Megan is OK; the scooter is not

Megan asked me to write this because she is too busy marking papers at this moment getting ready for the end of the school year reports.

Here's what happened: On Tuesday morning on the way to work, Megan turned right toward school. It was typical morning rush hour traffic, and it's always a challenge making a right hand turn onto that street. Megan says she checked right and then checked left before crossing, but she forgot to check right again because when she got half way across the street she was hit in what the policeman called "a full side impact." Megan doesn't remember all the details but the next thing she knew she was lying in the middle of the road, turned around facing the direction she came from, her motor scooter was further down the road, and her shoes were on the other side of the scooter.

The whole neighbourhood mobilised to help. One of Megan's students lives right across the street from the accident and came to help. The driver of the car that hit her called 111 for an ambulance. A tow truck arrived almost immediately to pick up the pieces of the scooter. Our neighbour, Margaret, also a teacher at Dio, stopped to help and to take the news to school. Some street repair construction workers placed orange traffic cones around Megan and re-directed traffic a safe distance away. A gardener from the cemetery brought a blanket for Megan. The medics came in an ambulance to check her over but by then she was already sitting on the kerb and the scooter had been pulled to the side of the road on the verge. The police came and interviewed everybody. Then our neighbour Brendon stopped to help with the tow truck which took the scooter to an insurance assessment yard. Then Brendon brought Megan home where she called me at work. She was a little bruised and sore but mostly shook up from the trauma. I hopped on my bicycle and came home to be the primary care giver.

Megan spent the rest of the day recovering, napping, and checking for new bruises and abrasions. Thursday she went to the doctor to have her wrist xrayed because it was sore and blue. The wrist is OK - just sprained a little - but the doctor thinks she may have cracked a rib because she feels pain when she coughs. He said it would be a waste to xray for the rib because they can't treat it anyway. He said if the rib had fractured and punctured her lung, then they could treat it but I guess that didn't happen.

The worst part is that Megan can't sit still for more than an hour so she went to work Wednesday so she wouldn't get so bored. Then she felt tired because her body really needs time to heal, so she decided to work only half a day Thursday. Even that was too much. Friday she has a morning meeting but she won't teach for the rest of the day. I feel like I need to tackle her and pin her down to stop her, but she won't stay still. When she is sitting quietly she continues to mark papers. Grrrr.
Megan says that I shouldn't make it sound worse than it is or people might get alarmed. I think I captured the escence of it pretty much. She is a very lucky girl. That's two close calls in the last two months. Remember the taxi and muffin incident at Trafalger Square? I told her that there is to be no more impacts with cars. This trend must stop.

Curt

Spring Break: OXFORD, BLENHEIM (3 weeks in US/UK/US)

from Curt:

We left Bath after another "full English" at the B & B.  It sure doesn't take long to lose interest in the standard English breakfast:  muesli and dry cereal to start, banana, coffee and orange juice while the hot breakfast is cooked consisting of a fried egg, sausage link, ham, fried tomato, fried bread, sautéd mushrooms, baked beans, and toast.  That works really well the first time, but after a few days of the same menu, I'd be better off taking the juice and fruit and skipping the rest.  But of course I'm too cheap to pass up an opportunity to fill the tank and so I ploughed through the calories  - usually sufficient to last a whole day with just an afternoon snack and light grocery meal for dinner.

We headed north toward our next destination of the small village of Woodstock.  Our route took us by Oxford so we wisely opted to leave the car at a park-and-ride on the outskirts of the city, and took a bus into the pedestrian-only city centre.  It was a crisp, sunny autumn day and I was keen to sit on a quiet bench away from the throng so I could enjoy a coffee and read the Sunday newspaper.  Megan headed toward the campus to explore the halls of higher education.  The streets were crawling with tourists so it must have been the weekend before the term begins.  After catching the return bus to the car park, we passed a train station with about five hundred bicycles parked outside.  We also passed a group of about 50 people on motor scooters headed the other way toward the city centre.  These old cities are not car-friendly so alternate means of transportation are the rule rather than the exception.

We resumed our journey to Woodstock and then found our next stop at Gorselands Hall B & B just a few rural kilometres outside of the village.  It was still early afternoon, so we drove to Blenheim Palace, famous as the birthplace of Winston Churchill.  The palace was a gift from the Queen to Churchill's ancestor for winning a decisive battle that saved the day a long time ago.  It seems extravagant for just one battle so it must have been pretty important.  The place is huge.

