Joan's visit

My mom, Joan, is here in New Zealand to visit us again for about a month. She arrived on Dec 31 and will leave on Feb 3. In fact, she went to Hawaii to visit my brother and his family for 2 weeks before she arrived in NZ, and will go there again for 2 weeks afterwards. All together, she will spend 9 weeks on islands in the Pacific, while back home in Bellingham everybody is shivering in record snowfalls. It's a pretty sweet deal. She did the same thing last year, too, but the two visits to New Zealand couldn't be more different.

Last year, it was her first time to this country, so I had a schedule of tourist sights to do every day: museum, aquarium, Piha beach, zoo, One Tree Hill, Devonport, Waiheke Island, Sheepworld, kauri trees, Hamilton, Coromandel, kiwifruit farm, etc. She finally told me to relax; that she only wanted to do tourist things half the time. But whenever we didn't go anywhere, I would inevitably be antsy and bored silly.

Compare that to her current visit: No daily schedule. No tourist sights. We did go to Sydney for 4 days, but we haven't been to many tourist attractions around here. Instead, we go to the local beach at St Heliers for running/walking, then we sit at home and admire the garden the rest of the day. We went to the quilt store once. And Plant Barn more than once (to buy more admirable plants for the garden). Admittedly, we did one traditional tourist activity when we took a ferry to Rangitoto and rode the train to the near-summit. But really, we spend 95% of our time at home doing nothing. And it is glorious.

We sit on the deck in our comfy recliners. Curt drinks coffee. We read the paper. We watch the resident butterfly flit about. Joan has read at least 10 books so far. I'm usually keeping busy with something on the computer. Besides all the gardening, Curt had already made two(!) paintings while she's been here. Sometimes in the evenings, we have driveway parties and socialise with the neighbours.

Alas, Curt had to go back to work last week, and I have to go back to work next week. Then Joan leaves the week after that. So our summer vacation is coming to it end. But it feels like we truly had a vacation this time. A glorious vacation of doing nothing and loving it.

Act II, Scene 3: citybound and southbound

CITYBOUND:
On Thursday, I took Carlin and Kristen to the aquarium, called Kelly Tarlton's.  First, we got to see a scuba diver hand feeding the fish in Underwater World.  She was getting mobbed by all the fish and turtles, and I'm sure it made her feel quite popular.  There was also a Stingray Encounter with a diver feeding the huge stingrays as they moved elegantly through the water.  Their wingspan was about 6 feet!  But our favourite part was the penguins.  We rode the little snow vehicle through the penguin exhibit 3 times, watching them swim and dive and twirl in the water.  There were even baby penguins recently hatched, all fluffy and cute, and you could see them hiding under their parent, occasionally sticking out a webbed foot or a grey head.  Strangely, there were about 100 girls from my school there, on a class trip with their science teachers. It seems I can't escape school even when I'm not there.

On Friday, I went to the Auckland Zoo with Carlin and Kristen ... and about 100 students from my school. Yes, there was another class trip courtesy of the science department. Yesterday, the Year 9 girls went to the aquarium, and today the Year 8 girls went to the zoo. What are the odds? Mostly, I tried to be incognito, either wearing sunglasses or hiding under an umbrella, depending on the weather at the moment. But at each place, a few girls noticed me "Look, there's the libarry lady!" or "Hey, isn't that the libarrian?" (What I want to know is: why can't they pronounce library correctly?)

Besides girls in Diocesan school uniforms, there were plenty of exotic animals at the zoo. Seals played and wrestled while sea lions whooshed through the water. The kangaroos were disappointingly lazy, but the emu came right up to us. A mama spider monkey clung onto her baby while scolding a mischievous teenage monkey who wouldn't obey. A peacock was showing off his feathers. Carlin especially like Janie, the last of the Tea Party gorillas. Apparently, back in the 1950s, the zoo used to dress up 4 gorillas in frilly dresses and they would have a tea party for the crowd. Janie is the last one alive, and she is pretty old but still entertaining as she searches for her food, hidden in various containers around her enclosure. We also saw rhinos and hippos and lions and tigers and cheetahs. Sadly, we never were able to locate the (nocturnal) kiwi bird in its dark exhibit. We learned two new Scrabble words while we were there, but I've forgotten one of them already: spronk is what the springboks do when they jump straight up in the air as if their legs were pogo sticks. And the other new word was ???

