tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12127432306750424622024-03-13T05:29:33.323-07:00Steve and MelissaAway we go.Steve-n-Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16156464099538823774noreply@blogger.comBlogger123125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1212743230675042462.post-42626972427143833992014-07-28T19:50:00.001-07:002014-07-28T19:50:38.304-07:00Niagara Falls, by guest blogger Daniel<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-t7KVYFxmy5g/U9cL-09RQLI/AAAAAAAABRg/fGGJszRYBBU/s640/blogger-image--1149909034.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Niagara Falls (NZ) is considered the smallest waterfall in the world. Apparently the person who named it hade a sense of humor. So, without further ado, I present the majestic Niagara Falls (NZ).</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-UFZstr7_Bms/U9cL8cZBG1I/AAAAAAAABRY/_mcgwVIQ0NA/s640/blogger-image--405408068.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-UFZstr7_Bms/U9cL8cZBG1I/AAAAAAAABRY/_mcgwVIQ0NA/s640/blogger-image--405408068.jpg"></a></div><br></div><img border="0" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-t7KVYFxmy5g/U9cL-09RQLI/AAAAAAAABRg/fGGJszRYBBU/s640/blogger-image--1149909034.jpg"></div>Steve-n-Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16156464099538823774noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1212743230675042462.post-64099302788695748422014-07-27T18:19:00.001-07:002014-07-27T18:19:07.658-07:00Lolly cakeWe had to try it once.<div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-7o9vhkPlKMY/U9WlCGZHGNI/AAAAAAAABRI/bO5TuBzQRfU/s640/blogger-image-855329684.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-7o9vhkPlKMY/U9WlCGZHGNI/AAAAAAAABRI/bO5TuBzQRfU/s640/blogger-image-855329684.jpg"></a></div><br></div><br></div>Steve-n-Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16156464099538823774noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1212743230675042462.post-9582064210895858702014-07-27T18:18:00.001-07:002014-07-27T18:18:09.135-07:00Traffic jam in the Catlins.<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-N3ZJ4BGIhzk/U9WkzJlbKDI/AAAAAAAABRA/cZH0IY_2CwE/s640/blogger-image-1222764457.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-N3ZJ4BGIhzk/U9WkzJlbKDI/AAAAAAAABRA/cZH0IY_2CwE/s640/blogger-image-1222764457.jpg"></a></div><br></div>Steve-n-Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16156464099538823774noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1212743230675042462.post-50153488405918275782014-07-27T01:58:00.001-07:002014-07-27T15:31:52.612-07:00Leaving Curio Bay<div>When we left Curio Bay this evening, we paused at the top of the stairway that descends to the beach and took one last, lingering look at the place. A petrified seaside forest, a rocky arc of chilly shoreline that plays host to a resident colony of penguins who casually waddle past the handful of visitors (like us) who come to watch them. It's one of the most remarkable spots we've ever visited. </div><div><br></div><div>We were treated to mild, windless conditions tonight - a far cry from our first visit, when we were nearly hypothermic by the time we left. Tonight we arrived about 30 minutes before sunset and walked confidently down the rocky shoreline to the narrow inlet where - after two previous visits we were confident - the penguins would come ashore. </div><div><br></div><div>And sure enough, a few minutes after we settled ourselves among the rocks, the first penguins arrived. They clambered awkwardly from the waves and assumed their typical preening poses. Over the next half hour or so, another six birds emerged from the water and slowly made their way to nests in the nearby bush. We spent most of our time watching a nearby breeding pair preen and groom each other. Standing close together, their grooming ritual seems affectionate and tender - it's almost impossible not to anthropomorphize these charming creatures. </div><div><br></div><div>Our experience of nature at Curio Bay is that it's unspoiled, intimate, and desperately fragile. We feel privileged to witness the daily routine of a remaining handful of endangered penguins, and we're torn between affection for these ridiculously cute creatures and melancholy at the knowledge that we're seeing something that may not exist in another generation. </div><div><br></div><div>Is it right to want to experience something before it's too late, before it disappears or is degraded by its own popularity? We've certainly experienced this ambivalence before: Machu Picchu is magnificent but feels a bit like a theme park. Curio Bay is thrilling because it's so simple and real - but the petrified stumps are smaller than they once were, because too many people think it's okay to break off a chunk as a souvenir. And the penguins' nests are too frequently disturbed by thoughtless visitors - as we experienced just yesterday. </div><div><br></div><div>On two separate visits we've had the opportunity to spend three evenings with the penguins of Curio Bay, and they are among our most cherished travel experiences. It's a long trip from our home to the southern tip of New Zealand, and odds are pretty long against a third visit. So when we took our final look tonight, it was to frame that special place in our hearts and memories.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-p_dtzezTmwE/U9V9lEODKRI/AAAAAAAABQw/ard1rIhbqvI/s640/blogger-image-1200006577.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-p_dtzezTmwE/U9V9lEODKRI/AAAAAAAABQw/ard1rIhbqvI/s640/blogger-image-1200006577.jpg"></a></div><br></div>Steve-n-Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16156464099538823774noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1212743230675042462.post-38213920484147910142014-07-26T00:51:00.001-07:002014-07-26T04:35:41.034-07:00Little Guys<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-MDA34z9Q0K4/U9Nd7_Cct8I/AAAAAAAABQY/WwqjWcj8Eco/s640/blogger-image--1821164843.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">On a cold, windy afternoon in the July winter of 2011, we sat on a rock on the southern tip of New Zealand's South Island and watched a Yellow Eyed Penguin emerge from the ocean.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The Yellow Eyed Penguin is one of the rarest penguins in the world, with fewer than two thousand breeding pairs left. The YEP makes its home along New Zealand's south and southeast coasts, where they build their nests in the forest, and then cross the beach to work a 9-5 shift in the ocean. They emerge from the water shortly before sunset, and return to their nests. If you're there when they arrive, they will not cross the beach. This is dangerous for them, and potentially devastating for their chicks. New Zealand makes every effort to protect its endangered species, so beaches where YEPs nest are physically off limits to humans.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Except for one.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The small YEP colony in Curio Bay doesn't mind human visitors. The seven-or-so mating pairs here bob through the surf, climb up on to the rocks, preen for a while, and then waddle across the beach to their nests. They don't approach people, but they don't go too far out of their way to avoid us either. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The house rules are simple: </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">- There should always be two meters between a human and a penguin. If the penguin gets closer, it's the human's responsibility to move out of the way. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">- Never get anywhere near the nests.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">We knew that Daniel would be respectful of these expectations, but we talked with him about them anyway. He took the rules to heart. When a group of four beer-toting visitors marched past the beach and into the nests, Daniel kind of freaked out. We were silently indignant, unsure how to proceed. We're not the Penguin Police, are we? And what on Earth were they doing? Who drives a hundred miles from civilization to get a buzz and mess with an endangered species' reproductive cycle?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-OuMXWCIwBsw/U9Nd_iJLZAI/AAAAAAAABQg/pKwvdXy8lBE/s640/blogger-image--153472773.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-OuMXWCIwBsw/U9Nd_iJLZAI/AAAAAAAABQg/pKwvdXy8lBE/s640/blogger-image--153472773.