When we arrived, there was an organised event in progress on the palace grounds.  The event was a bicycle fair with hundreds of families participating in a relay race (complete with coloured team regalia).  Some were even playing bicycle polo.  I say, how very British.  Jolly good show.  We navigated our way through the cordoned course to the palace courtyard and wandered around the vast gardens looking for sketchworthy statues or bridges.  I finally settled on a gate abutment which gave me a perch and a decent perspective of a palace clock tower.  Megan headed off to the Secret Gardens and then went to the Churchill exhibit while I sketched.

After a short rest, tea and biscuits back at the B & B, we drove back to Woodstock for a fine meal at an Italian restaurant which was all very tasty but more food than we needed.  It was one of the few times during the trip that we actually ate at a restaurant.  Fine dining is not high on our priority list for cultural experiences in foreign lands.  We choose to travel light instead.

Spring Break: LONDON (3 weeks in US/UK/US)

In London, we went to quite a few churches including St Martin in the Fields - where Curt sketched a baptism font - and St Paul's cathedral. St Martin in the Fields turned out to be a unexpectedly sweet little place that we'd never been to before (but had heard its name many times when listening to classical music). The interior was friendly, with a gorgeous crypt underneath, and I especially liked the stained glass window that warped into the shape of a cross. The volunteer was exceptionally friendly, too, which is not necessarily a good thing for Curt while he's sketching. The man kept coming over and telling Curt interesting but unwanted stories about the origins of the font, railing, and chest. While sketching, Curt is always zoned out and dislikes interruptions, so it's my job as The Artist's Personal Assistant to get rid of people who try to strike up conversations.

We also went to lots of museums, including the Tate Modern, the National Gallery, the Courtauld Gallery (a nice little museum with a great collection of Cezannes), and the British Museum (to see the Rosetta Stone, and to see the Elgin Marbles which were stolen from the Parthenon).

We enjoyed our tour of Parliament, but a fire alarm went off while we were there so everyone had to evacuate, including the MPs and Lords. I shamelessly snapped this photo of Lord Sebastian Coe (former Olympian and head of the 2012 London Olympic committee) while he was evacuated with us. By the way, entering Parliament was the only time we had to go through a security check. In comparison, every museum, government building, and even the Statue of Liberty requires a security check in America.


In addition, we went to a musical called Jersey Boys about Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons, which was full of great music.

And we went up in the London Eye to see the city, albeit on a grey day.

So it sounds like a fine time, doesn't it.
Unfortunately there were a few snafus:

The first snafu was when I washed my hair with hand lotion instead of shampoo. Yes, this may sound familiar because embarrasingly, I must admit I have done this before - on the day of my dad's memorial service. Talk about stupid.

Snafu deuxieme was that I got confused about what day it was. It wasn't until Curt showed me the newspaper that I was convinced it was really Wednesday. Sadly, we hadn't gone to the Shakespeare play that afternoon at the Globe Theatre (that I had already purchased tickets for!) because I thought it was only Tuesday. I was so mad at myself because a) it wasted money, b) it was an experience I was looking forward to and c) I felt pretty stupid. Again.

Snafu numero tres was the most harrowing. This one didn't make me feel stupid; it just made me feel pain. I got hit by a taxi cab while walking across the street. Luckily, the cab only hit my side, which spun me around. My knee and my right arm were bruised, but that was about all. I was eating a scrumptious yoghurt and pecan muffin from Pret at the time, and it went flying out of my hand onto the road.
Here's how it happened: We were a part of a mob of about 30 pedestrians who were trying to cross The Strand near Trafalgar Square. The mob all stepped off the curb and started across, so I stepped off too. Perhaps the cab was trying to run the yellow/red light? Or perhaps the mob had started out a second before the WALK signal? I just started walking with everyone else and then I felt the cab's impact. All the other pedestrians yelled at him and shook their fists so I think he was at fault. I saw my glorious muffin smashed on the street with tire marks through it and thought, that could have been me. Curt said he thought I was goners.