After the zoo, we went to Newmarket for lunch where - you guessed it - I saw 2 more Diocesan students and one Diocesan teacher. I think they're tailing me. Or stalking me.

Next, I dragged Carlin and Kristen to the Auckland Museum for a short visit. I really wanted them to experience the volcano exhibit, where you sit in a living room and watch a volcano erupt a few hundred metres offshore from Mission Bay. We also briefly walked through the Maori and Pacific Island exhibits, marvelling at the giant waka and the ornate marae. After seeing a few bugs (wetas) and birds (giant moa), we were exhausted. It had been a long day. I wouldn't recommend going to the zoo AND the museum in the same day. On the plus side, I didn't see a single Diocesan student while at the museum. Whew.

SOUTHBOUND:
Once we arrived home at about 4:00, we immediately started packing for a road trip to Rotorua. Unfortunately, the traffic did not cooperate and we didn't arrive in Rotorua until 9:30. During the drive, Kristen and Carlin played Scrabble in the back seat until Kristen started getting carsick, so she and I switched places and I took over her Scrabble game. I lost badly, but kept everyone entertained which was my real objective. Even Kristen forgot about feeling icky and laughed a few times.

Along the way, we stopped for coffee at a little place in the middle of nowhere and saw the most curious mail boxes. Apparently, this cafe served as the local post office, and each local resident had a post box. This in itself doesn't seem overly curious until you look closely at their numbering system. It went
like this: 1 2 3 4 5 35 38 42 44 43 11 12 31 14 15 16 17 18 19 20. Hmmm. To add further confusion, there was a small piece of tape on box #43 that said 10. We debated the possible origin of their numbering system while drinking our coffee and, unable to come up with any reasonable explanation, moved on.

The next morning in Rotorua, we went to Te Puia, a Maori cultural centre and geothermal site. Curt and I had been there once before, a few weeks after we landed in NZ, almost two years ago.  The Maori performance was still the best part - I volunteered to do the hongi with the welcomer lady because I was the only tourist who knew what a hongi was (it's a nose-to-nose greeting). The guy doing the fierce welcome this time wasn't as fierce as the last time we were here. But the dancing and singing was great. They even invited ladies from the audience up to the stage to learn bits of the poi dance, so Kristen and I volunteered to make fools of ourselves. We twirled little white balls on their strings and tried to remember out steps at the same time, not entirely successfully. Then they invited men on to the stage to learn the haka, and Curt and Carlin gave it a go. Curt tried to be especially ferocious. After the Maori performance, we went to see the bubbling mud and the geysers. Carlin was happy when the geyser finally erupted.

Before leaving Rotorua, we had a picnic lunch at the lakefront, and walked over to an amazing church decorated with Maori carvings all over the walls and the altar and the pews. In the courtyard outside the church, we could also feel the thermal energy below our feet pushing up the pavement and discolouring the concrete.

On the way home to Auckland from Rotorua, we stopped at Hamilton Gardens and saw 4 weddings going on there! It's a popular location, obviously, for wedding pictures. Carlin and Kristen liked the Italian Garden best while I liked the Herb Garden, and Curt liked the Sustainable Garden with heaps of cool ideas.

For the last hour in the car, we played word games like G-H-O-S-T and I kept them entertained again. I kept trying to use the letter Z just because I like saying zed. We finally got home at about 8:00, and stayed up even later playing Taboo next. I haven't played Taboo in 10 years probably but I was always really good at it which infuriated Curt, who was never very good at it. That explains why we haven't played in 10 years, I guess. I have this theory that women are better at Taboo because they have more connectors in their brains from the right side to the left side. They are able to think more creatively while men tend to think linearly. In Taboo, thinking linearly is clearly a disadvantage. We played the women against the men. Need I tell you who won?

