We’ve started picking through and uploading the 1500+ photos we took in NZ.

And of course, we’re now feeling better.

It’s been an excellent trip.  Lots has been learned.  Over 1500 photos have been taken (no joke).  And we have many interesting stories in tow.

Once I get home and nestled into the warm, comforting embrace of my home’s WiFi connection, I will be uploading more photos.

MANY more photos.

Hotel Internet access on this trip has been rife with limitations and connection issues.  So we’ve only been able to upload smallish batches of photos.

When we get home, we’ll likely do a big recap post.  The Director’s Cut, if you will.  Previously deleted scenes from our wanderings in the SoHem.  It’ll be an epic hoot.  You’ll learn about how many mussels Steve actually ate on this trip, what bird looks like a golf ball with wings, and what one does when trying to light a cigar in “windy welly” when your lighter runs out of fluid.

It’s in the details…

It’s currently around 6AM.  We board a plane to Auckland around noonish, and then at 7:30PM local time we board our plane headed for LA.

Ready to come home to summer, my kitchen, and familiar faces.  See some of you soon…

This buff guy is swaying in the breeze on the waterfront in Wellington Harbor. Er, harbour.

Click on his body to see more pics from Friday’s wanderings.

We got massaged yesterday morning across from our former hotel. (We saved some $ by moving from the Novotel to the Bay View where we’ve signed up for 24 hr internet access in the room. NZ hotels use a third party to handle all of their internet needs; as we’ve said before, it’s not cheap. We’ve made the mistake of signing up for 2-hour blocks, thinking it meant two hours of usage. Nay, nay. Fifteen minutes online? You pay for two hours. We did this four times yesterday, not knowing until we checked out. We convinced the manager to give us the better, yet still expensive, 24-hour rate. It amounts to about $36 per day.)

Anyway, we came back from our massages relaxed and ready to check out, (F: Yup.  I was like walking butter.)  dealt with the internet charges, and drove down to Cuba Mall where we found Little India. Very good lamb and chicken. (F: Understatement.  Rogan Josh and “Butter Chicken” that was so rich and yummy.) The naan was hot and thinner than in CA. Delicious. I sat the camera on the table and snapped a series of mall-traffic shots. (F: I think I’m going to call it his Cuba Mall series. The setting is stationary and unchanging.  The people move from frame to frame.) Even when the temperature is in the 40s, sunshine draws people out.

I got my haircut at Amy’s; Felicia, whose hair was dissheveled from her massage, (F: It was a tangled and oily mess.  I looked like a backpacker who hadn’t showered in a few days.  Ugh.) got a wash and style. We drove up the terraced city hills, looking for the botanic garden, but couldn’t find the entrance. We did, however, find the wildlife sanctuary, where we met the famed kaka parrot and cousins of Hercules.

Before checking in to the Bay View Hotel, we drove the harbor highway toward the airport, just because. Unbeknownst to me, Felicia already knew approximately where WETA studios were located (home of Peter Jackson, LOTR, Heavenly Creatures, the Halo series, and many more).  (F: I had wanted to actually go and see the Weta Workshop from the start, what with my brother being a film editor and my friend Tim being a Hollywood sculptor and make up artist.  It was very neat.  And as you can see, Hercules got some serious Golem action.  I had been trepidatious about putting him there, but a quick check with the Weta Cave Manager and all was well.)

On our way to WETA, we spotted the White House restaurant, which was known to us before leaving the states. ‘(F: Some website said Elijah Wood and other cast members of LotR ate there while filming.) We popped in, early it turned out, but got seated anyway. It was the best meal of the trip. (F: OMG.  Bluff oysters on the half shell – creamy and full of ocean, slightly sweet.  I had lamb.  Steve had venison.  Both were spot on.  But Steve’s dessert, the Grand Marnier souffle, stole the show.)

It’s Friday for us and we’re heading out for a late breakfast.  (F: Really late.  But it’s been a very nice and very lazy morning.)

Yesterday, on our way to Nelson, a truck going the other way kicked a rock into our windshield and left an 8″ spider web. This morning, we dropped off the car at the Apex center near the car ferry in Picton and got slapped with a $300 charge. When we protested, the agent said, “Well, we’re not going to pay for it. It’s not our fault.”

Oh. Good to have that settled.

