Picton–>Wellington. Parents–>Eugene. Peter–>Sydney.
It’s been a while since I’ve posted about NZ, and I’ve kind of run out of steam and excitement for writing about it. I do have some cool photos and stories and such, so I’m gonna press on and wrap it up below. Then I’ll write about the first week with my parents, probably in just one post, then FINALLY finish the post on my time at Reese’s place. Ok…here goes nothing…
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Morning came much too quickly in Hanmer Springs, and once again I was faced with the prospect of vacating my warm bed for the freezing room. Ugh, that’s one thing I don’t miss about NZ. Anyways, this B&B was different than the others in that our breakfast was brought to our rooms, which was pretty cool. If I remember right I had scrambled eggs and salmon, oh so good.
The parents and I spoke about what we were gonna do for the day; the hot springs were on the agenda, as well as swimming with the dolphins. Our whole trip in NZ had been incredibly rushed, so we decided to bag those ideas and just head towards Picton.
We said our goodbyes to the hosts and got on the road, stopping briefly at a wool shop in Hanmer. I picked up some sweet wool/possum gloves-nothing better than New Zealand wool!
On the way over to Picton we were told to stop at the small coastal, tourist-saturated town of Kaikoura. The drive to Kaikoura was relatively uneventful. As we neared the town I saw a ‘Scenic Viewpoint’ sign and directed Dad towards it. We pulled out into this small parking lot with what seemed like a water reservoir, and an incredible view was laid out in front of us. A beautiful, intensely-blue bay to our left, with a backdrop of gray mountains. In the center was the city of Kaikoura, with the ocean to the right. Just incredibly spectacular.
The view
LOVE this shot!
The town of Kaikoura was pretty cute, just maybe four or so main streets. We stopped off at a seafood place on the main drag, where Dad and I had crayfish salad (crayfish in NZ is lobster…). While we waited for our meal I decided to cross the street and frolick in the New Zealand ocean for a bit. Man was it cold! But I had to touch it, yah know, so I could say I did. I picked up a few cool rocks for myself and Oma and headed back for lunch.
The lobster was good but it had nothing on our dungeness crab. I’d say the mussels were my favorite part of the meal, they were pickled or something. We pressed on, stopping only once at a place that was recommended to us for its carrot cake. Man was it good, all different kinds of seeds and a thick cream cheese frosting. It was a nice old lodge-style place, right on the New Zealand beach.
Ah, my crayfish/lobster salad...
After a few hours we finally arrived in Picton in darkness. The hosts of the bed and breakfast were very nice, with the husband coming from South Africa. (In my opinion, the most disgusting accent ever. In case you wanted to know…). They were wonderfully warm people; she took care of the bed and breakfast full-time while he helped part-time, the other time going to his building of a boat.
Upon entrance to the bed and breakfast stairs to the second floor were directly on the right (where the rooms resided), with the great room to the left and kitchen straight ahead. The great room was decorated in much the same was as the Greymouth bed and breakfast, an antique sort of feel( i.e. dark woods, like mahogany, old books and copper trinkets, and a slight musty smell). The rooms were furnished in a bit of a lesser fashion than the rooms previously, but it was still comfortable and I got my own room again. SCORE!
After messing around on my computer and blogging a bit we decided to head out for some grub. We ducked into a small, cozy Irish pub and found ourselves a table. I had a wonderful steak, and sat back to enjoy it while a hippie called ‘Panda’ played a few tunes on his guitar. He was originally from America but had lived in NZ for a while. When he was just casually conversing he sounded legitimately New Zealander, but as soon as he began to sing it dropped away and America was back.
His tunes were fun to listen to; stories told through song in a smooth voice that would at points drop into a Louis Armstrong-like growl. We waited until the end of one of his tunes and peaced out of the joint. Tomorrow was to be an early morning as we were taking the ferry from Picton to Wellington. I had to get some good rest before that eventful day!
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I awoke around 6:30 or so the next morning feeling terrible. Not sick terrible, just ‘ew, this is disgusting’ terrible. I quickly packed my things and headed downstairs for the obligatory ‘family-style breakfast’ that I was quickly growing tired of. I don’t like to talk in the morning. Or eat. Or be awake. And that doesn’t mesh all too well with the whole bed and breakfast scene. I forced down some fruit and had another wonderful meal of salmon and scrambled eggs. We excused ourselves from the table relatively quickly, for we had to finish packing and get to the wharf in time to catch the ferry.
