Lucky Bears Like To Go To There

Guilin- Limestone!

2011-07-30T09:06:00.000-05:00

The physical setting of this charming hamlet (750,000 – it is like the Wyalusing of China) was sublime. Spectacular karsts erupting in fantastic shapes surround the city and the lovely jade Li River flows through the heart of town. The river banks are very well developed with beautifully landscaped promenades. There are a couple of pedestrian centers – these actually prohibit cars! We booked the bamboo raft excursion to Yongshuo – it must really be the place since 50,000 taxi and bus company touts were pushing it so hard as we walked anywhere.

I would have photographed this formation but I couldn't see it

Who's thirsty?

As we didn’t arrive until almost midnight, we made a late start on our initial exploration of the city. We decided to head out to Reed Flute Cave. This is the most extraordinary cave we have ever seen – not for its size, shape or geologic formations, but because you can touch EVERYTHING. Everything – the stalactites, cave shields, drapery, the pools, good lord the pools! We saw everyone dipping hands and feet and then people filling water bottles and then proceed to DRINK from them!!!!!! DRINKING THE CAVE FOOT WATER! We must all pray it never comes to armed conflict between the US and China, because we are completely convinced of their absolute invincibility. Nukes would only make the stronger – and glow-in-the-dark.

The cave was also the most Vegas-tastic thing ever. Everywhere in China we have seen that passion for fun and fruity lighting effects – neon rain down the sides of skyscrapers, glowing sidewalks, color shifting city walls, and now this cave. Adding to the “fun” was the ear-splitting chorus of thousands of plastic whistles purchased by tour groups from the hawkers at the entrance. Once upon a time they sold actual reed flutes – for which the cave was named. One hopes they won’t feel the need to re-christen it plastic trash flute cave. The cave is a non-smoking environment, but as the tour lasts about an hour, they realize this may be unrealistic and have liberally provided ashtrays throughout.

Next morning, we were up and out early taking a bus to the pier and then boarding our “bamboo” – pvc raft. Some pilots in quest of verisimilitude? Or succumbing to irony, had painted their pvc pipes green. Whatever, this was an absolutely idyllic way to travel – the river was gorgeous, the scenery lived up to its billing, the fresh breeze and quiet were the first of their kind since??? Corpus Christie? San Fran had cool breezes, but we haven’t had any quiet in a couple of months.

We drifted down the river, relaxing and enjoying the scenery in company with two women from Berlin. They were charmed to discover the bear was a Germanophile with a bit of a crush on Tomas Mueller. We saw herds of water buffalo grazing on the river banks and then at one point a herd drifted into the river right by us – swirling eddies of muck flowing from their hides and back ends making us more careful about avoiding splashes of river water!

The last section of the river into Xiping was still lovely, but less peaceful as we had caught up to a large group of families – all of whom had purchased the wretched water squirters from the ubiquitous peddlers on the shore. They filled these with river water and were joyously hosing down all their friends and other family groups – sadly for us, a couple of groups of young boys thought it would be fun to spray the laowai with the buffalo poo water. They were shocked when everyone on our boat shrieked at them to stop. We have tried to be friendly, nice Americans, however much we cry-baby in this blog, but the feces water was a bridge too far – yes, people were dipping water bottles into the river and drinking here too.

We caught a motorcycle tram into the town of Xiping from the “pier” – a word which here means rock-strewn landfill with a tumbled pile of concrete blocks precariously leading to the road above. A bus took us the rest of the way into Yangshuo. Here at last was the tourist trap of our dreams! Real pedestrian zones with NO vehicles, stall after stall of tacky trash Westerners want to purchase in China, not 2,000 blankets with socks, pirated DVDs and rhinestone barrettes. The streets were lined with adorable cafes, teahouses and restaurants – miserably overpriced, but all offering ice cream and filter coffee! The spell cast by the variety of actual vegetarian options was almost enough to allow us to overlook the three year old boy who dropped his pants in the middle of a row of café tables and let go right there. His family has clearly raised the young prince in the firm conviction that the world is his toilet, and the rest of us should count ourselves blessed to have beheld him in all his glory.

The way back to Guilin was charmingly rural with more water buffalo and rice fields in various states of harvesting. Our aviation based poverty and general fed-upness with trying to get around led us to hunker down in pretty Guilin until we moved on to Hong Kong.

Chengdu- I’m holding a panda!

2011-07-30T08:47:00.000-05:00

PANDAS!!!

This is the staging point for trips to Lhasa – we had two major things here: Pandas and Tibet. Alas, the Chinese government was still “celebrating the 60th anniversary of Tibet’s liberation” so no foreigners invited. Heartbreaking.

We booked the Panda trip for the first thing next morning. After the earthquake the pandas were moved from Wolong to Bifeng and are still there. We went to the Chengdu Giant Panda Breeding and Research Base – this is where they make the pandas and you can hold them. It is a really beautiful center – lots of well landscaped grounds and a variety of sizeable enclosures. They are careful to put the panda chow up by the barriers so that people can spot the pandas easily. We first saw a group of 3 two year olds having breakfast. Pandas are unspeakably lazy. They loll about like emperors at a roman banquet; pulling the branches down so they don’t have to expend the energy to sit up. They are so beautiful! There was also an adult in the enclosure, but he did not associate with the whippersnappers. Like most bears, they are solitary in adulthood.

cute

grumpy

Next we moved onto the area that is home to the largest population of captive red pandas – again precious, adorable. They were much more active and apparently get on like a sack of cats – lots of them showed signs of battle and one guy had completely lost his tail. Red pandas are not really pandas but have earned the name because they are red and eat bamboo.

The next stop was an indoor enclosure (hooray for AC) where 6 three year olds were having their breakfast. Apparently the pandas are kept inside quite a bit in summer because their typical habitat is above 2500 meters and Chengdu is much lower so the weather is too hot for them. Like the others, these pandas were also shockingly adorable. At this point we were becoming antsy about holding pandas. Our tour guide Zhen Zhen had sent one of the drivers ahead to make a reservation for us. The group was led to the panda nursery but we were told to wait a minute. After sending everyone else ahead Zhen Zhen took us to the back of the building and dragged us to the head of the line to hold a panda. We had to wait a bit while other tour guides tried to cut us off. The driver who made our reservation watched over us and eventually put his foot down with the gatekeeper woman and after handing over a 3,000 RMB ($500) “donation” we were given plastic gloves, shoe covers and draped in blue hospital smocks and taken into the panda holding room.

Zada Is Holding a Panda!!!

Brad Is Holding a Panda!

Inside there was a polished wooden bench with a guy in the same hospital get up as us and a couple of helpers. There were also a couple of tourists finishing their turn. Basically it goes like this: the person before is holding the panda, you go sit next to them and the guy in hospital clothes picks the panda up and plonks it down in your lap. You then have 60 to 90 seconds to take all the pictures you can. All the while the panda is munching on a steady supply of apples that one of the helpers keeps shoving on him. Pandas are extremely furry. Their hair is rather coarser than I expected but I suppose that’s for keeping warm in the mist cloud forest that they are supposed to be living in. We all agree, holding a panda is perhaps the best thing ever.

Kimberly Is Holding a Panda!

The rest of our time at the panda base was less exciting. We watched a video about the work they do making pandas and toured a sad museum the signs told us was being renovated. Then there was a gift shop and the ride back to the hostel. We showered (Chengdu has Houston weather in the summer) and then ate. Flush with our success with the pandas we booked the Sichuan Opera teahouse performance for that evening.

The performance was excellent as was the theater (though it was open air so it was a bit steamy). When we sat down we were served cups of jasmine tea which were constantly refreshed throughout the performance. This was not just a Sichuan opera performance as it also featured other forms of performance from the region. There was a puppet show in which the puppeteer made the puppet throw and catch things. There was something called “rolling light” in which a man prances and crawls around the stage with a lit lamp on his head. Most exciting to Zada was the hand shadow display. Ever since, where ever a shadow is cast, she is trying to recreate the flapping birds or the owl or the dog. Then of course there was the actual opera. It seems to me a little less shrill than the Beijing version. The costumes were spectacular and the traditional instruments sounded great. One of the best things was the face changing. Dancers wearing masks twirl around the stage and every so often the will change masks faster than blinking. It was amazing to watch, especially when they would put masks back on then off and then on again. That part also included a guy breathing fire which is obviously the coolest.

Sadly, we discovered that our ugliness about mainland Chinese being the most obnoxious audiences in the world wasn’t just shrill spitefulness because Beijing was so disappointing. Here again, no one shut up for a second – the people in the row behind us going so far as to “sing” along. Kimberly had a flashback to her worst ever experience at HGO when in the middle of Mimi and Rodolfo’s first duet she became aware of some bizarre sound and whipped around to discover an elderly Chinese man singing along with Mimi. Flames and venom shot from her eyes and if a single one of her prayers were answered he is now living in a leper colony somewhere. It was like that, but as it was the whole audience, there wasn’t anyone to look daggers at. Ah well. This is doubtless why both performances were just about loud enough to make you bleed from the ears.

When planning this trip we allotted time to make the journey to Tibet. We knew it wasn’t looking good even before we left home but we held out hope that the mercurial powers that be who decide when Tibet is and is not open would open it up in time for us to go. We arrived and found that we were doomed to disappointment. So our thoughts turned to what to do with the surplus time we found ourselves with. We decided to take an extra day in Chengdu to sort it out. We investigated the trains again and found that trains going to places we wanted to go had only hard seats available for at least a week. So again we took to the skies booking passage to Guilin and a few days in the Flowers Hostel. Just a plug here for the hostel in Chengdu – Sim’s Cozy Garden Hostel was fantastic. The staff was incredibly well informed, competent and genuinely helpful with everything.

They need to send this sign to the good people of Xian

Xian- a more or less completely successful day

2011-07-30T08:35:00.000-05:00

We got to Xian, collected our luggage and headed to the train station. Ironic I know since we’d had hopped all along to arrive there by train. The train station is where the buses that go to the Terracotta Warriors Museum leave from. An important note about Xian is that many things that are supposedly in Xian are really not in Xian. For example, the airport is more than 40 km from town, so it’s about a 50 minute bus ride to town. We got to the station where we found the left luggage office (which looked like all of China was storing a bag there) and quickly found the bus to the warriors. FYI: the Warriors are not actually in Xian either. Like the airport, they’re some distance from the city, about 35 km.

The Xian train station was a seriously old school Chinese train station – thousands of travelers with their random assortments of odd packages, bins, buckets, boxes and the like sitting all over a pavement roughly the size of a football field. The remaining pockets of space were monopolized by vendors of socks, fried critter on a stick and other oddments. The “Patriotic Stop Spitting Everywhere and Chain Smoking” campaign clearly hasn’t resonated quite as strongly out here in the sticks (only 4.5 million or so).

So, another hour later we were in line buying tickets to see the warriors and trying to get 400 pushy tour guides to leave us alone. Like everything else in China that is worth seeing, the Terracotta Warriors are surrounded by a flea market. One thing was saw there and have seen nowhere else in China is dog pelts for sale. I mean like, that’s a german shepperd, and that one is a collie, and that’s a rotweiller. The whole thing was pretty unpleasant. I don’t mean to sound like some militant vegetarian or anything and know that the Chinese have a different relationship with dogs than we do but I don’t see the appeal of a dog skin rug. We put that behind us and walked a long way to the actual entrance to the site. There was the usual elbowing and general lack of line to get through and once inside it took some time to find where anything was.

The terracotta army was ordered by the first emperor of the Qin Dynasty. He was a brutal tyrant who led the Kingdom of Qin to victory over the neighboring states in about 220 BC. He standardized weights and measures and writing and basically created the idea of “China” and a unified whole which has lasted for 2200 years now. He also burned lots of books, had a large number of scholars buried alive and executed anyone who looked at him funny. Curiously, there were several attempts to assassinate him which made him paranoid and obsessed with becoming immortal. So he commanded thousands of slaves to create a life size replica of his army in clay to protect him in the afterlife. The figures are so detailed as to have different faces. It is thought that there were 8 generic heads that the artists then went about individualizing, probably using the faces of the actual army as their models. It is interesting to look at the faces and imagine that you are looking at the portraits of people who lived more than 2000 years ago.

Headless Cocktail Party

Eventually we stumbled upon “Pit 2”. This is a collection of horse drawn chariots and archers but it is mostly unexcavated so there’s not much to see there except a few specimens behind glass. Next we found “Pit 3” which they suppose was the command center of the army. There was a bit more there, numerous statues, most without heads, right hands out clutching spears long since rotted away. As the picture shows, they look like a headless cocktail party. Finally we came to “Pit 1” where the bulk of the army is buried. This is the place where the scale of the undertaking really hits you. All the pits are covered with buildings but Pit 1 is covered by an aircraft hangar. I’d say it is 300 yards long, or more. And there they stand, hundreds of the warriors in long lines, staring at you from across 2 millennia. There are parts of Pit 1 where you can see people digging the pieces out of the ground and a place where you can see the warriors being reconstructed. When you see the state most of them are in when they come out of the ground it is astonishing how many they have put back together.

The pit also featured the requisite jade shops, photo booths and a “have your own features cast on a terracotta warrior” shop – tempting!

We made it back to town on the bus and after some digging with a flashlight the folks in the luggage office surfaced with our bags. We went to our hotel which was not the easiest to find because it was in this walled compound with the Sofitel and some other hotels. The hotel was lovely and the whole compound was scented! We wanted to go out into the city for dinner and asked the concierge for a vegetarian recommendation. This landed us at a gorgeous restaurant that boasted lovely ground floor aquariums with sea turtles and other exotica. Aquariums – that pleasant thought held for almost 20 seconds while I my brain slowly processed that this was the menu – not the décor. Back out into the streets – seafood is very popular in Xian and by refusing to slow down next to anyplace with a tank in/on/near it, we had almost no options. We did find a place at last and the food was excellent – very spicy and had to be sent back because the tofu was floating next to big hunks of beef at first, but in the end, delicious.

Fabulous as it is, it does get a bit exhausting

Shanghai- Here comes the sun

2011-07-30T08:29:00.000-05:00

View from our hotel room

Were we all glad to be leaving Beijing and there’s no better way to feel like you are putting some serious distance between you and a place than by taking a train that goes 192 miles per hour. The bullet train was not our first choice but when it was Brad’s turn at the window to buy tickets his Chinese proved unequal to the task of asking for the overnight train. The bullet train line between the capital and Shanghai is fairly new and has had several “incidents” which we didn’t know about until later. Watching the countryside rip by at almost 200 mph is a bit jarring, like trying to watch a TV show on fast forward.

So a few hours later we found ourselves in Shanghai which the Lonely Planet guidebook had warned us contained no English speakers. Phrasebook in hand, Brad approached the subway ticket counter ready for battle. The young woman behind the glass looked at him and said, “Which station?” So much for Lonely Planet. We got into the city quite easily and found the neighborhood with our hotel. We went the wrong way however and found a Starbucks, (yes, more child bribery – the vanilla frappuccino and cake ball) so it turned out to be the right way. Inside, more supposedly non-existent English speakers sold us coffee and told us how to get to our hotel. We found it without any further detours and got checked into our room on the 17th floor with its wonderful view of the city.

Fish!

Shanghai is where our travel plans unraveled. Our intention had been to take trains across China. Inquiries at the local travel agencies and at the concierge desk in the Peace Hotel (from where the Gang of Four orchestrated the destruction of China) proved that there was no room on any train going anywhere we wanted to go for at least 5 days. As wonderful a Shanghai was, we couldn’t really spend the week. After much hemming and hawing we settled on flying around which is still somewhat affordable in China. Not train affordable, but at least we could get a seat. We later discovered that the reason behind the lack of train space is that school holidays began July first. Tip: if you are planning a trip to China in the summer, go in June. Also use a travel agent in your homeland who can arrange your train tickets before hand.

That first evening in Shanghai we walked along the waterfront to admire its collection of colonial architecture. It’s a mash up of neo-classical, art nouveau, and gothic buildings. This area is called the Bund and it’s where all the European merchants set up shop in the 19th century. As the sun went down we saw that at night Shanghai is lit up like the Strip in Vegas. Every skyscraper has lights flashing up and down its sides. There was more than one building that had stock market updates and advertizing 50 stories high on all sides. We walked over to Nanjing Road which is like a Chinese Times Square for dinner and dessert and then back to our hotel.

The next day we went back to the Bund and had breakfast in a café while we decided what to do. We settled on the Yuyuan Gardens. They were first built in the late 16th century by a wealthy Ming Dynasty official and, though roughed up a few times during the Taiping Rebellion and World War 2, look wonderful. To get to them however you must brave a bazaar of unbelievable greatness. The problem with shopping in China is that you cannot be “just looking”. If you even slowdown to look at something in a shop the proprietor will swoop down on you and attempt to make you buy it. There were many amazing things to see but we soldiered on through the shops and found the entrance to the gardens, across from a Starbucks! Shanghai’s weather is such that it calls to mind Houston in late April so we were glad to get a cool drink before heading into the tranquil gardens. The garden was indeed quite wonderful. Narrow path wound here and there through forests drooping pine trees and bizarrely weathered rocks to pavilions with delicately carved window panels and brightly painted walls and ceilings. There were pools teeming with fish and turtles with little bridges across. Another thing about Shanghai is that relative to Beijing, the air is pristine and completely breathable so walking around was quite pleasant.

Jasmine Fairy - $10(USD)!

After the gardens we went for a giant plate of noodles with spinach and rice and then to a teahouse in the center of the bazaar near the entrance to the gardens. It’s perched over a pond full of goldfish, ducks and turtles and is reached by a zigzagging stone bridge. It was an old school teahouse where the teas all have amazingly fruity names and they bring you a little plate of snacks like boiled quail eggs and baked tofu with your tea. We all enjoyed our tea while watching the seething mass of people below wander around the bridge trying to get a picture without a 100 other people in it.

This is the teahouse - we were on the second floor

Shanghai was a wonderful restorative after the misery of Beijing. Oddly relaxing when you consider that 23 million souls call it home – almost twice the population of Beijing. It was clean, incredibly easy to get around and everyone spoke English. We are not the kind of people who feel that we have the right to expect anyone to speak anything but their native tongue, still it was very nice. But it was time to move on so we headed to the airport and made our way to Xian.

Beijing- Where the sun don’t shine

2011-07-30T08:16:00.000-05:00

Happy Birthday Communist Party!

Ming Dynasty Barbie and Ken - this is new since our last visit

If you were hoping to see China someday then I have some bad news for you: it’s too late. Everyone knows about the phenomenal growth that China has been experiencing in the last several years. What you have not seen on 60 Minutes or Dateline is that all that money flowing into China has created a middle class, and they go on vacation. In a way that’s great. Just as in the US we want people to go to the Smithsonian and the National Parks and to generally enjoy the nation’s cultural and natural heritage, the Chinese government seems to be pushing that too. Unfortunately, China, big as it is, has very little natural space set aside. Much of its cultural heritage was destroyed in the Cultural Revolution so you have many, many Chinese flocking to see relatively few things. The result is that at sites like the Forbidden City you have a sea of tour guides carrying little flags for a busload of people all wearing the same bright orange visor to follow. Now imagine 3000 such groups, all of them flowing past the same 5 things that everyone else, including you, came to see. Your kindergarten teacher told miserable lies – sharing isn’t great.

Pooh with the Chairman

Next, the Chinese are in serious need of a crying Indian/ Woodsy the Owl anti-littering campaign. We watched a young woman on the Great Wall wipe grime off her shoes with a napkin and then throw the soiled tissue over the side, while standing 2 feet from a trash can. Why not? Everyone else was lobbing plastic bottles, snack wrappers and indeed whole ramen bowls off the walls. This utter lack of respect for cleanliness or for preserving cultural relics by not touching/scratching/climbing/spitting on them was alarmingly rampant. At the Forbidden City we watched person after person put their hands on the huge bronze basins that were kept full of water to fight fires back in the Emperor’s day, right in front of a sign telling people not to touch the relic. (To be fair, we could only read the English on the sign. It is possible that it told the Chinese to touch all they wanted since the laowai were not allowed to.)Then there are the marble carvings that appear to be melting in a way I can tell you they were not 8 years ago. The bricks in the large courtyards are being pounded to dust under the weight of millions of feet. If it were just the crowds then possibly one could deal. The true horror is the neglect that so many parts of the Forbidden City and the Great Wall are suffering. It is clear that the outer areas of the Forbidden City got a fresh coat of paint for the Olympics. However, beyond those places the deterioration is extreme.

Finally, the sun truly does not shine in Beijing. What passes for sunny skies is a yellowish pall through which the sun is able to cast dim shadows. It is exactly like the post-apocalyptic sky in all those cornball movies. The sky in any case has no definition. You cannot look up and see clouds or blue. It’s a permanent fog. I suppose that we should be glad it’s not worse considering how many more cars are on the road in Beijing now.

On the plus side, there seems to be a lot less substance to the air. My previous recollections were of its utter and absolute un-breathability. The bikes are gone, replaced by thousands of electric scooters and motorcycle carts. Sadly, these drive all over the sidewalks – but we sometimes saw cars doing the same. Understandably, as the traffic is truly horrendous. Other post Olympic improvements include dramatic decreases in smoking and spitting. The signs extolling the “Patriotic Health Campaign” are still here and there and we met some people who told us in the feverish preparations leading up to ’08 the government actually sent texts reminding people not to spit everywhere. There is still a plague of little boys peeing on street corners, but if the Chinese ever embrace the disposable diaper I imagine the Earth could not possibly support the weight of it. The need to water the sidewalks wherever and whenever is rendered slightly confusing as the city now boasts free public toilet facilities every couple 100 meters or so.

All in all, Beijing was not an auspicious beginning to our time in China. When we arrived we immediately got in a fight with our cab driver who took us on an enormous circle tour of the city but eventually to our hotel. That night we managed to find the theater where they do Beijing Opera which was excellent. Kimberly was disappointed that the tables where they used to serve tea and snacks had been replaced by more seating – all obstructed view. We were all disappointed that the Chinese apparently do not know how to sit quietly through a performance. Most of them were just talking in normal conversational tones, but one guy got in an argument with the usher and absolutely refused to shut up for several minutes. (This was the first of several scenes that showed us that there is no longer a sufficient military or police presence in China. Another was at the airport in Shanghai where a guy actually threw one of the x-ray trays at one of the security screeners after screaming and yelling for several minutes and they let him through! Imagine doing that at an American airport.)

Our working theory is that when order has been maintained by a rifle pointed at your head for 90+ years, people aren’t about to follow directions or take anything from other ordinary citizens. There seems to be a real sense of uncertainty about how things are to be handled. No one feels any inclination to do as they’re directed by clerks, sales people or monitors. We have not seen hardly any military anywhere – it makes us somewhat nervous. Where are they? What are they doing? Can they all be censoring online content? Creating World of Warcraft avatars for profit? We thought that was what they used prisoners for. Anyway, we all enjoyed the parts of the performance we could hear. The costumes were particularly fabulous.