Lastly, we looked at photo albums. I had spent 6 weeks compiling 10 years' worth of memories and I needed to show them to someone so Carlin and Kristen were the lucky winners. They were good sports about it. Plus, Memory Lane is a fun place to be.

Well. It had been a busy week and an even busier weekend. But their time with us in NZ was almost over, for they were flying home to America in just 2 short days.

Act II, Scene 1: The newlyweds arrive

MONDAY - Carlin & Kristen arrived to spend the next 2 weeks with us. On their first night in NZ, we took them for a drive to the neighbourhood beach and on the way back, I gave Carlin his first driving lesson for driving on the left. It always sounds scarier than it is; people usually get the hang of it within a few days. He did fine.

TUESDAY - Curt and I had to go to work today so we sent the intrepid travellers off to explore Auckland on their own. They even put gas in my car and did the grocery shopping! I think I'm going to like having them around.

That evening, we took them to One Tree Hill for a great view of Auckland from sea to sea. New Zealand is so narrow at this spot that you can see both east and west coasts. Kristen especially liked the sheep who eat the grass on One Tree Hill (instead of using lawnmowers). We stopped at a fence and tried to entice a sheep near us, but it wasn't interested.

Back at the house, they played Scrabble while I marked papers. Curt won the Scrabble game, of course. Poor Kristen didn't realise she was marrying into a ruthless Scrabble family.

WEDNESDAY - Carlin & Kristen came to my school today for morning teatime to meet my colleagues. Then they went to Newmarket to shop (it's the ritzy shopping area), and finally they met Curt for a picnic lunch. He took them to Winter Garden, a beautiful setting in the the huge domain (park) near his office.

I've been feeling a little lost at work concerning my English class, not knowing what they did while I was gone, or what I'm supposed to be teaching them now that I'm back. Since I only teach one class, I'm often out of the loop. Well today, I got a bombshell. The head of the English Dept came to the library to see me and asked how I was doing. "You do know that reports (report cards) are due tomorrow morning, don't you?" What? I had no idea. Somehow, I thought Dec 6 was the due date for reports. Oh my. I started entering scores right away, but knew it would take me HOURS.

On top of that, I got a call from the HR guy at my school. I had applied for a job as a Social Studies teacher on Monday, and they wanted to interview me. This was good news ... but the interview was the following day, and I had to prepare a sample lesson plan. It looked like I was going to be up all night.

I would've preferred to skip choir practice and work on my reports, but Carlin was coming to practice a song with the choir so I felt I should be there. I was the one who got him roped into this in the first place. The poor guy. His own mother had talked him into performing with the choir on viola while he was here on his honeymoon. I am shameless. In my defence, I was imagining a simple hymn where he could just pick out a nice harmony line, but our director chose a longer and far more complicated song which Carlin would have to practice. (The choir was going to need lots of practice, too) At least Carlin and Kristen got to meet some of the choir folk who have been so good to us, and they were all pleased to hear him play.

Back at the house, I was madly writing reports while Carlin and Kristen played a "friendly game" of Scrabble (read: not always friendly). Eventually, everyone went to bed except me. I stayed up till 1:00 a.m. finishing stupid reports, and preparing for my job interview the next day. At least I wouldn't have to go to work the following day. I was taking it off because it was American Thanksgiving. I'd been hoping to do some sightseeing with Carlin and Kristen, but instead I would be going to a job interview ... and shopping and cooking Thanksgiving dinner.

THURSDAY (THANKSGIVING) -
Prepared a few dishes for the Thanksgiving feast that morning before I went to the job interview at 11:00. It seemed to go pretty well. I think it was more than a courtesy interview, at least. They were impressed with the student work samples I brought, including the packet of instructions all laid out for the kids - timeline, grading rubric, parent signature, etc. They liked my IT skills, too. Fingers crossed.

On the way home, I stopped at the grocery store for more turkey day supplies, but still couldn't find pumpkin pie or Durkee's French Fried Onion Rings, a necessary ingredient for the traditional Green Bean Casserole (Carlin's favourite). Eventually found a recipe to make my own french fried onion rings which was amazingly easy! As for pumpkin pie ... I decided to skip it. I don't even like pumpkin pie so I wasn't inclined to make one from scratch. Sent Carlin and Kristen to the store to buy an alternative dessert. They wisely chose something chocolate.