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Moments later, a local man noticed what was going on, and slapped on his Penguin Police badge. We're not exactly sure what he said, but he said it well. The visitors took their beer elsewhere and missed the show.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">And what a show it was. A single penguin appeared first, in almost the precise location where we first spotted one in 2011. Six more emerged from the ocean before we left. Daniel took hundreds of pictures of penguins. We took hundreds of pictures of Daniel. </span></div><br></div><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-MDA34z9Q0K4/U9Nd7_Cct8I/AAAAAAAABQY/WwqjWcj8Eco/s640/blogger-image--1821164843.jpg"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Despite the clear conditions and relatively warm air temperature, we entered our ninetieth minute on the beach without feeling in our fingers or toes. With the light fading anyway, we left the penguins behind and headed for the Niagara Falls Cafe, just as we did three years ago. And just like they did three years ago, the restaurant (which serves hundreds of visitors a day during the summer months) opened for dinner strictly for us. After a warm, comforting dinner like the one we'd enjoyed three years ago, we got in the car and took the same pitch-black country road back to the beach. As we rounded a curve, I remembered that three years ago, we nearly hit a lost sheep on that road. On this note, anyway, history did not repeat itself.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">There was a Little Blue Penguin waiting in the headlights for us instead. We've waited three years to see one up close, so we're pretty thankful that we didn't kill him.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><br></div>Steve-n-Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16156464099538823774noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1212743230675042462.post-28416647269596778892014-07-25T20:41:00.001-07:002014-07-25T20:48:40.714-07:00Flying orcasWe were driving through the rolling hills of southern Otago when a majestic black and white bird swooped across a bright green field. We mused for a while about the unique, predator-free island ecosystem here that allowed such magnificent, high contrast birds to evolve without the need for camouflage.<div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-1tZGpH0iH-I/U9MjVlurGNI/AAAAAAAABQI/hyhQBbyHLj4/s640/blogger-image--1721716266.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-1tZGpH0iH-I/U9MjVlurGNI/AAAAAAAABQI/hyhQBbyHLj4/s640/blogger-image--1721716266.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">(Not our picture)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">When we arrived at our inn, we eagerly searched google for clues to this unusual bird's identity. A few clicks later, we learned that the Australian Magpie was introduced here to control pests. And like most of the animals that settlers introduced to control pests in New Zealand, the magpie subsequently established itself as a larger pest than the one it was brought in to eat.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Oh well. It's pretty, at least.</div><br></div>Steve-n-Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16156464099538823774noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1212743230675042462.post-40891960924783910502014-07-25T01:07:00.001-07:002014-07-25T01:37:24.436-07:00The fjord less traveledMilford Sound, a remote fjord in the southwest corner of New Zealand's South Island, is the most popular tourist destination in the country. The iconic image of Mitre Peak rising above Milford's deep, dark water is a photo that every visitor snaps.<div><br></div><div>I snapped one in 2011.</div><div><br></div><div>What you don't always see in that iconic image, though, is the other boats. Milford Sound is like a ride at Disneyland: it's a thrill you share with a thousand other strangers all yearning for the same solitary moment.</div><div><br></div><div>When we visited Fiordland three years ago, our hosts told us not to miss Doubtful Sound. Doubtful is more remote than Milford, and gets far fewer visitors. To reach Doubtful Sound, you have to drive from Queenstown or Te Anau to Lake Manapouri, sail across the lake, and then board a bus that navigates the steep, winding gravel trail for 22km to reach the dock. Harder to reach, but what a payoff. When we sailed through Doubtful, here's what we saw: a kea, giant dolphins, fur seals, Fiordland crested penguins, mountains, and waterfalls.</div><div><br></div><div>Here's what we didn't see: another boat.</div><div><br></div><div>When we planned this year's trip, we decided to skip Milford entirely. This felt like a risky decision because the weather in Fiordland is chaotic. You never know what sort of conditions you'll have from moment to moment, much less the night before. We worried that if the weather was terrible in Doubtful, Daniel wouldn't get a real sense of what the fjords here are like. </div><div><br></div><div>Weather tangent: we have been (knock on fern wood) so fortunate. It's the middle of winter here, but with the exception of light snow and poor visibility on our approach to Queenstown, we've had mild, clear conditions absolutely everywhere. Doubtful too! </div><div><br></div><div>We sailed across Lake Manapouri, got on a bus, and took an educational detour through a subterranean hydroelectric power generating station. When we reached Doubtful at noon, we were delighted to see... no one. There were no other buses, and no other boats. We shared a boat meant for 150 visitors with only 13 other people. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-nSwpevee6eM/U9IQEAQp_nI/AAAAAAAABO0/0Cfgq9UhsVg/s640/blogger-image-1954185113.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-nSwpevee6eM/U9IQEAQp_nI/AAAAAAAABO0/0Cfgq9UhsVg/s640/blogger-image-1954185113.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-MZ6-FAfAE5c/U9IQP4lW9WI/AAAAAAAABPM/hLK4CCWO4dk/s640/blogger-image-1269160088.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-MZ6-FAfAE5c/U9IQP4lW9WI/AAAAAAAABPM/hLK4CCWO4dk/s640/blogger-image-1269160088.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-QdsKxzd66DY/U9IQGh-f69I/AAAAAAAABO8/o4Ym5zBKeM4/s640/blogger-image--2049344632.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-QdsKxzd66DY/U9IQGh-f69I/AAAAAAAABO8/o4Ym5zBKeM4/s640/blogger-image--2049344632.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div>In the fjord, we saw dolphins and an albatross. Way off in the distance, we saw a group of little blue penguins (their actual name) bobbing along the water's surface. As we left the fjord and entered the Tasman sea, we saw a group of massive fur seals sunning themselves on the rocks. Here's Daniel, just as we hit the roaring forties.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-qi6v05jXf8I/U9IQNUCBMMI/AAAAAAAABPE/6cI4laDisWU/s640/blogger-image--863474614.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-qi6v05jXf8I/U9IQNUCBMMI/AAAAAAAABPE/6cI4laDisWU/s640/blogger-image--863474614.jpg"></a></div><br></div><br></div></div><div>Daniel gets motion sickness in the car, but he handled the large swells near the open ocean like a trooper. When things got really wild, he braced himself with one hand so he could take pictures with the other. For much of our time on the water, Daniel was a blur. He explored every inch of the boat's three decks, always racing from one spot to another for the best vantage point. </div><div><br></div><div>In the fjord's "Crooked Arm," our captain cut the engines and asked for silence. Even Daniel was still. The only noise was the soft trickle of a distant waterfall. It was the perfect placid moment that you'll never have on Milford Sound.</div><div><br></div><div>After three hours on the water, we boarded the bus and headed back to Lake Manapouri to meet the catamaran. In a Steven King-ish moment of déjà vu, the same wild kea (alpine parrot) that we saw at the end of our bus ride back to the lake in 2011, identifiable by his bum knee, was there to greet Daniel. </div><div><br></div><div>The bird is obdurate.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-iZhR_FMzlFU/U9IV46AQdXI/AAAAAAAABPc/o3tUfiS0qjw/s640/blogger-image-237864101.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-iZhR_FMzlFU/U9IV46AQdXI/AAAAAAAABPc/o3tUfiS0qjw/s640/blogger-image-237864101.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div>Steve-n-Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16156464099538823774noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1212743230675042462.post-61884752248858828602014-07-24T03:07:00.001-07:002014-07-24T03:07:52.455-07:00When gas gives you heartburn.<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-FJE-P07CuEQ/U9Da9YdlOhI/AAAAAAAABOg/AhEKL7-W9N8/s640/blogger-image--1294700569.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-FJE-P07CuEQ/U9Da9YdlOhI/AAAAAAAABOg/AhEKL7-W9N8/s640/blogger-image--1294700569.jpg"></a></div>Steve-n-Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16156464099538823774noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1212743230675042462.post-26905756017096449232014-07-24T01:45:00.000-07:002014-07-25T04:51:55.446-07:00Scenery overload!<div>
