Recapping Northland the lazy way: with photos.

As I mentioned in my last post, I headed up to the top of the North Island with a very nice girl by the name of Julia that I met at the hostel here in Auckland. 

It was a great three days and I am very proud to say I successfully managed to drive on the left-hand side of the road for the first time since 2004.  Once I turned right into the wrong lane, but other than that, I was golden.  Go me!

I could spend paragraphs describing the verdant hills, the sparkling bays, the misty horizon, the majestic trees and dunes and the gently swaying palm fronds that I enjoyed on my travels. But I’ll just show you what it looked like, yeah?

The route we took 



We spnt our first night in the very small town of Pukenui at a hostel that overlooked this beautiful bay. We were the only people in the place save for this German guy who was at the beginning of a five month biking trip up and down the country.  Crazy.

The three of us drove over to Ninely Mile Beach, which is, confusingly, a 64-mile stretch of uninterupted beach along the wesst coast of the top of the North Island. It's officially a highway, though you're not advised to drive on it.  Go figure.

There we watched the sun go down in a spectacular fashion.

The next day we went to Cape Reinga, which is the northernmost point of New Zealand.  The Maoris believe that the spirits of the dead reach the underworld from this point.

Here the Tasman Sea and the Pacific Ocean meet and make this funny wave. It's pretty cool.  

We also headed out to the Te Paki sand dunes where you can rent a board and, after a strenuous climb, slide down on your stomach like a tobbogan.

Te Matua Ngahere is the oldest and biggest tree in NZ.  This kauri is an estimated 2,000 years old and is six metres wide and has a girth of 16 metres!

This was the view from my room at the hostel in Whangaroa.  The town was laughably small, but the hostel was pretty sweet.  We were the only people in it, and it had a hot tub!

This awesome dog greeted us at the Ngwha Springs hot pools.  It layed on its back invitingly for at least five minutes after I stopped rubbing its belly.  It then refused to move when I needed to back the car up.

The Ngawha Springs hot pools.  They don't look like much, and smelled aweful, but my skin has rarely felt so nice.  Unfortunately, three days and three showers later, I still smell a little like sulphur.

Toi Toi grass is something you see nearly everywhere in NZ and it's awesome.

So that was Northland.  Now I'm back in Auckland and am back at square one.  What to do, what to do?  I applied for a job here, but haven't heard anything yet, and should likely continue looking for a car.  I just need to get motivated!

Being Seduced by Sydney

Oh Sydney, you gorgeous enchantress you (insert sigh of contentment here).

Your sand-fringed beaches beckon me. Your undulating harbours delight.  Your parks and green spaces charm me.  Your lovely climate soothes me. Your myriad of shopping centres entice. Damn you Sydney.  You had me at Hello.

How lucky I am to be in this utopian city again. It’s a place that is no less beguiling the fourth time around. 

This time, I’m lucky enough to be visiting a very good friend of mine, who we will call C.  C has been living in Sydney since July and has been extremely welcoming to the road-weary traveller crashing on her couch.  Having been here a few times before, I’ve run most of the tourist attractions that interest me (Tauranga Zoo, the Opera House, the aquarium etc.) and after two months of hostels, I’m almost shamefully happy to just sit around an empty apartment all day and watch TV and occasionally cook.

Me with some sort of building in the background.

Hyde Park.

That’s not to say that I have been completely sedentary and loser-ish this past week.  I have been keeping somewhat busy. I’ve spent time rediscovering some familiar haunts such as the Botanic Gardens, Darling Harbour and Hyde Park.  I’ve visited a few of the many beaches.  I’ve avoided buying anything beyond essentials (this is a major accomplishment on my part.  The stores here are both plentiful and oh-so-pretty.  It really is a shoppers’ paradise).