Nonetheless, the 20 mile drive from Nelson to Picton was one of the most picturesque we’ve had. We’ll load some pics tomorrow – just too tired tonight, now that we’ve decided on a major change to our very loose itinerary.

Rather than drive the length of the north island over 3 days, we’re staying in Wellington. We’ve had too much time in the car and too little in any one place. We’ve seen so much, but learned so little. That’ll change as we spend Thursday and Friday in and around Wellington, the beehive of government. The land of zoos. From the bay, it looks like a small San Francisco.

We’ve booked a flight from Wellington to Auckland on Saturday, a few hours before our plane to LA departs.

Good night. Oh, Hercules sends his best.

F: So after a great dinner, a long soak, and a good night’s sleep, Steve and I decided that today was going to be great.  A few days of long driving, runny noses, sore throats, and body aches made us long for those early halcyon days of the trip when everything was sunshine, gumdrops, and pretty flowers.

Here’s a funny thing about NZ.  There are maps for everything.  They have maps for local cities, local restaurants, and in the case of Blenheim, heart of NZ Sauvingnon Blanc region, they have maps of wineries.

We have since discovered that “map”  here is actually an acronym for Mostly Approximate Places.

So it was with some minor trepidation that we went out today with “map” in hand, ready to give some of the Marlborough region’s finest a good sipping.  But first things first…

SJ: On our way to visit Marlborough wineries, we happened across the Aviation Heritage Centre in Blenheim. Planes fascinate me, so we stopped. With every museum purchase comes a free cup of coffee. I went in for $20NZ; Felicia drank the coffee and read the paper. (F: I’m coming to love the NZ “flat white”.  It’s just coffee and hot milk, but it’s become an important part of my mornings here.  A sister and brother across from me shared a hot chocolate, the older sister spooning the hot chocolate into the younger brother’s mouth.  Was very sweet.)

So much history.

There are nearly 20 aircraft in the adapted hangers. Three are originals and several are still airworthy, as evidenced by the oil pans below their engines.

These are British (and some German) vintage aircraft with lifelike mannequins and realistic mud and snow.

Very impressive. (F: Seriously.  Check the flickr page for more shots.  I didn’t go in but was impressed anyway.)

I’d bought baguettes, pancetta, and pastrami this morning, so we took it all along. Our first stop was Villa Maria, the region’s second largest local vintner (1 million cases per year, behind Montana), and it was there we bought a bottle of R&D Sauvignon Blanc. It was buttery. Buttery! Not unusual for a chardonnay, but we’d never had a sauv like it before. (F: I usually like SB’s because they do them up in steel vats – no inhibiting oak to mess with the grape’s essence.  This R&D had been oaked for 20 months in 7 and 8 year old barrels and it yielded one of the more smooth and unusual tasting SBs I’ve ever had.  They only sell this particular SB at the winery, so we bought a bottle.  We’re enjoying it as I type.)

We moved on to Mahi where we bought a bottle of their Gerwurztriminer. We’ll have either it or the sauvignon blanc tonight with the mussels Felicia is now preparing in the kitchenette. At our third winery, Serisen, we bought a pinot noir and brought out our lunch. (F: I love my travel kitchen.)

Peaceful. Serene. Picturesque.

We’ll stay in this region for the better part of Tuesday, then drive to Nelson. We’ve moved up our ferry reservation to Wednesday instead of Thursday for an extra day on the north island before heading… home.

Home?

SJ: The wind woke us up on the 8th floor at 2 a.m. Sunday. They’re not good at insulating windows here, but do provide ample bed covers. That didn’t much help the marathoners who began running below us before 7 a.m. We could see puffs of vapor from their mouths with every two or three steps. Good to be upstairs, even if a little drafty. As I researched that night’s stay, I remembered I’d prepaid for breakfast. At ten til ten, room service brought us eggs benedict (mine with salmon; hers with spinach), and we left a short while later on a sad note.

Felicia’s cold had worsened and mine wasn’t gone, so we canceled an overnight stay with friends of Kitty and Tad’s. We didn’t want to leave more of ourselves behind than necessary, so we opted instead to get in the car and drive. We’d planned a few all-day drives and Sunday’s was one. As soon as we pulled into ChCh suburbs, it rained. It hailed. It sleeted. It snowed. (F: Seriously.  I felt like I was back in Maryland.  It changed from one to the other within minutes.)

