Seven Stops in New Zealand: Day Two - Akaroa (planned)

Oh boy, our second day on New Zealand land! We flung open the curtains and looked outside, and this is what we saw:

What the….? 

The fog that had prevented us from arriving into Port Chalmers for several hours yesterday seems to have missed our company, because it came back and embraced us just as we had been about to depart last night. A gloomy captain told us we would have to rest in place until noon the next day, so no visit to Akaroa for us, sadly. Instead, they laid on shuttle buses for a few hours this morning so we were at least able to see a bit of Dunedin.

Resembling a very small Edinburgh, there are Victorian stone buildings, steepled churches and formal gardens. Even a statue of Robbie Burns who, to my knowledge, never ventured this far south!

 

Lovely university campus, rhododendrons in full bloom and a large Cadbury’s chocolate factory. Even a pub: the Duke of Wellington, with 23 British beers on tap. Lots of woolens too, although these are made of New Zealand wool: merino and possum, as soft as any cashmere.

We stretched our legs and wandered around the Octagon and beyond, spent proper time in the wonderful train station, and returned to the boat as the fog was starting to lift. Then we had a bang up afternoon tea, so the day was not a waste in any way whatsoever.

 

But we do hope there is no more fog to prevent our planned excursions from taking place. Tomorrow it’s wine tasting!

Seven Stops in New Zealand: Day 1 - Otago

When we got up and looked outside, this is what we saw:

 

Every two minutes the ship’s horn sounded and thankfully was not returned. Almost four hours later, the fog had lifted enough for us to venture into the narrow inlet to Port Chalmers, where we boarded the train that took us up through the Taieri Gorge. Our train route, acknowledged as one of the world’s great train journeys, followed the rest of the inlet to Dunedin, where we had 15 minutes to check out the stunning old stone train station with its Royal Doulton mosaic tiles, and then up into the central grasslands. We saw horses and foals, cows and calves, sheep and lambs, and flowers everywhere. A homesick Scot seemed to think bringing Broome to the country was a good idea, as it was done at home in BC. This was decidedly not a good idea in the long run, although it is hard to fault the Broome on a day like today, when it glowed yellow amongst the green fields and hills.

The Taieri River wound further and further below us and we wound up the gorge, feasting on a boxed lunch and as much local wine and/or beer as we wanted. We wanted.

At the end of the line the engine changed places and we make our way back. A lovely, sunny day and a perfect day out on our first land stop in New Zealand.

There's No Place Like Home....wait a minute - There Kinda Is!

We woke up early and groggily looked out the window to see – home! The sun was just coming up as we saw in front of us tall, snow clad mountains descending into dark, cold water, steep white waterfalls, shingle beaches with little streams running into them, ferns and moss and lichens and trees where they could grow, and bald rock where they couldn’t. Kayakers rounding a point in the inlet and a hostel building next to a sea plane stop. We even saw whales.

But then we saw an albatross and realized that we were in the middle of Milford sound, New Zealand, and not the BC which it so much resembled. Looking closer we could see the trees were different, there were no mammals to see, such as bear or deer, and virtually no seaweed or kelp. New Zealand’s south-western coast, known as Fjordland, contains many of these deep cold inlets, some of them very long indeed, so similar to those of BC’s western coastline. Carved by the glaciers and filled by melt, they house all sorts of bird and water life, free from all predators as there are no indigenous mammals in New Zealand, except for one bat species. A layer of algae grows between the salt water and the fresh water above, which makes it impossible to see deeply into the black water.

 Names like Malaspina and Bauza, familiar to us from the BC coast, are here too, named of the same chaps who charted Vancouver island and must have thought it was deja vue all over again down under. We are at the 47^th parallel (more or less) so growth is a little more exotic than at our 49^th-50^th line, but then there is no land south of here until Antarctica, unless you count the tip of South America way over there.

