It took me over a week to unpack. These clothes, this stationery, these computer cords and those toiletries — everything I carried with me is by now as familiar as my fingernails, but trying to fit it into the already crammed space that is my bedroom at my parents’ house? Nothing has a home anymore, and I gaze at the accumulated objects of our previous life with the perplexity of changed perspective. Why did I want all these books? How is it that I never dusted this surface? Why on earth was I keeping socks I didn’t like? After the minimalist clarity of places like our Kyoto house, I refuse to merely shuffle things around; that would be like sweeping the house only to shift the piles of dirt into new positions. So I’ve been clearing out and cleaning and reorganizing, and it has been good. (It is also, I suspect, a process that could take months.)

At the same time, since almost the first day of coming home, I’ve been making other kinds of changes. If we think of decluttering as weed-pulling, the pruning of deadwood, then these other changes are like mulching, fertilizing, seeding: it’s not enough only to take away; one has also to create something new. I went to the hairstylist and asked for something different; she caught my mood and intent, and applied herself with so much glee that I felt the outcome would be worth it, no matter what, just because she was having such a good time! And I love the haircut. It is asymmetrical, eye-framing, modern and vintage at the same time, and easy to care for.

While we were in Toronto I bought a red lipstick I’d discovered in Auckland (it cost twice as much in NZ as in North America, so I waited on buying it). I had planned to save it for special occasions, but apparently more days feel special to me than I anticipated. Last week, while in San Francisco with friends, I ended up in a black director’s chair at Bloomingdale’s, being sprayed with Hydra Beauty Essence Mist and dabbed with shimmering eyeshadow. I didn’t buy the shadows, but I went home and ordered some others online. It is fun to be my own canvas.

I am easing slowly back into social contact, even limiting my blog reading until I feel ready for more interaction. But it has felt really right to see some of our closest friends in-person once again, and to do so in different parts of the Bay Area. We had a potluck dinner with our longtime friend Caroline in Palo Alto, spent a night with my sister Sarah and her husband Devin in San Rafael (north of San Francisco), caught up with a sparkling Jenn in Berkeley (before she heads out on five weeks of her own travels!), and spent a couple of wonderful eating/rambling afternoons around SF with our dear friend Ying and her lovely friend Eve.

San Francisco:

San Rafael:

It all sounds terribly indulgent, and it’s true I’m enjoying myself very much. But it’s also groundwork. While we were traveling, I couldn’t wait to get home so I could write/draw/paint, but once we returned I resisted jumping straight into creating (though morning pages are still helpful). I was trying to explain it to Erik. Things look the same here, but I am not the same, and until I reconcile that, I’m not sure I can make anything. It’s facile and cliché to say I need to rediscover who I am, but that’s close. Yesterday one of Jenn’s friends wished me good luck with the “percolating.” It’s not a bad word for it, especially since coffee grounds make me think of compost, which is what Natalie Goldberg calls the process of turning life into writing. I’m composting.

Here’s a photo Devin took of us in upstate New York:

I notice that since our return to North America (via Toronto), my travel eyes have been determinedly in the “off” position — much like when we were in Hawaii earlier this year. I don’t make plans, I don’t bring my camera with me, I barely care what I eat, and I don’t even look out the window sometimes when we’re in the car. My travel eyes are on break, and I like it that way. I’m resting.

I was thinking, though, I don’t mind talking about our travels — not in the least. You surely have questions: about the places we’ve been, about what it felt like to travel for so long, about how we’ve changed. Ask me in the comments! I will answer anything within reason, no matter how insignificant, goofy, philosophical, or personal (that’s the “within reason” part).