Made the usual turkey, stuffing, etc. but added a bit of Kiwi culture by using kumara as the sweet potato dish. When Curt got home, he started the tates and gravy. Mmmm. My favourite part. Kristen and Carlin put extra leaves in the dining room table, for we had invited our neighbours over for an authentic American Thanksgiving.

Our neighbours, Bruce and Annette and their two boys Sam (8) and Nick (6) arrived in time for some traditional pre-dinner Thanksgiving colouring: Carlin taught the boys how to make an outline of their hand and turn it into a turkey. They were suitably impressed and created some masterpieces of their own. Sam was also impressed when Carlin played a few songs on the piano for him. Sam had recently started taking piano lessons, and it was fun for him to see how years of practice could pay off. He even fetched some of his music and played for us. Sam and Nick also kept busy playing with our giant tub of Legos. It was nice to see that little boys of this generation are still enthralled with Legos, like my boys were. We explained the background of the Thanksgiving holiday to everyone, how the Pilgrims would've all starved to death their first year without help from the Indians, etc. And of course, we ate too much. But it sure was good.

After dinner, we all needed to go for a walk and burn off some of those calories, so Bruce and Annette grabbed their dog and we all went to a nearby parkland. Carlin threw the tennis ball for the dog, a golden retriever who reminded us of Duffy, the dog he'd grown up with. The little boys chased each other and ran off steam, while the adults enjoyed the conversation and the serene setting. It was a perfect way to end a lovely day.

Last year, we didn't do anything on Thanksgiving; it was just another day at work for us. So this year it was nice to have Carlin and Kristen here, and it was a prefect excuse to put on a big Thanksgiving dinner. And inviting our friends to be a part of our American holiday made it even more special.

FRIDAY - Went to work at 7:30 and got a call from the HR guy at 8:00 offerring me the Social Studies job! The Humanities Dept loved me, apparently. I was applying for a part-time position, but they wanted to know if I would take the full-time position instead. I had been hoping to teach part-time and still work in the library part-time, but had recently found out that I wouldn't be allowed to, unfortunately. After agonising indecision, I eventually decided to teach part-time: 4 classes of Social Studies and 1 class of English. But no more library, which was sad. Initially, I was a little angry that I wasn't allowed to stay in the library part-time, but I had to remind myself of all the recent whistleblower drama I had been caught up in. I was being given an opportunity to get away from that craziness and into a higher-paying job. I should be happy! Plus it felt so good that someone wanted me. 

Meanwhile, back to reality: It was getting close to the end of the school year and there were lots of special events around the school. Somehow, an English teacher forgot to come teach her class in the library 6th period. Her girls were all there, but there was no teacher. Yikes. Barbara and I did our best to manage the orphan class and run the library simultaneously. In addition, our library boss had been home sick most of the week and was not at school to teach her class, also 6th period. Unfortunately, she forgot to tell the appropriate person to secure a reliever (substitute teacher). About 20 minutes into the period, we got a frantic call at the library. Where was the Library Manager who was supposed to be teaching her class? Do we know what her class was meant to be doing? Where is the video they should be watching? So I hustled the video up to the classroom, only to find absolute pandemonium: One girl had covered her face with stickers (and couldn't see) and had two pairs of pink knickers on her head. Yes, underpants. The rest of the class was - as you can imagine - out of control. Good Lord. I removed the knicker-headed girl from the room, did my best I'm-really-mad-and-I-mean-it voice to settle the class, and turned on the movie, Romeo and Juliet. At least the knickers were clean.

At home that night I had heaps to report : the job offer, 2 unattended classes, and the girl with knickers on her head. Carlin and Kristen had heaps to report, too: They'd taken the train downtown all by themselves, shopped at the outdoor market, took the ferry to Devonport, and had fish & chips for lunch.