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Yesterday we enjoyed a final <i>petit dejeuner</i> at the Bonjour restaurant and headed out of the Queenstown area. Shortly after passing the airport, the road out of town passes beneath the mountain range known as The Remarkables. It's a brash name, but appropriate:</span></div>
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The highway continues southward along the shoreline of Lake Wakatipu and the beauty is unrelentingly amazing. During this part of the drive Melissa and I remembered a similar feeling of sensory overload - the sheer magnitude of jaw-dropping natural beauty becomes almost overwhelming. Almost. </div>
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And tomorrow, when we tour Doubtful Sound, the overload will continue (we hope).</div>
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Steve-n-Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16156464099538823774noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1212743230675042462.post-39174891881284151112014-07-22T20:26:00.001-07:002014-07-22T23:30:12.629-07:00Daniel's Day<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">For two days, Daniel patiently indulged the grown-ups as we drove through the mountains around Queenstown in search of ridiculously scenic vistas. He enjoyed the scenery, but the steep, winding roads make him queasy. Today was his day. No car time!</span></div><div><br></div><div>We mini-golfed, rode a gondola up the mountain overlooking Lake Wakatipu, and bought very expensive jelly beans. Then we went for a stroll through the lovely Queenstown Gardens. Tomorrow we're off to Te Anau.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-v39gCXZzOlw/U88rgBoP5wI/AAAAAAAABOA/i64yIePnLic/s640/blogger-image-144532321.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-v39gCXZzOlw/U88rgBoP5wI/AAAAAAAABOA/i64yIePnLic/s640/blogger-image-144532321.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-GQTFjDFXxUI/U88rWIgk0EI/AAAAAAAABNw/_jf7RMDToYU/s640/blogger-image-1564162598.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-GQTFjDFXxUI/U88rWIgk0EI/AAAAAAAABNw/_jf7RMDToYU/s640/blogger-image-1564162598.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-mhw0PFa2yzU/U88rbKnFpXI/AAAAAAAABN4/QFRxqVKuJUo/s640/blogger-image-1261331997.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-mhw0PFa2yzU/U88rbKnFpXI/AAAAAAAABN4/QFRxqVKuJUo/s640/blogger-image-1261331997.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-35gTs-k7ZdY/U88rScsH0TI/AAAAAAAABNo/zGph7W_GLmU/s640/blogger-image--1492581322.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-35gTs-k7ZdY/U88rScsH0TI/AAAAAAAABNo/zGph7W_GLmU/s640/blogger-image--1492581322.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-szVYgwQSXKI/U89WccHR05I/AAAAAAAABOQ/JSeCH8LE1ko/s640/blogger-image--1403343105.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-szVYgwQSXKI/U89WccHR05I/AAAAAAAABOQ/JSeCH8LE1ko/s640/blogger-image--1403343105.jpg"></a></div><br></div><br></div><br></div><br></div>Steve-n-Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16156464099538823774noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1212743230675042462.post-22268534025846810232014-07-21T22:21:00.001-07:002014-07-22T03:27:28.727-07:00The Drive, part 2<div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Today we retraced another drive we first took in 2011, albeit in reverse. The narrow isthmus between Lakes Wanaka and Hawea was a mindblower when we saw it on our first trip, and was no less impressive this time. Both lakes are enormous, among the largest and deepest in New Zealand, and they are separated by a neck of land perhaps a mile wide. Both lakes are surrounded by snowy peaks, and today were nearly mirror-like, with barely a hint of breeze.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-7fM-wN2kSeU/U837py__hMI/AAAAAAAABNI/qErI8DKjTOg/s640/blogger-image-602935593.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-7fM-wN2kSeU/U837py__hMI/AAAAAAAABNI/qErI8DKjTOg/s640/blogger-image-602935593.jpg"></a></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">I'm certain we took a virtually identical photo last time - and how could we not? This is the view of Lake Hawea that greets drivers about 10 seconds after turning east away from Lake Wanaka. Further around the shoreline on the right of the photo, the road curves south toward the resort town of Wanaka.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">This is the view in the opposite direction (and note the distinctive double-topped peak on the left):</span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-fTVhwj7UfKM/U837lFKJ9SI/AAAAAAAABM4/4X7iqL5sZlE/s640/blogger-image-1485754250.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-fTVhwj7UfKM/U837lFKJ9SI/AAAAAAAABM4/4X7iqL5sZlE/s640/blogger-image-1485754250.jpg"></a></div><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">And about 400 meters in that direction is a separate roadside overlook view of Lake Wanaka:</span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-7JD620DAZLg/U837ndHkZmI/AAAAAAAABNA/-GsF7UhL7ok/s640/blogger-image-1446002947.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-7JD620DAZLg/U837ndHkZmI/AAAAAAAABNA/-GsF7UhL7ok/s640/blogger-image-1446002947.jpg"></a></div><br></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">If you look carefully you'll see the same double-peaked mountain at the center of the photo above. Only in New Zealand could two spectacular overlooks be separated by less than a quarter mile! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">And that's the main takeaway (and reminder from our previous visit to NZ): the scenery is unrelenting, gorgeous in every direction. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-3yJlCKeBDv8/U848jTkQKsI/AAAAAAAABNY/Aj_wKsHd2Xk/s640/blogger-image--1179154049.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-3yJlCKeBDv8/U848jTkQKsI/AAAAAAAABNY/Aj_wKsHd2Xk/s640/blogger-image--1179154049.jpg"></a></div><br></div>Steve-n-Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16156464099538823774noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1212743230675042462.post-17015011214023564812014-07-21T03:27:00.001-07:002014-07-21T03:28:01.225-07:00The Drive<div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Today</span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> we flew from Auckland to Queenstown, self-designated adventure sports capital of the world. Visitors come here to ski, to skydive, to ride in jetboats, and to bungee jump. The town itself is a bustling, crowded mass of restaurants, bars, and souvenir shops - exactly the sort of place we typically avoid. So after we landed (in snow flurries that delayed our arrival) we picked up our rental car and headed out of town. </span></div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br>We drove a dozen miles up the road to have lunch in Arrowtown, a small restored gold mining town that's no less touristy than Queenstown, but is considerably smaller. After lunch we drove back toward Queenstown to our hotel, located overlooking snowy mountains and the tumbling Shotover River canyon.<br><br>With only a couple of daylight hours remaining, we decided to take the wonderful drive out to Glenorchy, where we stayed during our last visit in 2011. It's renowned as one of the most spectacular drives in New Zealand, which makes it one of the most spectacular drives anywhere on the planet.<br><br>The road follows the shoreline of Lake Wakatipu for about 40 kilometers. At times you're at lake level, at other times you're driving high above the water, winding along a twisting single lane blasted from the cliffs. Across the spectacularly blue waters of the lake, you're treated to a constant panorama of the peaks of the Humboldt Range. It's not easy to keep your eyes on the road - and that's my only complaint about the drive: there are very few turnouts where you can safely get off the road and bask in the amazing views. </span><br style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-CFLt5QnSqsc/U8zq_KbUTqI/AAAAAAAABMQ/1THWUuzSmLw/s640/blogger-image--456160120.