Just to refresh your memory: Erik and I have been traveling since April 2012, working as we go (thus generating income). Here’s the list of our destinations, with links to the relevant posts:

two months in Canada
1. Toronto, Ontario: April 24 – June 25, 2012
1B. Montréal, Québec: June 14-17, 2012

six weeks in Scotland
2. Glasgow: June 25 – July 5, 2012
3. Edinburgh: July 5 – August 4, 2012
4. West Highlands: August 4-9, 2012

seven weeks in Iceland
5. Reykjavík: August 9 – September 27, 2012

five days in London
6. London, England, UK: September 27 – 2 October 2012

one month in Istanbul
7. Istanbul, Turkey: 2 October – 1 November 2012

one month in Paris
8. Paris, France: 1 November – 3 December 2012

almost three months in the USA
9. Boston, Massachusetts: 3-17 December 2012
10. (home) San Jose, California: 17 December 2012 – 24 January 2013
11. Waimea (Kamuela), Hawaii [the Big Island], Hawaii: 24 January – 22 February 2013
12. Honolulu, Oahu, Hawaii: 22-28 February 2013

one month in Kyoto
13. Kyoto, Japan: 1-31 March 2013

ten days in Singapore
14. Singapore: 1-10 April 2013

one month in New Zealand
15. Auckland, North Island: 11-26 April 2013
16. Christchurch, South Island: 26-30 April
17. Oamaru, South Island: 30 April – 3 May
18. Invercargill, South Island: 3-6 May
19. Dunedin, South Island: 6-8 May
20. Arrowtown, South Island: 8-11 May
21. Wellington, North Island: 11-12 May
22. Ohakune, North Island: 12-14 May
23. Tauranga, North Island: 14-15 May 2013

return to North America
24. Greater Toronto Area, Ontario, Canada: 15-24 May 2013
25. Burdett (Finger Lakes region), New York, USA: 24-31 May 2013
26. (home) San Jose, California, USA: 1 June – 7 July 2013
27. New York, New York, USA: 7-23 July 2013

So go for it — ask me anything! Depending how things go, I’ll either reply in the comments, or will save the questions for a future post.

Here’s a view of the Vancouver area from the plane window, last week:

As I was telling Erik the day after we arrived, everything appears so unchanged around here that I almost feel like I never left — except my clothes are all different. (Erik: “Riiiight… your clothes are the only thing different about you. After a year of traveling!”) After months of novelty, the familiarity is comforting. I’ve been writing in my journal and making lots of sketches of our friends’ cat Sabrina, a regal creature who often deigns to recognize lesser beings such as myself.

When I was drawing Harry the dog, I said I’m better at drawing cats. Sabrina is making me rethink that. She is all shimmering grey fur and big green eyes, and she doesn’t like my scrutiny (nor the sound of the markers over the page). In other words: she is a challenge.

This page includes the neighbors’ cat, Bianco, who is every bit as fluffy and active as Sabrina.

Yesterday was Victoria Day. We had afternoon tea with our friend Jen (the Toronto food blogger, you’ll recall), and then did some shopping and walked around the Royal Ontario Museum (ROM).

In the evening I sketched our host friends’ kitchen, using grey for the built-ins and black for everything added: personality on a standard backdrop. The “portrait” feels so intimate that I enjoyed it just as much as drawing a person. Maybe I’ll do more of these kitchen portraits… or try other rooms, though I think kitchens are most revealing precisely because of their juxtaposition of standard and custom, public and private, individual and family.

In a few days we’ll drive down to the Finger Lakes area of New York to relax with family for my youngest sister’s graduation. She’s ten years younger than me, so for her to be finishing college feels like a milestone for all of us! We’ll be in New York for about a week, and then it’s back home… but not for long, perhaps?

I had thought we might settle in the Bay Area for a few months at least, decompressing, seeing friends, working. But it looks like our plans are changing. When the Bay Area sublet we were looking at didn’t work out, I felt I had had enough of browsing apartment listings, and decided to turn to my communities instead. And I decided I wouldn’t limit us to a California location. I put a note on Facebook, and because friends responded, we are now likely to spend two weeks in New York City in July, and possibly — if everything works out, which I fervently, fervently hope will happen — three months in Boston in the fall.

I’m excited.

Wellington to Ohakune

In Wellington (the aforementioned southern tip of the North Island), we stayed with a couple from California, also a writer and composer. We were there for less than a day, but enjoyed chatting with our host — and I made sketches from their fantastic oceanfront living room.

An hour north from there, we had lunch in the coastal town of Paraparaumu.

We were meeting Hinemoana, a friend of our friend Kuukua, at a cool café she suggested. Over the meal we had a lovely talk about writing, music, and Māori culture in the past and present. Be sure to check out her music!

