sorely tempted to), spent Good Friday on a long countryside drive for beach views and ice cream and Mac’s Sour Apple drink on one of the finest days Hawke’s Bay has had this summer, made headway on my personal projects, had friends over for dinner, spent good time with other friends, saw a Broadway play, had a new flatmate move in, started Bridge card game lessons… and suffered through the post-lesson headaches of putting my brain through such a workout! The days have been full and unregrettable.
A couple of months ago you may remember I did a post of backlogged photos, ones that havn’t really fit into any post but still give a look into Napier life. With nothing much to write about lately, it may be time for another one of those.
The Museum Theatre Gallery (MTG) – exactly what its name suggests. I haven’t been to any performances there, but the exhibits are top notch. And they have a grand piano in the foyer!! No, I haven’t played it.
The flower pot on Emerson Street. An unconventional bit of street art, but it offers a constant rotation of seasonal/holiday/event decor. Right now it’s festooned with big poppies for the April 25 ANZAC Day (Australia New Zealand Army Corps) – like our Remembrance Day.
The best vegetarian cafe in town at Chantal, the organic and wholefoods shop at the bottom of my street.
You’re constantly stumbling across random quotes, painted on random walls in random spaces, as you walk around Napier… like this one.
Beautiful Lake Tutira, a 35min drive north of Napier. Once the seasonal home of Māori tribes, it is now a popular campsite and outdoor recreation area.
The F.V. Nifty painting that decorates the Marine & Transport Engineers building on the Ahuriri Quay.
Looking out at Bayview from the Ahuriri shore on a blustery day.
And looking out at Ahuriri and Bluff Hill from the Bayview hills on an early morning.
The David Trubridge head office in Whakatu, on the outside…
… and in, where the magic happens.
Does anyone know what this ‘Dr. Seuss-y’ flower is??
A clever sign at the Emerson Street Saturday morning market.
I frequently walk past this doorway in Ahuriri…
… and sometimes find these club members perfecting their medieval warrior skills somewhere nearby…
… so was it any wonder, then, that this “HERO TESTING” van was seen parked in front of their building for several weeks? I think not. (PS. It really says “herd”, not “hero”, but you had to look back at the pic to double-check, didn’t you? lol)
Another funky van in Ahuriri – this one heavy on the adorbs, light on the Superman.
Te Matau A Maui waka (The Fish Hook of Maui canoe) moored in Ahuriri’s East Quay. It is a traditional, double-hulled Maori sailing vessel, this one used mainly for educational purposes.
I’m not sure what this retro-orange building is at the bottom of the hill, but I walk past this awesome spiral staircase every time I head into town.
The bus stop at the bottom of Bluff Hill (Ahuriri side). It looks cool, but it’s also a little creepy to walk past and catch these life-sized “people” out of the corner of your eye, not moving, just staring at you.
Double rainbow over Perfume Point, Ahuriri.
A minutes-old Monarch butterfly, freshly hatched and drying its wings.
Breathtaking sunrise over Napier Girls’ High School.
And with that, I’m going to send this post off so that I still get something into your inboxes under the 2-week mark and thereby feel like less of a blogging slouch :). Until next time!
PS. The praying mantis thankfully stayed out of my hair, but it was nowhere to be found when I came back into the room after being gone for about 10 minutes. Stalker mantis? (dun-DUN-dun-DUN)
the coolest hot spot around, part 2
It seems I left you hanging on the edge of your seats a few days ago, having tantalized you with some of Rotorua’s wonders before coolly ditching you for brevity’s sake. What a flirt! But you know I can’t stay away for too long – not when there is still so much to tell you about!
I left off having told you about the Bath House building being reinvented as a popular Rotorua nightclub for 25 (often crazy) years, until 1990 when the lease expired, ending another era in the building’s history. Yet, the Bath House was far from dead. 1969 saw the south wing become home to the City of Rotorua Museum, joined 8 years later by the Rotorua Art Gallery moving into the north wing. Growing it into the must-see attraction it is today was a slow transition involving many expansions, additions, and upgrades over the last 45 years, but the result has been very worth it. I was there for over 4 hours (including the free 1-hour guided tour) and didn’t come close to seeing everything.
A big part of that might be because I spent so much time in the “Beating Hearts of Te Arawa” exhibit. It dove into the stories, customs, and taonga (treasures) of the Te Arawa Māori tribe, the first people to inhabit the area – following their mythological Hawaiki origins to their roots in the Rotorua area today.