Carlin and I had an important conversation later that night. We stayed up late (too late) talking about my feelings that I was "losing him." Part of my sadness came from the fact that he and Kristen would be living in Phoenix, 1200 miles away from Bellingham where all our family gatherings would be. Whenever Curt and I fly back to America, Bellingham would be the logical destination ... but Carlin wouldn't be there. I hardly had any right to blame him, though because we're the ones who moved 7,000 miles away to the other side of the world. Still.  It's hard to let go, I guess.

More sightseeing

Nolan and Erica were ready to stay at home this week to see a few more sights around Auckland, after having spent the past week volunteering at a Dept. of Conservation site.

Since Erica just graduated with a degree in Environmental Science, she was interested in doing some conservation work in New Zealand while they were here. So they signed up to go to Motuora Island to help the ranger. They camped all week but had access to kitchen and shower facilities.

Motuora Island is a kiwi bird sanctuary where they allow kiwi babies to live in a controlled environment - an island without predators - before they are big enough to be released on the mainland. Kiwis, a flightless bird, are endangered and revered in this country. Most Kiwis (people) have never seen a live kiwi (bird), especially in the wild. But Nolan did. One night he went out with his flashlight (I mean 'torch') and saw one. According to Nolan and Erica, kiwis are also really noisy at night (they're nocturnal). At first, this seemed pretty exotic to be listening to genuine kiwis squawk at night. Then it became a little annoying. Eventually they just wished the stupid birds would shut the heck up.

On Motuora Island, the Dept. of Conservation (shortened to DoC, pronounced "dock") is also trying to restore native trees and there is a conservation society that supports this effort and organises a planting day for its members. One of Nolan and Erica's jobs was to prepare for the members/helpers and to oversee their planting. On other days, Nolan and Erica cleared bamboo and built a solar panel for the ranger's building.

Overall, it was a pretty cool experience for them, and not the sort of thing a tourist usually does. They went swimming in the ocean a few times and Erica collected LOTS of shells. They also got to see heaps of pukekos, a bird with long stick legs and big feet that walks like it's wearing clown shoes. They're blue and colourful, and cute.

As I said, after all that excitement last week, they were ready to stay home and relax a bit. So we decided to go see a few things around Auckland. On our first day, we went to meet Curt for lunch at the Winter Garden (see photo at left), walked to the Art Gallery, and then the Sky Tower. I'm afraid they didn't get to relax much after all.

The Sky Tower looks quite a bit like Seattle's Space needle except not as elegant. We took the express elevator to the viewing level and admired the view. We could see Rangitoto, the volcanic island we'd hiked up last month. We could see the ridge where our house supposedly was, somewhere in Meadowbank. We could see One Tree Hill (which doesn't have a tree ) and Devonport across the bridge. We could even see all the way to Coromandel Peninsula, where Nolan and Erica had gone for one of their getaways.

As you may know, New Zealand is the birthplace of bungy jumping and this country is overflowing with similar extreme experiences. On the Sky Tower, a person can "freefall" from the top while attached to a cable that essentially lowers him as fast as he would fall. But it stops him part-way down, so he can hover in front of the viewing level and wave to his friends. While we were admiring the views, a guy suddenly dropped into sight outside our window, dangled there for a few seconds (see the guy wearing blue & yellow jumpsuit in the photo), then continued "falling" to the ground as the cable eventually slowed him down and landed him gently on the target. I've got to tell you, it's rather disconcerting to see someone flying by.

The other opportunity for a thrill at the Sky Tower is their glass floors. While you're up on the viewing level, you can obviously look out - but you can also look directly down to the footpath through the glass floors. (notice our "frightened faces" in the photo, and notice the glass below our feet) In addition, you can see down while riding in the glass-floored elevator, which is bad enough. It's a long way down. I don't like looking down.

Well, that was more than enough thrill for us for one day. And not enough relaxing. So we headed back home to take a nap.

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.

Fiji Layover

We flew from LA to Fiji on our way home to New Zealand. We left on Monday, 29 January and arrived in Nadi (pronounced NAHN - dee) 11 hours later on Wednesday, 31 January. Megan wrote in her journal for Tuesday, 30 January, "Didn't happen - crossed international date line." I don't know why that always seems worth mentioning. It's not really magical or extraordinary. It's just a trick of the calendar.