Cutest tea cozy ever. It had “RSC” (the restaurant’s initials) embroidered on one side. Also featured: Hinemoana’s elegant hands!

The rest of the day was pretty uneventful. In passing through one town I spotted an Icebreaker outlet and went in for some shopping. When we were home over Christmas, I discovered this New Zealand merino clothing company and fell in love with their lightweight, comfy tops and bottoms. I’ve been wearing them everywhere and was pleased to get some new additions at deep discounts!

In another small town, a random windmill:

We pulled into Ohakune well after dark, taking a route that seemed totally deserted (later we found out it passes through fields and forest).

But at the B&B where we were staying, we were met with a very warm welcome from our host and the several cozy fireplaces. He made us some tea and showed us the 1906 house, and then directed us to a restaurant/pub/hotel around the corner where we had an amazingly good dinner.

Evening special: wild venison ragù with gnocchi, Grana Padano, pesto.

Lamb rump with crushed peas, feta, jus.

Tongariro (and Harry!)

The next morning, after a delicious and very hearty breakfast (including home-baked ciabatta!), we set out to explore Tongariro National Park. It’s the fourth-oldest national park in the world, and it’s huge. People go there to do long hikes, the kind that last for hours (or days?) and come with danger of hypothermia. We, on the other hand, just drove around and made some leisurely stops. There was lush forest near the entrance, but barren snowy mountain a short drive away. It’s a visitor off-season — too late for summer crowds, too early for the skiers — and we saw almost no one for hours.

The road signs amused us; the symbols were so vivid!

By Mount Ruapehu we pulled over and had a short explorative walk. The place reminded me strongly of Þingvellir in Iceland: similar terrain, colors, and plants; similar feeling of expansive solitude and freedom; even the time of year was almost the same (September in Iceland = May in New Zealand?).

Attempting to use the self-timer:

A helicopter circled overhead and we felt a bit James Bond-ish even though actually it was just helping with construction:

At lower elevation the plant life was quite different.

And even lower, in the forest, different yet again. We rambled along this trail for an hour and a half; we took the return walk much faster, and it only took us a half hour!

How you know this is New Zealand: silver ferns and cabbage trees.

We read that Māori used to use the upturned fern leaves to mark trails at nighttime.

The so-called cabbage tree has nothing to do with cabbage, though it was used for food.

We saw a skeleton!!! And strangely enough it was not creepy, just mysterious: how did it come here? Whose is it? Who put the skull there?

If you have read this blog for any length of time, you know that I adore mushrooms. This trail made me very, very happy.

I honestly don’t know if these are mushrooms, but they’re fascinating:

This one had me jumping with excitement. I’ve never seen anything like it, at least not in person. We only saw one.

It’s quite small, you see:

Post-walk: vanilla slice and hot lemon-honey-ginger infusion at a cute café in town.

When we got back I found I still wanted to sketch, so I approached Harry, the resident Labrador. He’s already famous — one of our hosts has written a sweet children’s book in which he stars — but he’d never before served as an artist’s model. He was quite the natural at it, holding each pose just as long as I needed, and then considerately shifting to a new position after that!

Having always lived with cats only, I find dogs very hard to draw. I just don’t know them as well. Sometime last year I was attempting to draw a dog from imagination and could only turn out these sad-looking misshapen cousins of goats. So drawing Harry was a good little education!

That evening we returned to the Powderkeg for another good dinner, and the next morning I made one last sketch of Harry, in the B&B visitor book:

Ohakune to Tauranga

On our way out of town we made a discovery:

Our route took us past another side of Tongariro National Park. There was some very odd terrain out there — something that looked like moss-green tussocks all over black sand?! — but we didn’t stop. I snapped a few pics from the moving car.

Mt Ruapehu:

Mt Ngauruhoe (Mt Doom):

We made a quick stop at a picnic area that turned out to be a trout centre. This pic has the reflected treetops and, if you look closely, some swimming trout. There was also a museum there and some river walks, though we couldn’t take time to investigate; Erik commented that we could easily have stretched our NZ drives across weeks rather than days. Too true.