You might think that I got hit because I was American and therefore looking the wrong way, but remember, I've been living in New Zealand and driving on the left for 3 years now. The direction of London traffic was familiar to me. (I had more trouble when I tried to drive in Portland the following week) By the way, aren't London cabbies supposed to be the greatest ever?!? Maybe the one I encountered was talking on his cellphone instead. I don't know. He didn't really stop. But for the remainder of the trip, whenever I saw a cab, I wondered if that was the one who had hit me. And I was very careful crossing the street thereafter.

As for the muffin, we went to many more Pret-a-Manger stores and bought many more yoghurt pecan muffins over the next few weeks, but I couldn't help thinking about the poor muffin smashed somewhere on The Strand. Perhaps the pigeons appreciated it.

So London turned out to be a bit more of a challenge than Curt or I expected. Overall it just seemed too high-pressured. We were happy to get out in the countryside next.

Road Trip, postscript

We received a speeding ticket in the mail today.

Apparently, two weeks ago on Easter Sunday at 12:30 p.m., our car was detected going 64 km/h in a 50 km/h zone. (This converts to 39 mph in a 31 mph zone) This was after we'd been swimming with the dolphins - and I'd thrown up on the boat - as we were just leaving the town of Kaikoura.

We determined that Curt was driving. He was not happy with this realisation. He spent an appropriate length of time ranting about the miniscule amount over the limit, the short length of road that was 50 km/h before it reverted to 80 km/h, the small town police force installing speed cameras so they can use tourists as a revenue generator, and the monumental pettiness of it all.

We pondered whether we should pay it or not.
In Portland, I'd once received a ticket by mail for running a red light. The streetcorner had a camera that was triggered by any vehicle running the yellow light which turned red while it was still in the intersection. But a lawyer friend had told me that the photo-tickets were actually illegal/unconstitutional and you didn't really have to pay them. So I didn't. I never heard about it again. I hoped that photo speeding tickets in NZ might be similarly invalid, but included in the ticket was a brochure (pronounced BRO-shure) explaining the technology, the legality, and the court system. Drats.

I wondered if it did any good to write a sob story at the bottom of the ticket, detailing my recent vomiting episode as some sort of excuse. Even better, we wondered if we should say that I was still nauseous and that Curt was speeding to get to the side of the road quickly so I could toss my cookies again. Sadly, we knew that a) this was a lie and b) it wasn't even a very good lie.

We paid the ticket.

Road Trip, Day 10 - Home!

We left Wellington (#2 on the map) at 8:00 a.m. and arrived home in Auckland (#1) at 6:00 p.m. Long drive.

Fortunately, we stopped ...
... at a fruit stand
... to change drivers. We all took turns - except Nolan, who refused.
... at a pie shop. Guess whose idea that was.
... at Lake Taupo to stretch our legs and admire the scenery
... at a honey and mead store. Nolan is a mead aficionado and works at a meadery in Bellingham. I'm not sure where his fascination with mead began; maybe he was an Arthurian knight in a former life. Anyway, he was quite interested in the mead industry in NZ. He and the shopowner talked knowledgeably about different varieties and different techniques, and Nolan got to try a number of samples before he selected one to buy. He was happy. But he still wouldn't drive.

Overall, it was a good trip. We got to see a lot of the South Island.
According to the odometer, we drove 2655 km (1593 m.). Here's the traditional best/worst summary:

PRETTIEST DRIVE -
over Arthur's Pass (Erica)
wine country in Marlborough (Nolan)

FAVOURITE WILDLIFE -
dusky dolphins (Curt)
slimy plankton (Erica)
Winnie the fat dachshund at the B&B in Christchurch (Erica)
sheep (Nolan)
wetas (Nolan)
lazy seals (Megan)

BEST PURCHASE -
shoes for the Forgetful One
bomb (Curt)
black leather slides (Erica)
wool sweater (Nolan)

MOST EXTRAORDINARY ADVENTURE -
getting lost in Wellington so much that we had to resort to KFC for dinner against our better judgement (Curt)
learning to Give Way (Nolan)

YUMMIEST FOOD -
tiny mandarin oranges straight from the garden of the B&B in Akaroa (Erica)
pies (Nolan)

MOST MEMORABLE VIEW -
stars at night (Megan)
Pancake Rocks (Curt)
Akaroa Harbour (Erica)

FUNNEST GAME -
Scrabble (Megan, because she always won)
Hearts (Curt, because he almost always won)