Forbidden City - Hironymus Bosch Edition

The dead bird is in a direct line under the handbag

The next day we went to the Forbidden City which we already described as swarming with tour groups. The amount of pushing and shoving we endured coupled with the depressing shape the place is in made it hard to enjoy it. We had planned to spend the day but after a few hours we were most definitely funned out. The final straw was the museum of ceramics next to the burned out hulk of what was once a beautiful palace now disintegrating practically before your eyes. In the ceramic museum there is perhaps one whole piece. The rest is potsherds that would be discarded as worthless on most archaeological digs. This, however, is all that’s left of a once magnificent collection after the rampaging hordes of the Cultural Revolution were reined in. We walked out through the Imperial Pleasure Garden which is littered with candy and popsicle wrappers. There are people sitting in the gardens scratching their names on the rocks and trampling the plants. The “jade ribbon” canal was choked with trash and a rotting dead bird carcass – which did not keep small children from splashing around in its murky shallows.

We spent the rest of that day trying to buy train tickets to Shanghai and to eat. We had to go to the train station to buy tickets since although they have a ticket office that says they book train tickets, the Sha Tan Hotel does not in fact book train tickets. That took several hours because, though there are 80 or more ticket windows at Beijing South Station, only 2 (literally) are open - this despite the fact that there are two hundred people in each line. I guess 400 people in a city of 13 million is not that many. Anyway, next we went looking for a Papa John’s pizza (yes, bribing the child) that the internet claimed existed. This turned out to be false, though in China things that are planned are treated as if they already exist. On our way back to our hotel we were pleased to find a place called Grandma’s Kitchen “American Home Cooking” and it sure was. We had a wonderfully restorative dinner and headed back to prepare for our trip to the Great Wall.

We booked the standard tour to the Wall because we had found that getting around Beijing is far too great a pain so we paid for the convenience of being ferried around. The problem with this tour is that it takes you to several “museums” which are really shops. We were treated to the jade, silk, pearl, and tea museums. The tea place was actually pretty good. The woman told us about the different teas, how they should be prepared etc. and we got to drink the tea. The others were just awful; five minutes of interesting information and 40 minutes of standing around with people trying to talk you into buying something.

The Wall, like the Forbidden City, is awash in Chinese tour groups. From the base looking up all you can see is a brightly colored river of humanity snaking up the mountainside. Climbing up was like being a salmon swimming upstream including the part about wanting to die at the end. The Great Wall was covered by the Great Pall so it was difficult to see very far. The higher was climbed the worse the view got. We abandoned our attempt to get to the top of the section because of the depression brought on by the state of the Wall. Also, knowing that we would be fighting against the tide of sweaty people going up, we’d never make it down in time.

Built to Protect China From the Mongol Horde - the Han horde is too much for it

Another distraction we began facing in China was the tremendous number of people who wanted our picture or wanted their picture or their child’s picture taken with Zada. This did not happen to us in Mongolia but in China everyone seems to want a photo of the wily and elusive person of European descent. On the street in Beijing a few people stopped dead in their tracks and started snapping away like we were celebrities or pandas strolling across Tiananmen Square. Poor Zada must have had her picture taken 10 times or more on the wall. She played along well doing her part to make the Chinese think that Americans are friendly people. What is this about? Our kind were everywhere, surely the fascination should have worn off by now. We are often unique when travelling because of Zada; not this year. We have seen countless intrepid/deranged families towing flotillas of small children all over China. Anyhow, that takes up a bit of time as well. The people who ask are much less funny than those who hunker down and try to get all “wild kingdom” – surreptitiously photographing Zada.

Marxism - A Thriving Economic System

After the rugby scrum at the Wall were taken to the Ming Tombs. Kimberly was there about 14 years ago when it was basically a bunch of ruins and holes in the ground, everything having been despoiled during the Cultural Revolution. At that time they said as much. Now, the site is rebuilt, and the guides do not say that everything was destroyed but that “excavations are ongoing” or “that area is not open to visitors for its protection”. This is representative of the revisionist view of history that most Chinese seem to have. On every street corner there is someone hawking Chairman Mao watches/ tote bags/ key chains etc. I figured that that stuff was for the tourists but the long lines to visit Mao’s mausoleum show that they’re still in love with that nut and think that everything they have today is the result of his forward thinking (sic) policies.

Overall, our time in Beijing was a disappointment. Although it was a little amusing to see them fetishizing their own traditional culture, it was mostly sad to see the Chinese gawking at the shattered remnants of their once great civilization. It is striking when compared with Russia which went through much of the same upheaval in the 20th century. In Russia, they have such respect for their heritage and patrimony that much of the treasure of the Czars has been preserved (or, to be fair, wrested from every corner of their empire – we did see many “gifts” from the people of Armenia, Ukraine, Tajikistan and the like). Meanwhile, in China, they were actively destroying anything that predated the advent of the Chinese Communist Party. I wonder if it hurts them deep down that people the world over come to see the China of 2000 years ago and there’s so little left that they have had to fake it up, or show pottery fragments like they’re some great achievement.

A View of The Forbidden City - Sans Tour Groups

This is all very negative – to reinforce the positives: the Chinese are getting to enjoy their own country, the streets/sidewalks are much enlarged, cleaner and repaved, the subway system is totally redone and is a thing of beauty. In five more years it will be a totally different scene. They will be forced to embrace online booking and develop some sort of real system to manage these tourist sites or they will be ground into dust.

The Wheels on the Train...get switched around

2011-07-30T07:43:00.000-05:00

The rest of our Trans-Mongolian experience was largely uneventful until our next border crossing. Russia and Mongolia (as a result of their liberation by Russia) are on a different rail gauge than the rest of the known universe - this necessitates their hoisting the train on pnuematic?/hydraulic? lifts, mechanics scurrying under the carriages to detach the one set of wheels, then sliding the next under and securing them and finally lowering the whole mess back onto the rails to resume the journey. You couldn't feel the lifting, but the process of positioning the train in the hangar, detatching all the carrs and then rehooking them was fantastically jarring.
Border formalities took the usual eon - very oddly the Chinese border station has no ATM or facilities of any kind for acquiring money. the most podunk Russian and Mongolian hamlets ALL had their ATMs front and center. How can you be coaxed into impulse snack buying if you have no immediate access to cash? There was also no ATM in the train station in Beijing. This was starting to seriously weird us out - we know the Chinese are brilliant moneymakers and everything is wretchedly still cah based. It was all very reminiscent of Kimberly's first trip to Beijing with her dear friend Rebecca. They had gobs of Korean won which they discovered after the fact could not be traded in the PRC, the ATM had not yet made an appearance behind the bamboo curtain and the banks were on holiday.
See video of the wheel change on our youtube channel!
http://www.youtube.com/user/beartubalooza

NADAAM!!

2011-07-13T02:55:00.000-05:00

The Mongol horde loved Pooh

We were up and out early to get to the opening ceremonies and events at the stadium. We didn’t have to ask directions or consult a map; we just joined the teeming river of humanity surging across town. The grounds around the stadium were like a state fair – thousands of vendors and hawkers, food stands, face painting, but adding to the spectacle were the participants in the procession, dressed in a variety of gorgeous historical costumes and the crowd itself, largely dressed in traditional silk robes.

Archery!

The first traditional sport showcase we found, after some aimless wandering just taking in the scene, was archery. The archers were quite skilled and good thing too, as the score keepers were standing right next to the targets (stacks of cylinders – scores seem to be based on exactly where you hit the stack and how much of it you knocked over). There was also a lovely flower display right in the middle of the green and a little woman tending the roses – completely indifferent to the projectiles whizzing around her head.

Ankle bone shooting

Next we followed the sound of chanting interspersed with loud cheers to find the ankle bone shooting. What is ankle bone shooting you ask? We’re not 100% sure ourselves, so visit our youtube channel and decide for yourselves. If you figure it out leave a comment to let us know. It involves a large group of men sitting in a long oval on these tiny little stools chanting for a very long time; until suddenly the contestant quickly flicks a square tile from a wooden block at two ankle bones set on a small stage about 8 to 10 feet away. The chanting may be ritualistic, centering or trash-talk. When the shooting tile is retrieved it is given to the other contestant by means of tossing all around the ring of men from hand to hand.

We watched a Mongol horde race into the stadium, Tsam dancers with their splendid masks, and a procession of fabulously ornate flag bearers. After all of this we were starving and a little overwhelmed by crowds and fabulous, so we headed out to forage for sustenance and look for more tchotchkes. The search for all things was a bit hampered by so many businesses being closed for Nadaam, but we persevered. We ended up at the Grand Khan Irish Pub, which had the dual benefit of being outside the theater where the Mongolian National Song and dance Academic Ensemble was performing AND having vegetarian versions of several Mongolian dishes. Mongolian cuisine is unbelievably dense and filling – a quarter of a serving and you think you may never eat again.

Dinner over, we rolled into the theater. All the arts academies are having all kinds of special galas and performances for the holiday. Our program was wonderful! We had been wanting to hear the amazing horsehead fiddle and it vastly exceeded any expectations. The music was incredible – we also heard Mongolian long-song and the throat singing, more Tsam dancers and much more. The traditional music was lovely, but they also played Mozart on the Mongolian instruments and that was tremendous fun. The second half was dancing – all very gorgeous. There was also a contortionist - horrifically good.

We feel like we do this for a living also

The lovely evening took a turn for the worse when we emerged from the theater into a huge rainstorm. We had checked the forecast that morning and it had said there was no chance for rain. The sky absolutely opened, pouring down torrents of icy water and we were almost a mile from our hotel. The thousands of taxis that we had been dodging all day had evaporated – just like the legions of umbrella sellers who had been soliciting our business all day. Did we have our rain coats? Don’t be stupid; of course not!

The roads already don’t drain, in this deluge they become swiftly rushing rivers of filth. We resigned ourselves to flesh eating infections and waded in. About 2/3rds of the way there, it became so intense that we couldn’t see anything but the lightning strikes. We took shelter in a little French bistro – a providential discovery, as it turned out to be a haven of warmth and incredible desserts.

Zada & Pooh on Turtle Rock

Next day, we were up and out early again. We had booked a tour to see a little of the countryside. These things are somewhat cheesy, but much easier than working out our own transport given that we don’t speak Mongolian. We went to Terelj National Park and saw the Turtle Rock and then visited the beautifully restored Aryapala monastery. The Soviets shut down all the religious establishments when they liberated Mongolia from Chinese influence. Buddhism is making a striking comeback. The landscape was truly lovely – smoothly sloping hills carpeted in fresh green and covered in wildflowers periodically interrupted by rocky outcroppings and enormous boulders weathered into fantastic shapes.

See the elephant?

panda!

The monastery looks like an elephants head from a distance due to the 108 stairs leading up to the entrance. It was a bit of a hike up to the staircase as well, but the trip was rendered educational by signposts carrying Tantras translated into Mongolian Cyrillic and English. The vividly painted temple stood out splendidly against the perfect blue sky. We couldn’t have asked for a nicer day. There were all sorts of whimsical architectural details that rewarded closer examination of the structure. The rafters were all brightly decorated and supported by charming carvings of various animals – including a panda. We wandered all over the complex, visiting the school where the monks learn to read the Buddhist script – the Mongolian version is a branch of Tibetan Buddhism and pictures of the Dalai Lama were very much in evidence.

We arrived at a collection of three gers where we were to get fitted out for a horseback ride and have lunch. The pater familias arrived just after us, popped the trunk, and pulled out an enormous sheep in a sack. The sheep was most unhappy with this state of affairs and struggled mightily to free himself. We felt sure things would end poorly for the sheep, and stressed again that we were VEGETARIAN. All the country people seem to be blessed with almost super-human strength. The dad lifted that huge sheep like a loaf of bread and his wife, when Kimberly was looking around for a mounting block, just tossed her into the saddle. Speaking of saddles – Brad got a traditional wooden saddle. He signally failed to appreciate this opportunity to live history.

After riding around the hills and meadows for a while we then headed back to eat. As we rode up to the beautifully painted ger door we noticed a sheep skin casually draped over a post. Ah well, circle of life. We were offered steaming bowls of yak milk to refresh ourselves after the ride – it’s very thick and salty. We were very proud of Zada, who drank and ate everything she was offered. Oddly, the item she had the most trouble with was a dill pickle. They had prepared vegetarian versions of everything. We had potato pies in place of the meat and our soup was minus the ovine bits floating around in the other bowls. Everything was good, but they could have fed a vegetarian army with the amount they had prepared.

Our last port of call was the giant Chinggis Khan statue. This thing was incredible – over 40 meters high set on a ten meter pedestal which houses a museum, café and gift shop. They have a whole elaborate scheme planned out with the planting of 1 million trees and 800 gers. It is already very impressive and it is hard to imagine what it will be like when they finish. We got to go up to the walkway on the mane of his horse – it is an open walkway affording breathtaking views of miles of countryside. We saw 5 or 6 golden eagles riding thermals also.

After that, we headed back into UB, along the road we saw enormous herds of cashmere goats, sheep, the ubiquitous horses and even some yaks. Less expectedly, we saw Bactrian camels scattered about the roadsides – their handlers were selling photo ops. Zada was disappointed to see you just sat on a sitting camel – she had hoped rides were available. We cleaned up and went back to the French bistro for more decadent dessert – we were still too full from lunch to manage any dinner, but there is always room for profiteroles!

Mongolia has been a wonderful experience and we leave here, as from everywhere else, (except Irkutsk) wishing we had more time.

We're Not In Russia Anymore, Toto

2011-07-13T02:28:00.000-05:00

As soon as we arrived we raced off to get our tickets to Beijing. This is no reflection on Mongolia - every tourist we’ve met since we left Moscow planned to attend Nadaam and then continue to Beijing, so we were in a mild conniption about tickets being sold out. There is only one train a week. Mongolia seems great and all, but we have Pandas and possibly Tibet (yes, that again – rumor is they will reopen Tibet July 25th, which just happens to be the exact date we hoped to arrive!) to get to.

Guess who this is!

Tickets in hand, we headed off in search of our hotel, a task rendered more challenging by the fact that Mongolians don’t really use street addresses – all businesses have them and that is what is in all the English language guides to assist you in locating them, but almost no buildings have numbers on them. They also have a fun practice where a street might go by multiple names! They don’t list all the names together – they just switch them out periodically, so that you can’t understand why you seem to be someplace entirely different when you know you haven’t turned.

Their uniforms are more fun than ours

This luggage hampered roaming (every person, place and thing everywhere tells you not to wander about with bags during Nadaam) turned out to be perfect as we stumbled into Suhbaatar Square just in time for a perfectly gorgeous military review/parade. Every unit had its own marvelous traditional Mongolian horsehair standard and after we watched each unit march by, then came the cavalry units! The horses were followed by tanks, which were followed by rockets launchers. Last, but not least, the enormous missiles!

Missiles!

Mongol calvary brought to you by Benneton!

The exact center of UB

The population of Mongolia is just under 3 million, almost half of whom live in UB. At least 2/3rds of those were jostling us for prime camera angles in the square. It was a huge, riotously happy, colorful and patriotic scene. No problem finding a flag for Zada here – there are two flying from every vehicle and vendors pushing flags, flag umbrellas, stickers, tattoos and tea cozies. Lots of people were turned out in the traditional calf length, heavy silk coat (many positively crusted over with medals recognizing various sorts of meritorious service to the country) and pointed boots – absolutely gorgeous.

View from our hotel

Once we finally unloaded those stupid, wretched, loathsome bags (next trip everyone gets only a toothbrush and a change of underwear), we went back out to find lunch and the much extolled Mongolian handicrafts. Both ventures were extremely successful. There isn’t much of a vegetarian culture in Mongolia, but what we found was delicious. Also, some of the expat community has dedicated their time in UB to sharing their own cultural marvels (like crème brulee) with their hosts. The crafts are wonderful. Fantastic felted wool creations, gorgeous hand embroidery and of course, cashmere everything.

We Miss the Provodnitsa

2011-07-13T02:13:00.000-05:00

Trans-Mongolian (not very express)

The first thing we noticed as our train rolled into the station was that it was not a Russian train, but a Chinese one. It was the Number 4 that makes the trip from Beijing to Moscow. After being aboard for a bit we decided that we missed the “provodnitsa”. A Chinese train car is a bit more Spartan than the Russian version. Then benches are harder, the sheets don’t fit as well and the car is not as clean. It wasn’t all bad though because we discovered that the hot water pot that each train has is heated with charcoal on a Chinese train. By the time we arrived in Ulaan Baatar we were very glad we hadn’t ridden that train all across Russia.

Coal!

We managed to win the cabin mate lottery again (meaning we did not get stuck with a creepy/smelly/smoking guy). This time we landed with a Mongolian college student on her way home for the summer from Ekaterinaburg where she studies. She was also our first roommate who spoke English. She helped us fill out the customs form that was entirely in Mongolian Cyrillic.

The most tiresome parts of this leg of the trip were the border crossings. Our stay on the Russian border was scheduled for 216 minutes and it ran over. First they came through and collected out passports and left the train with them. We waited. A customs agent came through and wanted to look at our bags. She laughed at the samovar we purchased and left. We waited. A few men with large German Shepherds walked through. We waited. A woman with a flashlight ordered us out of the compartment and tossed it like it was our cell on Alcatraz. We waited. The sky grew dark. The lady with the passports came back and returned them. And we waited. Finally the train rolled on. After a few kilometers we arrived at the Mongolian border post. We waited. A customs agent came and stamped our declarations. We waited. A man and a woman in crisp green uniforms came and took our passports away. We waited. A woman with a flashlight (Mongolian this time) tossed our compartment like it was our cell in a low security prison. We waited. The sun set and night fell. Crickets chirped in the tall grass and mosquitoes buzzed in through open windows. People grew old and died. And we waited. The crisp green uniforms returned with our passports. After a bit more waiting we rolled on into the steppe.

Beautiful Mongolia

We planned to pass out for the five hours left to us of the night. Except we didn’t because the Chinese train steward wanted our sheets at 5:30 – never mind we were at least 30 minutes behind and never going to make the 6:30 arrival. Ah well, we admired the lush Mongolian countryside. Rolling, treeless hills of velvety green dotted with gers and their attendant horse herds.

We Knew that Siberia Was Synonomous With Punishment

2011-07-13T02:08:00.000-05:00

Irkutsk - the Capital of Eastern Siberia!

We should be aux anges with anyplace that isn’t the train, right? Well, the verdict on Irkutsk/Lake Baikal is mixed. We hate, loathe and despise the parts we didn’t find gorgeous and wonderful. In Irkutsk, the first thing to strike the eye is that the vehicles are a bizarre 50/50 split of left and right side driver seats. After learning that the streets with no walk lights/stop signs are the ones where pedestrians have the right to take their best shot; we were able to turn our attention to the large number of old wooden houses richly ornamented with marvelous carved decorations. These were lovely, and it is very sad that so many burned out hulks here and there around town testify to the loss of many more– doubtless due to the local custom of tossing un-extinguished cigarettes around like so much confetti.

While there were tasty baked goods and decent vegetable dumplings about, we suffered our worst culinary misfortune here in quest of Zada’s interminable pizza. Picasso Pizza more than lived up to its name – I think our pizza dated from his Synthetic Cubist period. It was not representational.

Lake Baikal - it's real big

Nerpas - precious even when in the seal gulag

Lake Baikal – stunning; Nerpas – precious; Listvyanka – ugh. The ride out was like a cheap danger carnival ride. Everyone needs a spinal readjustment. They should have put those political prisoners onto building real roads out here. The cratered surfaces and disintegrating sidewalks made seeing the town an obstacle course. It had been described as terribly touristy. All we can say is that they have a lot to learn about tourism and tourists. Russia has all these amazing places, all this incredible history and is sitting on piles of treasure – natural and man-made and they have no idea how to present/package/market whatever it is that tourist traps elsewhere do to attract and appeal and sell you stuff. We had planned a boat trip to the island for the real deal pretty, but being showered with raw filth from vehicles racing through the sludge-filled road craters used up those last crumbs of tolerance for this part of Russia and we scammed our way onto the first bus out.

We’re on this train for how long?

2011-07-13T01:55:00.000-05:00

Ekaterinaburg - where Europe meets Asia

88 hours and 10 minutes. That is the length of the train ride (including stops) from Moscow to Irkutsk. An interesting tidbit about rail (and air) travel in Russia is that all departure and arrival times are set to Moscow time. Russia spans 11 time zones so to eliminate any possible confusion with schedules if you’re on the train, it’s Moscow time. For our current situation (Irkutsk is 5 hours ahead of Moscow), imagine being in New York and having to plan your travel to say Atlanta, based on what time it is in Anchorage. So, our tickets say we arrive in Irkutsk at 4:35am, but that’s really 9:35am. Better yet, the ticket says we leave the 8th at 11:50pm but that’s really the 9th at 4:50am. As I said, this is to eliminate confusion.

To sum up, we don’t know what time it is now, what time we arrive, when we are scheduled to depart or what time it is in Mongolia. Doubtless, all this will be resolved.

birch trees and fireweed

Pooh enjoying the comfort of the air-conditioned dining car

The landscape has been mostly attractive – lush, green fields with wildflowers interspersed with birch stands and every so often punctuated with small rural communities. These places are often quite charming in a rustic way. The houses are small and made of dark wood with colorful decorative elements around the windows and doors. Each has a garden of vegetables and flowers in lieu of a lawn. We were continually moved to ask, “What on Earth are these people doing out here?” There was no visible industry, not even farming. A few were clearly logging towns and some appeared to raise cows but most were far flung clusters of humanity independent of roads, shops or services of any description.

wooden quaint

We played endless rounds of card games, did some journaling and regretted buying only one Kindle, deeply. Every stop of more than 2 minutes saw us racing for the platform to purchase snacks from the babushkas who meet every train. They come with fresh produce and homemade foodstuffs. A lot of it looked great, but we had struggled enough with the Russian concept of “vegetarian” – meaning “I like vegetables with all the meat on my plate”, so we cravenly stuck to ice cream and candy bars. Some of it was somewhat bewildering – giant, split-open dried fish. What do you do with that? Just rip it apart with your teeth? One lady had a giant bin of pine cones in some sort of sauce.

Anyhow, 88 hours is a very long time to spend on a train.

It was better than Cats!

2011-07-03T01:39:00.001-05:00

Moscow –overall the city is cleaner than St.Petersburg, which is weird because St. Petersburg had deployed a veritable army of sweepers assiduously plying their brooms. The train stations are significantly scarier than those in St. Petersburg though. We arrived frightfully early and were unpleasantly surprised to see squat potties were the order of the day at the station – am I in one of wealthiest, most powerful cities on the globe or what? So far that has only happened the once – all other facilities have at least been up to late 20th century standards.

We found our hostel (Godzilla’s) and set out to track down our Moscow – Ulan Batar tickets (for some reason these can’t been done electronically), the overnight train was better than the bus because you have a bed, but it was still rough because although smoking isn’t allowed in the compartments, you can still smoke at the end of the corridor – it doesn’t have separate or any real ventilation. So, it was like sleeping in one of those 1930’s movies where the room is thick with smoke. Kimberly woke up wheezing and had lost her voice. We’ll spare the details about her bringing up the lining of her lungs for the better part of the morning.

Anyhow, en route to the ticket agency, we found a Starbucks. Normally, this wouldn’t be perceived as provenient grace or anything, but as Kimberly quickly noted – there is no smoking inside. None. At all. Not just is in one half of a completely open space. None. Normally, she is intolerable on local this and that, no chains, and “for God’s sake are you getting a Coke?” There was none of that here. $20 later, we emerged with a sunnier, more caffeinated outlook.