Later we passed Lake Taupo, which is enormous and epically beautiful, especially with that long white cloud just sitting on its distant surface.

Another hour or so out from there, we saw steam rising from the earth — we’d found the geothermal areas! We were happy, remembering Iceland.

Our Ohakune host had given us directions to a hot stream, but somehow we didn’t see the turning, and passed by without finding it. Ah well. At least we’ve done it before — and this will give us something to look for, next time we visit!

In Tauranga, we arrived to hugs and this view:

After a fabulous dinner with our hosts, we had a soak in their spa, which had colored lights and seating for… oh, nine at least. It wasn’t a hot river but it suited us fine.

I’m sorry we’re leaving New Zealand, but at the same time I am very eager to get back to North America, where we will spend the next two weeks with friends and family. After the constant moving and mapping of our road trip here, I’m looking forward to having others around to share (or even make) the decisions about what to do, where to go, and how to get there — and of course I am beyond excited to be returning to our Toronto friends (the same ones with whom we stayed when we started our trip last April!), and then to my family (we’re gathering in upstate New York for my youngest sister’s graduation). It feels like full circle.

Central Otago

After days along the water, we now drove inland, swapping cliffs and seascapes for the rolling hills and tussock country of Central Otago. It’s a very sparsely populated region — 1.5 people per square kilometer! — and accordingly we saw few cars and even fewer settlements along the way.

After a while we started to see snow on the distant mountaintops.

For lunch, we stopped at one of the larger towns (Ranfurly, population 1,060) and had battered blue cod at Freddy’s Pie Cart and fantastic chocolate layer cake from the next-door café, Ewes & Moos.

Autumn colors were still in evidence — as on this deer farm. I’ve never seen farmed venison anywhere else, but we’ve passed many such farms on the South Island. Not as many as the sheep or dairy farms, but still a good number.

Outside Clyde (population 918), we stopped for a stretch at an overlook by a dam. Like everyplace else, we were the only ones there; we joked, “there’s no one else here but Clyde.”

Wild thyme grew all over the hillside, scenting the air.

The highway continued along the river, so we had gorgeous (and late-afternoon blinding) views.

Another scenic point, looking upon the town of Cromwell (population about 4,000). We stopped at a produce store there and bought fresh eggs and sparkling elderflower rosé cordial.

Much of the rest of our drive passed through Kawarau Gorge. The landscape reminded me of Taroko in Taiwan.

We passed many wineries and a cheesery, all offering tastings, but the sun was dropping and we wanted to get to our lodgings. We did stop at the bungy centre to see where my sister and brother-in-law did their bungy jump two years ago.

Late in the afternoon, we pulled into our cottage in Arrowtown (one of the most expensive places we’ve stayed on our travels, but very much worth it). Our host had left us some home-baked orange and chocolate chip muffins (delicious), and soon after, came over to offer her welcome. We were pretty tired from the drive, so we made a dinner off the Cromwell-bought eggs and some rice we found in the cupboard. Then peace and quiet and bed.

Arrowtown

Originally we’d planned to stay in Queenstown (population 16,600), but three things drew us instead to Arrowtown (population 2,400, not counting seasonal residents). First, our Auckland hosts and their friends told us there was a Chinese mining settlement in Arrowtown. Of course I wanted to see that. Second, our Oamaru host opined that Queenstown and the nearby town of Wanaka are mostly tourist traps, and suggested Arrowtown as an alternative. Third, when I hunted through Queenstown AirBnB listings, most of the places were very expensive and obviously catering to a well-heeled tourist market (mostly devotees of winter sports). We ended up booking a non-AirBnB accommodation, but we’re so glad we stayed in this place, even though (in fact, because) it’s outside of Arrowtown proper. It felt so secluded. This is the view down the driveway:

And a hasty sketch from another vantage point, outside the cottage:

On our first morning we went for a walk and could not stop exclaiming over the views. Those mountains are called The Remarkables.

We had lunch at a café a short distance from the house. The food and tea were extremely tasty (and we were quite surprised to see gado-gado on the menu!). After our seafood chowder and lamb shank pie, we left with a box of takeaway baked goods.