We spent the entire day on our deck as we followed the coast south, and turned into three of these deep-watered fjords: Milford Sound, Doubtful Sound and Dusky Sound. One the outside, the wind was brisk and the sea hurtled us along, but when we were in the sounds it was calm and quiet, so quiet you could hear birds in the trees on shore. We motored past little islands and bays, and peered through binoculars at fern trees, the world’s largest fuscias, and white trucked trees (eucalyptus?) so dense they don’t rot. One of Cook’s men had to take out a tree to aid soundings, and hurled the trunk into the nearby bay. Imagine their surprise years and years later when that same tree was still there, solid as ever. We were on the wrong side to see the dolphins, but we did see seals and two little penguins on a rock. Now that’s something you can’t see at home!

(not my photo!)

 

eastward, then southward, then soon to be northward

We are enjoying our last few “sea days”. We read more, stretch/nap more, and gaze at the strangely calm Tasman Sea as it rolls towards and away from us, making the boat pitch and roll, and occasionally shudder. We had been led to believe the journey from Melbourne to Tasmania and then from Tasmania to New Zealand would likely be rough, and we were not only preparing ourselves for this but looking forward to it! However, it is been as calm as the entire journey across the Pacific. No one who has done the journey before can believe how calm it is, and we are oddly disappointed even as we gaze out and see the odd flock of birds slipping over the water’s surface, rising and falling with each wave and swell. There have been a few flying fish, and Beazy was lucky enough to see whales one afternoon, slapping their tails and fins. Cloud cover casts a steel grey colour to the water and the white caps look cold, whereas blue skies make the sea a navy blue with white caps looking cheerful and jaunty. The air is brisk and cool – too cool to sit outside long, and yet we do it with our 3 daily New York Times Newsheets (International/USA, Canada and Britain).

Yesterday I went to a spa event: the women’s pamper party, which Beazy at first misread as the women’s “pampers” party, which could have been a potential given the age of many of the women on board. Today we did our own “clean up/paint up” which was a family euphemism for self-indulgence: exfoliation, body lotion, and doing our nails while finishing our last gin and tonic, with our last lime bought in the Suva market in Fiji, and polishing off the last chocolate toffee macadamia nuts that we bought in Honolulu. Tonight is a “gala” night and Beazy is going to wear her new purchase, an amazing piece she bought in Hobart. Tomorrow we glide through Milford Sound which we hope we can enjoy from our deck, as we continue to rest up in anticipation of 7 solid days of ports and then the end of the cruise in Auckland.

It is these last few sea days that we use for reflection and confession, sharing thoughts and feelings, as we dopily register two time changes in a row. Two days ago it was 3pm – now it is 5pm and we are confused and ill prepared for dinner. But everyone on board is the same, and breakfast was eaten well on in the morning and our cabin cleaning fellows were late and tired themselves. It took a good ten minutes this morning for me to register that the sun was coming from the bow, and not from the starboard as it has been for the last month, now that we have turned around and head east towards the southern coast of New Zealand. This is the last day we will see just a line of sky meeting sea in a flat horizon. As we are on the port side, we will be following the coast of New Zealand northward from tomorrow on. This will be lovely, but I will miss this view of ocean, ocean everywhere, filling my eyes and ears with its immensity, our magnificent, unchanging, constant companion that hides so much within its depths, and can be so inhospitable and terrible from within but so comforting seen from our balcony. I have a feeling that I will need to see this view again someday – it could be a different sea, and a very different balcony on a very different vessel, but I think my soul will need to be refilled by the sea’s insistent intensity again.

Home Sweet Home

We love the architecture of classic little residential homes in Australia. They are similar to those in rural BC in that they are made primarily of wood siding, include a porch, and often little dormers. But here they also include wooden or, more often, metalwork filigree which is very pleasing. Also deep metal rooves, with a curved or swooped smaller roof over the front porch. Here are a few examples:

"Why Can't We Be Like They Are, Perfect In Every Way?" (apologies to Bye Bye Birdie)

We loved Sydney, we loved Melbourne even more, and now we love Hobart more than that! I have always been proud to come from Vancouver, Canada, and still am, but travel always makes you look at new places and put them in the context of your own city, and it is clear that all three cities do some things way, way better than Vancouver does.