One of the stories the exhibit dove into was the June 10, 1886 volcanic eruption of Tarawera Mountain, the most destructive volcanic event in New Zealand’s recorded history. In the early-morning hours of that day the explosion killed 153+ people, buried what many called the “Eighth Wonder of the World”, and generated a 17km long zipper of ripped-open rock along the top of the Tarawera mountain range, spewing fire and black smoke 9km into the atmosphere and re-creating Lake Rotomahana into a basin seven times its original size. The blast, reports say, was felt as far as Christchurch, almost 700km away.
The “Eighth Wonder of the World” refers to the Pink and White Terraces of Rotomahana – dazzlingly beautiful steps cascading down the mountain like ornamental fountains, the largest silica terraces the world had ever seen. By the second half of the 19th century, they had become a popular destination for the wealthy (despite the arduous efforts it took to reach them) as news their grandeur spread. However, all that changed overnight with the violence of the Tarawera eruption. The terraces, directly in the fault zone, were buried under 60m of basalt and water when the bed of Lake Rotomohana gave way. Initially they were thought to have miraculously survived, but 5 days later, a telegram sent by the Rotorua postmaster announced the devastating news that it was “quite a decided fact that the terraces exist no longer.” It wasn’t until 2011, when scientists sent robotic submarines deep into the lake basin, that they found remnants of the terraces thought lost forever, a discovery of such significance that it has been dubbed New Zealand’s version of the discovery of the “Titanic”.
The Pink and White Terraces were close to each other (800m apart), having been formed over the years by boiling hot geysers, rich with silica, waterfalling down the hillsides and crystallizing as the water cooled, in time creating a beauty said to have been without equal.
“Set in a basin of pure white silica, delicately carved and fretted, lay a pool of pale blue water so pure in colour, so opaque in substance, I wish I could convey to the sight of those who read this the merest reflection of that heavenly colour, that pale tint found nowhere else on earth.” – Mrs. Howard Vincent
“To convey an idea of its beauty on paper is impossible.” – Lt. Herbert Meade, 1870.
The White Terrace (Te Tarata = “the tattoed rock”) was the larger and prettier of the two terraces, measuring 15 stories high and 2 football fields wide at the bottom.
The Pink Terrace (Otukapuarangi = “fountain of the clouded sky”) was where most people went to bathe due to the more moderate water temperatures. Hues ranged from pale pink at the 23m-wide bottom to smoked salmon at the top.
For more information on the re-discovery of the terraces, including photos of what they found, check out this blog by a man with ties to the 2011 scientific expedition.
One area of the Museum I didn’t get enough time to take in as deeply as I would have liked was “Ake! Ake! – the story of B Company 28 Māori Battalion“, the unit of Māori soldiers whose World War II exploits in Greece, Crete, N. Africa, and Italy have become legendary. Known as a fierce and fearless, their determination to serve took them to the frontlines of some of the war’s worst fighting. One in six men was killed in active service.
“We’ll fight right to the end. For God! For King! And for Country! Ake, ake, kia kaha e!” – WWII marching song written for the 28th Māori Battalion
In a bit of a personal spin on this story, one of the British tourists in the guided tour group I was in told how her father’s best friend witnessed the B Company in action. When faced by an approaching unit of German soldiers, they broke out in the Haka (Māori war dance), intimidating the Germans so badly they fled their positions. That’s the stuff that makes legends.
It was a good thing that the Museum closing time came when it did, because I had just enough time to race back to the hostel to meet the driver from the Mitai Māori Village where I had signed up for (at the recommendation of a friend) a staged evening of entertainment focusing on Māori stories, songs, dances, and kai (food). I must admit, I usually avoid the more costly, “slick brochure” touristy stuff – especially when it costs more than an average dinner out with friends – but Mitai?… worth. every. penny. What a fantastic evening! It entertained, it informed, it fed – incredibly well on all 3 fronts.
After being welcomed by our hilarious host – who during the “where is everybody from?” time incredibly managed to exchange a few words of greeting with the guests from each nation in their native language (even the more obscure Lithuanian, Belgian, and Danish ones) – we were taken on a walk into the bush to meet the Māori warriors coming down the stream in an ancient waka (canoe). From there it was on to the open theatre for the show where the “tribe” put on a superb performance of traditional songs and dances, including a haka, followed by an engaging and often humorous lesson in Māori history, customs, and culture by the chief.
And then there was the hāngi dinner, a delicious and plentiful meal slow-cooked over heated rocks buried in a pit in the ground. I should have taken a photo of that. You wouldn’t have believed the spread!
The evening ended with a night walk through the indigenous flora and fauna to the glowworm pool before being taken back to the hostel for one last sleep before heading back to Napier the next morning. What a memorable way to end my visit there. And at the risk of sounding like an informercial, if you’re ever in Rotorua, check out what the Mitai family has put together. You won’t regret it.