Then we went to the Chinese settlement just off the main road in town. Arrowtown was a gold mining town in the 1860s, not long after the California Gold Rush. Having grown up near California gold country (and studied it for my college thesis), Arrowtown’s history felt quite familiar. Though the restored/maintained miners’ huts were in good condition, they are small, chilly, stone-floored; it’s not hard to imagine just how lonely and lost the men must have felt.

In the modern day, though, with every comfort at our disposal, Arrowtown in autumn is breathtaking.

We had a walk behind town, eventually following the river for a short ways.

It’s funny, but we saved the town itself for last; we didn’t go into it until we’d seen the Chinese settlement and the trails behind it.

We visited the bakery and some shops, and then settled into the museum for a couple of hours. It was delightfully eclectic and hands-on.

I amused myself sketching some of the exhibits.

Behind the museum, I spotted a photo studio offering costume sessions. A chalkboard informed me that the studio was closed for the winter, but offered a number to call for bookings. I got in touch with the photographer and made an appointment for the next day.

After we left town, we made a quick stop at a grocery store for some ingredients, then went home and cooked dinner. More peace, more quiet, and then letter-writing. And outdoors: rain.

Around Arrowtown/Queenstown: snowy mountaincaps

In the morning the cottage looked much the same, but the mountaintops gleamed with a fresh fall of snow.

We returned to Arrowtown for our photo session, which was over and done in a highly efficient 20-odd minutes. I am in love with the result. Not historically accurate I’m sure, but so much fun.

Outside the studio, we encountered a family who asked us — in Mandarin — for details about the session and cost, which I was able to give (they did look at me a bit oddly, so maybe my grammar was off or something). I was so thrilled with our photos that I totally forgot to visit the post office as I’d intended.

We drove to Queenstown.

We decided Queenstown was much as Michael had said, full of backpackers and skiers, shops selling “adventure tours” and sheepskin bedspreads. It’s not a big city, but after the total small-town calm of the past couple of weeks, it felt like Las Vegas. We ate a so-so lunch at an international food court in a shopping centre, but mostly just stuck by the lake.

We spent the rest of the afternoon at the cottage, doing laundry, visiting with our kind hosts. I attempted to make a painting — a mad idea in the cold, really, and I didn’t quite realize the water-absorbing properties of my Japanese sketchbook. But at least I tried, and that was what I wanted: not a good picture necessarily, but a shot at capturing that wintry landscape.

Back to the North Island: Wellington

We’re down now to our last four days in the country. Today we flew back north — a very scenic flight, going over the mountains by Queenstown — and landed in Wellington, where there was a giant Gollum in the airport:

Dinner was random: Malaysian food. We were happy with it.

Since we’re leaving tomorrow morning, we won’t be seeing much of the city, but our hosts (Californians, funnily enough, and a writer and musician to boot!) have a gorgeous view.

Oamaru to Invercargill

Most of Friday went to the nearly four-hour drive from Oamaru, on the southeast coast, to Invercargill, the southernmost city in the country. It wasn’t our first long drive in New Zealand — that honor goes to the three-hour trip from Christchurch to Oamaru — but this route was much more scenic. We started along the coast and eventually moved inland to agricultural areas. We reached Invercargill just after dark.

Around Invercargill

On our first full day in Invercargill, we drove out of the city to visit two picturesque waterfront towns: Bluff and Riverton. Both were pretty (and offered tasty food), but as it turned out, we were most delighted with two unanticipated stops within the city itself.

First, because we spent less time in Bluff than we planned, we decided to go to Riverton. But we didn’t have directions, nor a detailed map, so I said, “Let’s just go toward the coast.” The road we took did not lead to Riverton, but it did take us to Oreti Beach, the first beach we’d ever seen where you can drive directly onto the sand. It was a misty, overcast, atmospheric afternoon, and in that light the beach felt like pure fantasy.

Much later, on our return from Riverton, we stopped by the town museum and info centre. It was closed, but we decided to stretch our legs under the trees by the car park. I looked down at the tree roots and almost screamed to discover amanita muscaria. See, I told you — fantasyland!

The next day was rainy, which was fine with us as we were ready for a break. We visited the local farmers’ market where we bought lunch and provisions for the next day’s drive: apples, a pie, a jiggly custard square, and a tray of biscuits.