Tickets in hand, it was back to the Metro and on the Kremlin! It’s easy to find as you emerge from the Metro station, you simply head for the forest of gold onion domes . The Kremlin is a functioning government compound so the security is understandably tight. However, for a place that must see several thousand tourists a day, particularly at this time of year, the management of the crowds through the check point is slow to the point of absurdity. There is one working metal detector and two guards checking bags. The entrance the tourists use is the same one the people who work there use and they, of course, get to line jump. Brad was forced back to the bag check to leave the day bag we carry. Never mind the fact that the old biddies in the Italian tour group were getting in with their duffle bag sized “purses”. He did some serious line jumping of his own and is not ashamed to say so. He claims he was “going native” .

Inside you can see the cluster of churches with their fabulously carved doors and spectacularly ornamented porticos. The lunettes over the doors had elaborate frescoes as well. All these churches were gathered around a brick plaza. There is also a building that is surrounded by hundreds of captured Napoleonic cannons. We walked over to take some pictures and quickly drew the attention of at least two guards. All of the police types we have seen in Russia seem to have a black and white club about 18 inches long grafted to their hands and these were no exception. They did not speak, they just stared unwaveringly until we were back on the correct side of the line we had crossed.

Inside the various churches, which have names like Church of the Annunciation, Church of theDeposition of the Robe of our Lady, and so on, are treasures of all kinds. There are icons of every size and made of the most wonderful materials. Intricately carved ivory and gilded wood with crowns dripping pearls and encrusted with precious gems. There’s enough gold there to build a battleship. One of the churches housed the bodies of almost all the czars (not Boris Gudanov) up to Peter the Great who moved the show to St. Petersburg. In a few the walls are a bit plain but there are a couple that are frescoed on every square inch of the wall, floor and ceiling. These paintings are in various states of decay/restoration but they are all quite beautiful despite being nearly a thousand years old. One of the churches houses more modern beauties as well. We saw a collection of jewelry, snuff boxes, watches, and decorative objects belonging to various members of the royalty. Many of these were Faberge creations and were every bit as exquisite as that provenance implies.

Other sights around the Kremlin include Peter’s attempt to have the largest bell in the world made. It’s about 20 feet tall and weighs a bazillion tons. The original fell (why?) and broke, so a czarina had it recast and as it was being cooled somebody spilled water on it and a piece the size of a car door weighing 11 tons broke of,f thus ruining what would have been a very awesome bell. There is also an insanely large cannon. It was designed in 1586 to shoot 800 kilograms of grapeshot (that more than 1,700 pounds if your metric system is rusty).

Next stop, Red Square. Words really can’t describe the feeling of walking up the slight hill between the State Historical Museum and the walls of the Kremlin when the colorful domes of St. Basils come into view. Then, at the crest of the hill it really hits you: I’m in Russia! I know that sounds ridiculous. Duh, you’ve been in Russia for 4 days. Haven’t you noticed that all the writing is in Cyrillic, that everyone is speaking Russian? Nonetheless, it’s true. Until you’re standing in Red Square gawking at St. Basils it really doesn’t fell like Russia. We took dozens of pictures as we walked the length of the square, all the time jockeying for position with the throngs of other tourists trying to get that iconic Russian shot. Inside St. Basils we first learned thanks to Zada’s audio guide that it is actually 9 different churches connected with interior passageways. They all feature the familiar iconostasis that shields the alter from the prying eyes of the hoi polloi except at the time of the service. Some had plain walls and some the impressive frescoing of those in the Kremlin. Like everything else here, after a thousand years things need some work. With so much work to do it’s a wonder as much is getting done as it is.

Our second day in Moscow began with a line. We were trying to get in to the Armory Hall. There are a limited number of tickets sold to this each day and they are for set times, enigmatically called “séances”. We wanted the first one at 10 and after getting the tickets to our séance, we found ourselves in the familiar Kremlin security line. The Armory is absurd. Every last object a work of surpassing beauty and craftsmanship. The three of us kept a constant stream of “ooh, look at number whatever” all the way through. There were icons somehow even more elaborate than those we have already seen. There were unimaginably lovely Gospel covers, made of fabulously work gold and carrying a king’s ransom in spectacular jewels. Each object was beyond priceless – it speaks volumes to the sense of national pride that all of this phenomenal treasure has been so cared for long after the institutions they served and celebrated has passed from power.

There were also some Faberge eggs, each of them ludicrously detailed. Zada’s favorite was the one with a five car train inside. The engine was carved from ivory and the headlight was a microscopic but brilliant ruby. The Armory also has a collection of clothing from the czars as well as vestments wore by the leaders of the church. One such robe was embroidered with what must be 100,000 pearls. Another was red velvet crisscrossed with a latticework of at least 3 carat diamonds – there must have been hundreds, possibly thousands of them.

We also got to see the crown worn by Ivan the Terrible(among about a dozen others along with their scepters and orbs – all frosted with superb gems and capped by rubies the size of roc’s eggs and the like). They also had a couple of coronation gowns and wedding dresses belonging to Empresses. Yards of handmade lace, sumptuous velvet, ermine and everything embroidered in silver and gold thread. The waists of a couple of the dresses showed the results of lifetime of rigid corseting – Zada could just barely have gotten into them. Not that we are advocating a return to feudalism, but why can’t we make things like this anymore? Why is the level of craftsmanship and artistry achieved by illiterate slaves over a thousand years ago beyond our ability to produce?

Que sera. The next room was filled with carriages – splendid vehicles with beautifully painted panels – sometimes jewel encrusted. Next was the regalia worn by the horses, which are as gloriously jewel bedecked as almost anything the czars wore. They had a couple of taxidermed horses trussed in the full set out – a couple of magnificent diamond cluster aigrettes that Kimberly assumed were for Empresses to wear to balls and the like turned out to be for the horses.

We’ve left out the rooms of gold and silver table services, epergnes the size of Volkswagons, jeweled salt cellars, the Patriarch’s gold plate and thousands of exquisite cups, beakers, tazzas, toilet sets, and a hundred other little treasures.

There is no photography in the Armory or any of the other Kremlin interiors, so you will have to try to visualize it from our pitiful descriptions. I assure you that you will fail miserably, as human imagination is inadequate to the task.

We were going to visit Lenin in his mausoleum but when we got over to Red Square we found a very long line and so we had to pass. We headed for the Moscow Cat Theater. It is a bit hard to describe this experience. I think there was a story being told but it was all in Russian so I don’t really know. There were clowns, and cats, and a couple of dogs and it was pretty awesome. We’ll link a Youtube video we found about the place. It was unbelievably nightmarish getting there – the place was off all our maps and quite a hike from its closest Metro station we ran like fools to get there just in time. However, Zada was delighted with every second of the show, and that is what counts.

We are spending our last couple of hours in Moscow pulling together the blogs, the laundry, grocery shopping and trying to find a way to pack Kimberly’s new samovar. It hurts to not go see more fabulous – we’ve hardly been out of Red Square, but the itinerary has been so jam packed (you know the way Kimberly plans, and we haven’t done even half of what she imagined despite being up and out before 8 every morning and still going at 10 every night) that the necessary quotidian tasks have been completely neglected.

We will spend the next three days on a train, so, until Irkutsk!

(We don't have time for pictures right now but we will post some when we find internet in Irkutsk)

A hermit would be pretty sad in the Hermitage

2011-07-03T01:37:00.000-05:00

Peter the Great

The bus to St. Petersburg stopped for everyone’s passport to be processed at the Estonia border outpost of Narva. It took forever for the very stern guard to compare every single wretched passport picture with every recently wakened, bleary-eyed passenger. She left the bus with the enormous pile of passports and was gone long enough for everyone to start sweating about exactly why it was taking so long. Once we cleared that, we drove about 200 yards and all had to stumble off the bus with all our luggage to be shaken down by the largest German Sheppard I have ever seen. Seriously, he looked like a Sheppard/bear mix. He (and his handler) was apparently satisfied with us and the bus and we were allowed to re-board and resume our journey.

St. Petersburg is really lovely. It is ridiculously full of gorgeous and splendid. You’d have to stay several weeks to even adequately skim the surface. We felt it was too late for the Hermitage after we got settled in and the luggage stowed. The city is very easy to get around and our hotel was very conveniently located right on one of the charming canals that flow through to the Neva. The location was good and the room itself was fine, but the entryway/vestibule was the most horrifying thing ever. No real sign, just a tiny printed notice on a heavily grafittied, scratched and gouged black metal door. Once we got that open, we were really sad. It opened into a dark, dank, smoke and urine scented crumbling stone stairwell. The reception desk was four horror-movie flights up. Special.

Inside the Church of the Savior on Spilled Blood

The Church of the Savior on Spilled Blood

The graffiti is out of control all over these northern cities – If I were spending untold fortunes keeping up and restoring the gorgeous of ages past to get World Heritage status, I would have some fairly Draconian methods of dealing with disaffected jackasses mucking it all up. Just saying.

Anyhow, the trip out to the Peter and Paul fortress restored the tone of everyone mind. We wandered photographing all things as we went. The cathedral houses the remains of almost every czar from Peter the Great on. A less attractive feature was the local crowd enjoying the summer weather – not that we don’t like to see them out having a good time, it is that the not that warm sunshine inspired dozens of hardy Russians to strip to their tighty-whities and bask on the grassy slopes around the fortress. Most of the women had the foresight to bring their swimwear.

After that we roamed the city looking at this and that piece of wonderfulness, all the time working toward the Church of the Savior on Spilled Blood. It was erected over the site where Tsar Alexander II was assassinated. It is breathtakingly lovely and stands out from the more sober elegance of the Baroque and Neo-Classical architecture that dominates the rest of St. Petersburg. The exterior is exquisite, but the interior really makes you feel sure you must be hallucinating – every centimeter in the place is carpeted in gorgeous mosaics. It was badly damaged during WWII and due to misuse and neglect. The state has spent 27 years and vast fortunes painstakingly restoring it. They have done a magnificent job.

We have seen so much work in progress in every city we have visited – it is very gratifying that they cherish and protect their cultural heritage. One thing that amazed us is that in places that have witnessed many of the vicissitudes of fortune – war, famine, disease, and more war and so on – have managed to keep and preserve all these magnificent things.

It took us two full – open to close- days to get through the Hermitage and we had to practically sprint through the special exhibitions (Annie Liebowitz and Henry Moore) to do that. It is not possible to describe the Hermitage – splendor piled on glorious magnificence, topped with exquisiteness and the whole glazed with a rich coating of sublime. It is agonizing. Our only nominally recovered neck muscles were grossly over-taxed by the absurdly phenomenal ceilings in each room. Then there were the floors! It is brutal to house the world’s largest collection of triumphs of human artistic achievement in a space that is oftentimes more marvelous than the work being displayed there.

The fabulous jewelry, decorative arts, furnishings, you get the idea – we did the antiquities and those galleries the first day. We also got the special tickets for the Diamond Room – three galleries of you-have-got-to-be-kidding-me riches. We were practically bleeding gorgeous out of eyeballs and had yet to see the bulk of the paintings! We had hoped to get to Catherine’s Palace and a few other sights, but we had to give two days to the Hermitage; we had seen so little.

One particularly wonderful thing about the Hermitage is the lovely wooden floors – two days of 7 ½ hours on almost non-stop stand and slow walk and nobody had sore feet. Thank you, Catherine the Great!

We managed to get to the Kazan Cathedral, St. Catherine’s (the Armenian one and the Russian Orthodox one), St. Isaac’s Cathedral, and have decadent cakes and tea at the café in the fantastic Singer building.

It's a Michaelangelo!

Slight trauma at the train station when it was discovered that our e-ticket had to be redeemed for “real” tickets and the ticket office had been closed for 2 hours! However, the good people at Russia Rail pitied the stupid Americans and took care of us.

Do svidanya St. Petersburg!

The Last person who tried to see the Hermitage in 2 days

Tallinn- the sun never sets on the 13th century

2011-07-03T01:23:00.000-05:00

Old Tomas- guard of the citadel

The countryside north of Riga is beautiful. Unlike the south, it’s quite heavily forested with tall thin pines and birches. Everywhere the forest floor was carpeted with grass, wildflowers and ferns. We caught a few glimpses of the sea gray and calm to the west. We got to Tallinn about mid afternoon and eventually figured out the public transport system so we could get to the old town. (Hey Tallinn City planners, the bus station should be closer to the part of town people came to see!) Anyway, just as Vilnius is known primarily for its Baroque buildings and Riga for its Art Nouveau, Tallinn has its claim to fame also: Medieval. The whole place feels like a Renaissance Festival, right down to the numerous people dressed in linen bar maid dresses, jester outfits, and as yeomen of the guard etc. There was actually a store selling clothing, shoes, glasses books, and other paraphernalia (made by local craftsmen using traditional methods)so you can play like you live in a time before antibiotics, electricity, and indoor plumbing. The only things in town that were fully modern were the prices. Estonia switched to the lousy Euro a few months ago and everything costs an arm and two legs.

All snarkiness aside though, it is a beautiful city. The remnants of the old city walls and the castle were awesome. Though a bit cool the weather continued to be glorious. We walked and admired the pretty all afternoon. We noticed a few things straight away. First, Tallinn is much more crowded than the other cities we have been to. Second, the crowd was very diverse - a real mixed bag of nationalities. We wondered at this until we climbed the old city walls and saw the huge (even by cruise ship standards) cruise ship. That was the answer: Tallinn is a cruise town. Now that’s all fine if you’re with the boat. But when you’re sharing a small walled town with a boatload of chain smoking Europeans then it begins to wear on you. This also explained the prices – coffee was modest 1.60 to 2 Euros outside the walls, inside was more like 4 or 5.

We did not eat here but were excited to se a Texas Flag

We followed the city’s guide to all things notable, winding up and down cobblestone (many places being replaced with brick or paving stones even as we were walking on them) alleys and lanes. The city walls afforded wonderful views – once we watched a large group of locals rehearsing some sort of traditional song and dance program. The walls were also where we had our glimpse of the Gulf of Finland blockaded by the ginormous cruise ship.

The central square is home to the town hall with its impressive tower and is ringed by wonderfully restored old building now housing absurdly overpriced tourist café and restaurants. From there we trailed through the Master’s Courtyard and the charming St. Catherine’s passage peeking into artist’s galleries and tempting craft shops. We wandered, lost in wonder, occasionally just lost.

Of countless lovely things, one of our favorites was the small, sequestered Danish King’s Garden. It afforded a nice view over the other half of the town and was delightfully quiet. It looked like you could stage a scene from Robin Hood. By this time, the cruise excursions had disappeared and the locals started to emerge. It was much more pleasant ambling. The tour groups must seriously quadruple the actual population and it is clear that residents in the 1300’s never anticipated that so many people could exist; much less all need a place to get a coffee or a cold drink.

We left Tallinn at sunset -11:30 PM! On to Russia!

Riga Art Nouveau-licious

2011-07-03T01:16:00.000-05:00

We arrived in Riga and walked over to our hotel. It’s in a restored convent and is right plunk in the middle of “vecriga”, the old town. We dropped our things and ran out into the street to do our essential magnet (K&B)/ flag (Z) shopping before the stores closed since there would not be time in the morning. We acquired some Lats and got our shopping done in no time. Then, after a quick (ha ha – a profoundly leisurely pace is de rigueur here for dining we have discovered) dinner we went walking through the city.

Riga is known for its Art Nouveau architecture. There’s a whole district where all the most decadent and wonderful buildings are all together which we will talk about later. Even in the old town, though, where there is a fair bit of baroque and a smattering of older bits and pieces from every period before, there are a handful of flowing, ornately floral stunners.

The Blackheads’ House here was amazing. It’s red brick with marvelous decorative statuary of soldiers, Greek gods and goddesses, and saints (George slaying the dragon by feeding him a fish). It’s most extraordinary feature however is the clock. It tells not only the time, but the day of the week, the number of the day, and the month. It’s dark blue and gold and glowed in the late day sun.

At some point we saw a clock on one of the numerous towers in town and noticed that it was after 9pm. Another thing about being this far north is that the sun comes up early (like 4:30am) and goes down late (like 11:00pm). As we have moved north this has become more pronounced. During our night bus to Vilnius the sky never got totally dark. The sun went down and we watched as the orange glow on the horizon slid around from northwest to north to northeast and then climbed back into the sky. Since it was so late we decided to stop in a café for another dessert. We noticed on our walk through town that many of the restaurants and cafes with outdoor seating provide blankets for their patrons so that they can bask in the cold light of their arctic summer without freezing to death.

The next morning we went out to walk the Art Nouveau district proper – Riga is actually a UNESCO World Heritage site due to the amount and caliber of its Art Nouveau architecture. It is indeed a feast for the eyes. The elements on view here made the old town look a little understated. There were wild animals in the friezes and human faces frozen in eternal screams. Again, like our previous stops, it was so incredible that it literally hurt – Tiger Balm and Tylenol all around at bedtime for screaming neck and shoulder muscles. We began to wish we were frogs – if our eyes were on top of our heads, it would have been so much easier.

Fortunately, no one was run over; this is more impressive than it seems. We seriously spent at least ½ the time crouching mid-street photographing the architectural fine points of every building in town. We oohed and ahhed our way around before grabbing a quick (1hour 10 minutes) breakfast and racing to the bus station. Next stop: Tallinn, Estonia.

Lithuania

2011-06-26T15:47:00.000-05:00

Vilnius and Warsaw are not connected by a European equivalent of I-10. They’re connected by a winding 2 lane country road such as one might find in the mountainous hinterlands of New Zealand. No wonder it takes over night. The bus was very nice but the rutted carriage path we were driving made sleeping near to impossible and crippling when one did manage to doze off for a few minutes. We arrived hobbled, but excited to explore a new place. Our first discovery was that it is not warm in Lithuania though it is summer. It is easy to forget that this part of northern Europe is on roughly the same latitude with southern Alaska. So we put on our fleeces, checked the luggage, used the pay toilet, and set off into the city.

Vilnius Cathedral

We arrived around 6:30am and by the time we finished our exotic McDonald’s breakfast it was 7:30 so everything was still closed. Like the cities in Poland the old parts of Vilnius are quite beautiful. We made it to the square around the cathedral and let me tell you, that’s the best time to be out there. You have the place to yourself because everyone else is inside. We went inside also and caught the tail end of a cardinal giving the homily and leading the congregation in the Creed. (I think that’s what was going on anyway. It was all in Lithuanian so I could be wrong. We found the miracle square which is where a human chain from Tallin, Estonia to Vilnius protesting Soviet occupation ended. You’re supposed to do a clockwise 360 and make a wish. We are bound by sacred oaths not to tell you where to find it so you will need to use the picture as your guide and find it yourself.

make a wish

Leaving the square, we followed a cobbled path to the summit of a hill crowned with a tower flying the Lithuanian flag. It has a name I can’t pronounce that probably means “windswept and cold” in the native tongue. In any case, the views were amazing, particularly over the old town. All the walking and sightseeing were wearing so we… that’s right, stopped for coffee and a sweet, delicious treat. Today it was a crepe with strawberry jam and vanilla ice cream. Moving on we wound our way along the maze of backstreets looking at the quaint. One street had a whole wall with individually designed tiles set in it. The best I think was the metal cross stitched rooster. Around every bend in the road was another spectacular view of a church spire or flower bedecked stone balcony. I spent a lot of time standing in the street with the camera pointing into the air over my head.

For lunch we had pizza and some potato pancakes which were not quite up to yesterday’s but still tasty. We did some shopping and then wandered back to the bus station to catch our bus on to Riga. This daytime ride is affording us a look at the countryside which is beautiful. There are large patches of birch forest and broad fields of cereals and something with a yellow flower I suspect is mustard. We have also seen several storks. These sights can’t fully detract from the horror of watching the bus barrel down this goat trail. European rules on passing and right of way seem to have a heavy Peruvian influence.

POLSKA!

2011-06-26T15:40:00.000-05:00

So what does this shop sell?

Greetings from Poland! We arrived via LOT Polish Airways on a 767 that had ashtrays in the armrests. Not that smoking was allowed, but the plane clearly dates back to a time when you could. Nonetheless, we landed safely though sleep deprived. I can’t remember the last time I was on a plane with so many children, so many awful, noisy children. Seriously, most of the parents just let their kids get up and run around the plane. One kid was hanging over the seat playing some absurd punching game and screaming with his older brother while their mother slept! Then there was the toddler running up and down the aisles with no parent in sight. I guess he was an unaccompanied minor.

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The defender of Warsaw

Anyway… we managed to acquire bus tickets and made our way to our hotel, which happened to be on the bus line from the airport. The Hotel Jan III Sobieski was painted in the most wonderful shades of gelato pastel. Though we were desperately early for check in time, they gave us our room anyway. We deposited our very heavy bags and went over to the train station to get tickets to Krakow for the next day. I will admit that we did not even attempt to learn any Polish before coming. That’s because after attempting to learn some Russian we determined that we have no capacity for Slavic languages. The language barrier this created made buying tickets quite the challenge. There was much passing back and forth scraps of paper with numbers written on them. Eventually arrangements were made and we moved on to the subway station where we hopped a train to the old town.

Pooh would let Zada be in this picture because he was afraid his friends would think he's a baby

In Warsaw’s case, “old town” is a bit of a misnomer since just about all of it dates from the end of WWII. Between the Nazi bombings during the invasion and crushing the Warsaw Uprisings the whole city was in ruins by the end of the war. However, the center of town, the part inside the old walls, was rebuilt to look as it did before the war. It is all very charming and clearly, the restorers did an excellent job. After seeing Krakow (which is genuinely old) the buildings in Warsaw’s old town have the feel of replicas, something new made to look old. The day we were there happened to be a national holiday in Poland, so many of the shops were closed though all of the restaurants were open. Our LOT Airlines breakfast of fruit and a roll (which Zada treated like a Polish assassination attempt)was starting to fail us so we to lunch at Pizzeria UFO (continuing her unbroken streak of eating pizza in every country she has ever visited)which was wonderfully restorative and got us moving again.

We meandered through the streets admiring the precious and following a self guided walking tour ending up at the bell tower (LP failed to mention that it costs 5 zlotys to climb it) which offered stunning views of the old town with its beautiful array of decorative church spires. About this time the sleep deprivation caught up to us so we headed for a café in the old market square and ate decadent desserts (Sacher torte and Polish cheesecake) with excellent coffee. The centerpiece of the square is a sculpture/ fountain of a two-tailed mermaid with a sword and a shield. She is the protector of the city. Zada recounts the myth of how this came to be on her blog, so check that out.

After desert, which ended up also being dinner, we went back to the hotel and quite literally passed out after making arrangements for a wakeup call and a taxi to the train station.

Poland day 2- Krakow

Almost all of it is made of salt

As we rode the train to Krakow we began to think that it might not be possible to visit Auschwitz in the time we had available. We had been waffling back and forth on this being appropriate for Zada yet. Boy In the Striped Pajamas – yes, traumatizing, but it should be no matter what age you are, and she can #1 handle it, # 2 understand it. Then, Night – are you crazy? Of course 10 is too young. Indeed, after checking the train schedules upon our arrival, our soul searching was needless as we would have to skip everything else to get out there and back. So, Plan B, we dropped our things at the hostel and headed off to the salt mine just outside of town. It seemed somewhat crowded for a week day and indeed, it turned out it was a free day for Poles, so there were more than the usual number of locals there. The tour begins with the descent of 380 steps, “a few steps” as our guide put it. The crowds caused a bit of a traffic jam but never for more than a minute. First we learned that all the “security works” (which is how they referred to any safety related things, such as structures that prevent cave-ins) are made of wood in the mine. Wood does not corrode and the salt it absorbs actually preserves it. So, all the many tons of salt overhead are held up with tree trunks. This mine actually stopped production in the 60s but even before that it drew tourists. Copernicus and Goethe both came here back in the day. For many years horses were used in the mine. They were lowered in crates and housed in subterranean stables. There is an army of life size statues carved from salt. Carvings of salt miners, Polish kings, gnomes, saints, and other national heroes like Pope John Paul II and Copernicus abound. At the end of the tour we were spared the climb out by a ride in a claustrophobic mining elevator.