I could have easily spent a few more days in the city discovering its many offerings – simply the unique geothermal experiences the area supplies could have made for a couple of happy days of exploring – but with the seaside magic of Napier calling me back, I can’t say I was particularly sad to leave Rotorua behind… at least not its sulphuric odor which hadn’t lifted in the few days I was there. However, its odd perfume aside, Rotorua itself should be a mandatory destination for anyone who comes to New Zealand. You have to see it to believe it.
Until next time!
Extra photo credits:
White Terrace painting
White Terrace photo
Pink Terrace photo
B Company 28 Māori Battalion
Rotorua – geothermal
the coolest hot spot around, part 1
This past Tuesday was 6 months since I arrived here in New Zealand with no clue of where exactly I was going or how this adventure would shape up. That’s amazing to me! – a bare blink of an eye ago I was facing down this crazy idea of packing up my Canadian life for 9 months, wondering how on earth it could possibly work; and now my pendulum has swung and I look at my return north with similar questions, clueless as to what awaits me on the other side of the 21 hour flight back.
If nothing else, my dwindling time has made me aware of all the things I hope to still do and experience while I’m here. Admittedly, the list is short, as my purpose was never to travel and see the country, opting rather to plant my feet deeply in one place and soak up the offerings of life there. On that front I have definitely succeeded. Napier has proven to be a place of uncommon magic, beauty, warmth, and welcome. The bigger hand that pointed me here chose very, very well.
Two weeks ago, I decided to venture outside of Hawke’s Bay for only the second time since landing here, this time to Rotorua, about halfway between Napier and Auckland in an area world-famous for its extraordinary geothermal activity thanks to the volcanoes that dot the terrain. The field trip was prompted by the visit of some dear friends from back home – Craig and Alison H. and their 3 phenom kids – in Rotorua for a family reunion, but I was tantalized further by the chance to see what some consider to be the vibrant heart of Māori culture.
The 3 1/2 hour bus trip from Napier got me into town at noon, Tuesday (10th), where the first thing one notices upon arrival is the distinct-and-unavoidable rotten egg sulphuric aroma that knocks on your nostrils and announces it’s moving in for a spell. And no, you don’t get used to it… not in 3 days, at least. Nose slightly rumpled but choosing not to focus on it, I booked myself into the YHA Rotorua hostel for 3 nights, armed myself with a stack of brochures for an afternoon of sightseeing… and promptly fell asleep. I guess I needed it? (The trip had been preceded by a string of late nights and early mornings.) So, even though that afternoon was a touristy write-off, it freshened me up for a lovely, late-summer evening in the countryside with the H family and a small handful of their relatives, the smash barbecue dinner they prepared, and an after-dinner visit to Eat Streat, a cobblestoned, geothermally-heated city block of al fresco dining in the heart of Rotorua’s entertainment district, popular with tourists and locals alike.
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After a night of being tickled by the scent of sulphur in my dreams, I woke up on my second day in Rotorua (Wednesday, 11th) with more H family time to look forward to.
First stop: Kuirau Park, conveniently located across the street from the hostel and a rich source of the gases I’d been smelling. Even better, it was a free(!) excursion to see some of the bubbling mud pools, volcanic fumaroles, and hot springs that the area is known for.
If you’re into geothermal activity, Rotorua is Disneyland. You name it, it’s here – geysers that spout 80+ feet in the air, boiling whirl pools, multi-coloured lakes, scalding steam that seems to seep through any crack in the ground that it can find, hot pools popping up in people’s backyards… What we saw at Kuirau Park may not have been anywhere as extensive or flash as what you’d get at the privately owned geothermal attractions, but it was, by all accounts, a respectable representation.
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One bonus to the Kuirau Park outing? Getting to soak our tender tootsies in one of several hot foot pools. Think a nice, relaxing, hot bath that never goes cold. All that was missing was bubbles, some wine, and a good book.
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Next stop: Te Hahi O Te Whakapono (The Church of the Faith) in Ohinemutu, a modern Māori village located a short walk from Rotorua’s downtown core. St. Faith’s Anglican Church is as historically recognized for its Tudor-style architecture as it is for being where the first Christian church service in Rotorua was held on October 30, 1831…
… while culturally, St. Faith’s has retained its Māori heartbeat despite the shifts of time and influence, visible in the ornate carvings (whakairo) and woven wall panels (tukutuku) that fill the sanctuary. Bilingual services are still conducted each Sunday, open to anyone who would like to attend. Most visually arresting is the Galilee Chapel Window where, when you kneel down to pray at the altar, an etching of Jesus wearing a korowai (Māori cloak) appears to be walking on the waters of Lake Rotorua. Finally, the B&W photo below is Ohinemutu, looking onto the St. Faith’s Church and Mokoia Island, circa 1915.