After the market, we spent a few hours at the museum and info centre, where there’s a tuatara breeding facility. Although these ancient creatures look like lizards, they’re actually more closely related to dinosaurs! We didn’t see any of the adults, but there was a small tank of the baby tuatara, and they were the perfect artist’s models, because they don’t move very much!

We finished our day with an early dinner at a local pub. The proprietors greeted us very warmly, and we enjoyed our Sunday roast and cider in a cozy corner nook. I took photos, but they don’t look as delicious as the experience was, so I’m leaving them out.

Invercargill to Dunedin via the Catlins

Dunedin is actually between Oamaru and Invercargill, but we’d bypassed it on our way down (it was graduation weekend and we’d been advised there would be no accommodation whatsoever). Rather than return to the city via the same route, we took a longer and more scenic tour through the Catlins. Our Invercargill hosts had described the Catlins as “the back of beyond,” and they surely were. After we’d been driving for about an hour I said, “Is this the most rural place we’ve ever been?” Erik replied, “I was just thinking that!” We passed beach, pasture, mountain, and forest, all within a four-hour drive (though of course it took longer with stops).

Goofy aside: When we got to Slope Point I really had to pee. Since there was no one else around, I just went on the rocks. This is only the second time I’ve done that out in the open. The first time was in Iceland. So I have now “marked my territory,” kitty-style, in the far north and far south of the earth.

We stopped for a late lunch at one of the few cafés we passed along the route, a place called the Whistling Frog. Based on their signage and their location in the heart of the Catlins, I thought they’d be serving forgettable tourist fare. Instead, we enjoyed delicious meals and good leaf tea, and seats next to the fire. It was a wonderful break after hours of driving.

At one of our earliest stops that day, the man at the Lignite Pit – a pretty lake made from a former coal mine — gave us a free Catlins map and suggested that we visit a spot called Nugget Point. Hours after that conversation, we turned off the main highway and made our joggly way up the gravel road to the point. The road was quite narrow and it wound up a cliff with no barrier between us and the sea down below. Scary really, and the walking track was no less so.

The “nuggets” that give the point its name:

The return walk to the car park:

We’d been lucky not to pass any cars on the way up, but I wasn’t sure we’d manage the same on the way down. As we neared the base of the mountain road, I looked at the edge of the curve ahead and noticed what looked like a smooth, pale brown, sculpted rock. My thought process was instant and accurate: “That looks like a statue. There was no statue when we drove up. Therefore it can’t be a rock. Therefore it must have come there on its own, which means… it’s an animal!”

We referred to it as a seal, but now we think it’s a sea lion. It was awkward and beautiful and just… a surprise. The whole rest of the drive to Dunedin we could not stop buzzing over this encounter. One of the highlights of our entire trip, I suspect.

Edwardian Dunedin and the Otago Peninsula

It’s so weird that our South Island trip has ended up so historically-minded, but somehow it has (not so surprising I guess, given my tastes, but I didn’t plan it this way!). First there was Victorian Oamaru, and today, an Edwardian mansion and a Victorian so-called castle.

This morning we went to Olveston, a marvelous historic home in the hills above Dunedin. We didn’t know the place existed until last night, when we arrived at the hotel and the manager/owner (a friend of Erik’s brother Elbert) gave us some brochures from the city’s most popular attractions. After a short but very steep walk, we joined one of the morning tours. Like Newhailes, the stately home we visited outside Edinburgh, until it was given to the city, Olveston was occupied by members of the original family and has retained its intimate, lived-in feel. But unlike Newhailes (which is, after all, much older), the home was built for modern convenience, and inside it feels spacious, airy, welcoming. Photos aren’t permitted inside, but you can take a virtual tour at the website (use the “previous” and “next” text at top to navigate). I couldn’t help gasping at many of the beautiful rooms, especially the well-appointed kitchen and scullery with their complete set of blue-and-white Delft ware, and the billiard room with its pool table bigger than our bed.