We bused back into town and made our way to the market square. This square is larger by far than the one in Warsaw. The cathedral and a large clock tower dominate the scene along with the “cloth building”. All the salt mining had worn us down, and we refreshed ourselves apple pie and coffee. Back on our feet again we took a carriage ride around the old town and gave ourselves whiplash trying to take in the historic and beautiful. Krakow seems to be in the process of renaming everything after Pope John Paul II. There are signs on every place he lived or even visited in town and his face is on many buildings. Even at the salt mine they were very excited to tell us that John Paul had been there three times in his life, though sadly not when he was Pope.

After more wandering though the twisting and fascinating old town streets we headed for yet another restorative dessert (black forest cake) and coffee combination is a beautiful little café in a boutique hotel on the square. We finished our day with a recital of Chopin pieces in a small salon at a hotel on the market square. The kid at the piano was probably in his 20s but he looked 15. Whatever his age he was very good and we enjoyed it immensely.

We crawled back to the hostel to rest our ankles for tomorrow’s round of cobblestone jeopardy.

Krakow Day 2

Up and out to the Old Town early for a walking tour and careful canvass of all the thousands of amber shops and tchotchke shops. We walked through the lovely Planty Park that surrounds the Old Town to the walls encircling the palace. It was an absolute mob scene on a Saturday – enormous tour groups moving across the plazas like a vast herd of caribou migrating. We (playing out the Animal Planet motif) were like salmon desperately battling our way against the current.

We shopped/café(ed) our way circuitously back to the main square, where I was determined after the previous day’s pizza showdown that certain people were going to try some Polish food or else. Lunch was not a complete success, but no one actually died. The potato pancakes were a big hit, but the pierogis – delicious buttery pan-fried bites of tasty wonderfulness drew the type of histrionics normally seen only in the last act of an Italian opera. The only thing wrong with the lunch was that it was so substantial, that with the best will in the world, dessert could not be eaten.

We had to jog to make our train; thankfully, we had started the day by dumping all the bags in a luggage locker at the station. We grabbed the bags and discovered that we had cracked a wheel casing! Our precious indestructible Eagle Creek switchback 20! Our beloved Christmas present from Mom Q the first year of our marriage! It has been with us for every trip we have taken together, so the wheel thing felt like a betrayal. Initially, only a small chunk came off, which made rolling no longer one of the bag’s functions. Enough train tracks and cobblestones later and the whole outer shell came off, so it rolls again – just unevenly.

Train to the bus station and then onto the overnight bus to Vilnius. We are very excited about that, as it is supposed to be absolutely gorgeous. We’ll let you know in the next post!

San Francisco – The Ring

2011-06-20T20:46:00.021-05:00

Well, we’ve enjoyed our first Ring Cycle tremendously – quite a testament to the production as there is the immense bitterness of the fact that this was supposed to be HGO’s Ring. Yes, David Gockley and Francesca Z. wanted to mount this monster in Houston – the board’s refusal to sanction the project is probably why he left. Not that we don’t think Anthony Freud is great, but seriously, “Song of Houston

” and all that Britten vs. a Ring Cycle? What is wrong with those people? And now that everyone is getting new Wagner, HGO is jumping on the bandwagon anyway and will have new Ring operas dribbling out over the next however many seasons.

Anyhow, all that aside, it has been very enjoyable visiting SF – we don’t have redwoods or humpbacks, or Alcatraz in Houston (or the need to wear 5 layers of clothing in June). Their opera house is really beautiful – nicer than ours; the acoustics are better at the Wortham however – a big deal for those of us who attend operas on folding chairs on the roof. Our opera shop is better, but their food service wins – for the Ring they’ve added a biergarten on the mezzanine level terrace. I wonder if they have themed cafes for all their productions. If not, they really should. So should we – espresso, tiramisu, gelato, cannoli for Donezetti, Puccini, Verdi, et al.; madeleines, crème brulee, napoleons for Berlioz, Bizet and Poulenc and so on.

Opera is not just about what there is to eat, so on to the actual productions!
Das Rheingold

We’re waffling on the art direction – the giant projections on the scrims are sometimes really effective and other times, not so much. This production tells the drama as an American allegory of the destruction of the natural environment due to the lust for power and money. From the beautiful opening scene of the glittering Rhein the world becomes progressively darker, dirtier, and more industrialized in each production.

The rheinmaidens were wonderful – and the water effects were pretty good. I always wonder how all that fog/steam whatever doesn’t affect the voices. Alberich was excellent – creepy, angry and all around dangerously repulsive. He had a very strong voice and this was what made us question the acoustics of the house initially – there were moments when you could tell he was really belting it out, but the voice was completely lost. Later we decided to blame the conductor, but we didn’t really toss the blame on him until Siegfried. The whole first scene was very well done.

Das Rheingold has no intermissions (building your stamina step by step to prep you for the 5+ hours of Gotterdamerung) and the set changes must have been stressful – they certainly sounded as if the new pieces were being dropped onto the stage from helicopters. Strangely the set changes were silent for the rest of the cycle. The Valhalla construction site was kind of lame and the rainbow bridge looked like a cruise ship gangplank. Wotan and his crew of immortals in their 20s/30s fashions carrying champagne flutes looked to be boarding the fun ship Valhalla rather than a lordly and majestic entry into their new fortress. The set for Nibelheim, where Wotan and Loge go to kidnap Alberich, was brilliantly creepy and grim, filled with filthy, writhing child slaves cowering beneath the lash and worshipping the ring. Good stuff. The tenor playing Loge was magnificent.

Also wonderful were the giants’ (San Francisco Giants) costumes. They were lowered onto stage from an i-beam wearing padded construction clothing, huge platform/ stilt boots, and mechanical hands a la Edward Scissorhands. The bass/ baritone playing Fasolt had a rich, powerfully expressive voice. We were sad that he was killed off so soon. Fortunately, he was back playing the more substantial role of Hagen in Gotterdamerung.

Die Valkyrie

This whole production rocked! The superb Nina Stemme (supposedly coming to Houston as Isolde soon) was an unbelievably dynamic presence on stage and her magnificent voice soared above the 100+ instruments in the orchestra- an accomplishment that few others managed to pull off the whole time. Seriously, the Wagnerian orchestration is ridiculous, 51 strings! The pit looked like a can of sardines.

Every other character’s best scenes were the ones they shared with her. We really liked the parachuting Valkyries in their Amelia Earhart aviatrix getups. The heroes they collected were represented by enlarged portraits of actual American soldiers killed in action in conflicts from the Civil War through the current Afgan War.

The projections were less successful in this one we felt – the wild racing through forest shots were a little too Blair Witch opera. The best projections were the ominous, billowing clouds. However, the wall of flames was really good. Siegmund’s death scene (under a grim and filthy underpass) was enlivened with a couple of beautiful German Shepherds.
Siegfried

The sublime wall of sound envisioned by Wagner was tonight a giant tsunami of music completely washing away all voices on stage – okay that is a bit of an exaggeration, but seriously maestro! Intensity doesn’t equal volume! Even if Siegfried just has a weak voice, that voice is the most important instrument and it needs to be supported. Whatever the limitations of the performer it is his job to make the whole thing work and it really didn’t. This role is a killer and though his voice wasn’t bad (when we could hear it) it simply had little expressive power – his physical acting was quite good, but there was no attempt (that we could hear) at vocal acting. Forging his father’s sword, talking to birds, killing dragons or his stepfather, and swept away by passion were all one and the same. Maybe he was just pacing himself to survive the marathon and that is how it has to be done.

The settings become more and more grim – opening at a broken down trailer in the woods ringed with bits and pieces of machinery and furnished with plastic yard chairs, moving to an abandoned warehouse (the dragon’s lair) where we discover Alberich keeping watch and become a denizen of the mean streets complete with a shopping cart he is filling with Molotov cocktails. Everything has a real Terminator post-apocalyptic look to it and the skies are becoming more and more oppressively dark since the initial theft of the river gold.

The dragon was fantastic! It emerged from the warehouse in a cloud of green smoke and sent up sparks wherever the sword struck. The deathblow cracked the beast open allowing Fafner (the giant from Das Rheingold) to fall in a bleeding heap at Siegfried’s feet and sing for another 10-15 minutes.

Again, Brunnhilde shone like the sun – her glorious voice completely blowing Siegfried off the stage. She had her work cut out for her though, as about ½ the audience was clearly out on a day pass from the home for terminal consumptives.
Gotterdamerung

The scene opens on the Norns – the weavers of fate. In this production their world is a morass of cables. It wasn’t a spiders web so much as a rat’s nest of lines; we think they are supposed to represent the internet. Their gleaming green costumes with goggles and caps made them look like a cross between workers in the Emerald City and Oompah Loompahs. Their voices were wonderful – this production finally got the perfect balance between voices and instruments.

Despite the 5 ½ hour running time, Gotterdamerung is so action packed that you hardly feel it. Freia was back as Gutrune looking great and sounding good, Froh was back as Gunther – a little uneven and Fasolt was back and incredible as Hagen! He was sinister, slithery and deliciously bad. Alberich appeared all too briefly in a wonderfully done scene with his son Hagen. Hagen’s voice was so powerful that even laying in the bed face down it penetrated perfectly to our aerie. As if the way the music were written and the fact that they must sing for hours on end weren’t enough, Wagner so often has his singers rolling around and thrashing about on the floor like wounded seals while belting out their most impassioned scenes. Did he secretly hate singers and want to kill them or what?

Insert raves about Brunnhilde here – we are running out of superlatives, but rest assured she was superlative!

The rheinmaidens were back for one more shot at saving the world by getting their ring back – another fantastic performance and set in their completely destroyed river awash in plastic bottles, tires and even a pick-up truck cap. They staggered out, filthy and bedraggled, looking like coal miner beauty queens, their lyric paean to their river now a lament. Their highlight was when they rushed Hagen and suffocated him with one of the recycling bags they’d earlier used in a fruitless attempt to clean up their home.

Tonight’s Siegfried completely lost his voice halfway through the second act and David Gockley (formerly of HGO) came out before the 3rd act we thought to announce his replacement, but instead to tell the audience that he had a vocal issue and had been treated by their specialist and was going to go on. He was restored a bit and carried through bravely, but he looked completely destroyed by the end. He was clearly devastated.

We did have issues with some of the costuming – Gutrune looked magnificent in clingy, flowing silky things, but Brunnhilde was a frumpy drudge – I get it she’s sad, a betrayed and enslaved bride, but she should still be magnificent.

The director is all about this being a story of redemption and to make sure we get the point, as soon a Brunnhilde has set the world aflame and descended in to the funeral pyre (very well done – tee hee –with massive banks of fire and the rheinmaidens wielding gas canisters), the waters rush forth and a small girl in a white dress emerges from the shattered remains bearing a small ash tree that she plants center stage as the curtain falls.

The San Francisco audience is overall really fantastic – they actually stay to applaud the performers! They were wildly enthusiastic – especially that last night! That is one of my pet peeves about home, for so many Houstonians the performance is clearly just a prelude to the REAL event – seeing who get out of the parking lot first. You see people getting up and heading for exit just as Butterfly is lifting the dagger, Tosca is still telling Cavaradossi to play dead and Clara hasn’t even made it back from the Kingdom of Sweets - really irritating.

People were all about the bear of course. We were starting to wonder if there were any children in SF at all she attracted so much attention. She was annoyed by it; she complained, “Aren’t they stereotyping me? Why wouldn’t I like opera?” We had to gently break it to her that even some adults don’t like opera and wouldn’t be thrilled to sit through almost 18 hours of it – even some adults she personally knows. Don’t worry; we didn’t give her your names. It is odd that people are concerned by kids in the theater; they couldn’t possibly make more noise than the candy wrapper brigade or several of the either drunken trollops or extremely elderly neophytes we’ve been seated near; asking their companions quite audibly, “What’s happening?” “Who is that man?” “Can I get a drink?” More than enough ranting, I am sure – though seriously, has anyone ever tested the decibel level of a cough drop wrapper? It has to be like a jet engine.

So, that was our first Ring Cycle. It was truly a wonderful experience and now we hope to see Seattle’s Ring in 2013.

Everything Else

COME TO BEAUTIFUL ALCATRAZ!

We had a great time even when we weren’t at the opera. Our first outing was Alcatraz – which was unexpectedly quite the garden spot. The tour was very interesting and the island itself really lovely. It is currently undergoing extensive restoration and it was interesting to see how carefully they work. We saw a group huddled around a box full of concrete samples trying to match the exact shade and texture. That is meticulous.

After that we wandered the various tourist traps off Embarcadero – Pier 39, where Zada was attacked by a sea gull for her sandwich. We had only been flogging her to hurry up and finish it for about an hour at that point. We ended up at Ghirardelli Square and had giant piles of deliciousness. Then it was off to the opera.

Next day we were out at 5:30ish to provision for the trek out to Monterey. The boat staff was pushing Dramamine and said people hadn’t been doing too well over the last few days. That would be the 10 to 8 foot swells pitching the boat all over the place I guess. We have never had a problem before and Zada is the best sailor among us – until this day. It was not only really rough, but also freezing cold and after we got soaked, we suggested going into the cabin to get out of the wind – BIG MISTAKE. After just a minute or two she was running for the rail. Good, brave bear…unlike those people who sat around in misery puking all over themselves, the seats, the floor, their neighbors. It was like a bad adolescent male comedy. Seriously 2/3rds of the people were hanging over the rails, laying huddled on the seats and in complete misery. How is it physically possible to throw up for 4 hours straight? You have to be bringing up your toenails at that point. We felt bad for them and, to be honest, completely repelled.

Zada rebounded amazingly and was able to get back to “whaling” within three minutes! We saw lots of humpbacks, including several moms and calves. The pictures don’t do it justice; the camera was set to rapid action which takes dozens of pictures in seconds, but those enormous swells generated dozens of pictures of sea, sky, sea, sky. We also saw several otters, Risso dolphins, Pacific white-sided dolphins, and tons of sea lions and seals.

IT"S PURPLE!

We then drove down the Big Sur coast – all that yap about the view, is completely true. It was gloriously beautiful. Pfeiffer Beach was our goal – the famous purple sand beach. Indeed, the sand is streaked with lovely, glittering purple sands. It was otherwise a typical Northern California beach – rocky outcrops, pounding surf and psychos dressed and cavorting about in the water as if it wasn’t 12 degrees.

We were exhausted by a long day of not succumbing to hypothermia and looking for uncooperative blue whales, so we headed back to the hotel for an early night (performances were getting out 11:30 or later and the combination of early rising and late nights is something we’re getting too old for).

Next morning we headed out for the Presidio area. We wandered around much of the Golden Gate NRA, visiting Crissy Field, Fort Point and Fort Mason. They have done a lot of really great work restoring the dunes and tidal marsh area here. The sky lupines and these enormous bushy yellow lupines were really lovely. The views of the Golden Gate Bridge from Fort Point lived up to the hype. It was insanely windy down there – Zada was nearly blown off the ramparts. San Francisco has tons of quaint and beautiful homes and we enjoyed our meanderings around various neighborhoods – the picture windows on the houses facing the marina were really something special though. Where on earth do you but glass like that? That evening we saw Siegfried – very late night at 4 hours and 50 minutes.

Saturday we headed off to Point Reyes – the road had some real New Zealand flavor to it and we don’t mean there were sheep! It was good to see the road crews were busy at work shoring up the parts that were crumbling away the most rapidly. We thought we’d spend ½ the day here and the afternoon at Muir Woods, but there was a lot more to the national seashore than we realized. We ended up spending the whole day exploring the very different sections of the park. We started in Bear Valley and then went out to the lighthouse – 302 steps down to the light.

After the light we went to Chimney Rock to see the elephant seal colony – they were basking on the pebbly beach making the most unearthly noises – a weird growling sort of snuffling bark. There we a few young males wrestling in the surf away from the main pod. None of us have ever seen elephant seals before and were happy to finally do so.

Zada had to do a beach clean-up for her Junior Ranger, so we headed over to Drake’s Beach for that. There was a wonderful café on the beach where we enjoyed lunch – okay, Kimberly enjoyed lunch, Brad had a giant basket of fries and Zada alternated between giving agonized and piteous looks at us and gazing down at her grilled cheese like an early Christian martyr facing the lions.

Next day was our last full day in SF, we got up and went to the Krispy Kreme for breakfast and drove into town and found FREE PARKING at city hall – this was incredible because for a lot of the week we had struggling to even find insanely expensive parking – seriously, we spent more than $150.00 on parking this week. That may mean nothing to you, but to Houstonians that is an abomination. We celebrated our successful trip with dinner at Ghirardelli’s (again) and then packed up to head out at the crack of dawn Monday.

We won’t post from our NYC layover – Zada will though. We will write next from Poland.

home now, here are the pics

2010-07-15T12:42:00.003-05:00

We're back in Houston now and are happy to have brushed our teeth again. So here are the pictures that go with the post below.

Back in time in the north

2010-07-15T02:17:00.004-05:00

After trying every conceivable rationalization for spending $1000 to fly ourselves to Trujillo we were forced to concede defeat and board the stupid 2 day bus. Though we begrudge the bus it should be said that the bus in Peru is far superiour to anything Greyhound has to offer. Actually we lucked out in a way because the first leg of our bus ride arrived a few hours early so we were able to get an earlier bus to Trujillo, which, though it arrived late allowed us to avoid 2 consecutive nights sleeping on the bus- sort of.
We spent our first day in Trujillo wandering the Plaza de Armas and Plaza Mayor. This city boasts fabulous carved balconies like Cusco, but has the additional fun element of fantasical wrought iron decorations on the lower windows. Another unique aspect of Trujillo's street scene are the vivid colors of the beautiful colonial architecture. We also toured the small archaeological museum in town which presents an overview of the various cultures that have inhabited Peru since about 10,000 years ago.
The next day we got up very early in order to be ready to head out to Lambayeque. This was not necessary as we ended up sitting around until after 9:30. Clara, after describing how to get there solo must have decided that we weren't up to it because in the end she came with us. We are telling ourselves that it is because we told her we wanted to see as much as possible and not that we looked like pansies. Anyway, after a 3 hour bus ride to Chiclayo we took a taxi to Lambayeque and went to lunch. We had a couple of Peruvian potato dishes which were amazing. Brad thinks they would have been better hot but no one is asking him. Then we drove out into the hinterlands to the village of Tucume. There, down a very special "road" are the ruins of a large city/ ceremonial center. El Nino rains have damaged the exteriors of the pyramids but enough is left give you an idea of how advanced these cultures were.
In the north each site has a history with several cultures. Each group of people basically built their stuff on top of the previous groups'. The earliest empire of the north coast was the Moche starting about 2000 years ago. After them you have the Lambayeque, then Chimu, then Inca. There are some that I'm leaving out but in the end it all went to the Spanish who looted every grave they could find and melted everything into ingots and sent it to Spain. At Tucume the ground is literally covered with potsherds. I asked Clara who was able at a glance to identify them as Moche and Chimu. Each of the groups had amazing ceramic and textile tradtions and sprawling trade networks evidenced by the discovery up and down the Andes of articles from all of these peoples.
After Tucume we raced back to town. We were to learn that when Clara said "vamos" she meant it. She would head out and not look back. (Clara owns the hostal we stayed in and was the first officail guide in the area. She worked the digs where all the objects in the museums were found. Anyone who has done any archaeology in Peru in the last 40 years, she knows them. She met Thor Heyerdahl when he was in Peru working on the Kon-Tiki. I will add that she is at most 5 inches taller that Zada.) So, we were off to the museum that showcases the fabulouness of the the Lord of Sipan. He was a Moche big wig about 1500 years ago at the north end of their empire which is around Lambayeque. There's a link on Zada's blog to a photo gallery of his trappings. The best thing we learned at the museum was all of the traditional remedies these people used. Our favorite, guinea pig massage. Seriously. Also, for asthma and arthitis they would cover you with the puppies of the hairless Peruvian dogs. These treaments would have been carried out by a shaman with great seriousness and ceremony. So take a moment and try to picture one of these priests, decked out in his gold and silver, with a magnificent headdress and robes, rubbing a live guinea pig on a man's sore leg.
The place was awesome and sadly, because of our "Peru time" start, we had to race through the last bit. We did see what was left of El Senor, which isn't much. Clara vamosed us back to the bus station and we got back quite late. The next morning we accounted for the difference in Peruvian ideas about punctuality and got up a bit later. Clara took us and a few other hostal guests on a tour of the archaeological sites around Trujillo. Our first stop was Chan Chan, the capital of the Chimu empire, built around 900AD. Most of the original site has been destroyed by a thousand years of exposure to the elements but you can still tell how large the place was and what skilled builders they must have been. Here, unlike Tucume, a few of the walls retain hints of their original painted color. As amazing as it looks today it must have been unreal when it was all painted blue, yellow and red. The Tschudi complex (a mere 1/25 of the enormous site) has been well excavated and we admired the beautifully carved sea life reliefs. The various decorative maritime elements are rendered naturalistically and abstractly in different sites. The interiors walls are an elaborate lattice-work representing nets as well as providing light/air flow and privacy. These people were phenomenal engineers and their adobe brickwork is all trapedzoidal with rubble fill and stuccoed over to fresco. This shape and the small stone fill provides tremendous stability in this quake-prone region. Clara also pointed out that all modern construction had been essentially destroyed several times in past disasters, but this site is still wonderfully intact.
We marvelled at the wonderful artistry and Zada pestered a few more hairless dogs then jumped back into the minibus to the next ancient wonder. This was the Huaco Arco Iris. WE haven't raved enough about the incredible irrigation/ aqueduct / hey these people built huge civilizations in the desert aspect of all these cultures, but its is really late/early and we've been on a bus/ van/ taxi/ plane/ shuttle since Tuesday and although our appreciation and enthusiasm for the extraordinary accomplishments of the Pre-conquest civilaztions has not in any way waned, it is getting harder and harder to string these adjectives together in any kind of meaningful way. Don't worry though, once we see you, you'll hear far more about all of this than you could ever have imagined.
Anyhow, Arco Iris - the rainbow. This sacred site had three levels and the reliefs are amazing - They feature - I'll just include a photo ... it is pretty obvious what with the serpent rainbow and such.
The last site of the day was definitely one of the best things we saw in Peru. It was the Huaca de la Luna, the Temple of the Moon. This is a Moche construction originally so it's over 1500 years old. It's next to the Temple of the Sun which hasn't been excavated and so looks like a muddy, tiered hill. Clara led us around to the the reliefs and frescos, many of which are so well preserved that the colors are intact. The highlight was north side of the pyramid which has seven stories of painted carvings is stunning condition. The walls of each story were over 100 yards long, each level having a different repeated image. And though each image was the same, the faces each had a different expression, some smiling, some angry, and so on. Our favorite was the image of the the creature with the body of a man, head of a jaguar, and the tail of an iguana, each holding a severed human head. Also, check Zada's blog for the wall that was a spectacular patchwork of images, possibly their entire cosmographia.
It's now 4:51 here at Washington Dulles Airport baggage claim and we are running out of ATT wifi time so we'll be going now. When we get home later today we will put in some pictures so you can see what we have been gibbering about. Thanks fo visiting and we'll talk to you soon.