FINEST PLACE TO SIT AND ENJOY THE GOOD LIFE -
on the veranda at the B&B in Akaroa (Erica)
Kaikoura beach (Megan)
Forrest winery (Nolan)

Road Trip, Day 6

we leave akaroa with stummies full to the brim with warm croissants. john, the limey in the only other room in the b&b tells us before we leave about the keas at arthur's pass where we would be crossing the mountains. keas are intelligent parrots that ostensibly like to eat things like windshield wiper-blades. john says that one kea will distract you by doing... something (perhaps flapping its wings and squawking?) while the other keas pilfer the windshield wiper blades like a bloody pack of thieves. why do they eat wiper-blades? we ask john. because they are squishy, he replies. doubtful. it is much more probable that the keas take the wiper-blades and sell them in a massive, secret, underground wiper-blade market. the noise of the market is undoubtedly deafening: squawk! squawk! wiper blades! wiper blades! squawk! squawk! what's your make and model!? what's your make and model!?

we make our way up the windy roads out of akaroa, passing through an area that looks like rohan from those movies about hobbits. there are many places in new zealand that look like rohan. there are many places in new zealand that look like places from those movies about hobbits. who can say why?

there are one or two sheep here. sheep are a rare breed of flightless mammal endemic to new zealand. they are bizarre creatures-- fat, fluffy, nocturnal, and viciously carnivorous (they are the number one cause of death in the southern hemisphere; worse than heart disease and lawnmower accidents combined). most of the sheep here live in closely guarded sheep reserves, as they are endangered. specialists have estimated that there are only 40 million remaining in new zealand.

it is raining, and our wiper blades don't work very well. we arrive at arthur's pass. we look for keas. we don't see any. we see signs that say "please do not feed the keas". as if the keas actually wanted to eat the wiper blades. the keas have, of course, noted the poor performance of our wiper blades during the drive up to the pass. an intricate network of keas up and down the mountains have identified our car as one not worth bothering with--wiper blades wouldn't fetch more than a dollar in the aforementioned market. so the keas leave us alone.

i take over driving. i drive down the pass. after many kilometers (that's what they call miles in new zealand), i come up behind a tiny red car. it looks like a yugo. yugos blow up easily when rear-ended. that is why they were taken off the market. following the red car, we come to a roundabout. the red car stops at the roundabout, evidently to see if anyone is coming. nobody is coming, and it is not necessary to stop at roundabouts anyway, so i don't bother slowing down because i am assuming that the driver of the yugoish car will proceed any second now. he remains stopped. i press the brakes but it is too late. i am going to rear-end a yugo. we are dead.

it's hardly even a tap. we are not dead. the man in the yugo rolls his window down and tries to stick his head out to see what hit him but he can't because the window is too small. he pulls over, i pull over behind him. he gets out and ambles toward the car. i open the door and get out.

"are you from europe?" he asks.
what should i say? why is he asking this? has he been rear-ended by europeans before?
"no, i'm from the united states."
"well in new zealand, we give way." that means yield.
"yes, but i didn't see anybody coming, so i thought you were going to proceed."
"i was giving way to that truck," he says, indicating a truck that has just now passed us. in america, we don't usually give way to cars that are hazy images on the horizon. it's funny--all of the little cultural differences one notices when travelling in a foreign country. i think about explaining this difference to him.
'in my defense,' i would say, 'in america, we usually only give way to cars that we can see, rather than cars that are merely potential. that way, we save ourselves the trouble of yielding to cars that aren't really there, and it speeds things up a bit.'
"oh, i see," i say instead
"well, have a good trip anyway," he says. he sounds sincere. i am embarrassed.
"thanks."

nolan

Road Trip, Day 5

Before we checked out of the B&B today, Curt decided to go for a run this morning and got a little lost ... er I mean, he had an Adventure. Once he returned, we went for our final breakfast: Curt had very British porridge, Erica tried beans on toast (!), and Nolan fed bits of sausage to Miss Winnie whose belly was dragging even closer to the ground today.

Next, it was time for an Adventure! We were headed to a little French town about 1.5 hours away from Christchurch, called Akaroa. Somehow we found ourselves driving towards the airport before we turned around. And turned around. And ultimately got turned around the right way. It was good to know that we hadn't lost our touch.