Even with all that interesting stuff to see around St. Faith’s, an extra treat still awaited us. As we were about to exit the church, Rotorua boy gone Hollywood, Temuera Morrison, walked in. Admittedly, I had no idea who he was, but I’m told that he is one of New Zealand’s most famous faces, having been launched into New Zealand fame by his role as Jake the Muss, a violent and abusive husband in the 1994 movie “Once Were Warriors”, and then international fame by his appearance in “Star Wars Episode II: Attack of the Clones”. I’ve seen neither, but judging by the starstruck buzz he created, his fame definitely precedes him. Notice Craig’s mom’s smile 🙂
The rest of the afternoon was spent back at the relative’s home, enjoying the slow pace of a warm summer day and watching the kids ride horses before heading back to the hostel for an early evening. While I did get to briefly see part of the H family again a few days later in Napier when they were visiting Craig’s brother, Aaron, getting the quality time with them in Rotorua was like a breath of pure BC mountain air, and a reminder that I have some amazing people in my world. So much to be thankful for!
Day 3 in Rotorua (Thursday, 12th) had been marked and claimed as a tourist day – one where I would take in as many of the city’s points of interest as possible in a marathon sightseeing spree before head backing to Napier the next morning. Yet, despite my tacky tourist intentions, all plans were curbed by dark skies and rain to match, which went far in convincing all but the ducks to stay indoors while the heavens poured themselves out. So it became a quiet morning at the hostel for me instead, bowing to the cocoony-ness of the day to get some work done. Even this Vancouver girl didn’t want to go out in that kind of wet.
Thankfully, by midday the rains abated and I headed over to the Rotorua Museum, a few minutes walk from the hostel. The historic 1908 building cuts an imposing figure as you walk through the perfect green of the Government Gardens, suggesting former glory days and noble dreams that materialized differently from what was hoped.
Back in its original days, what you see above was known as The Bath House, promoted far and wide by the New Zealand government as the “Great South Seas Spa”, an international tourist destination that offered a variety of therapeutic treatments made possible by Rotorua’s curative waters and volcanic muds. The vision was of it being a global mecca for health- and pleasure-seekers alike, capitalizing on the healing powers of the area’s hot mineral waters.
“Nowhere else in the wide world does Nature work more kindly for humanity than at Rotorua – a truth admitted by grateful sufferers from all parts of the world, folks who ceased to suffer after taking the waters and treatments at Rotorua… free from racking pain and dread.” – from ‘Better Health – a Better Holiday – Rotorua Railways Publicity Branch, c.1933,
Men and women were treated for rheumatoid arthritis, gout, sciatica, lumbago, insomnia and nervous irritability, chronic dyspepsia, obesity, stiff joints or limbs, colitis, some forms of “kidney mischief”, and most types of skin ailments (among other illnesses). In its heyday, Rotorua’s “Cureland gave 60,000-80,000 baths annually, and approximately 30,000 special treatments.
That was until the sulphuric and acidic properties in the mud and waters corroded everything, blackening walls, rusting metals, pealing the paint… The dream of a great “Cureland” had literally crumbled by 1966. Yet, even though the Bath House era was ending, the building managed to escape destruction by being revived as a very popular restaurant, then cabaret, and finally nightclub known as Tudor Towers. From 1965-1990, influential musical acts cut their teeth at the Towers. Kiri Te Kanawa sang there in 1966, the eve before she left to go to Europe where she went on to become an international superstar. The museum tour guide I had recounted her own fond memories of the Towers, dancing the night away to Cairo (the club’s house band in the 80’s), and clumsily attempting to navigate her way down the grand spiral staircases in stilettos after a few too many drinks… It was a miracle, she said, that people didn’t break their necks. She, apparently, isn’t the only one with happy memories of those days – the affection for those golden years seems to still run deep in this city.
“It was the place to be. The dance floor pumped.” – Phil Sullivan, Tudor Towers bouncer (1984 to 1986)
This is where I leave off for today. Rotorua, part 2 will follow shortly. There’s simply too much to tell, and this post is already getting too long to comfortably read in one sitting. So, take a breather, and I’ll post again shortly. Until then!
Extra photo credits:
St. Faith’s Church exterior
The Bath House, 1913
Tudor Towers, c.1977
C is for cookie
C is also for Cricket. And for the Cyclone that swept through New Zealand, just off the east coast, a few days ago. Cookie Monster would be so delighted.