Drum roll please...

2010-07-10T18:21:00.003-05:00

Machu Picchu! We dragged ourselves out of bed at about 4:30 to get ready and to make sure that the innkeep got us the taxi we asked for. One cannot catch a train for Machu Picchu in Cusco, though there is a train station there. You must go out to Poroy, a town 20km from town with nothing but the train station. (Or, to put it in other terms, it is 30 soles away in the morning and 40 soles back to Cusco at night, especially when your train is late. And there are only taxis there by arrangement.) We had heard from other travellers that the track was closed by a recent landslide and that we would have to take a bus about half way before getting on the train. Fortunately the engineers at Perurail decided to go for it and we got the whole train ride experience. (That landslide was no joke, we drove through the site and saw that it was still sort of sliding. The trench that had been dug for the train was up past the windows. There was a posse of engineers and heavy equipment operators there watching us go through at a snail's pace.) The train was beautiful and the Vistadome afforded us views of snow capped peaks and the rural countryside.
The train disembarks at Aguas Calientes, a charming little village created entirely for tourists to Machu Picchu. The way out of the train station to the bus station is through a giant tchotcke market - subtle! The bus ride was truly special. The views were truly spectacular as we wound our way up the steep mountainside on the one lane road. The turning radius on every vehicle in Peru has been incredible! These enormous touring coaches whipped around hairpin turns like nobody's business. The real excitement came when another bus approached from the other direction. I'm not sure if the two continuing on there respective ways, all but scraping the paint off eachother, or the pulling over of one to the crumbling lip of the mountain road to allow the other to pass, was more heart-stopping. Whatever, we arrived with our hearts racing. We checked our fleece jackets since it was much warmer here than in Cusco what with having lost about 4,000 feet of elevation.
We passed through the ticket booth and walked down a short path and then there it was, just as it looks in the postcards, Machu Picchu. First we climbed up to the to the building known as the watchman's hut. From there one has a sweeping view of the whole site. And there were llamas up there! It is immediately obvious that this is no American park from the lack of safety rails along the edges of drop offs hundreds of feet high. It is difficult to come up with words that do the place justice. Nothing seems adequate to capture the awe inspiring nature of the site. Impressive, amazing, breath taking, astounding; they all fail to convey the immensity and the majesty of it all. It took us about 3 hours do do a walk around the city. We noticed that the masonry was nicest on the temples and ceremonial building and less so on the other constructions. The temples were made entirely of the kind of well cut stones we saw at Sacsaywaman. The other buildings had walls composed of an inner and outer layer of stones with earth inbetween. As we walked along we saw lizards, llamas and the elusive chinchilla. Chinchillas, though well camouflaged with Incan stonework, are extremely amenable to being photographed once you find one. We ended up with about 20 photographs of the same chinchilla in the same pose. It was in all ways a perfect day.
The train ride back was long and soporific as most return journeys. And then we were late. Fortunately our faithful taxi driver, Enrique, was there to meet us. He took us to the Plaza with his entire family squeezed in the back. Then we had the absurdity of trying to find dinner. We ended up at the McDonald's (seriously) for french fries. Obviously we were too tired to care much about food. Anyway, that was the primary goal of the trip and it was wonderful.

The Incan capital

2010-07-10T17:37:00.004-05:00

Cusco! First though we had to endure yet another over night bus ride. The best thing about the night bus in Peru is that you can't see just how demented your driver is. You can't see just how sheer the drops by the road side are or just how close he is getting to them. We arrived in Cusco about 5am and were not met by a driver from our hotel. The security guard at the terminal got us a "safe" taxi who drove us to the Plaza de Armas and then told us we could walk the last 600 meters up hill to our hotel. (We were to discover that many of the streets in Cusco date back to before the advent of horses or cars and so are more like broad, steep, cobbled staircases than actual roads.) Little did we know that the theme of "your fat American behind needs to get out and walk" would become the leitmotif of our stay in Cusco. And walk our fat behinds did.

After recovering for several hours in the arctic lounge waiting for breakfast we headed out on a walking tour recommended by the good people at Lonely Planet. Cusco is an absolutely gorgeous city of spectacular colonial architecture. However, it is at 11,000 feet and will take your breath away in a variety of ways- visual splendor, elevation, and air pollution. Exploding hearts and lungs aside we enjoyed our 8km walk. The high point (ho ho ho) was the ruined Incan fortess of Sacsaywaman. It sits outside and well above the city center. After walking all the way up there we found a parking lot. The bitterness was actually twofold since there was also a lot at the lower entrance as well as one at the top. Zada was thrilled to discover the presence of llamas and alpacas grazing around the site. The stonework was unbelievable, immense stones, far from their origin, so precisely carved that no mortar is needed to hold the structure up.

Another wonderful discovery was Jack's, an Australian ex-pat's contribution to the rich fabric of Cusqueno life. They have breakfast all day. The food was incredible, the desserts were richer than an Incan burial. We crawled back up our hill to rest before going out to the traditional Andean dance and music show. We asked our inn's receptionist to call us a taxi as it had become dark and quite cold. She told us that we didn't need a taxi because we could walk. We agreed that we could walk but told her that we didn't want to which is why we were asking for the taxi. Anyway, the show was very interesting though the music was distorted by the antique sound system. The theater was built in the 1920s and is just now being renovated. However the air conditioning works beautifully. At this point we might ask what it is about the people of the southern hemisphere and their refusal to acknowledge the existence of winter? Both here and in New Zealand, though it is 40 degrees the doors and windows are open and there is no heat turned on. Then it was back to the inn to rest up for the big day.

The White City, Arequipa

2010-07-04T13:11:00.006-05:00

This tiresome thing won't let me put the photos where I want them. So, the 2 on top belong to the paragraph about the convent at the bottom. The 2 pictures with mummies are with the paragraph about Chauchilla Cemetary.

We have made it as far as Arequipa. That's the big city in the south of Peru. It was founded by the Spanish way back when, 1500 something. It is gorgeous and has 2 giant volcanoes looming over it, Unapato and El Misti. They're both near 20,000 feet. Arequipa is about 7700 feet above sea level which you really notice when you walk up hills, of which there are many.

So let's begin in Lima. We landed at about 12:15am and spent around 90 minutes on immigration and customs business. We got a $40 (that's US) taxi for the bus station around 1:45. During our ride we saw the Lima night life including its hopping casino scene. There are also more taxis than you would think the economy could support. Anyway, we pulled up at the bus station around 2:15 to find it extremely closed. The taxi driver got out, locked us in, and asked the security guard what time the place opened. The answer was 4am, which is when our bus was supposed to leave. He then said "You can't stay here, it's not a safe area. That seemed an understatement what with all the barred windows, graffiti and people just sitting around in the street at 2:30 in the morning. Fortunately he found us a gas station across the street with a table where we were able to sit for 90 minutes. So we drank Coke, ate Kinder eggs and played cards while the night shift workers and the security guard talked and restocked the snacks.

The bus station opened around 3:40 so we ran over and got on board. When we pulled out it was still very dark and there was a thick fog over the town. The sky lightened around 7 and we could see the depressingly foggy countryside - depressing, as we despaired of our Nazca Lines overflight. The bus drove south on the Pan American Highway through microscopic towns. There is a huge amount of construction going on everywhere. Farther south the fog lifted and the scenery improved. Peru is a beautiful country, but on this Southern coast it is the beauty of the desert. It's very sparse and rocky.

Then we got to Nazca. This is one of the driest places on Earth. They get about 5mL of rain annually. Half a centimeter of rain and you can really tell. It is extremely dusty so that it's kind of hard to breathe. Our guesthouse picked us up at the bus station and then arranged a flight over the lines for us. A flight over the Nazca Lines goes like this: First, you get into a very small airplane and put on your seat belt and headphones. Next you pray while the plane takes off because it sounds like the engine is working really hard. After a few minutes you are over the desert and the pilot banks steeply left and right over the figures while telling you about them. The tilt is so great that the images are being pointed to by the wing tip. It was all very cool. The lines are all wonderful to see but tough to photograph in a bouncy little plane. It was an amazing experience and we all enjoyed it tremendously.

The next day after breakfast we went to the Chauchilla cemetary. It's a collection of pre-Incan burials, about 1600 years old. Many of them were destroyed when grave robbers ransacked the place 60 years ago and scattered mummies and bones and cloth all over the desert. You can still see bones and scraps of cloth all over beside the path. Fortunately a few of the graves were not discovered by thieves and have been subsequently excavated. Some of the burials are reconstructions that archaeologists built using the remains scattered on the desert. If you look at the picture of the mummy with the receding hairline you'll notice several bundles with him. Those are other mummies buried with him. He's in the fetal position and facing east which is all symbolic of rebirth in the afterlife. The other picture shows a mummy with a big nasty dreadlock which is his actual hair. Apparently it shows that he was an important figure in the community. This was also an wonderful experience. The site is about 10/15 miles outside the city and the physical surroundings were spectacular. Gorgeous, delicately hued peaks ringed the sandy plateau. Later that night we went to the Maria Reiche planetarium for a presentation about her astromical theories about the lines and some star gazing. This was our second trip to the facility - it is housed in the luxe Nazca Lines hotel - we splurged on lunch earlier in the day and were vastly impressed with the brocade tablecloths with the Nazca Lines woven into the fabric!

We took the night bus here to Arequipa and arrived yesterday morning. We went to our hotel, La Casa de Tintin, which Zada insisted on. It does indeed have Tintin accents here and there. We ate breakfast and then walked to the city center. The Plaza de Armas is beautiful with the cathedral framed by volcanoes. We first went to the museo santuary where Juanita the ice mummy is kept. We had to wait about 30 minutes for our tour to start so we sat in the gift shop with everyone who worked there watching the Argentina/Germany soccer game. Don't know if we shared Zada's weird germany fetish with everyone yet, but about 6 months ago she became obsessed with learning German and all things Germanic. At a stop at the Academy she insisted on purchasing a German soccer shirt and has been almost painfully gung-ho about them winning. It was 1-0 Germany at that point but then they scored twice more. We were unable to cheer as the Peruvians were rooting for Argentina. But they're not here now so WOOOHOOO! GO GERMANY!

Juanita was truly fascinating and the guide (you aren't aloowed to roam on your own as the artefacts are beyond priceless) made it all very poignant and engaging. She is encased in a super thick glass freezer, kept at -20. The whole museum is very cold and dark to maintain the delicate textiles and ceramics found with the child sacrifice burials. Then we went to the Santa Catalina convent which was stunningly beautiful. It's like a small city with lots of nooks and crannies to explore. The walls are painted these wonderful shades of blue and orange. It's huge so we had to stop at their cafe for a snack about half way through. Real brewed coffee and a menu of desserts named for the seven deadly sins - rightfully so, as the chocolate cake was richer than anything at the Chocolate Bar. It's pretty luxurious as convents go. Apparently it's where the second daughters of wealthy colonial families went. They had servants and slaves and basically lived it up there in the convent unil Pope Pius IX sent a new mother superior to clean things up.

From here we go to Cuzco. we get there on the 6th and will have a day to get aclimatized to 12,000 feet before Machu Picchu on the 7th.

Are we there yet?

2010-06-27T22:34:00.003-05:00

No. In fact, we're still in Houston and it's only Sunday night. However we are pretty much completely packed and if it were Wednesday morning we'd be so ready. In the midst of all our preparations we did find time to go down to Padre Island for a sea turtle hatchling release. Baby sea turtles are the extremely precious and we took probably 400 pictures but I will only attach one. We should arrive in Nazca around noon on the 1st and hopefully we will be able to post some photos of the mysterious Nazca Lines. That's if the weather cooperates. Wish us luck on our absurdly circuitous route to Peru... via Toronto.

Wellington to Auckland

2008-08-04T06:20:00.003-05:00

July 28, 2008
Well, massive swells on a huge vessel are profoundly soporific. We yawned until our jaws practically unhinged and cat-napped on the arms of our chairs (except Zada, who was frantic to be out on deck to be buffeted by the gale force winds and splashed with sea spray from the immense waves breaking against the ship’s sides). We got into Wellington late and just crawled into our mallard-littered campground. It was raining – just as it did last time we were here for a couple of days.
Today, the weather was fine for the early morning – only very light intermittent drizzle. Even though we have to get to Tongariro today, which will be a big drive, we wanted to go back to Te Papa. Now that school is back in and it is a week day, we could get through the galleries much easier and see some things we missed.
Most notable of these was Bush City. This is a marvelous garden complex they have attached to the museum. Interpretive markers detail interesting facts about what Wellington was like before they built the city. They have a wonderful faux cave set-up with stalactites and panels showing the formation process. There is a pool and an artificial glow worm grotto also.
As you exit the gardens there is a huge “bottle biome” arrangement. I have tried this so many times (obviously on a much smaller scale) and mine always just kill the fish. This thing was incredible! There were four tiers of 2 liter bottles filled about ¼ of the way up with some sort of gravel/growing medium. The bottles had cut-aways on the sides for the plants. Each level of bottles was connected to the next by aquarium tubing and the bottom level’s bottles dripped directly into the large open aquarium. I went straight-away into teacher mode and began lecturing Zada on the system. We drew a small crowd of young locals who wanted to know if we were schoolteachers and began asking questions.
I am inspired to risk some more fish in the endeavor to build one of these again. Wish me (and the fish) luck.
After the museum it was back to the Beast for some more hours on the road. We are really reworking and pinching the schedule to accommodate the weather. The current forecast is that it will be pretty awful until we leave. Sad, if it happens, but we cannot complain at all. We have had extraordinary luck with so very many clear days. The real problem is that we left Bay of Islands, The Kauri coast and the Coromandel peninsula until last because it was a lot of beach-type activities and we thought the weather would be steadily warming and clearing. I don’t know where we got that idea, but it appealed to us and we made plans with it.
Our new plan was to race to see Tongariro, Ngauruhoe and Ruapehu as quick as possible before the next killer storm (scheduled for Wednesday) hits. The effects of this last storm were pretty dreadful and we saw several frozen sheep carcasses on the drive to Okahune. We made it safely to the carrot capitol of NZ (yes, they have a giant carrot here in a small park and we heartbreakingly just missed the annual carrot festival too!), and are all set to try a few small walks along the mountain drive early tomorrow before it starts raining.

July 29, 2008
Okay, so the people at the information center that sold us the Tongariro National Park walks guide COULD have told us that the car parks and trailheads to the waterfall trail and few other short day hikes are buried in snow from plowing the road. Yes, well, the hiking part was fairly unsatisfactory, but we could see the “Rimu Walk” and the waterfall from the “Mountain Scenic Drive”, which is what we ended up doing when we found we couldn’t pull over or access the trails.
Ah well, we had a most frightening (for me, Brad & Zada are apparently indifferent to ice covered hairpin turns at steep inclines with no guard rails or barriers of any kind) drive up to the ski area, where Brad and Zada played in the snow and I contemplated mortality.
We crept down the same horrible way we had gone up and made all speed for Rotorua. We wanted to visit the city museum and the Agrodome and the other things we missed when we flew through the first time (all these things have the benefit of being indoors and good thing too as it started to rain at about noon and shows no sign of ever stopping).
We made such excellent time that we went out to the Agrodome for the 2:30 “experience”. It was really good. They impart a huge amount of information about several of NZ’s most important industries in a very entertaining way. We became acquainted with the 19 commercial breeds of sheep and their various unique aspects and uses. I was stunned to learn that the dairy industry was actually NZ’s biggest – I really thought it was sheep. We saw sheepdogs work and learned about their breeding and training. We saw a sheep sheared and learned that a Kiwi holds the world’s record for this (729 sheep sheared by one extremely tired individual in a nine hour period). After the shearing, the different grades of wool were explained and then we saw the process continued with cleaned fleeces being sent through a 109 year old carding machine and then spun into yarn by hand on a spinning wheel.
The stage show pulled people onstage to learn to milk a cow, and to feed lambs. It was much more fun than we expected and we picked up a lot of good information and material for our NZ culture kits. It would never do to go home without any sort of contact with the creature that defines NZ in popular imagination.

July 30, 2008
Well, the forecast was wonderfully accurate for today. The rain lashed and the fierce winds buffeted the campervan all night. The unearthly howling somehow complementing the staggering rotten-egg odor (don’t forget, we are back in geo-thermal wonderland and marvelous as all that hot pool, geyserish sort of thing is, it really stinks) and both combining to ensure a not so restful night.
Ah well, we were up and out to the Rotorua Museum of Art and History. This is housed in a marvelous faux Tudor/ colonial building set in the grounds of the Government Gardens. The edifice is celebrating its centennial this year. It started life as a magnificent bath-house – along the lines of those in Hot Springs National Park’s Bath-house Row, but on a much grander scale. The bath-house industry represents the second incarnation of this area’s tourism drawing card. This same region was home to the celebrated “Pink” and “White” terraces – dubbed the “Eighth Wonder of the World” by Rudyard Kipling.
Well-to-do adventurous souls came from all over to view these marvels and roads and a healthy hotel and guiding industry grew to meet the needs of the travelers. All this came to an abrupt and horrible halt with the eruption of Tarawera in 1886. At least 120 people were killed as the mountain (sacred to the local tribes and the repository for their ancestors’ remains) rent itself in two, sending up enormous multi-kilometer jets of volcanic material. The entire area was devastated and the famed terraces were no more.
The museum has marvelous exhibits detailing the history and development of this area. It is a very small museum, but the exhibits are extremely well done, with lots of primary source material delivered in a variety of formats. The community has really supported this endeavor to preserve their local history and many donated photographs, anecdotal accounts, letters, postcards and photographs lend a real richness and human dimension to the displays.
The same loving attention and respect for personal history permeates the equally absorbing galleries devoted to the 28th Maori Battalion. These troops were legendary for their valor and insouciance in action during both World Wars. They paid a terrible price for their courage, with the death of one out of every six of their number. A number of personal effects and accounts and photographs of the soldiers line the walls of this exhibit.
All of this regard for “stories” (this museum’s logo says “where great stories begin…”) has really captured my interest in terms of writing project for my students. At Te Papa I saw a beautifully carved stick with a number of protruding notches. This was for recalling generations – incredibly there were 18 notches on this stick – the idea of being able to orally recount 18 generations of your family is absolutely flabbergasting to me. I love history and am a Southern woman into the bargain – I mean I thought I was pretty up on this genealogy thing, but apparently not. Anyhow, I want to use these incredible examples we’ve been collecting to inspire my students to begin collecting their own stories. I want them to make little Fimo Southwestern “storyteller” figures and to capture their own history in as many mediums as we can dream up.
The northern wing of the building is dedicated to its own heyday as a splendid bathhouse. The descriptions of “the cure” were all so gruesome to me that it quite put me off visiting any of the contemporary spas this neighborhood is buried in. We read about the variety of baths and treatments available to treat all sorts of unattractive ailments. I could not recover from the “Rachel Bath” concept – that and the “Priest Bath” seemed to be a group (gender separate) experience. So you pile two or three individuals all suffering some disgusting skin disease or whatever and put them in the same water to steep. MMMMM! Medicinal! Then there were the variety of electric treatments, radium infused waters and x-ray treatments. The cooling room was very elegantly appointed and had displayed some of the original “instruments” utilized in the treatments in glass cases. Lastly, we descended into the basement to view the mud baths. The highly corrosive nature of the thermal waters has made maintaining the place an impossibility since the day it opened. The basement area gives you a close up view of rusted plumbing, gaps in the walls and so on. The management thoughtfully provides hard hats for touring this portion.
All in all a very enjoyable way to spend a day – especially a day where it rained sideways – all day long. We cannot complain. The news told us we had decided wisely by racing back up to Rotorua, the weather has been monstrously destructive elsewhere in NZ – flooding, roofs off, huge trees uprooted, tens of thousands without power. We are just wet. Back to the window/door open thing for a moment here. Okay, they are so very hardy they keep them all open in the cold and wind; surely they shut them in torrential downpours? No, you are wrong! Why would you close them? How would the dreadful plague of small birds render your café experience into an aviary experience if the door was shut? How can the onslaught of these flying, perpetually excreting beasts not bother anyone, but me? Okay, I am a bad person, I admit it. I hate birds. I especially hate birds indoors anywhere near my food and drink.
Enough ranting. After a very quick cup of coffee at the aviary/café we paddled back to the campground, roundly berating ourselves for forgetting to put on the stupid rain pants we dragged halfway around the world. Now we are all clean, warm and dryish (it is still raining sideways) and plotting our next move as the Coromandel Peninsula is still no. We might linger here, watching how far more entertaining other peoples elected bodies are. Seriously, compare the deadly dull sessions of our houses versus the wild carryings-on of the British, Australian and NZ parliaments.
More tomorrow, from wherever we end up.

July 31, 2008
Today was a huge driving day. We drove from Rotorua up to the Coromandel Peninsula. The weather continues to be terrible, but we have plotted a route that avoids any of the road closures. We are extremely fortunate that we have been able to keep out of the path of the worst of it. Several lovely places we just came through have been seriously battered by these awful storms.
We made it to Hahei beach and our campground has a fantastic position right on the beachfront. We went for a long explore up and down the beach and then settled in for an early evening of Uno, Pass the Pigs and a movie while yet another enormous storm blew up and rattled the windows.

August 1, 2008
Narnia and the North! Well, north anyways, even if not really Narnia. We had a wonderful walk out to the Cathedral Cove. The walk leads you through some lovely fern forest and we saw the curled up fronds that are one of the major NZ symbols, the koru, everywhere. It was the usual decadent fecundity – the very rocks seem to be green and growing here. After a side trip to Stingray Bay (the beach was still inaccessible, only the boulder field out of the reach of the tide) we arrived at Cathedral Cove.
It completely lives up to the hype. The beach is unbelievably beautiful, with glistening pink sands, the eponymous cathedral-like arch and a waterfall! The waterfall even casts spectacular rainbows, yes; it is an absurdly beautiful place. We ran here and there trying to take it all in. As if gorgeous isn’t enough, there were also several interesting fossil remains clearly visible in the cliff face. The limestone of the surrounding cliffs is eroding into fantastic shapes and obviously, the most fantastic feature is the enormous arch. It is a lot bigger than I expected – it is easily 70 feet long and probably 30 feet high. The echo factor was rigorously tested by Zada and is quite remarkable.
The arch acts as a frame for Te Hoho, a lovely pointed limestone pinnacle, now separated from the cliff face by 100 feet or more. The whole scene is deliriously beautiful. I could carry on in this vein for another 500 or 600 words, but Brad is nagging at me to hurry up and confirm the rental car details for our return.
After our return from Narnia, we hiked back up the trail and this time took the side path to visit Gemstone Bay. We found a huge boulder field, but not so many gemstones. If I haven’t driveled on about it in this posting yet, let me here mention the spectacularly beautiful color of the water. Colors, I should say as the shallower areas perfect aquamarine is dappled here and there with a radiant, deep Mediterranean blue. It is a horrible distraction when driving and the roads in this area look (as usual) like an EKG gone awry.
We encountered a wedding party on the way down to the cove as we made our way back – what an amazing place to be married! What devoted (and hardy) family they must have to haul the decorations, tables, chairs and food up and down that trail! It was a lovely hike, but there were several blowdowns and a few washed-out areas. Ah well, “the path of true love…”
Our next destination was the “Hot Water Beach”. This beach is sitting atop a magma intrusion approximately 2k beneath the surface. Reservoirs of water sit above the magma and bubble to the surface.
Everyone brings a spade and digs a little personal spa. Most people do anyway; we just made little footbaths and then ran squealing into the surf when it got too hot. The water is 60 degrees Celsius – which is too hot unless tempered with some of the icy ocean water. Getting into just the right spot took some serious jockeying.
We admired the sturdy Kiwi souls who braved the beach in their Speedos to sit in a self-dug pool – admired, but did not emulate. It is the middle of winter here and though the sun shone with its accustomed devastating brightness, it was not in any way warm.
After an enjoyable hour or so of parboiling we returned to the car and began to travel the slippery, winding road toward the Northland.