On the drive to Akaroa, Nolan liked all the sheep we saw:
9:11 - "Look there's sheep"
9:13 - "Oh my God, there's more sheep!"
9:14 - "Look there's some sheep"
9:16 - "Hey - sheep. You don't see that every day."
It's always good to have Nolan along for entertainment.


After a tasty stop at a cheese factory, we arrived in Akaroa which was founded by some French whalers and has retained some of its Frenchness. For instance, it still has streets named Rue Benoit and Rue Balguerie. Our B&B was located on Rue Jolie which means "pretty" in French (and has nothing to do with Angelina). It was a cute little town on secluded French Bay and is a popular weekend destination for Christchurchians. Visiting Akaroa was as close to France as our recent French graduate (Nolan) was going to get.


Our B&B in Akaroa was run by a spunky little lady named Rosemary. She had a twinkle in her eye and a wry smile, and was full of stories of the locals. One millionaire moved here 10 years ago to start a vineyard, and 3 years later- right when the vines were ready to start producing wine - he disappeared without a trace. Nobody knows where he went or what happened to him. Did he get sick of his life and go back to UK? Was he in trouble? Was he swept out to sea? Later that evening, when Curt and I were walking by the lighthouse, he directed my eyes to a spot overlooking the water.
"See those rocks? that's where he jumped."
Uh huh.
"Look how the rocks are all red. That's his blood."
Gee, thanks, Curt.

We liked wandering around the town - I'm pretty sure I made everyone stop at the ice cream shop ... and at the fudge shop. We even found a wool shop and bought a sweater for Nolan! Maybe he'll stop making fun of all the sheep now. And we wandered around the beach, where Erica found more good shells. She's been acquiring quite a collection on this trip. We ate cheese (from today's cheese factory) and croissants (very French, don't you think?) for dinner on the veranda of the B&B. Rosemary had an incredible garden, with lemon trees and mandarin orange trees and butterflies everywhere. Ah. This is the life.

That evening, we saw an amazing clear midnight blue sky that I will try to describe: Usually the sky looks like it has maybe 100 white dots - stars. Tonight, we could see the same 100 white dots ... plus we could see thousands/millions of other microscopic white sprinkles. It's as if someone sprinkled sugar crystals all over the dark background, and the 100 white spots are still there too, only they're bigger and brighter than the sprinkles. Combined, the sprinkles and the dots were magical and we couldn't stop gazing upward. None of us had ever seen such a clear sky with so many stars visible. Undoubtedly, it helped that we're in a remote area of the southern hemisphere, removed from serious light pollution. Admittedly, we're still not very good at recognising any constellations in the southern sky, even the Southern Cross which is a national symbol and is on New Zealand's flag. But that didn't matter. We were astonished by the raw splendour of it. It was amazingly, wonderfully, staggeringly beyond words.

Road Trip, Day 3 - Easter Sunday

We spent Easter morning swimming with dolphins, which seemed appropriate somehow.

First, we were issued a wetsuit. The young man who was distributing them handed me a size 10. I was flattered that he thought I was size 10, but I haven't worn that size for decades! I tried to put it on. I tugged and yanked, but it was simply too tight. Obviously there was not going to be an Easter miracle for me this morning. I faced reality and exchanged my wetsuit for a bigger one. After a short film on dolphins and how to behave around them, a short boat ride to find the pod, and a quick snorkelling lesson for beginners like me, we jumped in. Curt had elected to stay on the boat and take pictures while Nolan, Erica and I wanted to swim. (Only 13 people are allowed in the water, out of respect for the dolphins. But more can come along and watch.)

The water was C O L D! We had been told to keep our hands at our sides (to try to look more like a dolphin), and to hum! Apparently, the dolphins are attracted to noises. Sure enough, they were all around us, whizzing by and circling around. It was pretty spectacular to have them beside me and under me. Weirdly, there were also millions of translucent jelly creatures all over, which was probably why the dolphins like this harbour so much, but I found it a little creepy. I also tended to breathe so hard that I was nearly hyperventilating, which is apparently quite common when learning to snorkel. Overall, it wore me out. I was exhausted after about 5-10 minutes.