Transportation for example. Both Sydney and Melbourne put Vancouver to shame in that department. Museums. Melbourne and Hobart have way better exhibition spaces and imaginative, well laid out displays. Keeping history alive. Even though all three Australian cities are considerably older than Vancouver, they seem to have been much more successful in keeping, and using, their heritage buildings and houses. Modern buildings. Vancouver’s highrises are almost identical in shape and materials. Here, there are slight variations, colour is used intelligently, combinations of materials and shapes of balconies, windows and walls make each building stand out just a little from its neighbours, enough to be distinct from the rest without the wildness of a London, England for example. Old and new are cheek by jowl, but it works. Green space. Large green spaces – just grass and trees – add elegance and a sense of calm in the middle of Australian city downtowns and neighbourhoods. Imagine Shaughnessy boulevards and Cypress Crescent in more places. Public art. It’s everywhere here! Whimsy. We have no whimsy in Vancouver. Nothing to make us inwardly smile and feel a unique sense of fun and humour. New York has it. London has it. And Sydney, Melbourne and Hobart all have it. A few of our public art pieces have it, but as a city, we do not.

Here’s an example from Hobart. We took a ferry up to the large and interesting Museum of New and Old Art, a privately owned collection that is open to the public and situated on a hill overlooking the Derwent inlet. A winery/brewery (it does both!) and very fine restaurant is next door, and the entire area includes a lawn with a stage for free concerts. The ferry, which leaves right from downtown, has two prices for two classes of seating: the “posh pit”, which is an enclosed area in the bow filled with black leather seating and a huge gold chaise lounge on the deck, includes a glass of wine or beer and little canapes; and regular seats in the larger stern and upstairs area an decks which are comfortable and spacious and are billed as “sitting on sheep”. The loo is below decks and promoted as “the bilge”. See? Total whimsy, as well as an extra income stream for the ferry that does not inconvenience or restrict the larger population at all as the ferry is rarely if ever full. Two docks: one proudly highlighting its “99 steps” and the other less advertised, with a ramp and buggies that drive to the museum to accommodate those that cannot handle the steps. Whimsy and accommodation. There is also a bus if the boat is not fancied. Now why can’t Vancouver do something like that to the Museum of Anthropology at UBC, pretty much the best museum we have but hard to get to for visitors? Or trips up Indian Arm or Burrard Inlet? We do salmon barbeques well, but what about 3 Canadian cheeses and 3 Canadian wines for $20, like we saw at a little café near the wharf in Hobart?

The MONA’s lawn area was filled with giant pink and grey bean bags. A trampoline area rewards boisterous jumpers with large bells that ring if suitably agitated. A brass band plays old and new tunes. (Why not something like this in Alexander Park on occasion?) The Moo beer kiosk and canvas-covered wooden bench tent seating space is set up on one side. The Moorilla wine tasting bar and café with more upmarket seating is over there. And the really fabulous restaurant is upstairs with a great view. All can see the lawn and band stand.

A CEO’s parking space is labelled “God” and his wife’s is “God’s Mistress” (although personally I think it should be Goddess). Little alcoves advertise “free wifi here”, all over the city; parking place sized access points that also act as meeting social interaction places. Areas where graffiti art is encouraged and curated to some degree, promoting true street art that is not profane. (Our newly painted murals along Main Street are a great version of this I am happy to say). Street signs that warn “don’t even think of parking here” or “you park, you die”. Slogan “Did you wash your hands?” on the inside door of a restaurant. Public cylinders that allow you to juice your electric car but also your iphone.

Things that are practical but just a little tongue in cheek too. We need more of that.