I had booked three days in Fiji because we actually got a cheaper return trip fare by landing in Fiji instead of flying direct from LAX to Auckland. The Fiji government was overthrown a few months ago in a military coup and the global community responded by shunning trade and tourism. To encourage tourism, I think that the government probably subsidised the airline industry with incentives to bring more tourists back to the island. The net result was a cheaper flight for us, so we couldn't pass up the opportunity to explore part of this South Pacific tropical paradise, despite the recent coup.

We arrived at the airport at 6:00 AM and the heat and humidity were already uncomfortable. High temperatures in Fiji this time of year are about 30 degrees Celsius (86 F) but the nighttime low temperature doesn't dip much below 25 C (77 F). A small group of island singers greeted us with traditional Fijian songs as we cleared customs. We gathered our baggage and found a man holding a card with my name on it, all pre-arranged in advance for a quick shuttle to our hotel. Unfortunately the destination on the card read "Tubakula" and not "Saweni Beach" as I expected. I asked the driver if these two names referred to the same destination, and he assured me that they were part of the same ownership. Big mistake. We hopped on the air-conditioned tour bus and drove anti-clockwise around the island toward the capital, Suva. About 90 minutes later, he dropped us off at Tubakula where the receptionist had absolutely no record of our booking. The booking agency had stuffed up our details and sent us to the wrong side of the island. They quickly called another driver who altered his morning plans and drove us back to Nadi and then about 20 minutes beyond to Saweni Beach Apartment Hotel. As we were driven back and forth across the island, we encountered a half a dozen military checkpoints that seemed to be more for appearance's sake than for security. Eventually we arrived at the correct location and checked in to our self-contained unit early at 10:00 AM, having toured much of the scenic main island for free, albeit in a slightly jet-lagged stupor.

The hotel consists of 12 apartment units, each with a kitchenette, and one larger dormitory for backpackers. Apart from one backpacker from the UK staying in the dormitory, we were the only hotel guests for the three days that we stayed. Tourism is definitely suffering from the coup. The experience was surreal in that we had near-exclusive use of this beachfront hotel with shimmering pool and tropical gardens with swaying coconut palms for next to nothing.

There was a hotel cafe, but we were more interested in learning to use the local bus system to travel to Lautoka nearby to buy groceries for our meals. At the bus stop near the hotel, a friendly woman waiting recognised us as non-native (not that hard to tell!) and helpfully explained how to pay the driver and when to change buses and where to catch the return bus. The buses appear to be war surplus vintage. Our bus was air-conditioned the old fashioned way (it didn't have any glass in the windows) and we had to agilely step over the exposed gear box by the driver to get to a bolted bench seat. The buses get plenty of patronage from the locals as fare to Lautoka was only 75 cents. Riders nimbly disembarked as the driver slowed down but rarely actually braked to a complete stop along the route. Thick black diesel exhaust billowed in a trailing cloud.

We bought fresh produce at a market, and stopped for groceries at the supermarket. A small boy helping his mother in the market was really excited to see us since the colour of our pale skin was such a novelty in the mass of humanity. Buying groceries in Fiji is very much like our experience in Puerto Vallarta, Mexico - unfamiliar looking vegetables amid the flies and heat, and abject poverty always just a few paces away. Although Fiji is a poor country, I believe that their quality of life is probably somewhat self-selected and that given a choice, they may actually prefer to live with their family among a few goats and chickens to supplement the copious garden bounty rather than sell out to the man for western style affluence. It's a tropical island after all. Other cultures simply do not share the American value of seeking maximum compensation in exchange for labour or capital investment and the expectation of commensurate prosperity as a measure of one's worth. Good on them! On the other hand, roughly one person in every family has left Fiji in search of better economic opportunities, often to New Zealand.

With the aid of another helpful local man, we found our return bus and brought our supplies back to the hotel. The hotel owner brought a complimentary bottle of chilled wine to our room and apologised for the stuff up with the airport shuttle service. I eagerly accepted her unsolicited and gracious offering. Now we were fully stocked for three uninterrupted days of rest and relaxation.