August 2, 2008
We drove out to Matakohe to visit the Kauri Museum. It is a very interesting place – lots of pioneer and settler history. They have some wonderful tableau set up showcasing the furnishings and appointments of mid 19th century upper-middle class society. The mannequins were modeled on local descendants of the people they were representing and they had a very nice collection of period clothes and personal accoutrements – splendid toilet sets, glove stretchers, bootlacers, button-hooks and so on. They had lace sample books, curling tongs and willow pattern china. Then it was onto the galleries devoted to the loggers and gum-diggers.
These were not quite so decorative and lovely, but still rich in detail and personal articles. Again we see the tremendous support these museums receive from local inhabitants, who so generously give their stories and family treasures.
The museum holds samples (huge gorgeous slabs actually) of every wood in New Zealand. The walls are covered in these glowing, polished planks. There are superb examples of woodworkers’ art from various periods – gorgeous inlaid tables, elaborately carved sideboards, intricately designed pianos and organs.
A distinctly unique gallery was the “Gum Room”. Kauri “gum” is the resin from the tree. It hardens into a beautiful, transparent golden colored nugget. These were prized by collectors and used for a variety of industrial purposes, such as linoleum making. This gallery holds what appears to be hundreds of these glowing golden hunks of hardened sap. There are elaborately crafted forms – a cathedral, a ship and so on and simple, highly polished blobs. Gum-digging seems to have been an even more horrible livelihood than logging.
Kauri trees are immense; it is hard to believe that so many were so cavalierly destroyed. The saw mill gallery made clear it wasn’t easy. The size of the saws they had to use to bring them down and then shape them for transport were incredible. A single section of Kauri log took 16 bullocks to haul – some portions (a single individual section) requiring 32 bullocks! The Northland used to be covered in these mighty giants, but today they exist only in one small 16 kilometer forest reserve. Actually, small patches of two or three trees are preserved in a couple of other places, but this is the only real concentration of them today.
Waipoua Forest was our next destination. The usual dramatic winding, weaving steep roads rendered that much more exciting by the recent (and ongoing) rain. The roadside is littered with slips and rockslides. Most of these are small or already tidied up (the NZ road works department is seriously on the ball with the wash-outs and rock piles). Some few were pretty serious, with huge, raw looking craters in the cliff side and the enormous pile of displaced material all over the place.
We oohed and ahhed and craned our necks to see to the tops along the drive and stopped for the trails to the “4 Sisters”, “the Father of the Forest” and “the Lord of the Forest”. These are seriously big trees. The last named, called Tane Mahouta, is over 51 meters high and the tallest living Kauri tree. As big as the trees we gaped at today seem, the loggers who all but wiped them out recorded trees almost twice as big (before they chopped them down to make Victorian sideboards and commodes).
The rain was REALLY coming down by now and the wind howling in a most threatening manner. As most of the streams and rivers we’d driven past earlier were all but out of their banks we got back on the road and headed for Paihia in the Bay of Islands area.

August 3, 2008
We reached Paihia as the sky opened and began to destroy the earth. The wind was screaming like a thousand souls in torment and trying to tear the roofs from the buildings. Rain was falling like bullets and we simply could not face camping. It rains like that in Houston, not NZ. We caved in and got a hotel room. Zada was so happy. That bear loves few things like staying in a hotel. She was even happier when she discovered we had Sky TV and she could watch the rugby game. She has developed a bizarre passion for the incomprehensible game. She can watch enthusiastically while Brad and I sit there bewildered and asking, “Is that a penalty? Why?” “Can you kick people in the head? Is he throwing that guy in the air?”
We even tuned in in time to see the All Blacks perform the “Haka”. This is a traditional Maori war dance and it is done before every match. Zada was in heaven. She fell in love with the Haka in Rotorua, when we attended a Maori concert. Anyhow, just to make for a perfect evening, the All Blacks defeated the Wallabies (Australia’s National team).
This morning the sky was blue and the sun was shining. Pahia looked like postcard of a perfect resort town. Everything was gleaming and shining in the sun. It looked like a perfect day to see the famed Bay of Islands, so we booked spots on a cruise out to Cape Brett and the “Hole in the Rock”. The vessel was named “Dolphin Seeker” -auspicious, we thought, which just shows what you get for thinking.
The weather turned before we were even decently out of the harbor and continued to toy with us for the entire rest of the day. It would clear, the islands would bloom into life – rich green jewels, shining in the sparkling bay; without warning rain would fall, shrouding everything in grim gray. It was like the Wizard of Oz – you’re over the rainbow – glorious color, now you’re in Kansas. Why did Dorothy want to go back? Anyhow, these monkey tricks made the sea wild and rollicking – huge swells starting developing and our trip was limited to a cruise around the islands and an exploration of the interior of the bay.
We stopped off at Urupukapuka Island for an hour and enjoyed exploring the beach. This island was home to Zane Grey’s fishing camp in the 1920’s/30’s. We found several urchins, mussels and a couple of sea stars.
The area is really lovely, and I can just imagine what an incredible place it is for water sports when the weather is more reliable. Also, we saw only one gannet as opposed to the welter of frolicking dolphins, penguins and orcas disporting themselves so merrily on the brochure. Ah well. The ice cream in this town is amazing and that is a considerable consolation.
We drove down to Warkworth and were treated to the most spectacular rainbows ever – they stretched completely across the sky and were amazingly vibrant. You could actually see them on the ground and we were looking at the countryside through a prism. Rainbow cows, sheep, farmhouses and construction equipment – it was truly lovely.

August 4, 2008
Well, everything cannot work out as planned and this morning certainly didn’t. We hoped to take a glass-bottomed boat ride around Goat Island. Goat Island was one of the first marine reserves in NZ. The visibility is supposed to be up to 10 meters in ideal conditions and the area is home to a staggering variety of sea life. Obviously, a glass bottom boat should be fantastic here (diving or snorkeling would have been even better, but you put on a bathing suit when it is 7 or 8 degrees Celsius). Incredibly, we drove around Leigh – and every other hamlet in the area – for more than an hour and could not find the place. Its ad said, “Located near Leigh”. Somehow, that just wasn’t enough for us and after an hour we gave up – it had started to rain again anyway.
We drowned our sorrows in honey at the “Honey Centre” in Warkworth. Honey is yet another one of NZ’s big agricultural industries. Their Manuka honey is wonderfully delicious and supposedly has numerous health and medicinal benefits. We watched thousands of bees industriously labor as we feasted on honey treats – their café makes honey everything on earth and it is all divine.
The attendant shop carried a line of everything you can possibly make out of anything associated with bees and a large line of the popular “Buzzy Bee” toys and paraphernalia. They have a huge sampling table where you can compare Manuka, wildflower, clover and Rewarewa honey.
After this it was off to Auckland, where we must clean up the “Beast” and generally begin to pull ourselves together for our return.

Te Anau to Wellington

2008-07-27T04:39:00.005-05:00

July 21, 2008
All that can be said about Milford Sound is that it is ridiculous. Ridiculously beautiful, ridiculously lush, ridiculously ringed in snowcapped peaks and so on. The drive out to the sound was fraught with peril – first we were besieged by sheep. We were charmed to see a farmer? rancher? and his sheep dogs manipulating a large herd, until they “worked” them out into the road to move up to their next grazing field (I am making this up; I have no idea why they were being moved). Sheep are not very speedy animals and they lack the ability to focus on the task at hand. They scattered all along the roadside, stopping to snack on roadside hedges every few feet. There were sheep in front of us, bleating and baaahing to beat the band, sheep behind us, sheep trotting alongside the van. Zada was in heaven. She loves sheep. She never tires of seeing them; she must have seen several million by now, yet at each new flock she exclaims, “LOOK! SHEEP!”
The next danger we faced were the spectacular vistas – glorious views extended as far as the eye could see for 360 degrees. It made paying any attention to the steep, winding track a near impossibility. We gave ourselves 4 hours to complete the route that should take under 2 and we needed every minute as we had to pull over at every viewpoint (prior to the avalanche zone, where we virtuously did not stop at all despite tremendous provocation from magnificent photo ops). I took over 388 pictures and Brad took some horrific amount of video – all of which must now be pruned and edited. Zada, with greater restraint, took only 128 pictures. We stopped to photograph the myriad splendors at Te Anau flats, the Eglinton River (at several points) and most notably “The Chasm”.
At one stop, just before the Homer tunnel and the really hairy section of road, we got out to let Zada kick some snow around (and take some more photographs) when a kea flew up to check us out. They are the world’s only alpine parrot, and bigger than I expected. Keas have greenish-brown plumage and a wickedly curved beak – with which they like to rip off weather stripping from cars and generally tear things up. It was not in the least shy and was coming perilously close to the van when we were saved by a tour bus offering more scope for destructive tendencies.
The Homer tunnel is a somewhat terrifying construction. It is roughly hewn directly out of the mountain (the huge, icy mountain that seems like it must crush you as you enter the tunnel) and slopes downward – it also seemed to be rather full of water. I couldn’t help but think that it could easily become a giant ice rink if the temperature dropped just a degree or two. Once you clear the tunnel, the fun driving really begins – the road plunges and corkscrews down to the sound. The views are stunning, but you scarcely dare to look. I was having chest pains and palpitations until we reached the bottom.
The Chasm was a gorgeous waterfall? This seems a rather weak way to describe this extraordinary water feature. There certainly is a point, at which the water falls dramatically into the stream below, but this is the least of it – the water has dug an incredible, elaborate obstacle course for itself through the boulders. It has bored holes through the middle of some enormous rocks, carved out the sides of others into serpentine arabesques, while undermining other mossy slabs by removing the base material they rest on. The water here, like everyplace else, is of a superb clarity. As it rushes it is an almost unearthly blue color under its froth of white foam, and here and there where it flows more quietly, you can see every detail on the bottom.
Yes, all that and I haven’t yet begun to drivel on about the sound itself, our cruise, the trip to the underwater observatory or all the rest of it.
The sound was gorgeous, of course. Mitre Peak is the single most photographed peak in all of NZ and we did our duty nobly to keep its numbers up. Sadly, again, I do not understand how to compensate for the light in this hemisphere! It is so piercingly brilliant, you can feel it burning your retinas out of your head. When you can stand to look, it shows everything around you with this kind of hyper-clarity. What you see is in glorious Technicolor and sharp as a razor; what you photograph is bleached-out and the radiance is transmuted into mist. Profoundly irritating for me, but probably lifesaving for most of you, as it is radically diminishing the number of pictures I will make you look at when we get back.
We took the “Encounter” expedition with the Red Boat company. This is a very small boat that doesn’t follow a set itinerary – they chase down the most interesting bits of natural whatever that happen to be going on that day. We were taken right up to the edge of the rock face in the sound and could practically touch the overhanging greenery. We learned a great deal about the fiordlands area – there are a visible series of “shelves” that show the gouging out process during different glacial events. The sound in its current incarnation is the result of five such events. The cliff faces and outcrops are covered in incredibly lush growth – even more incredible when you realize that there is no soil layer at all. Extremely sturdy lichens provide a base for moss. The mosses allow ferns and various other small and undemanding plants to grow. This “carpet” then somehow is a sufficient support for trees. Some of these trees are enormous. It is impossible to believe that they are anchored to the rock only by the tenacity of some moss and lichens. We saw some “tree avalanche” scars. The trees’ roots eventually become the glue that binds a whole section of this rockbound plant life together. When the lead tree goes, it rips out everything attached to it and under it.
We also investigated a number of waterfalls. You could trace their circuitous paths back up to the snowy peaks above. They were absolutely gorgeous; some of the smaller falls were particularly lovely. We went in for a close look at the “Pixie” and the “Fairy” falls, so called because of the way they catch the light and create spectacular rainbows all around. We also went under a couple of waterfalls and enjoyed squealing and being completely soaked in freezing water (the interior cabins were heated and hot coffee and tea flowed generously throughout the voyage).
The boat visited several outposts of young bachelor NZ fur seals and we were corrected about these animals – they are in fact small sea lions, not seals at all. We had wondered about their hopping around on those back flippers and now we know. One poor youngster had recently been bested in a turf war and had a huge chunk of hindquarter (or whatever you call the backside of a seal/sea lion) missing.
We were extraordinarily lucky to see yellow-crested penguins, normally they don’t return from their winter grounds for another month or two. This was our third type of penguin and was tremendously exciting for all on board. Again, the captain of the vessel showed off the maneuvers of the Lady Bowen and practically landed the boat on the rock shore right next to the penguins.
After the penguins we landed at the underwater observatory. This is a floating, reverse aquarium – we are in the tank while the sea life swims around looking at us. This was a fascinating place! We were 7 meters under the sound in a floating box with 5 inch thick specialized $10,000.00 German plexi-glass windows all around. The special quality of the glass is it doesn’t distort at all, in spite of its tremendous bulk. We saw all sorts of sea stars, sea cucumbers, anemones and corals of every description. The mussels seemed to be having bad time of it with sea stars mobbing them and sucking them out of their shells. We walked round and round the tank in amazement; the views were incredible – the water (yes, again about the water and how clear) was so clean that the visibility was phenomenal.
Well, that is pretty much it (not really, and no matter how much you think I go on and on and on in these postings, I assure you, I could go on a lot more and probably will next time I see you). We re-boarded the boat and journeyed back to Te Anau where we ate ourselves silly at a marvelous Italian place. I do not understand the trim, healthiness of the Kiwis at all. The food here is amazing – everything is delicious, portions are practically up to American standards and butter is all but a beverage. Their desserts! Well, I won’t go down that track, but believe me, if you never come here for the gorgeous, come for the food.

7/22/08
We visited Queenstown today – the physical location of the city is amazing. It sits in a bay of the gloriously lovely Lake Wakatipu and looks across the pristine water onto the aptly named “Remakables” mountain range. The best view of the city is to be had from on high, so we took the gondola up and were rewarded for the expenditure. It is indeed a beautiful city. The luge was one of many options to entertain yourself after tiring of the view. There was also the ubiquitous bungee jumping and other adrenaline enhancing activities. I don’t know if we’ve mentioned yet that the whole nation is madly addicted to extreme sports and throwing themselves off of precipices and the like. Every hamlet has it bungee, sky swing, paragliding and jet boat action adventure center. Why walk or drive when you can helijump/ski/hike? Why look at the waterfall when you can jet boat over/through/under it?
We tamely came back down the mountain in the sedate gondola and went on our way to Wanaka. Wanaka is our jumping off point for a series of short hikes in Mt. Aspiring National Park. En route we passed our first LOTR filming site. Zada was ecstatic. The touring guide map book we have shows all the various locations from the movies – we passed the “river Anduin and the site of the “Pillars of the Kings”. It was indeed a gorgeous river and you can, in fact, bungee jump from huge iron trestles over it in two different locations.
Wanaka is also home to Puzzlingworld. As their advertising says, “a truly unique attraction”. The first thing we did was The Great Maze. After entering the maze in the middle the object is to get to the color coded towers in the 4 corners. There are about 1.5km of passages in the maze. There are a number of dead ends and it is possible to go in circles. There is also a second story to the maze which does not allow you to plan your route through the bottom floor as easily as you might think. We found our way to the first 3 towers in about 15 minutes, the green tower proved very difficult to get to. In the end we managed to find the tower and get to the exit in exactly 30 minutes which is the low end of average according to the signs.
Puzzlingworld also has Illusion Rooms. This starts with a series of holographic pictures, many of which change if you shift the angle from which you look. Next you enter an octagonal room in which you are gazed upon by 168 famous faces. There are relief carvings of Winston Churchill, Mother Teresa, Einstein, Nelson Mandela, Beethoven, Lincoln, and van Gogh. There are 2 illusions at work here. One, the faces all appear to be looking at you, no matter where you stand and that some of the faces are 10 feet up the wall. Two, the faces are relief carvings (concave, bent inwards, like a spoon) but they appear to be sticking out from the wall. Next, there is an Ames Room. This is a room that from a certain vantage point appears to be a normal room. However, when you go in you find that it is terrifically slanted. The illusion it creates for the viewer is that Zada appears to bumping her head on the ceiling while Brad can’t touch the ceiling even if he leaps for it. This is possible because the back wall is not parallel to the front, it slopes down and away. Finally, you enter a room in which the floor is tilted and water appears to flow uphill, balls roll up hill, and generally everything is off center. A very enjoyable diversion.

July 23, 2008
We drove through Mt. Aspiring National Park today on our way to Fox Glacier (our glacier walk is set for tomorrow morning at 9:00!). The park was lovely with the standard issue gorgeous mountains, lush old growth native forest, pristine creeks, rivers and lakes, spectacular waterfalls crashing down the cliff faces every 20 feet or so. We stopped off at several of the walking trails to gawk and take thousands of photographs.
The first stop we made was the extremely enjoyable walk to the Blue Pools. These pools are reached via an easy track through cool, mossy, fern draped forest and a highly traumatizing (for one member of the party) walk over a swing bridge. Certain seven-year olds rendered the crossing considerably more horrific by skipping and clip-clopping over like the biggest Billy Goat Gruff, setting the bridge to undulating and wildly swinging over the rock filled river.
Once over the bridge, the pools were beautiful (although Zada took serious issue with the nomenclature, “the pools look GREEN, not BLUE.”) The pools (which indeed looked more green than blue) were spectacularly clear; the excellent visibility allowing us to easily spot the monster trout who live here.
This place was a rock-hound paradise. There were amazing specimens of greenstone among other beauties and we were itching to collect some (we both want a set-up like they had at Te Papa, a huge basin with an enormous hunk of raw greenstone and the bottom filled with gravel and grit. Patrons are invited to scoop up a handful of the sediment and polish the rock. It would be a wonderful classroom center and I wonder how many years worth of classes we’d go through before the rock was smooth and glowing green?). However, all the greenstone is the property of the Ngai Tahu (as we learned at Te Papa) and its removal is prohibited. We contented ourselves with photographs and throwing hundreds of rocks into the pool.
We stopped to view several waterfalls – the Fantail Fall, Thundering Falls and “Roaring Billy” falls. Each of these was reached at the end of a short forest walk and was …fill in all the usual overworked adjectives here. It was all of that. There were more enormous hunks of greenstone, more crystal, clear water rushing by, and more general loveliness.
After we left Mt. Aspiring we stopped for a snack break at Paringa Lake, this was a serious mistake as we had to eat and run to avoid the swarms of dive-bombing fantails. They were all over us! Once the bird plague abated it was time for the sand flies to move in. it was lovely, but apparently best enjoyed from the interior of the campervan.
The Tasman Sea providing a stunning backdrop for a good bit of our drive – a backdrop that moved to the foreground at certain points! The surf was insane, HUGE, monstrous, immense, enormous breakers were smashing into the shore. At one point there was rubble all over the road from where the sea kept crashing over it! Very exciting!
We arrived at Fox Glacier Township and confirmed our hike for tomorrow. This should be thrilling! We’ve explored glaciers before; in Alberta and Alaska, but not like this.

July 24, 2008
The glacier hike was incredible. Exhausting, but incredible! We were booked on the sissy tour; called the “Fox Trot” it is a half day hike with an hour exploring the glacier – no ice climbing, no prior experience needed – suitable (by NZ standards) for elderly heart patients and infants in arms. Those Kiwis are psychotically fit. I had to check out a walking stick to get through the bush walk portion. I want to say right here and now how very proud of my knees and ankles I am. Miraculously, everything held together and I got all the way up and back, without any sort of airlift or emergency rescue operation. We have noticed that the Kiwis are a remarkably direct nation on occasion; they are super-scathing about “stupid tourists” not following local advice or warning signs and getting themselves lost or injured. They’ll pull out all the stops to save you, but make it pretty clear they don’t appreciate having had to.
Our guides explained the route, track conditions and checked everyone’s shoes for crampon compatibility. They had extra warm layers, extra waterproof layers, extra boots, socks and even extra backpacks if yours wouldn’t hold everything. We had to check out one of these bags, which was disappointing as we were so excited about having crammed everything into just one small pack (we forgot we’d have to carry the crampons and need a place to store extra layers of clothing). They warned us that there were 600 stairs to climb during the bush walk, no railings over a 100m drop, log bridges and small creek fords on the way up and that we’d have to come back the same way.
Once everyone had their crampons and other gear we were loaded on to a bus and driven from the town to the glacier. When we arrived the two guides divided the group in to 2 groups of 14 and away we went. We only walked to the end of the “car park” (which is Kiwi for parking lot) before stopping. Our guide Simon pointed out the various features of the valley, the steep sides, the horizontal gouges caused by the scrapping of ice and rock, and the piles of till showing where the old terminal faces had been. He also pointed out the NZ Works (like the Department of Transportation) trucks. He explained that they are trying to shore up the car park as it is sinking. About 120 years ago a land slide buried a 500 meter long sheet of ice and detached it from the glacier. Now it’s about 15 meters underground and melting slowly, taking the car park with it.
The first portion of the hike was fairly level through increasingly thick bush. When we stopped again we had an excellent view of the cave out of which flows the river of glacial melt water. Rivers flowing out from under glaciers have a milky color. This is caused by “rock flour”, the finely ground bits of rock that have been pulverized by their time under the glacier. We also saw a pool that had been cut off from the river by shifting currents. This was not milky like the river but blue green like many of the other rivers we’ve seen. After the rock flour settles out of the water the dissolved minerals give the water this color.
Walking on we entered the bush proper which is exceedingly lush. This is a temperate rainforest receiving about 7 meters of rain a year. Everything is encrusted in moss, lichen, and other plants. Most of the trees seem to be hosting at least 50 other species of growing things. We crossed a few streams on stepping stones and a few on log bridges. Then the steps began. We thought that when the guides said 600 steps that they meant figuratively. Alas, they really meant 600 steps, each with a rise of about 2 feet. Clearly the designer of the steps was channeling the ancient Mayan pyramid builders. The stairs in places resembled the winding stairs into Mordor that Gollum leads Frodo and Sam up, that steep with that kind of fall if you slip. One portion had a safety chain which we were ordered to hold at all times.
At last we arrived glacier-side. This, we were told, is the coldest part of the valley due to the wind caused by the very cold glacier in the relatively warm rainforest. Here we strapped on our crampons and were issued an alpenstock (a meter long stick with a point metal end to help keep your feet on the ice) and set off. Fox Glacier Guiding sends a crew out to the ice daily to maintain the pathways on the glacier. They cut steps and fill in cracks. Without the constant maintenance the paths would disappear after just a few days due to melting and evaporation.
Our walk took us over ridges and through crevasses. The ice in a glacier is primarily blue because all of the air has been squeezed out, rendering the ice super-dense. The ice we walked over was probably about 80-100 years old. That is about how long it takes for any one snowflake to get from the neve (the top of the glacier where the snow goes in) to the terminal face (the bottom where the ice stops). We peered into an ice cave that disappeared into the depths of the glacier. We walked under a dripping ice arch and up a steep set of steps where it was necessary to haul oneself up on a rope. It was impossible to photograph enough. Taking all of our photos together one could probably assemble a flip book of our hike.
Our time on the ice flew by and Zada was especially incensed when the hour was up. We wound our way back to the place where we began and removed our crampons. There we began our bush walk back down to the car park. The steps were no more enjoyable going down than they were going up. Everyone’s knees held up and we made it to the car park intact. Zada had to be asked several time not to hop down the steps and skip across the log bridges. She and the guide were the only ones not looking just a bit worked by the hike. When she heard he’d be going back out for another 4 hour glacier hike after lunch, she asked if she could also go again.
Back in town we loaded up the Beast and set our sights on Hokitika.