From the inside of the Posh Pit

Beazy enjoying life in the posh pit

top of the food chain - parking wise

beer, wine, music, pink bean bags and a view

 

Vintage Faves

I wanted to return home with two of my old Australian favourites to share amongst some running homies:

 but we have been warned extensively against bringing any food products into New Zealand, even if they are ultimately destined for Canada. I can’t quite believe they mean chocolate bars, but in case they do, I have only purchased one of each, so that I can introduce Beazy to them while here, but can scarf them down immediately if the warnings turn out to be valid.

Tomorrow we must present ourselves to the New Zealand authorities on board the boat, and produce anything we have picked up along the way that did or does contain anything animal, vegetable or mineral, which is everything! Our designated time is 1:30pm, so we intend to have a large breakfast and be ready to eat two chocolate bars at once should we need to!

shiny things

We are becoming a bit disillusioned about Holland America. Don't get me wrong - this trip has so far been wonderful. The endless sea, Mommy and Daughter time, kind and friendly staff who can't do enough. But the veneer is slowly coming off the faux glamour of the operation.

We have been making lists of things to write on our post-trip questionnaire - everything from "why are we being nickel and dimed to death?" to "what's with these awful carpets?" After a wine purchase, Beazy had her one bottle (allowed before, if enjoyed in cabin only) confiscated until the end of the trip because she would not pay the $18US corkage fee - a cost in excess of the cost of the wine! I returned to the ship a little later and stood my ground, which is why we had a nice glass of pinot noir before dinner this evening. Tomorrow we are visiting another winery - and I am girding my loins to do battle. Their reasoning is that if you pay one of their exorbitant and often rather poor tours, you are allowed to bring a bottle onboard (because the tour company gives the ship company a kick-back) but for those of us who prefer to go off piste and get something better for less, we must pay the piper ourselves, it seems.

My argument will be one of discrimination. Aren't we all equal? I might throw in that they are showing prejudice against same-sex couples, but that might be going one too far. Especially if I forget and call her "Mom."

We are also disappointed that the shops on board are limited to one all purpose shop with sequinned clothing, brand name handbags and jewellery, and two high-end jewellery shops. That's it. Really? What's with all the jewellery? What about books about the places we are visiting, or local crafts, or practical things like toothpaste?

With such limited fare, it's inevitable that one will pass by shiny things and take a look, just to see if there is something interesting, but it's mostly rather dull or else rather garish.

On one grey day, I passed by and got caught in conversation, learned more than I ever needed to learn about opals (a stone I just cannot muster up too much enthusiasm for) and was entreated to try on a pair of earrings off in a corner. They were rather wonderful I must admit, just the right size and shape for my neck, ears and head. Perfect! Until I looked at the price tag.

But maybe I've become too cynical and unreasonable, finding fault where there is none.

So I put it to you. Take a look at these things and tell me what any sane person should be prepared to pay, in US$, for these puppies. Amethysts, garnets and diamonds in a gold setting. Go on. Humour me.

Melbourne

I think you would like Melbourne.

There is still a healthy smattering of high Victorian grandeur mixed in with the shiny new. High rise buildings are generally individually designed, so they don’t look like every other high rise. There are wide swathes of green park, filled with trees for countless birds, and the Yarra river winds through the city. Gentrification has brought prosperity to little neighbourhoods, but here that manifests as one-off shops, ethnic cafes and restaurants, with graffiti and public art dotted around everywhere. I particularly liked Fitzroy and our little bistro. Sydney is bigger, with more neighbourhoods sprawled along its magnificent harbour’s arms, and Melbourne is more compact, with its neighbourhoods emanating out from the centre. Both have avoided high rise buildings crowding the shore and the lovely beaches, with Melbourne’s being that much closer to the city centre.