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-CFLt5QnSqsc/U8zq_KbUTqI/AAAAAAAABMQ/1THWUuzSmLw/s640/blogger-image--456160120.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-DT-v-N5o8wg/U8zrBAA4P3I/AAAAAAAABMY/gTfcl9YnDZk/s640/blogger-image--240009324.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-DT-v-N5o8wg/U8zrBAA4P3I/AAAAAAAABMY/gTfcl9YnDZk/s640/blogger-image--240009324.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-v-OFYWOlTmc/U8zrFH1y0kI/AAAAAAAABMo/-_PFZyZ5iB0/s640/blogger-image-1171625919.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-v-OFYWOlTmc/U8zrFH1y0kI/AAAAAAAABMo/-_PFZyZ5iB0/s640/blogger-image-1171625919.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-nlpXkzMuq_I/U8zrDIdfEsI/AAAAAAAABMg/WuR6dCrLlLc/s640/blogger-image--663577522.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-nlpXkzMuq_I/U8zrDIdfEsI/AAAAAAAABMg/WuR6dCrLlLc/s640/blogger-image--663577522.jpg"></a></div><br></div><br></div><br></div><br></span></div>Steve-n-Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16156464099538823774noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1212743230675042462.post-48572030928600689452014-07-19T20:25:00.001-07:002014-07-19T20:26:49.110-07:00Good Little Traveler<div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Daniel is a great traveler in so many ways. He's endlessly curious, and approaches unknown things with an enthusiastic and non-judgmental attitude. We all love feijoa juice now, which Daniel wanted to try simply because none of us had ever heard of it. Here he is with a kumara burger in a pub near Auckland airport, planning his angle of attack.</span></div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-WGmEHFfAKn4/U8s2t5XUocI/AAAAAAAABMA/ZGzCqeIPnmQ/s640/blogger-image-209295395.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-WGmEHFfAKn4/U8s2t5XUocI/AAAAAAAABMA/ZGzCqeIPnmQ/s640/blogger-image-209295395.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>Tomorrow morning, we will fly to Queenstown on the South Island.</div>Steve-n-Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16156464099538823774noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1212743230675042462.post-58595920137146620002014-07-19T14:50:00.001-07:002014-07-19T14:50:38.421-07:00It's a NZ thingWhen you check into a NZ motel, you might or might not get: heat, wifi, hot water, TV reception, or blankets. You will always always get one of these, though.<div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-iW7sqjjxdx4/U8roKVjVFRI/AAAAAAAABLw/jCmHpbU_p_g/s640/blogger-image--960060717.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-iW7sqjjxdx4/U8roKVjVFRI/AAAAAAAABLw/jCmHpbU_p_g/s640/blogger-image--960060717.jpg"></a></div><br></div>Steve-n-Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16156464099538823774noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1212743230675042462.post-64099630707820322732014-07-19T01:45:00.001-07:002014-07-19T01:52:41.806-07:00Beautiful worms.<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Today's destination, Waitomo, is a couple of hours from last night's motel, but we left ourselves the whole day to get here. Last night's motel was on the edge of Lake Taupo-- the biggest lake in New Zealand-- so we wanted a little extra time to explore. We found a small, swerving road on the map called "Volcanic Loop," and decided to check it out.</span></div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-YRH5WknVM6s/U8owC_MT3LI/AAAAAAAABLI/QnY7h434PEo/s640/blogger-image--17763701.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-YRH5WknVM6s/U8owC_MT3LI/AAAAAAAABLI/QnY7h434PEo/s640/blogger-image--17763701.jpg"></a></div></div><div><br></div><div>The brush was relatively barren by New Zealand standards, but the volcanoes were gorgeously snow-capped and active, with visible steam fumaroles near their summits. NZ landscapes change quickly, though. One turn, and we found ourselves amid rolling green hills terraced by sheep. Everywhere, sheep.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-j0ueS9TTtgs/U8owMa8rTfI/AAAAAAAABLY/x1zOGTtqjOU/s640/blogger-image--1652613493.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-j0ueS9TTtgs/U8owMa8rTfI/AAAAAAAABLY/x1zOGTtqjOU/s640/blogger-image--1652613493.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">You're never far from a picnic table in NZ, so we picked up some Brie, crusty bread, and apples, and pulled off the highway for lunch.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-WccRAfsmbhI/U8owJSmEqWI/AAAAAAAABLQ/Aj58UYe8eRs/s640/blogger-image-1482738943.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-WccRAfsmbhI/U8owJSmEqWI/AAAAAAAABLQ/Aj58UYe8eRs/s640/blogger-image-1482738943.jpg"></a></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">We rolled into Waitomo with one purpose: to descend into a cave, board a small boat atop a black subterranean river inhabited by eels, and sail into a damp grotto illuminated by nothing but worms. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">It probably doesn't sound anywhere near as beautiful as it was. Glowworms live on cave ceilings, where they use bioluminescence to attract their prey-- bugs-- into their sticky, threaded snares. In a calm, quiet, black cave, they look like stars.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-4bsB1yi8awA/U8owP9m2PlI/AAAAAAAABLg/7n4_6bI6pTE/s640/blogger-image-900791366.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-4bsB1yi8awA/U8owP9m2PlI/AAAAAAAABLg/7n4_6bI6pTE/s640/blogger-image-900791366.jpg"></a></div><br><div class="separator" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; clear: both;">That picture was taken by a professional, and with a long exposure time. To my iPhone's camera, this cave is pure black.</div><div class="separator" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; clear: both;">Before we climbed into our boat, our guide walked us through a section of the cave where the stalactites and stalagmites have formed a natural cathedral-- so beautiful, both visually and acoustically-- that they occasionally hold Christmas concerts underground here. Daniel wished that we'd had the cave to ourselves so he could sing his heart out, but realistically, our group of twelve was as small as it ever gets here. Our guide told us that in the summer, there are usually two hundred people in the cathedral at a time, and over two thousand pass through the caves each day. This is why we travel off-season.</div></div></div><br></div><br></div>Steve-n-Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16156464099538823774noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1212743230675042462.post-42861431164513324432014-07-17T23:14:00.001-07:002014-07-18T02:29:38.051-07:00Waiotapu<div><br></div>We left Rotorua this morning for Waiotapu, a dramatic geothermal region with geysers, craters, spurting mud, and noxious, technicolor pools of boiling water.<div><br></div><div>The Lady Knox Geyser erupts every morning at 10:15, but not because it is faithful. The geyser's period is somewhat unpredictable, so a park ranger gives it a sprinkle of soap powder to break the water's surface tension and move things along on schedule. It's not as grand as Old Faithful or Strokkur, but Lady Knox treated us to a rainbow today.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-jc15pJ5n6sU/U8jnhyCK6AI/AAAAAAAABKM/W8V-lhZoEZM/s640/blogger-image-765521982.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-jc15pJ5n6sU/U8jnhyCK6AI/AAAAAAAABKM/W8V-lhZoEZM/s640/blogger-image-765521982.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Since Lady Knox erupts on a schedule, anyone who visits the park in a given day will be at the geyser at 10:15, and then head to the park's main circuit immediately after the water show. Our innkeeper advised us to wait out the crowd by visiting a spectacular but mostly-ignored pool of mud.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">We really like boiling mud. It sputters, spurts, and gurgles in a comical way that belies the violent forces that set it in motion. Photo credit: Daniel.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-x0Exq3RhOyQ/U8jnf7wJkqI/AAAAAAAABKE/qlH6K32xWGU/s640/blogger-image--924961655.