Before we left the hostess blessed us with a basket of muffins. At this particular bed and breakfast they had a special ‘Muffin Club’ where the hostess baked muffins and gave each visitor their own helping of muffins. To join the Muffin Club one had to take a picture of themself at home or somewhere interesting and send the photo in. The scrap book was pretty impressive, pictures from all over the world and people in all different kinds of situations eating their muffins. It was an interesting and fun idea, but with customs being so incredibly tight in Australia (the Australian quarentine lady actually took my shoes that had some New Zealand dirt on them and washed them for me, handing them back to me ten minutes later sparkling clean) I really didn’t want to chance it.
We pushed off from what was to be our last bed and breakfast and drove a few minutes towards the ferry. We arrived and Dad attempted to drop off the rental car (which took a little while due to the dent that it suffered while in our care), then we checked our bags and bided our time until departure.
After an hour or so of waiting, boarding the ship and nestling in our own private lounge area in the club section, the boat started to move. And guess what? I was nervous. Yep, of course. It was a ferry, so it was a pretty big ship, but I have thrown up on a boat before (yeah, boat…not ship. still, it gets me nervous), and seeing the ‘Ocean Sickness Bags’ didn’t help the situation at all.
Club Area
I walked outside of our club area and onto the deck outside. Conditions weren’t favorable for photography (too sunny) but I decided to shoot anyway to pass the time. As I was shooting a man with binoculars sidled up next to me, and we struck up a conversation. After about fifteen minutes of talking we were friends.
His name was Jeff, a Floridian who worked for NASA. We talked about New Zealand and Australia, Lord of the Rings, Obama, Bush, NASA and its funding, birds, photography, ultimate frisbee; we covered pretty much everything. Later I exchanged e-mail addresses with him, and we’ve exchanged a few letters since then.
Later on I found myself outside on the deck, without my camera, overhearing a ferry worker mention the words ‘dolphin sighting.’ I sprinted around the deck, through the hatch and inside to our club area, grabbed my camera and sprinted back outside. At this point there was a crowd around the railing. I found myself a spot and scanned the ocean. After a few moments two or three began to jump, leaping in perfect arcs before slicing back into the water with the slightest of splashes. There would be quiet, then all of a sudden one would rise, then another, and it would set of a chain of them rising. There were times when I could see them speeding just below the surface of the water. They were so playful and cute, it was wonderful! I took a bunch of shots, and had one successful capture. I’m pretty proud of it, it’s difficult to time their jumps!
Dolphins!
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I forgot to mention this in the previous post, but while we were in Hamner Springs our hosts spoke to us about swimming with the dolphins, and told us an incredibly remarkable episode in which the dolphins demonstrated their intelligence. Our hostess spoke of the dolphin handlers, and how she heard one of them ask a woman if she was pregnant. Taken by surprise, the lady confirmed that she was indeed pregnant. Apparently the dolphins crowd around pregnant women, protect them, and guide them through the ocean. How remarkable is that? The handlers have picked up on this, and now have the ability to point out whether a woman is pregnant or not.
On a different excursion the dolphin handler asked another woman if she was pregnant, and she replied, “I most certainly am NOT!” Months later they received word from the woman that she was in fact pregnant, but hadn’t known it at the time…
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The scenery was quite beautiful. We were sailing out of an inlet meaning there was land on both sides of us. Much of it was grassy hills, but there were green forests magically dotted with red trees, rock formations, beaches and lavish vacation houses. I snapped a ton of photos and headed back in to catch some some shut-eye.
The ferry's route...
The sea started to roll the ship a bit, and we were rocking. I was seriously nervous for a while of getting sick, but I kept my eyes on the horizon, then fell asleep.
After a few hours we finally pulled into a harbor, the city sprawling out in front of us. We docked, departed, and caught a shuttle to our hotel, Museum Hotel. It was a fancy, old-fashioned place, with beautiful New Zealand young women dressed in black waiting at the counter for us. We arranged for my wake-up call at 4:00am the next morning, dropped our bags off and headed out for some food.
We walked around for a bit in Wellington and found a place that served bagels, similar to Humble Bagel minus the hippy atmosphere. I usually wouldn’t bring up such mundane details, but this was HUGE. Bagels really haven’t made it across the ocean to New Zealand and Australia. Reese was just telling me that only in the last two years or so have you been able to get a bagel in Sydney, and I hadn’t been able to find one, save one restaraunt in the Mac Center, since I’ve been here. Apparently some American was in Wellington, couldn’t find a good bagel, so he decided to start his own bagel place. Ah, it was so tasty.
We had an afternoon in Wellington and didn’t really have anything planned. I had read about this place called Karori Sanctuary on the ferry. It looked pretty interesting, as it was a sanctuary for native flora and fauna. We decided to check it out, so we hopped on a bus and headed up the hill.