 You like museums don’t you? Here there are a seemingly endless array of grandiose edifices to art, design, cinema, the natural sciences, city and provincial displays, including the 1880 World’s Fair Exhibition Hall. Concert halls, theatres, and galleries abound. Sport is well covered too; Melbourne did host a very successful summer Olympic Games in 1956, the first in the southern hemisphere and still the most southerly one presented, and their legacy buildings have been expanded and increased.

Of course there are places to sit! Walls, benches, stairs, art pieces. This is a coffee café city extraordinaire, with Starbucks being squeezed out in favour of the independent local. The same thing happened when Borders the bookshop tried to establish itself in Australia. This is a country extremely loyal to its bookstores, and Borders was sent packing. A country that favours paying more for books and coffee in order to keep local businesses thriving is a country I can really get behind. What’s most fun is following along the little lanes that squeeze through the city and finding that perfect spot for a coffee or a pastry or a drink. The Yarra valley is a prominent wine producer, specialising in pinot noir and chardonnay due to its proximity to the sea, not unlike the Sonoma region we visited near San Francisco actually. There are more expansive spots for sitting, eating and drinking along the river, from whence one can watch rowers and other boaters meander along. Don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten how much you love to shop. You won’t be disappointed. High fashion and local art pieces. Buskers everywhere. Homeless beggars too, sadly, but they are generally polite and appreciative. Oddly enough lots of American chains serving food have been allowed to thrive: McDonalds, Subway, Nando’s, Krispy Kreme. My favourite though was local chain Lord Of The Fries. Potato, yam, sweet potato, etc.

Of course I don’t expect you don’t have to walk everywhere! Melbourne has an excellent public transit system, using a card like so many other cities. It was the well-named Opal card in Sydney. Here it’s the myki. It sounds like you are saying “my key”. Buses and trains and street rental bikes (and real train stations too: old Flinders Street (covered from view as it’s being refurbished) and new Southern Cross) but we have to ride the trams. The trams are awesome! They go everywhere and all day long. There is so much less traffic in the centre because of them. I wish we could have such a system but our roads are not wide enough. Melbourne has roads wide enough to provide car and bus traffic in each direction, tram traffic in each direction, and bus lanes in each direction. Near the port, where is gets residential, the tramlines are bordered with greenery and large trees, on the other side of which is a walk and bikeway. On the other side of that is a wide avenue of grass, with trees on the other side of that before the houses begin. Oh to be able to build a city from scratch and incorporate such space! They are a big part of the reason Melbourne constantly wins global livable city competitions.

 

I wish I had known earlier about the restaurant trams, though. They are the old, original wooden carriages, in their old, original livery (burgundy with gold lettering) but instead of seats and handrails, they have tables and chairs. And glassware and cutlery. And they are restaurants. Really truly! You can eat a meal while you are joggling along the rails of the city. What a fabulous idea!

 

If only Australia didn’t have quite so many things that could kill you. I could quite happily spend a few years getting to know Melbourne better.  

Au Revoir to my old mate, Syd.

Goodbye Sydney, to your dock, even though it was not the one we were supposed to sail into and which caused expense and time wasted on our short day in you. Our only negative and it was not your fault.

Goodbye to Darling Harbour, where I sold bread so long ago, and we introduced Ceroc to a nation.

Goodbye to your amazing bridge, that our ship just managed to scrape under with about 2 metres to spare. One day I will climb you!

Goodbye to your wonderful old city ferries with their cheerful yellow and green. I am glad that you are the same as you were 28 years ago.

Goodbye to your magnificent opera house. There are only a few iconic buildings that tell you exactly where you are in the world and you are one of them. Your creamy tiles are still a delight to see shining in the sun.




Goodbye to your whimsy, and what you have done to elevate the original shame of convict ships by making the Rocks an excellent place to have a gin and tonic or a dry shiraz. Goodbye to The Push (circa 1884), that provided said libations amid a torrential rain storm.

Goodbye to your fabulous harbour that goes on and on, past lovely houses and gardens making the best of their water views.