The remainder of our visit consisted of frequent trips to our almost private swimming pool (10 metres from our door), occasional dips in the warm, placid ocean water with white sandy beach (ignore the tidal rubbish), leisurely strolls among tropical foliage dodging killer coconuts, reading, napping, and not much else. After a whirlwind of activity in the US for the memorial service, it was a perfect way to ease back into the rhythm of ordinary life. I'm glad we visited Fiji - like most of our travels, I feel enriched by the experience.

Curt

Sydney, day 4

Today's plan: to the art museum. However, we got sidetracked along the way looking at St Mary's cathedral as a sketch possibility ... and Curt ended up sketching the Sydney Tower instead. It was an easy subject and only took an hour, so we still got to the museum by 11. I'm beginning to recognise names of some of the well-known Australian artists, and we're familiar with most of the European and American artists of course. This museum had a nice enough collection, but it can't really compare with others we've been to over the years. Our poor kids have been dragged to museums all over Europe and the US on our travels. Byron made his first money as an artist at age 10, sitting on the grand stairway inside the D'Orsay museum in Paris, sketching a huge clock above. (He wanted to be just like his dad who was nearby sketching a statue of a naked lady). Austin, the oldest brother who was always full of clever ideas, suggested that Byron should put his hat out next to him while he worked, and people would put money in it. Sure enough, people gathered to see what this little boy was doing, and dropped a few francs in his hat. I think he made enough money to buy himself some ice cream later in the day. We always thought he would grow up to be a professional artist eventually, and we knew this would make a great story about how he got his start in the art world. Well, at the moment he's studying engineering at the University of Washington which isn't exactly art, but at least he's still trying to be just like his dad.

After the museum, we thought it would be appropriate if we went to the Sydney Tower to ride up to the observation deck since Curt had just sketched it that morning. Alas, the queue was about a half-mile long so we opted out. Instead we wandered over to the waterfront area called Darling Harbour which was a little too Disneylandish for us. However, I did stumble upon a Lindt Chocolate store & cafe so I indulged in some dark chocolate gelato. Mmmmm. That made it all worthwhile. We sat on a bench and watched little kids play in a long fountain. It's nice the way Australia encourages people to actually use the water features, rather than just look at them. Parks in Europe can be a bit stodgy when they don't allow you to sit on the grass or play in the fountain. But here, there was a sign at the gate to the Botanic Gardens that asked people to please sit on the grass, hug the trees, and smell the roses. I like their attitude.

Next we entered the Chinese Garden which was an oasis of beauty and tranquility in the middle of downtown Sydney. I was thinking Curt might find something sketchworthy here, but he wasn't inspired.
Me: How about a sketch of the lily pads? Monet liked to paint lily pads.
Curt: Nah.
Me: Ooh. Look at that arched stone bridge. And there's a bench right here with a perfect view.
Curt: Nah.
So we walked along the paths, around the ponds, over the stone bridge, and admired the giant koi fish swimming by the lily pads. It was a nice quiet break from the crowds at Darling Harbour and the throngs of bargain hunters who are still sardined in the shopping streets of Sydney.

Speaking of Chinese, it's time for a rant. Here's what Curt said in his journal: "There are a lot of Asians taking pictures of family and friends standing in front of any statue, building, sculpture, or viewpoint which might be photo-worthy except for the person posing just like they did for the previous gazillion photos." As a Westerner, I just don't get it either. I was trying to understand this habit, so I pondered if maybe they believe that a photo has more interest in it if there's a person in it. And I can agree with that. But the photo album of their trip would NOT be interesting because photo after photo would be mind-numbingly repetitively made of the same composition. So there goes my argument that people do it to make the photos more interesting. My next theory was that perhaps people pose in front of everything to prove that they were there. Honestly, won't their friends believe them? Anyway, I'm stumped. If anyone can enlighten me on this curious habit, please do, because I just don't understand. That's enough ranting for now.