Best of all, because the family made its fortune importing musical instruments, the drawing room contains a gorgeous 1906 Steinway grand piano — and the guide asked if anyone wanted to play it! A lady from Brisbane gave it a try, then Erik and I took a turn. The bench was upholstered in pale green and its sides curved up; it was just the right size for duets. We seated ourselves in it and realized that the sheet music on the stand was open to Schumann’s Träumerei — a piece that, coincidentally, Erik’s sister-in-law spontaneously played for us at our wedding lunch, exactly seven years ago. Together we managed to sightread the first page of it, on that lovely old piano. That was a completely unexpected treat.

Our Olveston visit was such a pleasure, it could have been enough for the day, but we’d already planned to drive the Otago Peninsula. It wasn’t a long drive to Taiaroa Head, at the end of the peninsula, but the road was as curved as a sulcus, and ran right alongside the water. We took it slowly.

In one inland spot: a kitty!

At the head is the Royal Albatross Centre, the only mainland albatross colony in the world. Erik and I have been fascinated with albatrosses (I keep wanting to call them albatri, like octopi) since he saw the stuffed one in the Auckland Museum and couldn’t believe how huge it was. When we looked them up online, we learned that they mate for life (after a sometimes years-long courtship process involving charming dances), can soar for hours without flapping their wings, and live on the sea for years at a time (without touching land). Just read the Wikipedia entry — it is soooo interesting!

At the centre we also learned that the royal albatross spends its oceanic life in the winds circumnavigating Antarctica, and that if conditions are right, it can fly from New Zealand to Chile in just nine and a half days. We spotted a few of these magnificent birds in the sky above the centre (didn’t get good pics though), and as part of the centre tour, we also got to see some of the months-old chicks, who were so fluffy that one of our fellow visitors couldn’t stop commenting that “they look so cuddly!” They really did, and the guide said they’re not afraid of humans, since they evolved without land-based predators. One of them busied itself rearranging its nest; it was the cutest thing.

I also made a fast sketch from the observation point, while we were hoping the parents would come feed their chicks (they did not):

We left the albatross centre around four to make it to Larnach Castle before closing time. This is really a stately home, not a castle; it was built in the 1870s by a businessman and politician (who would eventually shoot himself in Parliament, after discovering his son and his much younger third wife having an affair!). When I looked up Larnach Castle yesterday, I noticed a line on the website announcing that this month only, the castle is open to the public for dinner (normally this privilege is reserved for guests of the castle accommodations). So I called this morning and booked us in for dinner.

It was a spectacular drive uphill to the castle.

Once there, we made a quick-quick tour of the gardens.

Just before five, we entered the castle, where we learned we were the only ones for dinner that night! Apparently this is quite unusual. They asked if we wanted an earlier dinner since it was just us, so we moved it up half an hour, and then spent the remaining time exploring the public areas of the house. It’s quite a contrast from Olveston, which has been well cared for since the beginning; after the often tragic deaths of the members of its original family, Larnach Castle went through several rapid changes of owner, even going through periods of neglect and vandalism, before its current owner bought and restored it. To me the amazing thing about visiting, though, is that there is no tour — we were given a map and then allowed to wander at will. Again, photography not permitted inside, but I made a couple of sketches, and took photos from the outdoor viewing area of the fourth-floor tower.

Family motto in stained glass, which I sketched from behind (hence the mirror-image text) because it was easier to see from the stairs than the foyer.

The tower and views:

When it came time for dinner, we wondered if we’d be seated in the dining room, but found that the staff had set up a table for us in the much smaller and cozier gentlemen’s drawing room. We’d seen the room earlier while wandering about, but now — with candlelight, a space heater, and a concealed music player with Mozart on the lineup — it became an intimate dining area for two. The maitre d’ brought our food and then mostly left us alone with the door closed, so we had a very private meal in this period room with its Italian marble fireplace, original bookcases, and glass cabinets of Victoriana. In between courses, she reappeared and told us a bit about the house and family; I learned that the desk on which I’d placed my purse and sweater once belonged to Buffalo Bill!!

We left nearly three hours after we sat down to dinner. It was a very lovely evening, and what’s more, the meal was only $65 NZ per person ($55 US), which I consider perfectly ridiculous for a three-course dinner in a historic home (and the maitre d’ gave us a private tour of the house, between the main course and the dessert). Of course normally it’s not so private; the dinners are usually offered to guests of the castle lodgings, with everyone seated together at a single table. But we really lucked out!