Sydney skyline from the Botanic gardens

A few highlights of the week:

•  One night, C and I attended a get-together of Québecois living in Sydney (we figured being franco-Ontarian counted) at a pub in the trendy area known as The Rocks.  It was heaps of fun (as the Ozzies say).  There were about 25 or 30 people at the gathering and it was great to be around the Québécois humour for a while.  It was also so strange to hear people speaking French with a Canadian accent then with an Australian accent in English – many of the people had learned to speak English here and therefore had the distinctive Aussie twang. 

My first weekend here we somewhat spontaneously headed an hour and a half south to the city of Wollongong.  There we hung out on the beach, explored the downtown, and took in some of the local colour at a rather seedy pub where we both enjoyed a drink and spent the night (hotels/pubs/pokies/bars are common here).

One of the lighthouses near Wollongong beach.

Last weekend we headed north to Newcastle, a city that, for some reason, Lonely Planet named Australia’s place to be.  Newcastle does have its charms, mainly of the beach variety, and the YHA where we stayed was top notch, but the city itself was a bit odd.  Though there are a reputed 400,000 inhabitants, there was no obvious downtown.  Big buildings were scarce, and much of the areas we visited were a bit run down.  No matter, we enjoyed ourselves immensely at the beach and (mainly) avoided sunburns.

Wollongong beach

• 



The huge ocean baths in Newcastle.  They're basically ocean-fed pools next to the beach.  The water is calmer, warmer, and there`s no chance of sharks! They're fairly common at beaches here, but these ones are huge.  They.re actually the biggest in the Southern Hemisphere. 





The main beach in Newcastle

• I went snorkelling at Clovelly beach, a narrow strip of sand and surf between much more popular Bondi and Coogee beaches.

Clovelly beach.  While "snorkeling" (swimming with goggles) I saw quite a few fish, including a particularly nice blue one.

It’s a strange time to be here.  Not only is the Christmas paraphernalia out in force, but so is the Oprah mania.  The talk show queen is in the country officially to film two shows, and unofficially to promote tourism in Australia.  The government actually shelled out $3 million to bring her and some 300 of her viewers here in the hopes of boosting tourism.  Her antics have been dominating the news here for the past week.

The temporarily renamed "Oprah" house.  I feel bad for first-time visitors to Sydney whose view of the iconic building is marred by the stage and all the other eyesores.



The famous Bondi Beach. If you're needing a knock to your ego, this is the place to go. The beach is thicék with hard and bronzed bodies. 



Sydney Harbour bridge.

As you can see, I've been wandering around a bit barefoot here too. In the distance you can see Bondi.

A stunning cemetary overlooking the ocean between Bondi and Coogee beaches

Island hopping in Auckland

I am quite the neglectful blogger, aren’t I?

A thousand apologies for my absence of late.  I have no excuses beyond general laziness. It happens.

What have I been up to these days? Well, I spent ten days in sunny Auckland going for long walks, catching up with some mates, eating great food and drinking far too much wine.

One of the highlight of the week was that I managed to visit three of the islands in Auckland’s Hauraki Gulf.

Leaving on the ferry from Auckland harbour.

First on the menu was Rangitoto island which, atop of sporting a name that is oh-so-fun to say, is really pretty interesting.  The 5.5km long island formed some 600 years ago after a series of volcanic eruptions. 

From afar, the island’s volcanic heritage is apparent thanks to its conical peak.  Up close, it’s fairly obvious too.  The terrain is littered with dark, jagged rock and the vegetation (of which there was more than I had expected) is of the hardy and stunted variety.  It took me about 45 minutes to walk to the island’s summit and I enjoyed the beautiful views along the way. 

Yet another awkward pose thanks to the ten-second timer.

mmmmmm...old lava

What was less enjoyable was the teeming mass of young teens lounging noisily at the top. It appears that it was a 70-student-strong school group on a field trip. They were well behaved, as far as teens go, but the decibel levels (think giggling, screaming, cell phones playing music) were a bit off putting when all I was hoping to hear were birds and the occasional passing plane.

