I spent almost two months traveling both the north and south islands of this beautiful country. I have countless photographs of rolling hills and prairies dotted with grazing herds of sheep and cattle, pristine lakes nestled in pine tree forests, abundant seaside villages each with a different ambience, miles of picturesque coastline, glaciers and skyscrapers.
New Zealand is unique in that it requires a visa and an onward ticket to an outside destination. They want to be sure you aren’t staying indefinitely. I usually travel with an open itinerary because I’m never sure where my adventures will lead me next. I didn’t want to purchase a return ticket because Goddess told me I wouldn’t need one. I didn’t know at this time I would be leaving New Zealand on a freighter, I only knew I wouldn’t be using a return ticket. Disagreeing with the travel agent resulted in a fruitless discussion and I was forced to buy a return ticket from my original departing city, Dubai. This was expensive and unnecessary. A ticket to Tasmania would have sufficed and saved money.
I began my journey in Auckland on the north island, February 2007. The city was cloudy, cool and humid, but the fresh air was delightful. A relatively clean city, it had a Seattle-esque feeling; full of sailboats and people from all over the planet. In fact every part of New Zealand I’d visited reminded me a great deal of the Pacific Northwest. I believe that is why I felt at home.
The most popular mode of travel was any motorized vehicle that could also be utilized as a bedroom. Campers, vans and motorhomes were plentiful, and the roads were good and easy to navigate. For those who chose to only drive their automobile, many B & B’s, home stays, farm stays, motels and backpacker’s lodgings were available. So many in fact that I was surprised to learn that tourism is the number two industry here, second only to the dairy industry. My favorite was home stays. I enjoyed spending the night with local residents and learning about the culture and the activities through a “home grown” concierge. Some of my best evenings were spent with my host families in their homes. People were naturally very kind and helpful to this American woman traveling alone.
Despite our countries sharing the same language, I had to learn the Kiwi version of English. A barista asked me if I wanted a “plunger” coffee. When she pointed to the apparatus, I told her we called it a “French Press” and that a plunger was something closely related to the toilet. A double espresso is a “Long Black” and quickly became my favorite beverage. I was relieved the citizens were as addicted to coffee as the people in my part of the world. My frustration was their accent. I could have helped them with their pronunciation, but oddly, no one asked me. Kiwis don’t study law, they have “loar” and they drive a ute (utility vehicle) or a caw. The noticeable difference is that they don’t buy a dress, they buy a “dray-ess.”
There are many differences in our countries and driving on the “wrong” side of the road is one, but it is easy to adapt to because drivers are pretty laid back. Most cities close down at 5pm which surprised me, but I’m a morning person, so the hours suited me fine.
I was fascinated by the indigenous Maori culture. They had their own TV channel and their language was mandatory in the schools. They had not dissolved into the landscape. Their presence was clearly visible here. I wanted to spend more time with them and learn their language, but time constraints kept me moving forward. Their language appeared somewhat similar to Hawaiian, but it wasn’t pronounced the same.
Lake Rotorua was one of my favorite places on the north island. It was here, I languished in the healing qualities of a natural mud bath and I allowed the magical properties of the wet dirt to purge the toxins from my body. I rode a leisurely gondola up to the highest vista and I navigated a lightning-fast luge down the hill. I photographed geysers and exploding mud ponds, and sat in awe of the fantastic Maori warriors performing one of their traditional tribal dances in Te Puia. The dance may have been to thwart off impending rival attacks, but the movements and gestures were strangely erotic. The diversity of this country is awe inspiring.