And as we were leaving the car park, a hedgehog trundled out from the shrubbery and crossed the road in front of us. First the sea lion, now a hedgehog!

View of Dunedin’s lights on the drive back:

Tomorrow we leave for Arrowtown.

This video captures the local flavor:

One of the local figures interviewed in the above video is Michael O’Brien, the town bookbinder. He has a lovely shop in the historic precinct, but he also rents out a cabin on his property, and that’s where we stayed. It’s a gorgeous place, perfectly in keeping with town character.

Backyard with chicken coop and distant view of the sea:

Every day his cat Noisel greeted me by sitting on my lap and purring. He reminded me hugely of our Tisha.

Sketches from the yard, now adorning the cover of my notebook:

From Michael’s place it’s a short walk to the historic precinct, past homes and yards and old trees.

One of Oamaru’s newest destinations is Steampunk HQ, established two years ago. (Best read up on steampunk if you don’t know what it is.) There’s an eclectic, atmospheric collection of machinery and exhibits both inside and outside the building, and the man who was working when we visited was very friendly and willing to chat with us. If you approach it as a museum, you may find the $10/adult admission fee a bit high, but we thought of it as an expression of support for the artists who keep the place a work-in-progress. And we appreciated the hands-on nature of the machines; the man told us, “Do whatever you like!”

Later that afternoon, we visited the info center to learn where we could see penguins. There are two colonies in Oamaru, one of blue penguins and the other of yellow-eyed penguins. The blue penguins are more numerous, but you have to pay to view them. So we opted for the yellow-eyed. Like the blue penguins, they spend the day at sea, and come to shore around sundown. But unlike the others, the yellow-eyed penguins are quite shy, and will not approach if they see or hear humans or dogs. So the viewing area is a lookout high above the beach.

While waiting for the elusive birds, I did some sketches.

We stayed maybe an hour, and spotted a few sea lions and about a dozen penguins. They would float in on the waves — mostly one by one — struggle to their feet, then awkwardly trundle across the sand toward the bushes. Some would stand still, raise their heads, and shriek to the sky. The Maori name for them is hoiho, “noise-shouter,” and they really are absolutely loud. We got to see three of them engaged in a disagreement and that was rather fun. Lots of shrieking and flipper-slapping.

We had dinner at a hotel pub. I was reading in a tourist magazine that the hotel was once a brothel — consequently the guest rooms are quite small! I enjoyed my lamb shank pie and my strawberry-lime cider, which came, of all places, from Sweden.

Normally we’d go home after dinner, but Michael mentioned a live music show his friend had recommended, so we went to the Penguin Club (yep!) to check it out.

It’s a lovely, intimate venue with a very welcoming vibe. The performers, an Auckland-based duo called Tattletale Saints, were great as well, though not what we expected — we were very amused to find ourselves listening to bluegrass/country-inspired original songs, and covers of Patsy Cline and Etta James. But we enjoyed them so much, we left with two CDs.

The next day we drove half an hour to Moeraki to play on their strange spherical boulders. The day was overcast and as I shivered across the sand I said, “This is the coldest beach I’ve ever been on!”

Rather eloquent sign:

Near the boulders, at the old jetty in town, there’s a restaurant that’s said to be world-famous. Michael had mentioned it to us when we first got in, and when I checked their website it said “bookings essential.” I wasn’t sure if we had to reserve for a weekday lunch, but just in case, I called as we were driving out to the boulders. Indeed, when we had lunch around 12:30, every table was full.

Bacon-wrapped local blue cod:

After our enormous lunch, there was nothing for it but to go home and rest (and it was starting to rain anyway). Erik napped and I sorted photos, then we went out for another large meal at another highly-regarded restaurant north of Oamaru. I used to eat like this, but I really can’t do it anymore. Two big meals with no walking in between — it was too much. But we ended our day with a long chat in Michael’s kitchen while Noisel napped on my lap and then on a chair by the fire.

Today we drive further south to Invercargill, one of the southernmost cities in the world.