I shouldn’t have despaired, for I was soon to get that solitude and silence I craved.  Within the hour I had reboarded the ferry (thanks to its handy hop-on, hop-off service) and was deposited on the much grassier Motuihe island. Though the island was far from deserted (a few dozen people alit from the boat at the same time as me and yet another school group was enjoying a field trip on this island), it was much easier to distance oneself from the pack than on Rangitoto thanks to a wide variety of walking tracks.

With nearly three hours to kill before the ferry returned to collect passengers, I quickly set off to explore. Not really knowing where I wanted to go, I decided to wander about and see what the island had to offer.  Turns out it had a fair bit: grassy fields, pretty trees, huge plants, secluded beaches, and lots of birds. Other than the boats drifting by in the distance, I didn’t see another human for over an hour.  It was glorious. 

My own little secluded beach.

On the weekend my friend Inky (whom you may remember from Christchurch some six weeks ago) and I headed out to the most popular of the Hauraki Gulf islands.  A mere half-hour boat ride from Auckland, Waiheke is home to some 8,000 people, and during the summer months, some 3,000+ cottagers, and countless tourists and daytrippers descend on its pretty shores.  It’s not hard to see why. 

From the sky, Waiheke looks like a big ol’ inkspot, which means it boasts dozens of picturesque bays, a number of swimming beaches, and plenty of fishing spots.  Its enviable climate lends itself well to wine production, and as such many small vineyards produce some decent (if pricey) whites.

It was a nice weekend. Inky got to partake in his rugged outdoorsy pursuits (sleeping in the bush, spearfishing, rock climbing, cliff jumping), while I enjoyed the calmer side of island living (sleeping in a hostel, lying on the sand, floating in the sea). An activity we both enjoyed was drinking wine on the beach (wish this was doable in Georgian Bay) and eating a delicious meal at the Skinny Sardine (stuffed chicken breast and sinfully buttery garlic mashed potatoes for me – I’m salivating just thinking about it). 

Setting sun over Auckland.

Sun setting over Waiheke

My last two days in Auckland I didn’t do much beyond tying up some lose ends, repacking my bag, and visiting a friend I’d made my first week in the country.  It was pretty chill.

As many of you have likely see via Facebook, I now find myself in soggy Sydney. It's apparently been raining here an extraordinary amount these past few months (which explains why I’m inside writing rather than enjoying Bondi or Manly beaches). I’m here until the 16^th at which time I’m hopping a plane back to Canada for Christmas and some rather important nuptuals. I’m looking forward to it.

To the outskirst of Christchurch -- Lyttleton and Sumner.

 

Wow does NZ get a lot of earthquakes.  Check out this list of just the most recent ones: http://www.geonet.org.nz/earthquake/quakes/recent_quakes.html

On Sunday and Monday, I moved out of the downtown core and out to the suburbs where I got to see a bit more of the damage.  Have a look for yourself:

Cracked facade in Lyttleton

A positive-minded Lyttleton bakery

There are three kinds of these notices posted on buildings around the city.  The white "all's good" notice, this yellow "uh uh, not so fast" notice, and the red "don't even think about coming in here" notice of doom.

This R&R Sports store unsurprisingly had the red notice on it.

An entire block and intersection right in the city centre is still completely blocked off.

I really don't know why some of these pictures keep spinning themselves sideways, but others don't.  It's infuriating.  Anyway, this was among some of the worst damage I've seen.

Cracked pavement in Sumner.

Still, the vast majority of buildings are looking pretty good. 

Like the Chritchurch Cathedral in Cathedral Square.

On Sunday I gladly escaped my smelly dorm room (this one guy’s feet were intensely pungeant) and decided to venture out to Lyttleton.  It’s a burb on the other side of a range of small mountains, or big hills, I’m not sure.  In any case, the bus went through a tunnel, and it took us 2:14 mintues to get to the other side, and he wasn’t driving slowly either. 