Our last job today is to switch hotels. You see, it was next to impossible to find any hotels in Sydney this week, and there are absolutely NO rooms left for New Year Eve. Besides the fireworks, there's the big cricket match against England so all the rooms are taken. Consequently, we could only find a room downtown for the first 3 nights, a room 10 km south of the city for the next 3 nights, and no room at all for our last night, New Years Eve. We're figuring that we'll be staying up and watching the fireworks till 12 or 1 ... and then we have to be at the airport at 5 the next morning, so we'll just hang out at the airport or something. Anyway, today's the day we switch hotels. We get our bags and take a bus to Brighton (on Botany Bay) which is pretty easy. We like to use public transportation on our travels, so we bought a 7 day pass when we arrived and use it to hop onto subways or buses or ferries whenever we want. By the end of the week, we're pretty good at taking the bus from our hotel to the nearest train station, riding the train downtown, and then doing it all in reverse at the end of the day. No problem.

Our day finishes as it usually does: more walking, more coffee, more ice cream, a nightly foot rub, and lots of sleep. Zzzz.

Samoan neighbours

We were extrememly fortunate in the location of our rental house. It's on the water, and we've got great neighbours! To the left of us are 3 generations of a Samoan family. Loina (35) and her daughter Laei (14) live next door. Loina's mum (Toi), dad (Malanga), and brother (Sa'a) live in the next house. Their cat has become a member of our family too, and acts like he lives here with us.

Toi and Malanga are retired so Toi plays golf (a lot!) and Malanga loves to putter around the garden. He takes care of both his yard and Loina's and it's stunning. Naturally, he's thrilled to have Curt as a neighbour because previous renters didn't always take care of the yard, and you know how much time Curt spends mowing and weeding! Malanga also helps us identify local plants and trees. Apparently we have a grapefruit tree in our back yard, and another one that looks like it has miniature oranges. There's also a banana tree but it's too old to produce fruit or something.

Like many islanders, Toi and Malanga moved to NZ about 40 years ago. They still have a bit of an accent, but their kids and grandkids are pure Kiwi. One of the first things we learned was how to pronounce "Samoa." It's supposed to be SAM-O-uh rather than Suh-MO-uh. There is a large population of Samoans here. New Zealand is an ethnically diverse country. Here's a rough ethnic breakdown:
70% Pakeha (white people)
10% Maori
10% Pacific Islanders (Samoa, Tonga, Fiji, etc.)
10% Asian (China, India, Korea, etc.)

They invited us over for lunch one weekend back in April and fed us heaps of good Samoan food. It was really nice of them to reach out to us and to want to get to know us. Our only previous experience with Samoan culture was through our church in Portland which hosted a Samoan congregation. We often combined services with them and got to hear wonderful Samoan songs and dances, and even scripture read in Samoan.

Loina is a 4th/5th grade teacher at the same primary school she attended while growing up next door. Sadly, Loina and Laei are leaving on Saturday for 3 years in America, where Loina will be teaching in North Carolina and Laei will be finishing high school. They will have a great time but it's sad to see them go because they have been good neighbours. They bring in our mail when we're out of town, and they brought Curt some dinner after his 24-hour flight.

A few weeks ago, there was a BIG farewell party for Loina and Laei and all their friends from school, from the neighbourhood, and from the Samoan community. They rented a hall and there were probably 100 people there! The Samoan men prepared a hangi feast, cooking the food for many hours in a large pit in the ground. The food was yummy and I tried taro for the first time. They assured me it's even better when you put coconut cream over it. Mmmmm.

At the party, a couple of Loina's friends emceed a trivia contest for everyone ... and it was all based on American trivia. Well, you can imagine how happy we were that for once, we might actually know most of the answers! We were sitting at a table with more of our neighbours and they were pleased to have genuine Americans on their team. "How many states are there in the US?" "What's the title of the national anthem?" This is so easy!

Then they started playing short excerpts of old American TV theme songs. I'm afraid we weren't very much help there, but I was amazed at the theme songs our Kiwi teammates knew - Kojak, Benson, Battlestar Galctica? Overall though, our team won the trivia contest by a mile! (or maybe a kilometer?)

Next there was more entertainment: Laei entertained us with some piano pieces, and some other girls danced, and then Malanga got up to lead everyone in the final song/hymn.

Besides the good food, we had a great time, and we got to meet more of the neighbours. We felt honoured to be included.