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-x0Exq3RhOyQ/U8jnf7wJkqI/AAAAAAAABKE/qlH6K32xWGU/s640/blogger-image--924961655.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/--hOm2aITIxI/U8jo_oeGE0I/AAAAAAAABK4/FgkVk05ntpE/s640/blogger-image-1149299700.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/--hOm2aITIxI/U8jo_oeGE0I/AAAAAAAABK4/FgkVk05ntpE/s640/blogger-image-1149299700.jpg"></a></div><br></div></div>We headed back to the main trail, where most of what we saw looked like the surface of Venus.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-oLyppoX6dzc/U8jo6dije_I/AAAAAAAABKo/PRwBIYe8xFs/s640/blogger-image-1317535169.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-oLyppoX6dzc/U8jo6dije_I/AAAAAAAABKo/PRwBIYe8xFs/s640/blogger-image-1317535169.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-m8oWY2V-Veo/U8jo9aiVuQI/AAAAAAAABKw/tKmXtEcEkbg/s640/blogger-image--2008249735.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-m8oWY2V-Veo/U8jo9aiVuQI/AAAAAAAABKw/tKmXtEcEkbg/s640/blogger-image--2008249735.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The colors, sounds, and odors at Waiotapu are nature's way of saying "keep out," but New Zealand reiterates the point with frequent warning signs like this one. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-s82rVLnD5Wo/U8jo4PpPd2I/AAAAAAAABKg/qUYi7s5I4sw/s640/blogger-image--215343690.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-s82rVLnD5Wo/U8jo4PpPd2I/AAAAAAAABKg/qUYi7s5I4sw/s640/blogger-image--215343690.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">We observed enough random, steaming holes in the ground to realize why you don't step off the path here: there's no way to know how much earth there is between your feet and the churning water below. They must have missed the holes.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-k4u2KG9ZcSE/U8jo0yCjYdI/AAAAAAAABKY/oLbMlES4mJ8/s640/blogger-image-393539255.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-k4u2KG9ZcSE/U8jo0yCjYdI/AAAAAAAABKY/oLbMlES4mJ8/s640/blogger-image-393539255.jpg"></a></div><br></div></div></div><br></div><br></div>Steve-n-Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16156464099538823774noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1212743230675042462.post-90154547845979497202014-07-17T22:34:00.000-07:002014-07-17T22:44:47.827-07:00Getting touristy in Rotorua<div><br></div>When we travel we usually avoid events and attractions that advertise on glossy brochures displayed in hotel lobbies. This approach generally serves us well, but on this trip we have an enthusiastic 12 year old on board, so we're taking a somewhat different approach.<br>
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Yesterday we visited two high-visibility attractions in Rotorua: the Rainbow Springs wildlife park and Mitai Village, a Maori culture-and-dinner show. Traveling without Daniel we likely would have given both of these attractions a miss, but we went and thoroughly enjoyed both.<br>
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Rainbow Springs is most known for its efforts to protect and restore New Zealand's kiwi population. Although the kiwi is a nocturnal animal, daytime visitors can see them in a specially-designed indoor habitat that artificially replicates nighttime conditions. Evening visitors can actually see kiwis in a semi-open environment, without any glass barriers between them and the birds.<br>
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We were surprised and charmed by these strange creatures. To begin, they are much larger than the robin-sized birds we imagined - the size of chickens! Then there's the whole "no wings" thing, and no tail... just an odd, egg-shaped creature with droopy feathers and a long, narrow bill, patiently scrounging for food in the brush of the enclosure. Very interesting. We didn't get pics because photography would disturb the birds.<br>
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Rainbow Springs also features a number of clear pools filled with gargantuan, obese rainbow trout. I usually enjoy seeing fish, but these were really kind of revolting, they were so oversized from eating the pellets provided by the park to visitors.<br>
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More enjoyable were the various bird exhibits, mostly parrots and similar, uh, birds. We were all taken by the single African Grey Parrot who softly cooed "Hello" to each of us and made meaningful eye contact. Truly a remarkable bird, and kind of sad to imagine it spending its long life in captivity.<br>
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Finally, we took a ride on the park's low-key ride, a rather abbreviated boat trip through New Zealand's natural history, from the Jurassic to current time, ending with a fun plunge and splash. It's an indication of how remarkably mild the midwinter weather is that we didn't mind getting a bit wet at the end. <br>
<br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-6wA4BhzWlYE/U8i0MADFTuI/AAAAAAAABJc/r9LtJy5ei7A/s640/blogger-image-1228706013.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-6wA4BhzWlYE/U8i0MADFTuI/AAAAAAAABJc/r9LtJy5ei7A/s640/blogger-image-1228706013.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">After our visit at Rainbow Springs, we headed to the nearby Mitai Village for a Maori cultural show and dinner. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-AvOacXyWFDM/U8i0Oo7Uu_I/AAAAAAAABJk/bbOyCYLMJkI/s640/blogger-image-639546030.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-AvOacXyWFDM/U8i0Oo7Uu_I/AAAAAAAABJk/bbOyCYLMJkI/s640/blogger-image-639546030.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-wtEfOxynj78/U8i0TQLuXsI/AAAAAAAABJ0/C-lZsOyj-K8/s640/blogger-image-1220873395.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-wtEfOxynj78/U8i0TQLuXsI/AAAAAAAABJ0/C-lZsOyj-K8/s640/blogger-image-1220873395.jpg"></a></div><br></div><br></div><br>Steve-n-Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16156464099538823774noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1212743230675042462.post-70080128354255681192014-07-16T18:51:00.001-07:002014-07-16T18:51:45.010-07:00Farttown, NZ<div><br></div>When we arrived in Rotorua, our innkeeper boasted that you can fart in the middle of a crowd here, and no one will ever know. Steve successfully tested this idea today when he timed his own eruption to coincide with the Earth's.<div><br></div><div>This morning, we enjoyed the fresher air outside town.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-ksNGJQYdepQ/U8csHhe8WvI/AAAAAAAABI8/QqokglYBD_M/s640/blogger-image-684545729.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-ksNGJQYdepQ/U8csHhe8WvI/AAAAAAAABI8/QqokglYBD_M/s640/blogger-image-684545729.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-4hIAuoNt3GY/U8csFpmhD3I/AAAAAAAABI0/3frdpzWlrms/s640/blogger-image--327131171.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-4hIAuoNt3GY/U8csFpmhD3I/AAAAAAAABI0/3frdpzWlrms/s640/blogger-image--327131171.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-PD0-94JztOU/U8csJr2J1WI/AAAAAAAABJE/0BZkJAeb0Q0/s640/blogger-image-1081856609.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-PD0-94JztOU/U8csJr2J1WI/AAAAAAAABJE/0BZkJAeb0Q0/s640/blogger-image-1081856609.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-5KEvOJLVSRs/U8csLpHDXZI/AAAAAAAABJM/Qn2ewdA9Fg4/s640/blogger-image--1738320033.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-5KEvOJLVSRs/U8csLpHDXZI/AAAAAAAABJM/Qn2ewdA9Fg4/s640/blogger-image--1738320033.jpg"></a></div><br></div><br></div><br></div><br></div>Steve-n-Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16156464099538823774noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1212743230675042462.post-53657346961155087382014-07-16T12:33:00.001-07:002014-07-16T12:33:12.943-07:00Rotorua, Day 1<div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">When you fly to New Zealand, you cross the international date line and land in the future. We left home early Monday morning, and arrived in Auckland late Tuesday night. We checked into a "refurbished" airport hotel with some cleanliness issues. As we drifted to sleep, we wondered if the various hairs coating the black bedspreads were all human, and whether knowledge of their species of origin would make us feel better or worse. We pushed the bedspreads away, turned up the room's heater (a glorified hair dryer), and shivered ourselves to sleep. </span></div><div><br></div><div>We woke up on Tuesday morning to sunshine, and left Traveller's International Airport Hotel Auckland (so, so eagerly) for our first destination: Rotorua. We drove through the beautiful NZ countryside, with periodic stops to take pictures of Daniel taking pictures.