July 25, 2008
We are delighted to be in Hokitika – one of the primary arts and crafts capitols of NZ. Everyplace else we’ve been, when you pick up this or that little charmingly made piece of kiwiana, it turns out to have been made in Hokitika. We had particularly set our hearts on this place called “Bonz and Stonz”. The proprietor lets you design your own piece and then teaches you how to produce it in paua, bone or greenstone. We were really excited about getting hands-on with the traditional art forms. Unfortunately, this place was closed. We did very much enjoy visiting a glassblowing studio, several jade workshops, a paua shell workshop and a local artists’ cooperative, where we saw amazing work in wood, bone, shell, wool and stone. The artists were very generous with their time and knowledge.
After examining every piece in the entire village, we hit the road for Paparoa National Park to view the “Pancake” rocks. This name comes from the extraordinary arrangement of the layers of rock here on the coast. The park has a very nice track that leads you through a veritable flax forest out to spectacular view of the rocks, the Tasman Sea and the range of snow capped peaks in the distance. It was a glorious day, with more of that impossibly bright southern light glistening off of everything. The view we had was what prompted the Maori to name this land Aotearoa – the “Land of the Long White Cloud”. That was exactly what it looked like, the white peaks seeming to hover above the landscape.
We followed the track, exclaiming at every bend, “They REALLY look like pancakes here!” Until we gave ourselves over entirely to the art of videotaping a blowhole; the sea roars alarmingly and the waters swirl and crash menacingly. You are sure this swell is the one that will send the water erupting up in a spectacular spay and turn the camera on, okay, the next one, no, the one after is really big – keep rolling, if you stop the camera it will take too long to come back on and you’ll miss it! So we have really long series of video of us staring down into various holes in the rock. It was quite exciting when it did happen (which I do not believe we actually caught on time). Anyhow, it was a very attractive park with lots of interesting geological features.
In addition to the “Pancake” rocks the coastline itself bears the unmistakable scars of living next to the sea. The massive breakers are wearing away and sculpting the enormous stands of rock into quite fantastic shapes.

July 26, 2008
Our astounding run of weather luck finally broke today. We beat the odds for a good long time – we haven’t been shut out of almost anything or anyplace we wanted to see. We might have had to curtail or temper activities a time or two, but we always got to do something everywhere we’ve been – until today. After some of the worst roads of the entire trip we fetched up in Abel Tasman National Park to be told we’d missed the day’s last water taxi and all activities, tours and rentals for tomorrow were looking pretty grim. A huge weather system had been smacking around the North Island, flooding and washing out roads and bridges, suspending the ferry and air travel. Now it was moving south. They had seen swells of 4 meters and weren’t about to gives us their kayaks to destroy in the Tasman Bay.
This was a serious disappointment – the whole area is stunning – golden (not yellow, not tan or cream, really GOLDEN) beaches lapped by sparkling turquoise water. Well, let’s give the day its due and carry on a bit about the horrific driving. We were desperate to escape the West Coast, which was costing us a fortune. The consummate artistry of the craftpeople (whether working in glass, stone, bone, shell, wool or a decadent selection of native timbers [all reclaimed or from dead wood]) in this area was impossible to withstand. Somehow I neglected to set up a taonga (treasure) budget and most of you know how precious my spreadsheets are to me. It has been a struggle. Most shops had the workrooms open and the artisans were happy to discuss their craft, the significance (traditional and contemporary, cultural and political) of the medium they worked in and the process by which they transformed the raw materials. The materials themselves are so very beautiful and we were lucky enough to be able to purchase some of these un-worked bits and pieces for the NZ study kits we are assembling for our schools.
Anyhow, we drove, and drove and drove on and up the sides of impossibly steep cliffs, as intricately curved and twisted as Celtic knotwork. Then we drove down, down, down at ever steeper angles off the impossibly steep cliffs into the lovely river valleys/bays/whatever type of water course, again switchbacking and hairpin turning every 20 feet or so. Repeat 5,000,000 x infinity. This was all rendered more challenging than usual by the large preponderance of rockfalls and washouts. You are frequently warned of these hazards, but the roads are so well policed and maintained on the whole that usually it has all been swept up and patched. Not today! Brad loathes the reliance on one-lane bridges here. I disagreed, but have to join with him in condemning the one lane mountain road! Yes, we drove this heart-stopping phenomena 3 times on this road. One was on a completely blind curve and they had set up those dinky shoplifting mirrors you see in convenience stores as your only guide. Sadly, some vandal had broken out the mirrors in both directions so it was really a supreme test of faith, rather than a road hazard.
Well, that for several hours, capped by the bad news at Abel Tasman - followed by more wretched road – about 120km – to retreat to Nelson (where we found everything closed when we arrived)was making for a sad bunch of Texans. However, the sun (in the guise of a local Indian place) shone on us again – figuratively- and we basked in the rosy glow of warm samosas, pakoras and malai kofta. We are now restored and ready for tomorrow, when we hope to cross the Cook Strait.

July 27, 2008
We got up and out very early as we had 134km of fun road to cover to catch the ferry at Picton. I enjoyed the views of the gorgeous Tasman Bay (when my life wasn’t flashing before my eyes). We made good time and although we were cautioned that the seas were extremely “heavy” and the vessel running behind, it should still be making the afternoon crossing. Here goes!

Dunedin to Te Anau

2008-07-21T03:58:00.002-05:00

July 19, 2008
The campervan is beyond filthy at the end of its trek from Dunedin to Invercargill. We took the Southern Scenic route through the Catlins. This region is supposedly extremely scenic and picturesque. Personally we found that it looks for the most part like the rest of New Zealand, rolling green hills covered in varying quantities of sheep or cows. There was more native forest here than we’ve seen in most other places and there are more forest reserves too.
The first place we went, in an attempt to see elephant seals and sea lions, was called Nugget Point. This is reached by driving 15km down a rutted gravel road with blind curves and steep grades. The road travels through ever more sheep pastures until emerging along the coast. (Though even here there is the ocean on your left and sheep on the right.) At this point the road becomes a single lane for added excitement. The ocean was breaking violently on some very interesting looking rocks. They were layers of some sedimentary rock that have been tilted and so the layers are at about a 45 degree angle. The wind was roaring along making it difficult to stand in one place. It was also somewhat chilly. We rumbled out to the end of the point and found no seals of any kind.
Our trip out to Nugget Point was not wasted though. Along the way we discovered that sheep are afraid of the sound of the camper’s horn. As we trundled by we would honk and then giggle about the mini stampede we created. (Kimberly wants it noted that though she laughed, she strong disapproves of tormenting simple farm animals.) We only indulged in this activity a few times so as not to cripple the wool industry by traumatizing the nation’s sheep.
Our second stop was more rewarding. We stopped at Purakaunui Falls Scenic Reserve. The track passed through a native forest to a delightful waterfall. The forest reminded me of the Hoh Rainforest in Olympic National Park. The trees, rocks, and even the signage was draped in a hundred varieties of moss. Birds twittered unfamiliar songs in the canopy. This is the kind of forest that most of the two islands were covered with when Captain Cook arrived, the forest that the giant moa lived in before being hunted to extinction by the Maori.
From there we headed for the Cathedral Caves which we discovered are closed for the winter. Moving right along we drove out the Curio Bay. At this place we reached the southernmost point of our journey. Here there is a forest of petrified logs which can only be seen at low tide. The wind was even more ferocious here and the cold even more unbearable. Most of the fossilized trees are laying on their sides half exposed. In a few places there are stumps in which it is possible to identify the bark and some of the rings.
We’ve ended up at a holiday park in Invercargill. Tomorrow we are off to Te Anau to see a glow worm cave and prepare for our drive out to Milford Sound.

July 20, 2008
Today’s EARLY morning drive was brightened by the spectacular vistas. Almost as soon as we turned off onto SH 94 did the verdant, rolling sheep/cattle/deer/ostrich farms give place to majestic snowy peaks. We oooohed and aahhed at a magnificent range on the right, then one on the left, then one right in front of us! We couldn’t wait to get to Te Anau and photodocument these beauties against the aquamarine iridescence of the lake!
Sadly, by the time we reached Te Anau, a huge fog bank – it didn’t roll in or settle; it just appeared – blanketed the …everything. So much for mountains, we couldn’t even see the lake and the town is built right on the shore. Que sera! We booked a tour to cross the lake and visit the glowworm caves.
After a monstrously huge, but delicious, second breakfast (they apparently assume everyone here is fueling up to trek the Milford Trail), we set out to explore the town. It is mostly closed for the winter. Everything that is open is manned by the standard issue, perfect Kiwi staff. Where do they find all these friendly (without ever being pushy or over-familiar) competent people? They must be the product of the NZ schools – year-round, uniformly attractive and gender separated at high school.
The boat trip across the lake was very informative. We saw Manuka trees (love the honey!)and learned that the islands that dot the lake (NZ’s second largest at 350 square kilometers, but deeper than Lake Taupo at about 200 meters deep and the largest containment of fresh water in all of Austalasia)are the handiwork of glaciers. The softer material and sediment having been scoured away and these outcrops of harder bedrock scraped into the current domed shapes. These islands are covered in old growth, native forests and are used by the DOC as part of their programs promoting the conservation of endangered native species.
The corner of Fiordland National Park that hosts the glowworm cave is covered with these evergreen native trees and plants in the hyper-profusion and absurd lushness that seems to be the hallmark of pre-Cook NZ. We entered the cave and immediately were plunged into darkness. The cave ceiling at the entry point is just over a meter high, even Zada had to duck. Bent double we proceeded into a wildly twisted limestone tunnel, almost deafened by the roaring river rushing under our feet and actively excavating the cave around us. The water had created a phantasmagoric labyrinth of bizarrely sculpted sedimentary rock. The base layer of sandstone is eroding at a much slower rate and in a completely different pattern than the limestone upper storey. Holes are being bored into the sandstone, in some places making it look like Swiss cheese while the limestone looks like baklava or perhaps a napoleon – layers of slightly harder material jutting out over more deeply eroded softer rock.
The river was beautiful – raging torrents of the most crystal clear water – here a large pool, there rapids and at one point a spectacular waterfall. We boarded boats and were cautioned against making any noise. Glow worms don’t like light or noise, so there are no pictures of this amazing adventure. Sorry folks, but come to NZ and see for yourself. I cannot imagine anyone on earth who wouldn’t love this place.
We caromed off the rocks, banging our way down a channel (it isn’t easy to steer a boat in a completely blacked-out environment) into a grotto. We had spotted a glow worm or two on the way in, but this was clearly fungus gnat heaven. Glow worms are the larval stage of the fungus gnat and a thoroughly unattractive specimen when seen by light of day. Their behaviors also lack charm, but when drifting silently through a pitch black cave lit only by their twinkling bioluminescence, they are magical. We strained neck muscles and dislodged vertebrae trying to see everything and everywhere at once. It was completely wonderful.
Out of the cave and in the visitor center we were regaled with hot drinks and fun facts about the glow worms and this cave. The town’s name is based on the Maori Te Ana-Au, which means “cave of the swirling waters” or something close to that. No one though anything much about that apparently, until the 1940’s when Lawson Burrows spent three years looking for the legendary spring and found that there was in fact a cave with waters that could be described as swirling. He squeezed through the cave opening and stumbled upon the grotto.
The larval stage of the fungus gnat is its longest phase – it is a glow worm for about 9 months. By comparison, it is only an adult for a few days; the adult stage doesn’t even have a mouth. The glow worm hunts by secreting long stings studded with droplets of a paralyzing toxin. It arranges as many as 70 of these “fishing lines” around its hammock (tube of viscous, clear material that a glowworm uses to attach itself to rock walls). It has complete range of motion in its hammock. The larvae are cannibalistic and somewhat antisocial (near neighbors may be eaten). They only glow when hunting; a sated glow worm goes dark, until it is hungry again.
On the boat trip the clouds parted and the glorious mountains came back into view. We were delighted to see how extremely gorgeous Te Anau really is. The lake water is pristine; you can see every detail on the bottom for a couple of meters or more. This spectacular body of water is outlined in rich green native forest, which itself is set against a backdrop of rugged snowcapped peaks.
To cap the splendours of this place, the campground we are at one of the very nicest holiday parks we have seen yet. The restrooms are heated! This offsets the almost pathological Kiwi fresh air fetish (I say when it is 4 degrees Celsius or less, the doors and windows should be closed! Everywhere we go, be it never so arctic/Antarctic or rainy, every door and window stands wide open! Some are even bolted or fixed so that cannot ever be shut!). It is winter, but the Kiwis know it not.

Christchurch to Dunedin

2008-07-18T03:52:00.004-05:00

July 15, 2008
International Antarctic Center- The International Antarctic Center is the public face of the facility from which the United States, New Zealand, and Italy manage their Antarctic research stations. Inside there are a variety of exhibits detailing the kind of jobs and work that are done at the research stations and the difficulties the people working there face. There are more than just scientists there. The bases also employ truck drivers, chefs, machinists, clergy, and artists.
There is a cold room at the center where people from warmer climates can experience a little taste of Antarctic style cold. Inside is a floor of real snow, an igloo, and a slide made of ice. There is also a large thermometer indicating a constant temperature of -8 degrees Celsius (17 degrees Fahrenheit). If you like you can press the button on the Wind Chill Machine. This turns on a fan which allows you to enjoy the icy caress of a -18 degree Celsius wind chill. Before entering the staff issues you a pair of rubber overshoes (to keep the snow clean) and a South Pole grade parka. I’m not sure what the parka is made of (maybe lead or Kevlar) but it sure was warm. None of this cold bothered Zada who went down the ice slide perhaps a hundred times. In the end we had to pull rank with her to get her out of there.
Every hour a “storm” kicks up in the cold room. This involves turning the lights way down and turning on some very large fans. The wind in the room goes up to about 45 knots which (I’m estimating here) is about 38-40 miles per hour. The wind chill drops to around -22 degrees Celsius (-5 degrees Fahrenheit). At that point it is really not possible to describe the cold. It’s a cold that you can feel right through to your bones. Even with our lead parkas we were forced to huddle up with our backs to the wind like the penguins in “March of the Penguins” in order not to freeze to death. After the “storm” passed we dragged Zada out and turned in our parkas.
The center also serves as a rest home and rehabilitation hospital for injured little blue penguins. This is a species found only around New Zealand. (Of the about 20 species of penguin in the world only 4 live in Antarctica.) We watched their daily feeding during which the number of fish eaten by each individual is recorded. Most of the penguins ate in the water as they would in the wild. Some however were unable to swim and so had to be hand fed on shore. Unfortunately, most of the penguins there had been handicapped by human activity. Getting tangled in fishing line and other garbage is a major problem for them as is eating plastic and other waste. Sadly, most of the birds here will never be fit for return to the wild.
I think that I speak for everyone when I say that the most exciting part of our visit was the Hagglund ride. The Hagglund is a Swedish military vehicle something like a tank. It is designed for moving through extremely rough terrain. It can scale, descend, and traverse a 40 degree incline. It can drive over a gap of 1.9 meters (that’s about 6 feet). It’s also amphibious with the tank treads providing the propulsion when it acts like a boat. They cost $500,000 each and need new treads annually for $80,000. If not for the cost, it would be just about perfect for negotiating the potholes of the typical Houston street. The driver made sure that there was plenty of heart stopping action as he drove up and over the hills of the course all the while extolling the virtues of the Hagglund and pointing out the sites of the Antarctic Campus (even the United States Postal Service has an office here).
Before continuing our drive south we had a snack in the café. Here in New Zealand you cannot just say that you want a coffee. If you do they will ask you what kind of coffee you want. Even at Starbucks you have to ask for “filter coffee” if you want a plain old coffee. The closest thing to American coffee is something called a “long black”. This is a shot of espresso with hot water. It is generally excellent. A great surprise has been the Kiwi ability to make a dessert. At the center we had a carrot cake which was simply divine. Back at Te Papa we had a brownie and a chocolate truffle cake and both were heavenly. We are investigating which of the immigrant groups brought the secret of tasty desserts to New Zealand.
We carried on south which today was nice as there were no steep, twisty roads. There were several charming towns along the way. We didn’t stop until we got to Oamaru where there is a blue penguin colony. Our attempts to see the penguins was foiled by the fact that the birds spend the whole day at sea eating and don’t come back to shore until evening. Perhaps our penguin dreams will be fulfilled in Dunedin.

July 16, 2008
This morning’s first stop was the Moeraki Boulders. These are boulders ranging from 2 to 5 feet in diameter. They are almost perfectly spherical and are scattered across about 180 feet of Pacific beachfront. The boulders formed about 60 million years ago when this area was on the sea floor and lime salt formed around a solid core. Today some are still being eroded out of the cliff above the beach. Some have been cracked open by the ravages of time and are now strewn about, large chunks of gray stone lined with yellow crystal. The beach around the boulders is covered with lovely iridescent snail shells. Zada made a good attempt to collect all of these and only reluctantly put down several large handfuls when we told her she would have to abandon some of her other treasures in New Zealand for want of baggage space.
Upon arriving in Dunedin we embarked on a 40 minute quest to find parking. There is no street parking for more than an hour anywhere in the city. There are a few parking garages but only one was tall enough to accommodate the Beast. For $2 an hour we were able to leave the camper and visit Cadbury World. This is the place where such delightful treats as Crème Eggs, Caramello, and Dairy Milk bars come from. During the course of the tour we were able to fill goodie bags with full size Cadbury candy bars. We each earned an extra bar from the guide for answering questions. It is a fascinating facility where they turn out 95% of the chocolate made in New Zealand. Inside an old storage tank they have created a 50 foot chocolate waterfall. In 30 seconds it spills out a ton of melted chocolate. The guide assured us that none of that chocolate goes into the food. The tour ends where all good tours end, in the gift shop. The Cadbury shop sells the half pound blocks of chocolate for about $1.50. Mmm… treats!
After the chocolate shop we walked around the city’s Octagon. That’s the central district, covered in charming cafes, shops and gorgeous buildings. Dunedin is apparently less subject to the subterranean forces that rock and rip so much of the rest of the country as wonderful examples of Victorian and Scots/Edwardian architecture abound here. There are several impressive churches, the Municipal Chambers, the Law Courts and lovely homes lines the steep streets – no doubt anchored in place by the weight of gingerbread trim they carry.
The Railway Station was the real heavyweight though. This stunning building, constructed with contrasting Oamaru limestone and central Otago bluestone, is impressive inside and out. It is done in a sort of Northern Renaissancesque style with richly ornamented dormer windows projected from a steeply pitched roof. A 120’ clock tower surmounts the whole. The interior is equally rich with railway themed mosaic floors and an intricately wrought frieze of Royal Doulton manufactured cherubs and floral swags underlining the wrought iron balcony. This will be our point of departure tomorrow (weather willing) for our Taieri Gorge rail expedition.

July 17, 2008
Today we split forces. Kimberly and Zada explored the Otago Museum and Brad went on the Speights tour.
The Otago Museum has a marvelous collection of Pacific Island treasures. The entrance to the galleries is manned by a splendid Easter Island Moai. These galleries are filled with masks, musical instruments, ceremonial garb and weapons from Micronesia, Polynesia and Melanesia. Interpretive panels explain the relevance of such rituals as the Kava ceremony (only a ritual with certain groups – enjoyable beverage to others) and explain the similarities and differences (genetic, linguistic and cultural) between the various peoples of the Pacific. Zada was most impressed with the necklaces and headdresses – beautiful arrangements of shell and feathers or somewhat terrifying strings of human teeth and armored fish skins ringed with shark teeth.
Across the hall is their Maori collection – not large, but with some extraordinary pieces. Their waka, war canoe, is one of the largest and most elaborately carved we seen so far. They also give a good bit of gallery space to information about archeological excavations of an early settlement in the Shag River area.
The whole museum was amazing, other galleries housed a plesiosaur, skeletons of several moa and a recreation of the NZ La Brea tar pits equivalent swamp that trapped so many of these flightless birds. There were fossil dolphins, sea turtles and other marine mammoths.
At the top of the museum was a true hall of wonders! There was a photograph showing the museum in its original late 1800’s splendor – several floors of galleries lit by skylights over a central atrium. These galleries housed wooden glass-fronted cabinets filled with …everything on earth. They have recreated this original Victorian gallery on the top floor – called “Animal Attic”. It was unbelievable, the Victorian passion for collection, collation and cataloging in all its glory. There were cases filled with the taxidermed or skeletal remains of Noah’s Ark. Except there was only one of each kind. I found it a little overwhelming and also a little disturbing, but I was completely alone in this as I have never seen so many completely fascinated and transfixed children ever. They couldn’t see enough, read enough, or ask enough questions.
I did learn the origin of the “Rat King” in the Nutcracker, as they had a preserved example floating in a jar. A “Rat King”, you are no doubt breathless to know, is a rare phenomena. The tails of all the juvenile rats in a nest become snarled together in the nesting material and the rats are the inseparable (one wonders who ever tried to separate one and why?). It will further interest you to know that if a “Rat King” were found in a house, the house would be razed and all the women burned as witches.
As if all this weren’t enough for one day we next made our way to the train station and boarded the historic Taieri Gorge train. The train travels alongside the course of the beautiful Taieri River. We took the train as far as Pukerangi and then returned. It was a very lovely and enjoyable journey. The pictures fell victim to the over-bright Southern light – in real life it gives a remarkable brilliance to everything, photographically is shrouds the world in mist. The train traversed several aqueducts and high iron trestles spanning 100 foot gorges. We were again amazed to note that almost every square centimeter of land in NZ is in use. I had no idea that sheep and cows could graze on mountaintops and at a 60% angled slope. They are far more surefooted than you’d guess.
We got back to the campground in time to explore the creek trail and go searching the cliff faces for glowworms. Yes, a word here, again, about NZ campgrounds - they are incredible! And, yes, this one in Dunedin has a lovely creek and wooded trail area complete with glowworms on the grounds. It was delightful to see those little fairy lights shine through the trees and ferns along the trail.