Goodbye.... no. I cannot really say "goodbye", but rather "au revoir". Until I see you again.

a Bush Walk in the City

I’ve never been a fan of zoos. When I was a child I found them boring. Later on, if one was thrust upon me, I found good ones were few and far between, and I wrestled with even the good ones.

Enter Tauronga Zoo, Sydney. Everyone who had been there recommended it highly, as much for its location as its quality research and display. A short city ferry passes between the iconic Harbour Bridge and Opera House and across the busy, sparkling harbour.

 

Up the hill and there it is, a large wooded expanse of space and meandering paths, open air theatres and meeting places, and enclosures that, in many cases, don’t enclose anything at all. Birds roam freely - a bush turkey kicks leaves on the path, an ibis steals a bit of doughnut from a table, a miner lands on someone’s head to the great shrieking surprise of both.

Beazy says "you can have some of my banana bread but you CANNOT have any of my coffee!

We stuck to the Australian side of things, and I fulfilled a goal to see a living wombat, platypus and koala bear. Most of the wombats I’ve seen have been dead, by the side of the road, their feet stiff in the air, looking like an upturned furry ottoman. But here I saw 5 wombats which were safely tucked up in a darkened burrow, doing what they do best, sleeping. Okay, so my definition of living wombat has been tempered, as they were not at all active, but they were breathing so I treat it as a success.

 Similarly with the playtypus, which is a shy creature and rarely seen in the daytime. The Zoo had several nocturnal exhibits filled with all sorts of hopping, scrabbling, running, climbing, hanging and hiding creatures, most of which seemed to be offshoots of various rodent genuses, along with a few birds and bats, including the ghost bat (“My favourite bat” some sweet little girl was overheard saying just after her father told her it was carnivorous. Maybe she didn’t understand the word and thought he meant coniferous, and a bat that doesn’t lose its leaves would indeed be quite memorable. Or maybe she is just a bloodthirsty little girl. I believe the woods are full of those.)

But in the dark I was able to spy a happy-go-lucky playtypus, swimming around and around a pond, by itself, in the dark, no doubt humming a little happy tune to itself. Swim in peace, little platypus, I thought and went out to see some echidnas in the sunshine.  

it really is there swimming!

Koalas also like to sleep, and there were several lounging in trees, and one could practically hear them purr. One could pay to have a photo taken with one, but I didn’t fancy waking one up just for that.

 

We also saw various kangaroos and wallabies, marsupials of a grand number, thrumming emus and blue-headed cassowaries. Birds of all sorts zoomed just overhead, or hid in trees, including such notable species as tawny frog-mouths, western bristle-birds, gallahs, and spiny-cheeked honeyeaters, for example.

tree kangaroo

can you spot the two lizards?

We avoided the spider cave – been there done that.

The only notable omission was the Tasmanian Devil, a dog-like critter that is sadly becoming extinct for two reasons. They like roadkill, which means they end up being hit by cars themselves, and there is a unique form of cancer that grows from one to another when they are fighting over the same carcass. I saw the enclosure, rather whimsically set up with faux roadkill, but no live Devil. The zoo is trying to save these creatures from themselves and prevent their impending disaster, and have trotted out the blond haired, blue eyed Australian actor Simon Baker (“The Mentalist”) to speak on their behalf via video. If that doesn’t do it, nothing will.

All the enclosures were well prepared to suit their individual animals’ habitats, with lots of room and hiding places. At the same time, they are free to roam to some extent and our most surprising moment came when we saw a wallaby bounding the top of the stone wall we were walking along.

When we needed to rest, we’d sit on benches that look out over Sydney harbour and across to that gorgeous Opera House.  We could see the weather starting to change, with a large dark cloud moving in from the west, so took ourselves back to Circular Key before the rains came, which means we can forever remember our time with the animals in warm sunshine.

boats of many eras passing a musical icon