This is another catch-up post for me – an attempt to get up-to-date on my Kiwi happenings – although I’m happy to only be about 11 days behind now in my postings, instead of 2 weeks… as though those 3 days of betterment put me so much more on top of things. Since my last post 8 days ago it feels like we’ve started experiencing the first strains of Fall. My nights are consistently requiring extra blankets, and my daytimes refuse to be spent sleeveless anymore, although the locals don’t seem to be affected by the chilly nip like I am, walking around dressed for the tropics with nary a goose bump in sight. Me, on the other hand, I went and bought a knit scarf today. It will do nicely for the 3 months I have left. (Just call me a trendsetter – ahead of everyone else when it comes to fashion ha ha.) However, on to the interesting stuff.
Cricket. I don’t know what the awareness about the 2015 ICC Cricket World Cup has been outside of cricket-loving countries (of which I can safely say Canada is probably a lesser one), but it has dominated attention in this corner of the world for the last month as international games have filled stadiums around Australia and NZ, including McLean Park here in Napier where on March 8 I got to see the NZ Black Caps play Afghanistan in a match game.
.
The morning dawned with a promise of hot and sunny and didn’t go back on its word, sending its 27 degree scorch onto spectators and players alike in what turned out to be a 7+ hour match that New Zealand won by 6 wickets.
Please don’t ask me what exactly that means or how they did it. I have no idea. The whole thing seemed a bit like a glorified, more complicated version of baseball, only with no chewing tobacco involved. However, this video from ESPN gives some explanation:
I left the stadium after 5 hours because of a previous dinner commitment, right when it was finally New Zealand’s turn at bat, so I unfortunately missed all the game-winning action. But here are a few photos of what I did catch (with apologies for the poor resolution – my camera doesn’t do too well with distance shots).
A Maori warrior plays a Pukaea (Maori trumpet) to greet the players prior to the match.
The teams line up for the Afghan and New Zealand national anthems.
Game action! – New Zealand trying to bowl Afghanistan out.
A packed house at McLean Park.
As far as excitement goes, getting to experience a World Cup Cricket game with the home team playing was something for the memory books. “Loud and proud” was the rule of the day, although the sporadic pockets of Afghan supporters held their own with equally raucous fervor, and everyone cheered a good play no matter what side got the point. A fun day was held by all.
Cyclone. The first drops of Cyclone Pam started falling as the final Napier cricket match was wrapping up this past Sunday, 
March 15. The news had been reporting about the trail of havoc and destruction Pam had left on her way through Vanuatu, and forecasts had it hitting the east coast of New Zealand with a vengeance in the early hours of Monday morning. Eventual predictions downgraded it to a category 4 storm – less spectacular and ominous as far as forces of nature go, but definitely still big enough to do respectable damage along the way as the brunt of the storm hit Hawke’s Bay on Monday morning, keeping everyone on high alert monitoring the high tides, 120km/hr wind gusts, and 5-6m high waves.
All that said, the whole thing was underwhelming, most likely because Napier fell into a sheltered pocket thanks to its location just under the East Cape (which got a significant hit – bringing about some evacuations and flooding). If you’ve sat through a Vancouver storm in February you have an idea of what Napier tasted – substantial, prolonged rainfall, and strong enough winds to get the trees swaying like banshees… but not enough to interrupt the normal routine of life, much to many school-age children’s disappointment (and adults hoping for a paid day off work). However, what we did get was some spectacular seaside swells that brought the lookyloos (including me 🙂 ) out to the beach, and made the surfers very happy.
The Dawn Princess heading out into uncertain waters as the first drops of Cyclone Pam started falling Sunday evening.
50+ surfers hit the more sheltered waters in Ahuriri for some small swells on Monday. Meanwhile, on the other side of the Port…
… waves pounded the shore with exhausting force.
At least one man took the chance to get up close and personal with nature’s wrath.
Empty beach.
By Tuesday afternoon the storm had passed, but its fierce remnants still lingered – enough to even send the occasional rogue wave almost into the parking lot…
… or high over the breakwater at the Napier port.
But, all’s well that ends well. Thankfully, it didn’t take long for the sun to come out again and life in Napier to get back to normal.
The next post will be all about my trip to Rotorua last week. Hopefully I’ll get that up in the next few days. Until then!
Extra photo credits:
Cyclone Pam path
Napier Port breakwater – James Powrie
back from the future
The best evidence we have that time travel is not possible, and never will be, is that we have not been invaded by hordes of tourists from the future.
– Stephen Hawking, Cambridge lecture, Jan.1991
It would seem that Mr. Hawking, for all his scientific expertise in these matters, has never been to Napier. At least not for its annual Art Deco Weekend – five days each year that transform the city into a not-to-be-believed Gatsby-esque spree of decadence, glamour, and dress-up, where thousands of people from all over the modern world (including, this year, NZ Prime Minister, John Key) travel back in time to the golden era of glitz and sophistication.