Meanwhile, the dolphins had raced away; it was time to get all the swimmers back on the boat so we could reposition and swim again. I appreciated having a little time to rest on the boat while it sped after the dolphins. Then we were back in the water again. We repeated this process a number of times. Nolan and Erica had been having good success. Erica said one of the dolphins was circling around and playing with her. The dolphins are so fast, however, that it's impossible for any of us keep up with them! I sat out the last few swims due to exhaustion. I was definitely knackered (as they say in NZ). But it was still fun to stand on the boat and watch the dolphins splashing around with the other swimmers. Once everyone got back on board for the last time, the boat continued to follow the dolphins so we could take lots of pictures, and they served hot chocolate. Meanwhile, we all got dressed in our dry clothes, which felt really good. If only I had some warm shoes for my frozen feet. Alas, all I had was sandals. (Remember, my shoes were still sitting by the kitchen door at my house, 500 km away)

By this time I was starting to feel a little queasy - as were a few others - which may have been partly why I quit swimming early. I even decided to skip the hot chocolate. Imagine me saying no to chocolate! As time went on, the queasy factor kept growing, and I decided to position myself near a bucket ... just in case. Nolan and Erica were starting to feel queasy, too, but not as bad as me. Sure enough, about 10 minutes before we got back to the dock, I chundered in the bucket. It was not my finest moment.

Once we got back on land, I felt much better. But the thought of getting in the car and going on a winding coastal road for the next 3.5 hours didn't sound too pleasant. I decided I'd be better off driving than being a passenger. I drove real sloooww and real smooooth. It was scenic but it seemed to take a looong time. It must have been boooring, too, for Curt and Nolan promptly fell asleep.We got to Christchurch about 3:30 - see #3 on the map - and we didn't get lost on the way to the hotel (that's twice in a row). The B&B we stayed at was ideal - central location, friendly hosts, free internet, tasty breakfast, tea & cookies every evening, and a fat little dachshund who begged for scraps from the table. They even had a dumbwaiter that took all the luggage to the 2nd floor. We loved this place.

Curt went running in the nearby park while Nolan and Erica and I went to the Arts Centre complex. We walked through the market and some workshops and galleries, including one that had some black pottery just like our bomb collection! (see the 30 Dec. blog "Sydney - Day 6" for an explanation of our non-explosive bomb collection) Fortuitously, we ran into Curt who had finished running and was now walking towards us with a crappuccino in hand. I immediately escorted him back to the pottery shop and we selected a chalice-shaped piece. Excellent.

Next, Curt and I walked downtown to the cathedral and sat down for their Evensong service. This is Easter, after all. They had a wonderful boys' choir performing. But Curt still feels uncomfortable with all the bells and smells that the Anglican Church has. We like our little Methodist congregation back in Auckland better.
Then we met Nolan and Erica at a brewpub for dinner and we all ate too much again. During dinner, we discussed our ambitious travel plans for the next 7 days and we all agreed that we didn't want to drive 9 hours to the next city (#4 on the map). We'd rather skip that destination (Queenstown), slow our pace a bit and relax more. I think the relatively short drive today along narrow windy roads - not to mention the queasiness from the dolphin experience - showed us how unpleasant a long drive would be.

I'd never truly appreciated America's highway infrastructure until now. In truth, I'd seen it listed as one of America's greatest achievements of the 20th century and dismissed it as a strange, obscure selection for a list of what makes America great. Now, I'm a believer. I can't begin to imagine how much America's highway system has contributed to the growth of the economy. Quick, easy distribution of goods equals lower prices and America is exceptionally good at that. Besides the economic impact, the highway system allowed Americans to be a more mobile population. I always loved road trips and even admit I have a certain appreciation for low-brow highway culture - the crowded rest areas, the sleazy gas station, the tacky tourist sights. I also found great satisfaction in the orderliness of the the numbering system of the mile markers and the exits, in addition to the numbering system for naming the highways themselves: interstate highways that run north-south are odd numbers (starting on the west coast), highways that run east-west are even numbered (starting on the southern border). Yup, I'm a road trip junkie.

But what we discovered over the last 3 days was that road trips in New Zealand would be fundamentally different. We wanted less road and more trip. After making the decision to eliminate Queenstown from our itinerary, we finished off the evening by playing another game of Hearts back at the B&B. Curt won again. Nolan and Erica aren't going to want to play with him much longer if he keeps whooping their sorry butts.