Sea level snow. (F: This kind of threw both of us for a loop.  I had never seen it snow at the ocean.  And we had been told repeatedly by locals that we shouldn’t expect it on our trip north because we’d be seaside. Go fig.)

Most of it didn’t stick, but it reduced our speed considerably. Once into the countryside, heading north, we came across an old cemetery. F caught her photo bug, too, so we stopped, umbrella in tow, for a few shots of grave markers in Cheviot that date back to the early 1900s. Farther along, in the Middle of Nowhere, we came across an old train station stop, erected in 1907. Now a cafe, we popped in for tea, flat white coffee (cafe au lait), and an orange/date muffin. A Scottish family had just emigrated and asked about Hercules, who was on the table with us.  They carry around a soft rabbit wherever they travel.

Everything we’ve eaten so far at these Middle of Nowhere (MoN) spots has been delicious. (F: No joke.  NZ’s countryside is peppered with French chefs.  You pull over and you get AMAZING food at the corner of No and Where.  Nothing else for miles around except these lonely little roadside cafes.  Gems, every one of them.) That must be the key in this country: find a place along a road, bring in someone who can bake/cook, and you’ll be fine. Hotel food, so far, has been mediocre at best. (My martini at the Copthorne in ChCh was 4 parts vermouth and a whiff of gin. I remedied this error by going to the room and filling a water glass with some of the Brokers Gin we’ve been carrying around, and remixing at the table. Take that.)

Our drive took us through rolling hills and, finally, to the sea. We stopped in Kaikoura for lunch (mussels are consistently good here) and to get cash from an ATM. We’ve been paying for gas in cash, and it’s about $80 NZ to fill up. By the way, in Te Anau, we pulled into a small gas station and, before I could get out, a woman was filling the tank. I thought she was a vandal. No one has filled my tank in… a long time. The other woman, manning the register, said, “In Te Anau, we’re a little behind the times.”

Alas, I’ve filled the tank everywhere else.

After Sunday’s lunch we drove a few Km to a seal rookery. Tide was out and the seals were 50 yards out on the rocks; flat, mostly, but treacherous given the very strong wind and rain/hail mix. We grabbed a few shots and headed north. (F: By very strong wind, he means gales.  We were physically pushed off the rocks by the wind.  I took the hint and headed immediately toward the car.  Steve lingered only a little longer.  The wind ended up shutting the car door for him.  Enough said.)

Mid-afternoon put us on a beautiful stretch of coastal highway, which reminded us of the 101 between Ventura and Santa Barbara, but lush. The road got tight, with a railroad track on one side, craggy bluff above it (not sure how the train always fit), and an angry, churning sea on our right. (F: Very angry ocean.  The horizon looked bumpy it was so angry.) The wind was so strong in places that the force of the water was greater than either of us had ever seen. At one point, we drove in toward a bay, along side the water, racing the 15-20 foot waves to shore. Spectacular.

It was dark well before the snow stopped falling – and sticking. Granted, mountain passes along the coast are only several hundred feet above sea level, but so few people were on the road that we still had to be very careful. Not many other tire tracks ahead of us in the snow. It’s dark by 5:30 this time of year and we arrived in Blenheim around 6. My eyes were weary from squinting through the headlighted snow, so we got a couple of quick dinner recommendations. Our first choice was a few miles out of town – and closed – but we stopped to admire the sky. The Milky Way. Orion. Taurus.

We got into Bacchus (!) and ordered a bottle of a local Marlborough Merlot (SpyValley ’06). Fruity, but it worked well with Felicia’s venison and my rack of lamb. But, oh, the chicken liver pate with a brown sugar crust and side of chutney before hand… wow. Wow.

Back to the Blenheim Spa Motor Lodge where Felicia found Princess Bride II on TV. Uh, the final few minutes, at least. Then long, cold dreams.

Now, Monday morning, we’re running a load of laundry – finally – which will carry us through to the end. Felicia drove to the store while I stayed behind to write. She brought back shallots, very meaty bacon, very yellow butter, six eggs, chives, fennel, and pears. Our room has a kitchenette and she’d packed a traveling kitchen (cutting board, little plates, sharp knife, sporks, collapsible cups). I’m finishing this with the smell of breakfast wafting through the room. Just like home.