Lyttleton is a burb built around a port, and has a gritty look and feel about it – thousands upon thousands of logs were piled up near the docks where rusty, decidedly un-picturesque barges were moored – yet also manages to be a bit artsy and a little boho.  I found myself a table at a bakery on the main drag and had myself a "Splorg" slice (chocolate cakey-type thing with crunchy caramel topping). It was nice.  Unfortunately, the weather wasn’t, so I didn’t linger. 

A few tourist vessels alongside some more robust boats.

Despite the obvious utilitarian nature of the port, these people still have a pretty fantastic view.



The clouds roll in.

 On Monday I met up with a friend I had met during my last visit to NZ, who has requested that I refer to him here as “Inki.”  He’s a Yank by birth who, as his adopted moniker suggests, possesses a rather impressive collection of tattoos.  He also now possesses something I covet very much – New Zealand residency status. 

We’ve managed to keep in touch these past many months, and he's provided a lot of encouragement towards my move here.  He stopped into Christchurch for a day on his way up to Auckland to start a new job.  I’ll flatter myself and think that it’s because he wanted to see me J

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(Sorry about that, I just accidently found a way to insert a bunch of symbols.  Strange, but cool!)

It had been hailing on and off most of the night and a good chunk of the morning, so we sought refuge indoors at the Art Gallery.  It reminds me somewhat of the National Art Gallery of Canada in Ottawa in that the building is mostly glass, is rather interesting in and of itself, and its front doors are guarded by oversized statues. (sorry, no pics)

It’s not a huge gallery though, so it didn’t take long for us to exhaust what it had on offer.  After a nice lunch at an Indian restaurant, the weather had improved, so we took off for Sumner, another Christchurch burb on the water.  Unlike Lyttleton though, Sumner is all posh and beach. 

Sumner

Inki began our little tour by bringing me to one of the many caves in the cliffs in the area, many of them just under houses. The opening was mere feet from a sidewalk and was no more than 3 feet high. I neglected to take a picture, but trust me, it was tight at first. It required a tight squeeze and a bit of a shimmy to get in, but then opened up to an area where we could stand up.  A day later I was still finding sand in my pockets. It was pretty cool.

It was low tide, so we then walked along the water and at times in it (brrrrrrrrr) before hopping back on a bus to downtown. 

Don't I look comfortable?

Cave Rock, at the juncture of Sumner and Scarborough beaches at low tide.

We finished off our visit with a trip to a (rather empty) pub with two guys who were staying in the same room as us and played a bit of pool and enjoyed a few pints. 'Twas a grand, if too short visit with Inki, but I'm sure we'll be meeting again soon. 

Next up, Dunedin.

Hot Water, Cathedral Cove and Rotorua

With low tide at the painfully early hour of 8:30, Sunday began bright and early for us.  The rush was to get to the infamous, and nearby, Hot Water Beach before the tides rolled back in to cover the sand. 

As its name aptly describes, the beach has a rather unique feature: hot water.  A natural hot stream makes its way down to the beach, and for an hour on either side of low tide, you can dig yourself a hole in the sand to create your own hot pool.

Intrigued, we made sure to be at the beach before 9:00 and rented (or “hired,” as they say here) a spade (shovel) from the café next to the beach.

Being early spring, and given many guidebooks’ propensity for exaggeration, I fully expected us to be wading through tepid water, at best. That presupposition was further reinforced when we had to cross this truly glacial stream to get to the area where at least a dozen other people had already made camp.

There was a nicely-dug hole near the tree line that someone had abandoned, so we thought we’d save ourselves some work and just squat in that one.  We slipped off our shorts and sandals and stepped in, convinced that we were about to be somewhat let down.

Let’s just say we were wrong.  The water wasn’t tepid.  It wasn’t even hot. It was positively scalding. 