PS - There were NO Adventures today. We were quite pleased with ourselves.

PPS - I called Austin on his birthday tonight. It was 2:00 a.m. in Bellingham, but he was still up. We had a long talk. I miss him.

Road Trip, Day 2

It's April 8th, which is Austin's birthday. He'll be 27. Wow. But since it's only yesterday in the States, I'll call him tomorrow on his birthday. Got that?

Today we would be taking a ferry from the North Island to the South Island, which would take about 3 hours. We knew we would have to wake up early to get to the ferry on time, and last night we were worried about getting lost and missing the boat. We seem to have a propensity for that sort of Adventure. So we scouted out the ferry terminal location while we were driving around last night during our Adventure. Not surprisingly, we took a wrong turn and missed it, but we did see where it was and we did see where we should have turned. So this morning when we drove there, we did it right! No Adventures. Hurray! Oddly, we also got stopped at a police checkpoint, looking for drunk drivers ... at 7:00 in the morning!

This morning as I was getting dressed, I made an unfortunate discovery: I had forgotten to bring a hairbrush. Honestly, I must be getting Alzheimers. The last time I had forgotten to pack a brush was when I flew to America for my dad's funeral, but at least I had a good excuse that time. This time I was just plain dumb. I would have borrowed a brush from Erica but she doesn't brush her hair; it's really curly and she finger-dries it. Curt and Nolan don't use combs or brushes or anything. So I was pretty much S.O.L for the time being. Not to mention the fact that Nolan would now have 2 things to tease me about - forgetting shoes and forgetting a hairbrush. I've been making this WAY too easy for him to make fun of me.

Meanwhile, it was a sunshiney day and a beautiful sailing from the North Island to the South Island. Actually, the Cook Strait could be a treacherous crossing at times. There was a famous ferry that sunk about 40 years ago and 51 people died. It's not exactly the Titanic, but nonetheless it is New Zealand's great maritime disaster (#4 Son would like it; he was obsessed with the Titanic for years). I tried not to think about the capsized "Wahine" as I looked out at the innocent blue water sparkling in the morning sun.

On the ferry, we'd scored 2 nice soft couches and since we had 3 hours to kill, we decided to play a game of Scrabble. I ended up winning which is a little unusual but not totally surprising. However Curt came in 4th place out of 4 people and that's NEVER happened. Perhaps he's getting Alzheimers now, too. After Scrabble, Curt, Nolan, and Erica wanted to play Hearts. But Nolan and Erica had forgotten to bring the deck of cards. Hah. I'm not the only one who forgets things. Anyway, Curt bought a deck of genuine InterIslander Ferry cards so they could play Hearts. Strangely, there seemed to be a marked card and it was - of all things - the Queen of Spades. Anyway, Erica led for 90% of the game, then lost dramatically at the end to Curt. I think he was trying to reestablish his gaming superiority after being Buck-Naked-Last in Scrabble earlier.

Once we got back on the mainland, we drove an hour or so to a winery called Forrest Estates. The area outside Blenheim is one of New Zealand's premier wine countries, so there were wineries everywhere. I picked this winery because Nolan's middle name is Forrest, and because they had a sculpture garden and a resident artist! We sat at a patio table in the sunshine and Curt, Nolan, and Erica tasted all 15 varieties. Eventually we bought 6 bottles between us. And we walked around their property, admiring the sculptures and soaking up the surroundings. It was a great way to spend the afternoon.

The Designated Driver (me) drove the next 1.5 hours along a picturesque coastal road. Nobody was carsick yet, knock on wood. We managed to stop at Ohau Point to look at a seal colony. Most of the older seals were really fat and lazy, but a few young ones were goofing around. They sure looked like they had a pretty good life laying there on the rocks, mostly sleeping away the day. I could get used to a life like that. Except for the part about getting eaten by orcas.

I drove on to our destination, Kaikoura, and found the hotel without getting lost, which is always worth mentioning. Kaikoura is a little seaside town famous for its dolphins and its crayfish. We walked around a bit, bought a hairbrush for The Forgetful One, sat on a beach, and listened to the surf. The surf sounded quite different here because it was a rocky, pebbly beach and water has a different sound when tumbling over rocks. Curt and Nolan threw rocks into the ocean and tried to skip rocks until they each threw their shoulders out. Later, we found a little seafood place to go for dinner. Mmmm. They served huge portions and we all ate too much. It was great.