Oh, a couple of interesting side notes: poached egg yolks here come out more orange than yellow, presumably a sign of what chickens eat; women’s professional basketball does not use a backboard – just a net on a pole – and a foul (or obstruction) allows the shooter to stand where she was fouled and take her shot unhindered.

We’ve decided to blow off Christchurch a bit. We’re both too sick to do the walkabout we’d originally intended and the brief time we did go walkabout last night, we both decided we’d seen enough. The Avon River is a little canal. The Christ Church that the city is founded on is big and stony. And there’s plenty of touristy shopping to be had. The later doesn’t hold much charm for us so we’re moving on to Blenheim. That and this sick thing makes walking around in the super cold windy weather none too appealing.  Hopefully we’ll be able to taste the wine we intend to try when we reach Marlborough.

In the meantime, here are some highlights from yesterday’s Big Drive up the south island’s interior. Catch ya later.

Took this one for you, Dad

Also, a little recap from Day Four’s landmark breakfast. The ladies at Halo in Queenstown really liked Hercules (Never underestimate his power to charm).

So much so that they made him his own duck-sized cup of “flat white” to go with breakfast.

Right now we’re holed up in our hotel room in Christchurch listening to “I Shot the Sheriff” in Maori on the Maori Television channel. Because Bob Marley belongs to everyone. One love, y’all.

More in a bit. The Internet is less archaic here and I’m uploading a few shots from yesterday’s long drive. I leave you with one 30-second exposure I took of the night sky above Lake Te Anau. We had just come back from the glow worm cave and the stars were magnificent. This shot doesn’t quite do the star field justice, but what it does do that my naked eye can’t is distinguish between the different colors of stars – reds, blues, etc.

Fel: Me thinks we have some catching up to do. Day Four started off well enough with a DELIGHTFUL breakfast at Halo, a little cafe on Camp Street in Queenstown.  They even made Herc his own cup of “flat white” (coffee with hot milk stirred in).  He’s so charismatic.  They really loved him.  Pics later.  I’m currently uploading a small batch of pics from today’s (Day Five) adventures and this little coin-op Internet terminal is choking on the bandwidth.  I’m hoping Christchurch has some tolerable WiFi available.

So breakfast.  Then driving to Te Anau.  Steve was feelin’ mighty sluggish at this point and I was  showing symptoms.  But we’re strong and brave!  So we booked a night time cruise to the gloworm caves…

SJ: Cameras aren’t allowed in the glow worm cave, I think because they don’t want you to see the Insect Behind the Curtain. Glow worms are beautiful blue luminescence in the dark and unspeakable parts of nature in the light (F: He’s right.  I was better off not knowing what they actually looked like.  Ew.). Google it if you’re that curious. But the walk and short row boat ride up the very dark cave was worth it last night. (F: Yup.  SO pretty.  Like stars.  But blue.  And definitely organic.)

This morning, neither of us felt well. But we’d bought our scenic boat tour tickets for Milford Sound, a 2 hour drive north of Te Anau. The farther we got, the better we made ourselves feel. The fiordlands are stunning. (Yes, here it’s fiordland, not fjordland.) F shot about 300 photos today. She’s found 8 that she’s uploading in the scent time we have online this evening, since we pay by the minute. (F: Highway robbery at this speed, but we’re in the Internet hinterlands.)

Once in Milford Sound, we grabbed breakfast: creamy eggs benedict with delectable smoked salmon (F: YUMMY). We boarded the boat with dozens of Georgia Bulldog students and sliced past 1000′ waterfalls on placid water. We went as far as the opening to the Tasman Sea, then turned back. F and I were the only ones to add on a stop at an underwater observatory, built in 1995. A circular staircase takes you down about 35 feet to watch fish, mostly perch, swim by. We also spotted an elephant seal pup on a nearby rock.

We drove back to Te Anau (about 2 hrs) and decided to eat dinner early. But even at 3:30 the pizza place was closed (as was every place but Moose bar last night after our glow worm expedition). So we traipsed down the street to The Fat Duck. We shared a bowl of really good mussels and side of bread for sopping. F’s venison was very tender. Almost beef-like in flavor; not gamey at all. My lamb shank could’ve cooked another 15 minutes, but was very flavorful.

It’s 5:30 pm Friday evening. My nose is wunning, yet I feel compelled to account for the day here. It’s off to bed soon because tomorrow is an 8 hour drive to Christchurch.

It’s lovely here.