With a “owowoowowowowow!” we were quickly out of there.  It took us a few minutes to figure out that the best course of action was to dig a hole closer to the water’s edge, and create two conduits – one that would let the hot water in from up the beach, and one that would let it out into the ocean.  We were constantly adjusting the temperature by opening the gap in the sand, and then quickly filling it back up once we started to get uncomfortably hot.

Digging a hole

When the waves started to move back up the beach, we packed up, dumped the huge amount of sand that had lodged itself in our suits, got changed, and headed out to the other main attraction of the Coromandel – Cathedral Cove.

It’s a place I’ve long heard about, but had never visited.  You often see it gracing the covers of tourism brochures, Lonely Planet guides, and posters, so you know it’s pretty spectacular.  I hadn’t read up on it before arriving so I was a little surprised by the sign that greeted us at the parking lot: “Cathedral Cove 45 min à”

So we had a bit of a hike ahead of us. It was mostly downhill on the way there and it wound its way through a gorge, some forest, a working sheep farm, and down a ton of steps.

I don't know why this loaded sideways, but if you turn your head, you'll see how steep those stairs were.

Fortunately, the sign lied, and the trip only took some 25 minutes. Unfortunately, I had just taken a Gravol to counter the effects of the sharply undulating roads, so my senses were a little dulled and I don’t think I gave the fabled cove the attention it deserved.  It really was quite pretty.

See? Pretty!

After climbing back up all those steps and slopes, we hopped back in the car and headed out to Rotorua.  There were a few false turns, and for some reason no matter where we went, all roads seem to lead to Tauranga – we must have seen eight or nine signs pointing there, while only two reassured us that we were well on our way to Rotorua.

All roads don't lead to Rome.  They lead to Tauranga.

When we did find the town, we were greeted by the telltale smell of sulphur, which over the past two days has put me off eggs for the near future.

For the uninitiated, Rotorua is a hotbed of geothermal activity.  Nestled in a zone qualified as “volcanic,” steam rises from various points across the landscape and escapes from innocuous looking puddles and vents. 

See the steam there off to the side?  Fragrant.

Ponds tinged turquoise or orange burp up gasses, while pools of mud bubble and boil. 

You can cook a full chicken and some potatoes in a few hours if you bury it (in foil or a pot, obviously).  Most hotels and even hostels have spa pools fed by naturally-heated water from the ground.

Nick and Christina spent Monday touring the nearby “Geothermal Wonderland” where there are particularly spectacular manifestations of what’s brewing beneath the ground, including a geyser that shoots hot water some 20m in the air every day, and the huge bubbling Champagne Pool.

Having visited that site last year, I opted to stay in town.  I started off at the public gardens which offer a taste of the geothermal, as well as two nice little pools in which to soak your feet all for free, which was great for my budget!

Bubbling mud.  Also fragrant.

One of the ponds in the public park -- don't go swimming here.

Ahhhhhhhhh...toasty

Unfortunately for my budget, I also recklessly spent far too much money on a trip to the Polynesian Spa.  There they have a series of increasingly hot pools ranging from 36 to 42 degrees C.  I never did manage to work my way to the 42 degree one – I was dying in the 40.

It was really nice at first, since for a good 40 minutes I was the only person in the entire area.

Calm and peaceful, no?

I had a mud wrap, which, other than the paper g-string I had to wear, was heavenly, and then returned to the pools for a bit (had to get my money’s worth, after all!).

Here's what they gave me to wear...

And here's what was inside that little baggy.  Comfy!

In the evening Christina and Nick headed to a Maori cultural show where they explain customs, legends, and history.  Included is plenty of song and dance, a “hangi” – a meal cooked underground using the steam created by the earth – and my personal favourite, the maori chant called a “haka.”  Again, it was something I had experienced last year, so I left them to it.  I won’t pretend I didn’t envy their delicious dinner as I ate my reheated pasta and settled in to watch the American reruns that seem to dominate the TV schedule this time of year.