After dinner we had another Adventure, scoping out tomorrow's dolphin destination. We drove all over Kaikoura before we finally found it, only a few hundred meters from our hotel. Nolan and Erica were beginning to tire of all these Adventures, I think.

Road Trip, Day 1 - Good Friday

It was Easter break (no school for 2 weeks) and we were setting off for a 10-day trip to the South Island with Nolan and Erica. We had ambitious plans which included driving 3500 km (2174 miles). We'd be driving from #1 to #4 on the New Zealand map on the right. That's about the same as driving from Bellingham to Los Angeles and back. BUT - and this turns out to be crucial - there won't be any motorways, just 2-lane roads. Imagine driving on Highway 1 along the coast all the way to L.A. instead of using I-5. Imagine the unimaginably beautiful scenery. But imagine how much longer that would take. Imagine all the carsick people in the back seat.

Our first day would involve driving all the way to Wellington, at the bottom of the North Island. (On the map, that's from #1 to #2) We left at 7:00 a.m. - even though I am NOT a morning person - and stopped within 20 minutes for crappuccinos for Curt and Nolan. As I got out of the car in the parking lot, I realised I still had my slippers on! My shoes were sitting back home by our kitchen door, and I had intended to put them on as I left, but evidently I didn't. Good grief. I did the same thing once before, when I wore my slippers to choir accidentally. I am having WAY too many senior moments. Those were the only shoes I was bringing on this trip, apart from sandals. Would it be sandal-wearing weather (hot and sunny) every day? Probably not. And I had no shoes for the next 10 days. Hmmm. Plan A - turn around and go back for my shoes. This idea was nixed by everyone. Plan B - My slippers almost look like shoes so I could just keep wearing them and nobody would know. I'd certainly be comfortable! Plan C - Maybe I would just have to buy some shoes. The consensus was to go with a combination of Plans B & C. As you might expect, Nolan got a big kick out of my absent-mindedness, but he would never tease his poor old mother about it throughout the trip, would he?

It took us about 9 hours to get to Wellington, but we made lots of pit stops and with 4 drivers we managed pretty well. During the drive, Erica took lots of pictures and Nolan did lots of crossword puzzles. We like to help him, which he doesn't always appreciate, but it helps us pass the time. We found our hotel in Wellington after a few wrong turns, U-turns and swear words. We call these episodes "Adventures" which is a euphemism for being lost and frustrated. One problem is that Curt is morally opposed to turning around; I think it's against his religion. Apparently, it feels too much like defeat and he doesn't want to have to admit that we're lost. So we keep going and proceed to get lost-er.

Eventually we arrived at the hotel. Whew. After checking in and schlepping all the luggage to our room, Curt and I decided to stretch our legs - remember, it's been a long drive! So we went for a walk (wearing slippers) in Wellington's Botanic Gardens nearby and climbed the trail to see the city from the summit. Very nice. We also stopped at a children's play area and tested out the zipline which was pretty cool. I always wanted to rig up a zipline from our house in Portland to my school below. You could see the school from our back deck, and it seemed like a pretty efficient way to commute to work every day if I could just jump on a zipline and whoosh down the steep hill, landing in the football field. Alas, it would only work if I could get Boone to crank me back up the hill at 5:00 every night and he wasn't too keen on that idea. Wimp. So I walked or biked to work instead. But it would have been fun.

We walked back to the hotel to get Nolan and Erica so we could drive around and find something for dinner, which involved more Adventures. As the official mapigator, I usually get blamed for getting us lost. In my defence, it's impossible to see the map in the dark. So I can only get a glimpse of the map as we drive under a street light, and then whoosh, my light source is gone. Before long, my credibility is gone too. On the way home, it sounded something like this:
me: Turn left at the next light
Curt: What? That's going to take us down to the waterfront again. We want to go the OTHER direction.
me: Trust me. It'll get us right back to the hotel.
Nolan: Why should we trust someone who can't even remember her shoes?
Curt turns left as directed. A few seconds later, we enter an unexpected tunnel.
me: "What is that tunnel doing here? There's not supposed to be a tunnel. Uh oh. You need to turn around. Trust me on this."