It’s hard to believe that it’s less than a year ago that my ears first tuned into a whisper about Napier and the Art Deco influence that pervades the city, thanks to the extreme make-over made necessary by the 1931 earthquake that had destroyed it. I vaguely remember at the time thinking that the place sounded like it may have some creative DNA lurking in its bones.
Fast forward to me sitting on the bus heading south from Auckland to what would become my New Zealand home, with an enthusiastic seatmate going on at length about the Art Deco Weekend and how amazing it was. That should have been my first hint of what awaited me. In the ensuing weeks and months post arrival in Napier, I would invariably find myself subject again and again to the earnest advice that if I’m still planning on being here in February I better start looking for an outfit early… because I’ll feel like the biggest fish out of water if I’m not dressed up along with everyone else. They weren’t exaggerating.
Can’t repeat the past? Why, of course you can!
– F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby
This year’s celebrations were once again blessed with perfect, near-30 degree weather, the forecast rain on Sunday not unleashing itself until 7:30 that night after the final events had wrapped up, the vintage garb had been put into storage for another year, and Napier was prepared to turn back into her usual Monday self. Not since Vancouver’s 2010 Winter Olympics (or those rare times the Canucks actually get to the finals of the Stanley Cup play-offs) have I experienced a city joining in one spirit like Napier does for this event. So believe me when I say, Art Deco Weekend is a BIG DEAL here! The proof is in the pictures.
These shots fall short of capturing everything that went on over the weekend – a girl can only be in so many places at one time – but maybe we can work on cloning and teleportation once we master this time travel thing.
Vintage Tiger Moth airplanes put on a show above the Dome for the thousands of spectators at Saturday’s Automobilia vintage car parade, one of the weekend’s main events.
Bertie, Napier’s Art Deco ambassador, kicks off the hour-long Automobilia car parade down Emerson Street on Saturday morning. This car used to belong to Clarke Gables’ wife, Carole Lombard – Hollywood’s highest paid actress in the 1930’s.
Ever since their first-responder efforts following Napier’s 1931 earthquake, the NZ Navy is always given a place of honour at the Art Deco festivities. Here the Royal New Zealand Navy Band sets a rousing tone for the fun to follow.
Keeping with its British roots, tea is still very much part of the Kiwi way of connecting. Dilmah Tea founder, Merrill Fernando, and his two sons, Dilhan and Malik (seen here) were invited to Napier to celebrate these roots and host some “high teas”, proper style.
A bit of Gatsby glamour adds some glitz to the Automobilia parade.
It wasn’t just vintage cars on display.
The view as the Automobilia parade winds its way up Emerson Street. Cars came from all over the world to participate.
And the cars keep rolling.
I see me!!
A good party always brings out the beauties…
… and the champagne.
Dancing in the streets. (There was a roaring free-for-all dance that shut down Emerson Street later that evening.)
Dressed down for the Depression Dinner. A few hundred participants trudged the streets and sang for their supper in this popular dinner event.
Poised and smiling for the camera.
Also poised and smiling.
Saturday evening sunset over the Dome.
Sunday morning brought out the home-made soap box derby races on Tennyson Street, which I missed in favour of joining my friend for a photo-taking jaunt out to the airport to see the vintage airplanes.
The 1944 Harvard III.
The 1944 DC-3.
The 1939 De Havilland Tiger Moth.
The weekend ended with a garden party like you’ve never seen before. The Sunday afternoon “Great Gatsby Picnic” brought out the finest of Napier’s vintage society along the Marine Parade promenade as elegantly attired ladies and gents lunched beachside in this favourite weekend event.
Jazz to make you dance…
… cars to make you drool…
… steam engines to make you sweat.
Gatsby society came out in its finest and funnest feathers, ready to lunch in style.
Dancing in the fountain.
The original bell from the HMS Veronica – the Navy ship that was the first responder after the 1931 Napier earthquake – is rung every Art Deco weekend in a poignant memorial ceremony for all who were lost and all who risked their lives to help during those tragic events.
Close-up of the HMS Veronica bell.
Those were the days.
Extra photo credits:
Automobilia parade – And the cars keep rolling
Automobilia parade – I see me
all’s balmy in palmy
Palmerston North. Beautiful land of the Ngāti Rangitāne and the winding Manawatū River, it’s the country’s 7th largest city, a thriving university town, and the New Zealand mecca for fertilizer conferences? At least it was two weeks ago as delegates from all over the North Island descended on the city to, quite literally (pardon the french), talk sh*t. I don’t even want to imagine their lunchtime conversation.