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-ivcQ5zRFOb8/U8bTdn7SzOI/AAAAAAAABIk/AwDtS8BBb8k/s640/blogger-image--1485847505.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-ivcQ5zRFOb8/U8bTdn7SzOI/AAAAAAAABIk/AwDtS8BBb8k/s640/blogger-image--1485847505.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Daniel has proven to be an excellent traveler. He was very cheerful on the long flight, and eagerly explored the Honolulu airport. He bought a souvenir rice paddle, which in typical Daniel fashion, he has carried with him everywhere since. He has endless enthusiasm for the lush New Zealand landscape, for Maori culture, and for the crazy geothermal activity that makes Rotorua a popular destination.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Depending on when you pull into town and which way the winds blow, you'll be greeted by either a faint whiff of sulfur or a noxious punch. Our lodging in Rotorua, the Sport of Kings Motel, is powered entirely by geothermal energy. The owner gave us a tour when we arrived, and showed us the remarkably warm pool outside and hot tub in our room that require nothing more than geothermal energy to maintain their temperatures. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-mHk1-d6rPHI/U8bTX9pveEI/AAAAAAAABIU/NEI5JIyJSE8/s640/blogger-image-1222167535.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-mHk1-d6rPHI/U8bTX9pveEI/AAAAAAAABIU/NEI5JIyJSE8/s640/blogger-image-1222167535.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">After we settled in, we visited downtown Rotorua, where we walked along the lake and checked out various pools of boiling mud. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-rp3S0nYBvjY/U8bTTPwri3I/AAAAAAAABIE/1__Ye_QwUTY/s640/blogger-image-878310958.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-rp3S0nYBvjY/U8bTTPwri3I/AAAAAAAABIE/1__Ye_QwUTY/s640/blogger-image-878310958.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-Q9S8-96T6jY/U8bTVtVkC3I/AAAAAAAABIM/Rr-vckfgrVA/s640/blogger-image-1181366441.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-Q9S8-96T6jY/U8bTVtVkC3I/AAAAAAAABIM/Rr-vckfgrVA/s640/blogger-image-1181366441.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-zEyVYLnP_1o/U8bTaRXiY9I/AAAAAAAABIc/Z503CvsiO60/s640/blogger-image-1388057648.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-zEyVYLnP_1o/U8bTaRXiY9I/AAAAAAAABIc/Z503CvsiO60/s640/blogger-image-1388057648.jpg"></a></div><br></div>Back at the Sport of Kings, Daniel explored NZ television offerings, Steve soaked in the hot tub, and Melissa savored the perfectly clean sheets. Tomorrow: visits to a Kiwi sanctuary and a Maori cultural show.</div>Steve-n-Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16156464099538823774noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1212743230675042462.post-66304952875598328752014-07-15T23:52:00.000-07:002014-07-22T02:08:17.087-07:00NZ with LGOur two-stage flight to Auckland was long but uneventful. Oakland to Honolulu, a two hour layover in steamy Honolulu Airport (which may be the most confusing and poorly-signed major airport in the universe), then an 8-1/2 hour downhill run to Auckland. Hawaiian Airlines got good marks from all three of us: on time, clean and relatively spacious planes, pleasant attendants... They make bigger US carriers pale by comparison (we're talking to you, United Airlines!).
The only unpleasant aspect of the entire trip was its bizarre finale. After we landed and taxied to the gate, we were asked to remain seated while the entire interior of the plane was fumigated to eliminate any potentially noxious insects that might have hitched a ride on our plane. That's right: they sprayed insecticide on all the overhead luggage bins while we were seated beneath with an admonishment that if anyone bolted for safety we would have to repeat the whole crazy thing. We are sympathetic to the Kiwis' near-fanatic efforts to keep invasive species out of their country, but We are not crazy about cowering under a mist of bug spray - there comes a point where the personal wellbeing of our family outweighs our eco-responsibilities. Probably best that we were semi-stunned from travel fatigue and too punchy to effectively protest.
Anyway, we made it off the plane, through immigration and customs, and to our rather dreary airport motel for a few hours of much-needed sleep before starting our real adventures on Wednesday, when we pick up our rental car and head for the geothermal area near Rotorua.Steve-n-Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16156464099538823774noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1212743230675042462.post-27548570625610291032014-07-13T10:52:00.000-07:002014-07-13T11:06:27.297-07:00BC - ADWhen we look back on our life together, we will divide it into two major periods: "Before California," and "After Doctoral Program." <div><br></div><div>Last week, we sold our house and most of our stuff and moved to California. In a few weeks, Melissa will start a doctoral program in Jurisprudence and Social Policy at U.C. Berkeley, and Steve will start his search for a new job. But not yet. <span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Tomorrow morning, we're headed back to New Zealand with our favorite twelve-year old in tow.</span></div>Steve-n-Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16156464099538823774noreply@blogger.com0Berkeley, CA37.88577 -122.30049tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1212743230675042462.post-35598628794078017562013-06-28T10:47:00.001-07:002013-06-28T10:47:36.738-07:00Where buildings make us smile<p class="s4" style="text-align: -webkit-auto; margin: 0px; "><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); ">I</span><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; "> often stumble spelling the word "exuberant," and that's a hurdle I really need to get over, because here in Prague, it's a word that comes frequently to mind.</span></p><p class="s4" style="text-align: -webkit-auto; margin: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></p><p class="s4" style="text-align: -webkit-auto; margin: 0px; "><span class="s3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">The glorious architecture, the ridiculously scenic views that have us gawking at every street corner like the tourists we emphatically are, the hordes of visitors crowding the squares and twisting, cobbled streets... There's a palpable, excited energy here that can only be described with that word: exuberant.</span></p><p class="s4" style="text-align: -webkit-auto; margin: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></p><p class="s4" style="text-align: -webkit-auto; margin: 0px; "><span class="s3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Today on a lark we visited the Franz Kafka museum, which was every bit as dark, morose, and pointless as you'd expect (which is to say it was rather well curated). But it's difficult to square the existential trauma young Franz experienced while walking to school with the giddy delight we get from strolling down those same streets. Prague makes us happy.</span></p><p class="s4" style="text-align: -webkit-auto; margin: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></p><p class="s4" style="text-align: -webkit-auto; margin: 0px; "><span class="s3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">This place is more densely endowed with interesting buildings than any city we've ever seen. It's just crazy, with Disney-esque ramparts and towers poking up willy-nilly throughout the Staré Mêsto (Old Town) and Malá Strana (Lesser Town) just across the river. The city is older, less orderly than Hausmann's Paris, but there's the same sense of proportion and grandeur: it just comes in a wacky jumble of gorgeous styles developed over several centuries.</span></p><p class="s4" style="text-align: -webkit-auto; margin: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></p><p class="s4" style="text-align: -webkit-auto; margin: 0px; "><span class="s3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">We've even seen a few gloomy Communist-era buildings - surrounded by such eclectic architectural beauty, those has-been bastions of socialist realism have their own woeful charm. Prague is nothing if not a repudiation of the socialist model: capitalism has brought floods of tourists and lonely to this city, and the vibe is a prosperous one.