July 18, 2008
Today we went to the top of the world’s steepest street. Baldwin Street, in Dunedin, is certified by the Guinness Book of World’s Records as the steepest street in the world. It is a ridiculous looking thing- it climbs at a 38 1/3 degree angle according to the propaganda, according to me it was a sheer cliff face – easily an 88 or 89 degree angle. How do the people who live there manage? I have never owned a car that could manage that incline – they must replace their brakes and transmissions at least twice a year. Zada cavorted, skipped and frolicked all the way to the top. Brat. My legs shook for at least half an hour after we got down. They hold an annual event, charmingly titled “The Baldwin Street Gutbuster”, which requires participants to complete the lung-scorching, heart-bursting course in two minutes. We missed the Jaffa race, sadly – this is an event where they roll Jaffas (a roundish Cadbury chocolate) down the hill. The street was still fairly well coated in the squished remains of the contenders.
We headed back into the city center to see the new Chinese Gardens and visit the Cadbury climbing wall. Zada was a champ at this and more than earned the snack sized Moro bar prize. She frittered her rapidly dwindling financial resources away on a regulation rugby ball and a possum fur/merino scarf.
Fortunately, by the time we got back to the Yellow-eyed Penguin Reserve office, the gift shop had closed. The excitement of viewing so many of these incredibly adorable and terribly endangered animals would doubtless have triggered an orgy of fridge magnet, plush toy buying. We were run like hunted rabbits through a bewildering series of underground trenches. Racing the penguins from one viewing blind to the next and standing breathlessly (holding our breath because they are highly sensitive to noise, which was challenging, as racing madly up and down dunes and hills had us snorting and blowing like racehorses)still and silent while we watched for them to bodysurf onto shore. They “porpoise” out in the surf for an irritatingly long time. When they’ve assured themselves that all is well, they shake themselves like little dogs and begin their hop-waddle up the beach and into the dunes.
We were lucky enough to see several of these wonderful birds; they are the only non-social penguin. They dislike the sight of each other, much less anything else, and will not appear if they feel threatened in any way – hence the underground viewing blinds and injunction for silence. We also saw a Little Blue, or Fairy Penguin, in a nest. These are the world’s smallest penguins and we struck out seeing them once before because we hadn’t done our homework and learned that they only emerge from the sea at nightfall. The one in the nest was a juvenile, who apparently hadn’t got the memo that they feed all day in the winter.

Wellington to Christchurch

2008-07-15T01:14:00.004-05:00

July 12, 2008
Te Papa. Today we visited Te Papa, the national museum. It is a spectacular museum and by the end of the day our brains were leaking out of ears. We dedicated the entire day and it really wasn’t enough time. They should have little rooms set aside so you can nap between the different floors as each level presents an unbelievable array of cultural artifacts, natural wonders and attendant information.
We started out on the second floor which houses the “Amazing Forces” and “Mountains to Sea” exhibits. The Amazing Forces is entered through a doorway in a huge model of the earth. Inside there are incredible interactive displays detailing the various physical processes that formed and continue to shape the earth. Among these was an earthquake house with footage from the 1961 Edgecombe earthquake; a model of the tectonic plates, models of the various types of faults with photographs of their effect on the landscape. They also had a huge video panel model of the layers of the earth, reflecting onto a mirrored floor and wall to produce a 3-D flaming globe effect. There were countless other fascinating exhibits; a jumping floor where you measure the size of earthquake you have the force to produce, a winch you turn to store enough tension under the surface to produce an earthquake and a fascinating display called, “New Zealand, Naturally Disastrous” sponsored by the Earthquake Commission. I could go on and on, but I’ll spare you. It was completely amazing.
“Mountains to Sea” was a native flora and fauna wonderland. Models of NZ tree types were set up like playscapes to walk through and around while looking at various displays of the creatures they play host and grocery store to. Interactive panels, video, sound effects and a large hands-on component made this area engaging for all ages. We learned such useful information as that duplicity is an adaptation that has allowed species such as mistletoe and the cuckoo to survive. The mistletoe produces beautiful berries which entice birds to eat them. The berry is expelled in a viscous fluid that sticks to the birds’ posterior and must be scraped off on a branch. This ensures the ideal placement of the seed on a host plant. The mistletoes “tricks” the birds into helping destroy the tree that they depend upon.
Each floor also has a “Discovery Place”, a kids’ center filled with games, activities, books, computer stations and touch tables relevant to the materials on display in the galleries. These centers were incredible! The one on this floor had projecting microscopes, a variety of pelts, and a series of projects created by NZ schoolchildren on various natural history topics.
They final area we visited on this floor was the “X-Ray” room. Dozens of skeletons from marine mammals – whales, dolphins and seals – are displayed here.
Next floor was “Blood, Earth and Fire” and was dedicated to the ways in which invasive species have impacted NZ. This was really fascinating. Zada particularly enjoyed the large “cargo hold” that you crawl through and inspect to look for signs of these invaders. She found bats in boxes of bananas, maggots in tomatoes, mosquitoes in tires, beetles in wood carvings and termites in a load of furniture. The depredations of these and other exotic s are truly dreadful. The native species had very few if any predators and little competition. They were very poorly equipped to deal with the invading hordes and many have been pushed to the brink of extinction.
The 4th floor dealt with the human population of NZ. There were several galleries of exquisite Maori carving – beautiful greenstone pieces, bone and intricate weaving. They have an elaborately carved meeting house, a model sleeping house and food storage house all of which allow entry. An amazing section showcased models of sailing vessels. They had a huge traditional canoe and then these scale models of modern constructions of traditional Maori long voyage vessels. This attempt to recapture the past skills of their ancestors has resulted in several successful voyages across the Pacific – one from NZ to Hawaii.
This floor also had a marvelous gallery dealing with more recent immigration. There was a very popular kiosk where you answered a few questions to see if you would have rated free passage in the 1800’s and then another were you see if you could immigrate today. They had a very amusing computer game where you were the captain of an immigration vessel and made several choices regarding route, sickness, cargo and so on to see if you could get to NZ and earn the company bonus.
The Discovery Place on this floor had costumes, sticks and balls on stings called Pui Pui and instructions for how to perform the dances they go with. Flash card games and shopping lists introduced Maori words in a fun format as did several genealogical exercises.
I’ve completely left out the outdoor component on each of these floors – well there was a lovely garden, sculpture court or combination on each floor. The remaining floors were art galleries. Needless to say, we crawled out on our knees. I have only skimmed the surface here and done a rotten job of that even. This place needs to be seen.

July 13, 2008
Wellington to Picton on the Inter Island ferry.
We had another perfect day and the Cook Strait was very lovely. The voyage was uneventful – with one brief exception. The PA announced, “Whales on the starboard side!” Everyone dropped everything and ran for the decks. You’d have thought the boat was on fire. It is a testament to the effective loading of the cargo and vehicles that the ferry didn’t tip over. Anyhow, “Whales starboard”, is apparently some sort of maritime code for uninterrupted vista of water, rocks and trees.
We drove to Kaikoura, with a brief stop at Oahu Point to check out a seal colony. They were lolling about on the rocks looking adorable. There were several pups playing and splashing in tide pools as their elders rested.

July 14, 2008
Sperm Whales and dolphins and seals, Oh my!
We got up considerably before dawn to get over to Whale Watch and check in for our trip. They have a lovely facility with a gift shop full of stuffed whales. The staff, like every place we have been in NZ, was extremely friendly and competent and all the service excellent. The entire nation is also pristine – no litter anywhere! The views from the boat were magnificent. The views from the shore were magnificent. Even the views from the parking lot of the grocery store were magnificent. The Seaward Kaikoura range glowed in alpine splendor to our left and the Pacific sparkled in marine sublimity on our right.
Anyhow, out we went and saw several seabirds –albatross and the like. Those birds are incredible – you would never guess the size of their wingspan when they are sitting quietly in the water. Next we came to a group of NZ fur seals capering about. Their population has rebounded amazingly since being protected. Our captain used an underwater microphone to listen for the whales. This company uses only passive methods to find the whales – no sonar or radar or anything that might interfere with their communications. He picked up the distinctive “clicks” emitted by sperm whales on the hydrophone and started tracking the whale. He was feeding and they warned us that sometimes the feeding dives could last an hour of more. We were fortunate and fairly soon the frequency of the clicks increased which generally means a return to the surface.
Zada was the first to spot the plume of spray that accompanied the whale’s surfacing and we were seeing our very first sperm whale. One nice feature of the sperm whale is that when they surface, they spend a good 10 to 15 minutes re-oxygenating before they dive. Very cooperative of them, unlike their baleen cousins the humpbacks, who often are only up for a second then dive again. This whale stayed up and allowed me to take 387 pictures, about 14 of which don’t look like a floating log. Truly a magnificent creature. I find it incredible that people hunt them. I’ve been on several whale viewing trips and have been lucky enough to see 4 different species and the reaction of everyone aboard – including the operators, who must see them almost daily – is always joyful, giddy awe. How can someone see one of these magnificent animals breach the surface and reach for the harpoon gun?
After he dove again we headed out to look for dolphins and almost instantly came upon a mammoth herd of about 400 dusky dolphins. These exuberant animals were tremendous fun to watch and almost completely impossible to photograph. Thank heaven we live in the age of digital photography. I cannot image how anyone ever captured images of wildlife before. I took hundreds more photographs as we were ringed by these marine acrobats and seriously 95% of them turned out to be pictures of ocean. They were up turning flips and leaping everywhere and gone again in less than a second. We spent a good 25-30 minutes being captivated by their antics before we headed back to Kaikoura.
When we reached the shore we headed out to local seal colony at the end of the peninsula. When we arrived I was seriously annoyed to find no seals. The tide was out and we explored tide pools filled with snails, huge periwinkle type things and sea stars. The rock shelf exposed by low tide showed the most bizarre erosion channels. Only as we were walking back to the campervan did we notice that the parking lot was surrounded by seals. They were right there. We had been looking out away to the rocky promontories off shore and they were lying on the grass and sandy beach beside the parking lot. You are warned not to get between them and the sea and to stay about 10m away. We tried to abide by this, but while I was contorting myself around a boulder to get a shot of a large bull sunning himself I heard a squealing sort of snort and looked over my shoulder to see an EVEN larger bull rolling in the grass not 10 feet away.
After that we loaded up and headed off to Christchurch. Christchurch has lovely buildings, a gorgeous cathedral and a charming greenspace beside the river Avon winding through town. It is however the only dirty place I have seen in NZ. Litter everywhere - styrofoam boxes floating with the ducks on the river, sidewalks covered with cigarette butts, graffiti on building walls. It was appalling after a week’s worth of pristine perfection. I haven’t seen as much as a gum wrapper in a parking lot and now this! I realize that as an American, this is the height of hypocrisy. I am sure the typical NZ landfill looks better than any of our cities, but it was surprising to see that this city is so out of step with the rest of the perfection program.

White Island to Wellington

2008-07-11T02:26:00.006-05:00

July 8, 2008
This was a really big day for us – the expedition to White Island. This is one of the things we were most looking forward to and it absolutely exceeded our expectations! We went with PeeJay Charters and the staff and facilities were outstanding – truly excellent.
The weather cooperated beautifully – it was a gorgeous day, blue skies for the entire trip. We embarked at 9:00 and the trip out was really lovely. Whakatane is a very picturesque town – it reminded me a little of Hot Springs NP. We saw Whale Island and heard about its exotic history – environmentally destroyed by various commercial endeavors, by the time the government took it over it was overrun with rats and goats and all native fauna had been obliterated. It is now a conservation reserve and thriving.
We landed on White Island by zodiac and scaled a rusted ladder (everyone’s tetanus booster is I believe up-to-date) and tiptoed across a terrifyingly corroded metal plank and then scrambled over a boulder field up to the beach. White Island is New Zealand’s only active marine volcano. It is the site of intense study by volcanologists and we saw their cameras and several of the markers and equipment they use to monitor its activities. Once on the beach you are confronted with the ruins of the sulfur mine destroyed by an eruption in 1914. You can also hear the hissing of the countless fumaroles. Our walk took us on a circuit of the crater floor. The number of steaming holes in the ground is beyond reckoning. Each one is surrounded by delicate yellow crystals of sulfur. In some places these crystals begin to build up into chimneys above the hole. The smell was at times unendurable and we had to resort to the gas masks thoughtfully provided by the guides. They also distributed hard candy to combat the hacking cough occasioned by inhaling too many sulfurous fumes. (Let me not malign sulfur. We learned that pure sulfur is odorless. The horrific stench associated with sulfur (that foul, rotten egg, brimstone smell) is sulfur dioxide or sulfur combined with carbon dioxide.) In many places the ground is covered with a crust of sulfur, silica and gypsum. There are channels cut by rainwater runoff where you can see the layer of volcanic material ejected over the years. During its most recent eruption, in 2000, the volcano covered itself with a foot thick layer of scoria (volcanic pebbles). In the middle of the crater is a jade green lake that steams like a cauldron. Its temperature is about 57 degrees Celsius (134 degrees Farhenheit) and has a PH of -0.1. The guide told us that if anyone fell in there would be a “big splash, a short squeal, and a long silence.” The environment is very acidic from the countless fuming holes that dot the island. The guides told us that their t-shirts start developing holes in just a couple of weeks. It is very hard to describe – sort of a cross between a moonscape and a post-apocalyptic , geothermal wonderland. We all had a great time.

July 9,2008
Another gorgeous day! We left Rotorua and headed towards Lake Taupo. Enroute we stopped at Orakei Koraku another geothermal wonderland. The “Emerald Terrace” descends into Lake Orakei and a continuous cascade of heated water flows over its sparkling silica surface into the lake water. We ferried across the lake and landed beside the terraces. A boardwalk path led around a series of geysers, mud pots and fumeroles. The landscape was wonderfully lush. Lichens, moss, and ferns densely covered the trailsides. The plants apparently love the hot, mineral rich environment as they were everywhere - algae over the terraces, moss and ferns all around the edges of the fumeroles and mud pots.
The Ruatapu cave was a wonderful feature. We descended a series of switchbacked stairs to reach the entrance. It was a craggy, enormous cavern with birds nesting in the upper reaches. At the base of the cave was a tiny jewel-like pool. The water was a deep, clear aquamarine. It was too clear. Poor Zada didn’t realize where the water began and waded out up to her knees by the time she realized she was in!
After this we made our way to Wairakei and the Volcanic Activity Center. This place was wonderful. I wish we could uproot the entire thing and bring it home for the kids. It had hands-on interactive displays for every conceivable type of geologic phenomena. There was a giant globe that had removable tectonic plates. An earthquake simulator, where you sit in a mock living room and are subjected to a tooth-rattling 6.3 quake! They had a cone volcano simulator, geyser simulator, and a tornado simulator as well. We overheard one gentleman trying to explain to his children that tornadoes were some sort of meteorological thing that they have in America all the time. They also have a series of videos about Mount Ruapehu and its eruption cycle. Several kiosks were receiving data from geologic tracking stations around the country, so that you could get real time data on White Island, Mt. Ruapehu, Mt Ngauruhoe and other sites. Everything was amazingly kid friendly and highly informative at the same time.
Driving on we headed to the Huka Falls. The falls vary from 7 to 9 meters in height based on the amount of water going through the hydro-electricity plant upriver.
The final perfect moment of the day came with the stunning views of Mt. Ruapehu, Mt. Tongariro and Mt. Ngauruhoe across Lake Taupo.
7/10/2008
Yet another beautiful day – moderate temperatures and blue skies held sway as we headed into Napier in quest of Art Deco architecture. I want to insert a quick unpaid advertisement here about the unbelievable excellence of New Zealand’s campgrounds. Their facilities are amazing! Pristine grounds with excellent playgrounds, family rooms/communal dining rooms, fully equipped communal kitchens, clean showers/spas, laundry, and so on and so on. All the campgrounds in thermal areas like Rotorua, Whakatane and the Taupo region have thermal pools also. My only complaint is that Kiwis are apparently much sturdier than your typical American and do not feel the cold. They keep opening all the doors and windows in these marvelous facilities rendering them all Arctic Adventure Centers.
Anyhow, Napier was very charming. We went by the Art Deco Trust and collected all the pamphlets and information. The city has been wiped out by natural disasters a couple of times, most recently in the 1930’s when earthquake and fire leveled the town. It was rebuilt in the prevailing style of the day. It looks like a binky Metropolis without Superman. We did the walking tour and took appropriate note of all notable architectural features. The city is rife with sidewalk cafes, locally produced craft boutiques and decorative fountains. I was strong and did not go into the Opossum World shop. I would have squandered all our remaining funds on merino/possum blend wool products. Possum socks for everyone!
We next headed to the Marine Parade, a lovely promenade along the Pacific Ocean featuring cream colored arcades and another gorgeous fountain. Eight foot waves were breaking deafeningly on shore.
We had to cut our time here short as a four hour drive to Wellington was ahead of us and no one wants to pilot “The Beast” (as we not so fondly call the campervan) around the mountains in the dark. Along the way we did stop in Greytown – another really charming (I’m beating that word to death, but “quaint” always seems to have a slightly condescending flavor to it to me, and it really is all absurdly charming, so blame the Kiwis for my repetitiveness) hamlet about 80 kilometers from Wellington. It is all Victoriana and we stopped at a chocolate shop called “Schoc”. It was truly phenomenal. They are famous for their limechili chocolate. It is amazing! As was the lemonwhite, the pink pepper and the lapsang souchong smoked chocolate – they had sample crumbles of all their amazing flavors in an antiques pharmacy chest. Each drawer held an incredible taste sensation. I freely admit, they all SOUND terrible, but they were all divine. I will post a link to their site in the “links” sidebar - check them out.
July 11, 2008
RED PANDA ATTACK! Today was marvelous. We took the bus into Wellington and headed for the zoo. Ah! Workable public transportation! We had bipolar/Seattle weather all day. It was blustery with blue skies, except every 15 to 20 minutes it would mist and or drizzle. Anyways, it was perfect red panda pestering weather.
The Wellington Zoo is a very nice facility. It is a small zoo, but all the enclosures are well done, the grounds are immaculate and the staff is all very friendly and knowledgeable. They host these incredible animal encounters. You can get up close and personal with one of several different animals. We booked the Red Panda encounter.
We met Paul, the zookeeper at the enclosure and he briefed us on safety and basic behavior protocols and the let us into the pen. The zoo has a very successful red panda program. They have 5 red pandas currently: a retired breeding pair, a current breeding pair and a six month old named Sir Ed (after Sir Edmund Hillary, who had passed away just before the cub was born).
First we met Rika, a 13 year old female (1/2 of the retired pair). She was coy for about 3 seconds and then she scented the pear slices we had. She was then all over us. They are unbelievably precious – so furry, and snuffly and gosh-darn cute! They are ridiculously adorable and you can hardly stop gibbering baby talk and other nonsense at them as they crawl all over you for pear slices. Their primary diet is bamboo, but their treat preference is absolutely pear. They rejected the apple and would only condescend to their fiber cake when they were completely sure the pear was all gone.
As we fed them, Paul told us about their many adaptations and the threats they currently face. They are extremely endangered due primarily to habitat loss. They have thick fur to keep them warm in the Himalayan ranges – even their feet are fur-covered instead of having pads. They are pigeon-toed and have semi-retractable claws to facilitate tree climbing, as they spend most of their life aloft. The scientific pendulum swings in trying to place these wonderful animals – they are currently said to be most closely related to raccoons. In the past they were believed to be related to bears. Overall they are incredibly charming and it is tragic to think that indiscriminate logging for timber and farmland are threatening them with extinction.
After the zoo we explored the Botanical Gardens – really lovely with camellias everywhere. We rode up by cable car and then wound our way down via the 40% grade trails and paths. After that we wandered the shopping in the Lambton Quay area until we landed in an All Blacks store and all our money magically disappeared.

I guess we'll post photos the hard way

2008-07-08T03:04:00.005-05:00

This connection is not cooperating with my efforts to put in a slide show. Here are a few photos with a promise of more to follow soon.

July 4, 5:30am at DFW

July 6, Auckland, NZ

Going through customs.

At the Sky Tower.

July 7, Rotorua

Geysers!

This is a peaceful Maori greeting.

Here at last

2008-07-08T02:47:00.002-05:00

Greetings one and all! I apologize for being so late getting our posts up but we have been so very busy. Here is the low down on our first 2 days here in New Zealand.

July 6th, 2008
We have arrived! After many, many, many unwashed and sleepless hours we disembarked at Auckland International Airport at 4:45 AM. We killed the time until the rental company could pick us up changing into winter wear, searching out ATMs and the like. After the paperwork and formalities at the camper place, we were off! It was terrifying. Driving on the opposite side isn’t a thing you can mentally prepare for apparently or at any rate our mental preparation was inadequate. The clutch makes us appreciate our Volkswagen. Anyhow, we are adjusting to our home/vehicle away from home/vehicle and will soon be able to stop chanting “left, left, left, we’re on the left” every time we approach an intersection.
We made it into Auckland and decided to do just one thing (we wanted to get to Rotorua before dark). Zada cast the deciding vote and we headed to the Sky Tower. The Sky Tower is the tallest building in the Southern Hemisphere at 384 meters. It was an excellent choice, as it gave us a chance to see the complete layout of the city. Auckland is known as “the city of sails” with good reason. The harbor was blanketed in sailing craft. The views were absolutely wonderful. We debated the sky walk (a walk around the exterior of the observation deck at 192 m), but as it was unbelievably cold and raining intermittently we decided to stay inside and visit the Sky View café instead.
The drive out to Rotorua was lovely. The countryside in New Zealand is marvelously lush and dotted with picturesque sheep and cows. We were reminded of the Cape Breton Highlands, and parts of Washington State. The velvety quality of the grass and the way the shadows define the hills was truly exquisite.
We made fairly good time, only pausing to take in the metal wonders of Tirau, a charming small town boasting a corrugated metal workshop of tremendous skill and imagination. We all but collapsed as soon as we made it to the campsite - delirious with the joy of sleeping horizontally for the first time in almost three days.
July 7th, 2008
It is far colder than expected or I don’t know what 40 degrees feels like. It was a struggle to get up and out despite our excitement about being here. I may need to invest in more cold weather clothing and have my eye on the New Zealand special merino-possum blend woolen wear. The possum is an invasive species and a serious nuisance. The Kiwis have found a way to make their unwelcome guest pay. The wool blend is amazingly soft.
We started our exploration of Rotorua at Te Puia, the Maori culture center. It is a remarkable place, with the avowed mission of preserving and promoting the Maori traditional arts and skills. They boast a carving and weaving workshop. Students are selected to undergo three year apprenticeships in the workshops were they receive training from master craftspeople. The workshops are open so that you may see the work in progress and talk to the artists. The complex also has a reconstructed traditional village, a meeting house where they perform traditional songs and dances such as the “Haka”. Extremely well done interactive displays instruct in Maori legends and crafts. The hall that showcases the ancestor stories and legends is designed to resemble a traditional meeting house. The meeting house is perceived as the body of the ancestors, so that seemed a nice symmetry. The next hall is dedicated to cultural artifacts, such as weapons, musical instruments, weaving and carving. The displays here were very engaging. The musical instruments were in a case and the sound produced by the instrument would play when you held your hand over them. Every instrument is a wind instrument – even the drum has to be blown into to produce its proper sound. We learned several interesting facts about the various weapons – the family favorite was the one designed to kill your enemy and then remove his liver.
The center also has a number of beautiful nature walks with interpretive trails identifying native flora and fauna. We spotted a fantail and a tui. The part of the park with all the geothermal features is called Te Whakarewarewa . There is a fumarole (a steaming hole in the ground) under nearly every rock. The whole place smells of sulfur. In the center of it all is Pohutu geyser which erupts 2 or 3 times an hour. In Maori “pohutu” means “constant bubbling”. There is a “warning geyser” (one that erupts shortly before the one next to it) below Pohutu named “The Prince of Wales’ Feather”. These two geysers are surrounded by terraces of travertine that are stained red, brown and green by algae living on the rock and yellow by the abundance of sulfur. There are many mud pots nearby. These are ponds of simmering mud. It’s like Yellowstone National Park Jr.