As most of you might surmise, the fertilizer conference was of no interest to me, but it was to Forestry friend, James, who kindly invited me along for my first foot outside of Hawke’s Bay since I first landed in Napier on Sept.26, five months ago today (EGADS! – time is a-flyin’!). I had heard things about “Palmy”, as the city has been affectionately dubbed, usually followed by barely supressed snickers and wry smirks, leaving me with the vague impression that the place wasn’t exactly high on people’s list of exciting destination cities. So, this chance to find out for myself was just too good to pass up.
The 3 hour drive south-west of Napier, out of Hawke’s Bay and into the Manawatu-Wanganui region, flew by quickly as we drove through the usual farmland scenery as well as a few smaller communities that fell along our State Hwy. 2 route (Dannevirke, Woodville, Ashhurst), seeing little variation from the golden, rolling hills I’ve become familiar with up Napier way… until we got close to Palmerston North, that is, and drove through the Manawatu Gorge at the southern end of the rugged Ruahine Range, and were greeted on the other side by miles of windmills. But more on that later.
Palmy itself, contrary to cynical opinion, was a pleasant surprise – at least the downtown core where I hung out for the day was, where everything that’s architectural, cultural, and cool about the city seems to converge around a central square, much in the vein of Central Park in Manhattan, only smaller. (Much, MUCH smaller. And less trees.)
My first stop – after grabbing a bite to eat at the Café Cuba, where Che still hangs out on the dining room wall – was the Te Manawa Museum of Art, Science, and History, a modern building that encompasses the heart, mind, and spirit of what makes the Manawatu region what it is.
The name “Te Manawa”, I learned, comes from the Māori word for “heart”. It also refers to “Manawatū” – as in “manawa/heart”, plus “tū”, which means “to stop, or to stand”. Legend has it that when the Māori ancestor Haunui first came upon the Manawatū River, its awe- and fear-inspiring greatness made his heart stand still.
I spent several leisurely hours exploring all the free museum had to offer. It was time well spent with exhibits worth lingering over, but most interesting to me was the generational history of the Rangitāne iwi (tribe) that has its ancestry in that area. As one of the first people to this region, the “Te Rangi Whenua” exhibit documented the iwi’s lineage of leadership, from the early 1800’s until the late 1900’s – one of the most influential of those being Te Peeti Te Awe Awe (1820-1884) whose memorial statue has stood in the central square since 1907.
Te Peeti Te Awe Awe.
Hare Rakena Te Awe Awe using the whalebone “kotiate” during the welcoming ceremony at the unveiling of his brother’s statue in 1907.
The memorial honouring Te Peeti in the Palmerston North Square.
The exhibit was far more extensive than what I describe here, but getting a glimpse into the stories, relationships, and heritage that gives the Rangitāne their identity was to better understand their special connection to this land.
Leaving the museum, I headed to the Square in the heart of the business district. It’s an impressive open space, perfect for impromptu meetings, people-watching, losing yourself for a few minutes on your lunch break…
I didn’t stay long though, heading back to Café Cuba instead for a late lunch and to get a bit of necessary work done before meeting James for the trip home, which included an inspired detour. Earlier, I mentioned windmills. In fact, hills full of them, responding with ballerina-like elegance to the winds that funnel in from the west through the Tararua and Ruahine ranges. They’re part of the Te Apiti Wind Farm, near the Manawatu Gorge we had to drive through. A short jaunt up into the hills got us to the gate of the wind farm, but no further as we missed the entry times by minutes. Still, to stand at the base of these 70m giants with their 35m blades cutting almost silently through the buffeting winds was a spectacle to remember.
Naturally, my blip of time in Palmy didn’t even scratch the surface of seeing what the city has to offer, but the chance to explore somewhere new always feels enriching, so I loved the opportunity – it was a great time! 😉
I’m bursting to tell you about the Art Deco event Napier put on this past weekend! It will have to wait until next post though as (4 days later) I’m still sorting through all the photos I took, keeping my fingers crossed for some good ones. Can’t wait to show you! Until next time.
Extra photo credits:
Palmerston North Square banner
Manawatu Gorge
Te Peeti Te Awe Awe memorial
Clock Tower
nothing to do with tangos
In a world where little is hidden anymore, knowledge abounds, and mysteries are few, it’s good to know that miracles still exist… like how on earth my camera suddenly started working again yesterday with zero fiddling on my part. (My last attempts with it were over a week ago at which time I put myself on a necessary time out, just long enough to take a step back from the mounting tech frustration I was feeling.) Despite having synced my camera/iPod almost daily (often more than once) in the last 2½ weeks, last night it decided to snap out of its crabby mood and grace me again with the ability to import my photos. Needless to say, it’s been a busy few hours getting caught up on all my photo editing so I have something to show you.
The Treaty of Waitangi signatures close-up.