We came up to the sanctuary and paid. The lady made me check inside my bag to see that I didn’t have any outside seeds or rodents (yeah, there’s most definitely a MOUSE IN MY CAMERA BAG. Ugh..). We made our way to the entrance and saw an interesting fence that ran the whole length of the sanctuary, all the way up the steep hill and out of sight. It was made of a tightly-woven mesh, and on the top there was curved metal-the only way I can think to describe it is a large, upside-down gutter made out of sheet metal. This was to keep any outside animals such as cats and possums from climbing in.
The following is from Wikipedia.org…
The most crucial aspect of the sanctuary is a pest-exclusion fence - specifically designed to exclude fourteen species of non-native land mammals ranging from possums to mice - that encircles the 8.6 km perimeter of the Sanctuary. Construction of this fence was completed in 1999 and all fourteen species of mammalian pests within the perimeter were then eradicated. This predator proof fence is of great conservation significance – being a world first. In terms of its meeting conservation goals Karori wildlife sanctuary has met with considerable success thanks to the effective design of the encircling fence. As of 2006 the fence has been successful in excluding all but the smallest species – the house mouse.
Upon entrance it just seemed like a regular park. There was a beautiful lake/reservoir with a red gazebo on its shore. As we got deeper into the sanctuary and down into the forest area we began to see a plethora of lifeforms of the avian variety. They were all over, flying above us, singing. Some were large, others tiny, but all with songs of megaphone-like volume. We walked along a trickling stream with barely any of the midday sun penetrating the thick rainforest. Birds were dropping seed encasings around us. It was quite spectacular.
The Gazebo and Reservoir
We didn’t, however, see any lizards or kiwis, which was disappointing. I was hoping to see a wild kiwi in Australia, but hey, there’s always next time (and there WILL be a next time!) The minutes ticked away towards 5:00, and we knew we had to end our excursion and exit this paradise. The lady who took our money warned us that if we weren’t out by 5:00 we would be locked in, and we weren’t too excited about that proposition.
Fern Tree in Karori
After Karori we parused the streets of Wellington a bit, stopping in at an All-Blacks shop where Dad picked up a sick shirt. At this point the tummies were rumblin’ again, so our mission was grub. I had my heart set on one last meal of New Zealand lamb.
Downtown Wellington
We found a nice-looking place called Zabbibo, the restaurant of famed New Zealand cook Adam Newell. The dining room was above a chic bar/lounge area, and we settled in for our last New Zealand dinner. We ordered tapas, which was the chef’s specialty. They were absolutely incredible. I really can’t explain it, but I think I may have a picture somewhere.
Parents at Zabbibo checking out the cook book.
The dining room. Yeah, it filled up later...
Tapas! Those calamata olives were SOOO good!
My main course was some kind of NZ fish, so tender and delectable. I also had an incredible dinner salad, which turned out to be one of my favorite dishes of the night. The parents bought the chef’s cookbook and had him sign it, but the next day left it in the hotel… ;(. We finished off the meal with a nice chocolate dessert.
The fish...scrumptious!
At this point it was getting late, so we headed back the hotel, stopping to get some bagels for the morning. We just chilled in the hotel room, our last night together for months. I flipped on the tele and up popped Jon Stewart and the Daily Show! In NZ! I thought that was pretty cool. Dad and I watched the second half of a rugby game, then capped the night off with a little Seinfeld.
It seems pretty simplistic and unprofound, but one of my favorite memories of my parents being here was my father and rugby. From the first day I saw them we watched rugby on tv, and to groan and gasp at the hits with him was so meaningful, as if we were reforming some carnal bond that had gone unquenched for too long. The Waratah rugby game was so intense, and it was great experiencing it next to him, remarking about the hits, different rules, and how our football players, namely Jonathan Stewart, would match up against them. Then looking at the rugby merchandise, us both buying All Blacks shirts, and catching the random game on tv with him; for some reason it was all somehow poweful, nearly sacred.
I said my last goodnights to them, kissed them both, and settled into my bed with Russell Brand’s My Bookie Wook. Morning was to come soon…
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The familiar and demonic sound of my phone alarm was jarring, but I awoke quickly and packed up my things. I washed my face, brushed my teeth and applied deoderant, all in a seemingly drunken fashion. I kissed my parents goodbye, hugged Dad, and let myself out of the room. I haven’t seen them since (save a Skype session).
A weathered, unshaven taxi driver picked me up oustide of the hotel, liberating me from the frigid Wellington morning. He drove around the harbor, and across the bay I could see New Zealand’s largest city collectively sleeping, a few golden lights sprinkling the hillside. We arrived at the International Terminal, I thanked him, and trudged away with my bags.
After an hour and a half of checking in, going through customs and boarding, I was finally on my way back to Australia, back to Sydney, and back to the life I had been leading since February 11, 2009.
Sydney from the air.