</span></p><p class="s4" style="text-align: -webkit-auto; margin: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></p><p class="s4" style="text-align: -webkit-auto; margin: 0px; "><span class="s3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></p>Steve-n-Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16156464099538823774noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1212743230675042462.post-25161595675739245672013-06-24T14:01:00.001-07:002013-06-28T10:44:33.734-07:00The Tokaj Paradox<div>We took the train from Budapest to Tokaj, where vintner Angelika Arvay picked us up and drove us to her family's home and vineyards in nearby Ratka.</div><div><div><br></div><div>Tokaj (pronounced toe-koy) is known for its sweet wines, which were a favorite among European monarchs for centuries. Tokaji Aszu is made through a painstaking, multi-step process. Some grapes are picked in August or September to make a dry base wine. Others are left on the vines to ripen further and-- if all goes well-- to be infected with botrytis cinerea, a fungus that shrivels the grapes and concentrates their flavors. This "noble rot" is responsible for most of the finest dessert wines in the world, including France's Sauternes and Germany's surprisingly pronounceable and breathtakingly expensive Trockenbeerenauslese.</div><div><br></div><div>Quality declined during the communist era, but as Hungary transitioned to Democracy in the early 90s, local vintners and international investors restored the vineyards and centuries-old winemaking techniques to once again produce world-class wines. We've enjoyed these wines several times over the years, so when we realized we'd be two hours away by train, we jumped at the chance to visit Tokaji.</div><div><br></div><div>We must have tasted (and spit) fifteen wines at Angelika's table. We started with dry table wines--all white--made with Tokaj's major grapes: Furmint, Harslevelu, and Muscat. We'd never tasted varietal Furmint or Harslevelu wines before, and we were really pleased with their unusual aromatics. Harslevelu reminded us of fresh basil; Furmint is bright and citrusy with a spicy anise core. We progressed to the late harvest wines, and eventually to Tokaji Aszu. Aszu is aged for at least three years; the '09 we tasted had not been labeled yet, but that only heightened its appeal: we picked one up just like this-- inscribed by Angelika in gold sharpie.</div></div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-utSagoHNEyU/UcjH0pcV36I/AAAAAAAABFY/h5R9qD78Lx8/s640/blogger-image-839718542.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-utSagoHNEyU/UcjH0pcV36I/AAAAAAAABFY/h5R9qD78Lx8/s640/blogger-image-839718542.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><br></div><div>After we'd tasted the full line-up, Angelika gave us each a puor of Tokaji Aszu Eszencia. This is the free run juice that is released from the shriveled grapes under their own weight in a basket. It's pure nectar-- never mixed with any other wine-- and so thick and sweet that only the surface ferments. Some critics object to calling it wine because it rarely exceeds 4% alcohol. Sometimes it's closer to 2%. It looks like good maple syrup, but it smells like honey and orange blossoms. The Eszencia is so concentrated and intense that the finish lingers for several minutes. When a bug landed in Steve's glass, he drank the last few drops (and the eszencia-soaked bug) anyway. </div><div><br></div><div>Angelika also taught us a bit about local geography and her vineyards in particular.The vineyard called God's Hill turns up all sorts of fossils in the soil. Like this fish...</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-IhrfZk2GMco/UcjH2ZnSbUI/AAAAAAAABFg/w5VvdSKyo4k/s640/blogger-image-1542018615.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-IhrfZk2GMco/UcjH2ZnSbUI/AAAAAAAABFg/w5VvdSKyo4k/s640/blogger-image-1542018615.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Angelika also told us about her work with Junibor, the Association of Young Winemakers. After we finished tasting, Janos Arvay, Angelika's father, took us all out in his SUV to climb the hillside and get a better look at his family's vines..</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-GM2Gy88qYn8/UcjH4joS0ZI/AAAAAAAABFo/KZI6Cf3-c3U/s640/blogger-image--1728176761.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-GM2Gy88qYn8/UcjH4joS0ZI/AAAAAAAABFo/KZI6Cf3-c3U/s640/blogger-image--1728176761.jpg"></a></div><br></div>After the tasting and tour, Angelika drove us to our inn in the village of Tokaj. At about $40 a night, our room at the quirky Vasko Panzio Borpince was surprisingly spacious and clean. We hatched a plan: we'd relax for an hour, head to the village post office at 5PM, and then walk up the hill to our 6PM tasting appointment at Erzsebet Pince.</div><div><br></div><div>Two days before, we'd discovered that it's easy to buy postcards in Hungary, but it's hard to buy postage stamps. We asked at news stands, souvenir shops, and in our hotel lobby, and nobody sells stamps. Finally, in the gift shop at the Great Synagogue, an expatriate cashier from <i>somewhere else</i> told us with a roll of the eyes that in Hungary, you can only buy postage stamps at the post office, and only <i>if it's open</i>. We got to the Tokaj post office an hour before closing time... and it was closed. We crossed the street to a tourist information kiosk to ask when the post office might be open again.</div><div><br></div><div>"8:00 tomorrow," the clerk told us. Then he frowned. "Or maybe 9 or 10."</div><div><br></div><div>We filed our postcards away for future mailing, and set out into the picture-perfect little village. We walked past wine shops and cafes, and every few minutes, as if on cue, carefree locals would ride past (helmetless and spandex-free) on old-fashioned bikes with baskets full of flowers or groceries. It was hard to reconcile the idyllic with the not-so-idyllic: small groups of loud, shirtless, mostly bald drunks wandering around with open, liter-sized bottles of beer.</div><div><br></div><div>We walked up the hill to Erzsebet Pince, a beautiful, modern home atop a three hundred year old wine cellar. Our tasting and tour was conducted entirely in the cellar, and after several days of 90+ degree heat, we were thrilled to be in the cool, damp environment. We were joined by another couple who didn't speak English, but the winemaker did a remarkable job of keeping the conversation going with quick translations and heavy pours. When we toured the cellar, we were struck by the thick (and surprisingly pretty) layer of mold on the walls and on the ceiling. It's a symbiotic relationship; the mold feeds off the alcohol that evaporates from the wine, and in turn, it keeps the humidity level in the cellar precisely right.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-oOGpz6zaqSU/Uc3IiTBFnsI/AAAAAAAABGI/Ax4qrFZaB5I/s640/blogger-image-2001792982.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-oOGpz6zaqSU/Uc3IiTBFnsI/AAAAAAAABGI/Ax4qrFZaB5I/s640/blogger-image-2001792982.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><br></div><div>We bought a couple of bottles of Tokaji, loaded them into Steve's backpack, and headed back down the hill for dinner.</div><div><br></div><div>The bicyclists had vanished and the shirtless drunks had multiplied. They were everywhere, and they were louder than before. There were a few who weren't screeching, but only because they'd already passed out. The cafes that looked quaint at 5PM looked post-apocalyptic at 9PM. We decided to save our appetites for breakfast, confident that they'd all be unconscious by the time our alarm went off.</div><div><br></div><div>We made our way through the drunks in the hotel courtyard, and just as we got back to our room, the skies opened and it absolutely <i>poured</i>. Hail pelted the roof, and we felt a little smug about how miserable the drunks would be out in the courtyard, without so much as small puffs of hair to slow the hail before it hit their skulls.</div><div><br></div><div>They weren't miserable, though. They simply turned up the music to compensate. We truly hated them for a moment, but then they put on Metallica's Black Album, and it was good. So good.</div><div><br></div><div>Somehow, eventually, we fell asleep. When we woke up in the morning, Tokaj was peaceful and pretty. We headed down through the abandoned courtyard and into the breakfast room, where the innkeeper presented us with a basket of rolls, a slab of salami, and these:</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-7drz6N49vbs/Uc3IhCb4VVI/AAAAAAAABGA/NZO7LQHnVyI/s640/blogger-image-163765706.