Where do I start? How about going back a ways, to Friday, February 6, 2015 which marked the 175th anniversary of the signing of the Treaty of Waitangi (Te Tiriti o Waitangi). Signed in 1840 by representatives of the British Crown and about 540 Māori chiefs, this written agreement established New Zealand as a colony of England and has become known as the country’s founding document. However, problems started arising when it was discovered that the English version and the Māori version of the Treaty differed in small, but significant wording, ultimately confusing people’s understanding of what they had agreed to. This discrepancy continues to spark disagreement decades later, although there has been a slow shift as efforts to honour the Treaty continue. Since 1974, Waitangi Day (formerly known as New Zealand Day) is a national holiday.
Now, I’ve gotten to experience some pretty seriously awesome national holiday celebrations in my lifetime – spanning Canada, USA, Mexico, and Europe – that drowned us in lively, patriotic sprees of impassioned proportions.
This one underwhelmed. Completely.
I haven’t figured this out about Kiwis yet. Barring anything that celebrates rugby (especially their beloved All Blacks), I haven’t seen much national fervor. Parades? Nope. Fireworks? Barely. How about a good old carnival? Don’t be ridiculous!
Similar to us Canadians who live in the shadow of America (them being the poster child for enthusiastic patriotism), Kiwis, dwarfed by Australia, seem to adopt a more laid back attitude when it comes to national pride. They know they’re cool – they just don’t feel a particular need to remind each other about it. Yet, ask a Kiwi where in Australia they’re from (because they have, you know, that “funny accent”), and you know the response ain’t gonna be pretty. Alright, that’s a blatant exaggeration, but you Canucks know the feeling all too well. Nothing awakens the patriotic sleeper more than having the credit for our awesomeness go to someone else. 🙂
That said, there were a few Waitangi Day events on the local calendar, although the pickings were slim and it didn’t help that the weather decided to not cooperate, giving us the only day of cold and rain within a 12 day stretch of sun. After taking in a bit of the dampened celebrations in Clive (normally a packed out event, I’m told), my friend and I decided to drive out to Clifton, a tiny seashore community nestled alongside other equally tiny communities, for a hot drink and a bite to eat at the beautifully situated Clifton Café. The car, however, screeched to a halt before we could get there, having been disarmed from its goal by a previously unnoticed building with “So Vintage” emblazoned across its forehead. For both friend and I, being suckers for anything re-purposed, upcycled, or thrifted, this was an exploration we couldn’t pass up. Let the fun begin!
In the entrance way we passed a lady talking on her phone. After taking in the cheery brightness of her jacket, I noticed, much to my astonishment, she was wearing the same jacket I had on! – the MEC Uplink. MEC, or Mountain Equipment Co-op, is an exclusively Canadian outdoors store, so what choice did I have but to introduce myself with the hopes of bantering around some “ehs” and “oot and aboots” with a fellow co-op member who shares my exquisite taste for outdoor fashion.
As it turns out, my MEC compatriote wasn’t Canadian at all. She’s Lyn, from Taupo (pronounced, oddly enough, Toe-paw), which lies 2 hours north-east of Napier. So, how did she come by her jacket? Her son met a girl from Vancouver some years back, and he now runs a successful RMT practice down on W.29th and Dunbar. The jacket was from one of her trips to see him. We ended up having a long and lovely chat, in between some re-finished tables and distressed metal chairs, 
exchanging email addresses and phone numbers in the hopes of crossing paths again.
But that wasn’t the only highlight of the unexpected “So Vintage” stop. The store itself is something to write home about, although it really needs to be experienced to do it proper justice. Owned by Mehdi and Korreen (he French, she a New Zealander), the former mechanic’s shop-come-private museum-come-showroom now houses an eclectic trove of industrial-style antiques that has you mentally redecorating your home the second you walk through the door. Hand-chosen and brought over from France by the shipping container-full several times a year, these authentically aged lamps, tables, chairs, signage, cutlery, crockery, bikes, toys (and so so much more) are the kind of salvage that designers and stylish homeowners drool for, even more so because you won’t find a knock-off anywhere. It’s “l’original or nothing”, as Mehdi and Korreen like to say. If antiques could talk, I’m sure they would say the same.
So, in a nutshell, that was my Waitangi Day – celebrated with a few hundred French antiques. The lunch at the Clifton Café never materialized. It turns out they were closed for the holiday, but the vintage discovery alone was still so very worth the drive.
That’s all for today. Just a warning to expect some more silence on my end. The much-touted, long-awaited, world-famous Art Deco weekend started here today, so please excuse me while I party it up Gatsby-style for the next few days. By the end of it, I’m betting I’ll have some fun stuff to share with you. Until then!
Extra photo credits:
Treaty of Waitangi
So Vintage – Z on table
So Vintage – red chairs
So Vintage – hat stand
learning to kiwi 