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-7drz6N49vbs/Uc3IhCb4VVI/AAAAAAAABGA/NZO7LQHnVyI/s640/blogger-image-163765706.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div>We cut them into slivers, sprinkled them with salt, and ate them with gusto. Then, feeling wildly optimistic, we walked up the street to the post office. To our surprise, it was open early! It took three postal employees about ten minutes to estimate the correct postage for international postcards. If by some chance you receive a Hungarian postcard from us, treasure it forever: it's a miracle it reached you.</div><div><br></div><div>When we tried to arrange a taxi to the Tokaj train station for the long trip to Prague, our innkeeper (who didn't speak a word of English, but with whom Steve was able to communicate in German) loaded us into his car and drove us himself. We took one last look look at Tokaj through the tiny Skoda's windows, and saw no evidence of the head-banging gremlins that emerge after dark. When we boarded the train to Prague (via Budapest) we still didn't know what to make of Tokaj.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-l41tytWii4k/Uc3IfYlvzDI/AAAAAAAABF4/Yavh1sy_TCY/s640/blogger-image--1852857372.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-l41tytWii4k/Uc3IfYlvzDI/AAAAAAAABF4/Yavh1sy_TCY/s640/blogger-image--1852857372.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Epilogue: from our hotel room in Prague a few days later, Steve resolved the Tokaji paradox with a Google search. We'd arrived in Tokaj at the start of Hegyalja Fesztival, a five day music festival that features performers with names like Hippikiller, Insane, and Junkies.</div><br></div><div>Now it all makes sense.</div>Steve-n-Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16156464099538823774noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1212743230675042462.post-18571337683102270272013-06-22T06:22:00.001-07:002013-06-22T06:24:43.754-07:00First Night<p class="p1"><span class="s1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">We were remarkably unfazed by the 20+ hour journey from Portland to Budapest. On previous trips, the overnight flight and mid-morning arrival in Europe has meant the prospect of a long, sleepy afternoon and an evening of trying to stay awake until a decent local bedtime. Thanks to a strategically-timed Ambien that we split somewhere over northern Canada, it actually felt like morning instead of midnight to us when we arrived in Europe.</span></p><p class="p1"><span class="s1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Our hotel in Budapest is centrally-located, clean, comfortable, and completely utilitarian. It has very few frills, but it has one luxury that we didn't realize we'd need when we prepaid in April: air conditioning. We arrived in Hungary in the middle of a heat wave. Central Europe has been baking in 90-100 degree temperatures for a week, and it was 93 degrees when we landed in Budapest. After three flights and a long, hot shuttle ride into the city, all we wanted on earth were cool showers and clean clothes. By the time we felt human again, we were ready for an early (<a href="x-apple-data-detectors://0" x-apple-data-detectors="true" x-apple-data-detectors-type="calendar-event" x-apple-data-detectors-result="0">7PM</a>) dinner at Cafe Bouchon.</span></p><p class="p1"><span class="s1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Our walk was scenic but extremely hot, and we were both pretty overheated in casual dinner clothes by the time we reached the restaurant, located on a narrow side street off one of Budapest's broad boulevards. We stepped into the blissful air conditioned coolness of the cozy dining room and were cheerfully welcomed in excellent English by the waitstaff.</span></p><p class="p1"><span class="s1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">The host ushered us to a table and immediately brought chilled local sparkling water and homemade bread and tomato jam. Deep, utterly bright essence of a fresh sun-ripened tomato. Delicious.</span></p><p class="p1"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span class="s1">We started with a fresh chilled strawberry soup and a house special salad of greens, Camembert, apples, and Tokaj grapes in a honey vinaigrette. The soup was intense and refreshing, with brilliant fresh strawberry flavor. The salad was a pleasing combination of favors and textures, very appealing on a hot summer evening. In spite of the weather, we chose a couple of hearty, meat-and-potatoes entrees: a beef tenderloin in pepper cream sauce, and veal medallions with Hungarian ratatouille. </span> </span></p><p></p><p class="p1"><span class="s1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">We ordered two glasses of a pinot noir produced in the Eger region - most familiar to Americans as the home of the harsh Egri Bikaver "Bull's Blood" red wine. Our Pinot was considerably more refined, but with a gamy, earthy quality that made it hard to identify as Pinot. In any case, it was a good accompaniment to our meals.</span></p><p class="p1"><span class="s1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">For dessert we shared two generous pours of Hungary's signature fine wine: Tokaj Aszu. The wine is made from botrytis-infected grapes, as in Sauternes, and is similarly rich, unctuous, and sweetly complex. The quality and intensity of these wines are measured in "puttonyos" - an extension of the wicker baskets traditionally used to haul the grapes. More puttonyos = more botrytis fruit, yielding a more viscous, rich wine. The owner told us that traditionally all Aszu wines were "6 puttonyos" wines, but more recently they have been produced with smaller proportions of 3 or 5 puttonyos, in addition to the traditional mix. In addition, some producers make a sort of field blend of botrytis and non-botrytis fruit in whatever proportion nature provides - this is known as Szamorodni, and we tried a small pour of it in addition to a 5 puttonyos wine from 2004 and a 6 puttonyos wine from 2003.</span></p><p class="p1"><span class="s1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">The service at Cafe Bouchon was excellent: helpful, friendly, relaxed. Several of the servers came by and all spoke English well, but we spoke most with the owner, who chatted with us about the food and gave us quite a bit of background on the Tokaji Aszu wines.</span></p><p class="p1"><span class="s1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">It had cooled down to the high eighties outside by the time we were done. We walked back toward the hotel along <span lang="hu" xml:lang="hu"><i>Andrássy út</i></span>, Budapest's answer to the <i>Champs-Elysées</i>. <span lang="hu" xml:lang="hu"><i>Andrássy út</i></span> is lined with restaurants, bars, glitzy international boutiques, and the beautifully anachronistic Hungarian State Opera House. Really, though, the opera house is only anachronistic at ground-level. When you look up along <span lang="hu" xml:lang="hu"><i>Andrássy út</i></span>, the generic luxury storefronts give way to spectacularly ornate Renaissance revival facades.</span></p><p class="p1"><span class="s1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">We looked up the whole way back to our air-conditioned room.</span></p><p class="p1"><span class="s1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-bSqJbwEBZ3U/UcWlmfeoDvI/AAAAAAAABFI/J8gdIn79d0Q/s640/blogger-image-1416276408.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-bSqJbwEBZ3U/UcWlmfeoDvI/AAAAAAAABFI/J8gdIn79d0Q/s640/blogger-image-1416276408.jpg"></a></div><br><p></p>Steve-n-Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16156464099538823774noreply@blogger.com0Inner City District V.47.494428 19.05535tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1212743230675042462.post-34697656740949572812013-06-20T14:42:00.001-07:002013-06-20T14:51:47.497-07:00It's a big plane, and we're in the rumble seats.<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-9JBvYpKelyE/UcN3XfKwfLI/AAAAAAAABEo/mEamGKCNK7U/s640/blogger-image--1845673925.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-9JBvYpKelyE/UcN3XfKwfLI/AAAAAAAABEo/mEamGKCNK7U/s640/blogger-image--1845673925.jpg"></a></div>Steve-n-Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16156464099538823774noreply@blogger.com0