New Zealand
ARROWTOWN, New Zealand – You might call it a double-dose of Middle-earth. For a Tolkien junkie, it’s heaven.
Although I don’t fit that profile – Frodo isn’t my go-go guy – I did read J.R.R. Tolkien’s stuff to my kid, and wasn’t going to miss a chance to plunge into the splendors of Middle-earth (aka New Zealand) that Oscar-winning producer-director Peter Jackson, a native, selected for his filmed trilogy.
Jackson knew what he was doing. So small, so few people, this country of two principal islands is a scenic smorgasbord of distinctive topography: ruggedly commanding ranges, virginal forests, grand beaches, endless sheep and deer-dotted meadows, vast uninhabited tracts – some lonely and desolate — conducive to solitude and privacy. continue reading »
January 10 2004 | New Zealand | No Comments »
WELLINGTON, New Zealand – Here’s the worst thing about Wellington: The day-and-a-half allotted for a look around isn’t nearly enough.
Although Wellington is the capital of this double dip delight in the South Pacific, the unevenly-paired North and South islands that form New Zealand, it might as well be tucked into lost-and-found as an anonymous city. That, however, would be unfair to such a vibrant, attractive town on a handsome harbor and guarded by big-brotherly hills. continue reading »
January 21 2001 | New Zealand | No Comments »
WELLINGTON, New Zealand – Is Captain Cook receiving visitors today?
Alastair Shaw, standing on the deck of Cook’s glorified (nonetheless illustrious) sailboat called the Endeavour, replies, “Sorry, you’re 222 years too late. The good captain departed this earth in 1779. Actually you’ve missed him by 232 years, since the Endeavour reached New Zealand in 1769.”
Oh, I knew that. continue reading »
January 21 2001 | New Zealand | No Comments »
OTOROHANGA, NEW ZEALAND – It isn’t every day in New Zealand that you can walk into the living room of the national symbol. Are we dressed for the occasion? Is this an acceptable time? Will it disdainfully give us the cold-feathered shoulder?
Don’t be nervous, says the guard. Shorts, T-shirt, and sneakers are perfectly presentable guest attire. But no photographs, please. After all, New Zealand is a pretty relaxed, informal place. The most celebrated citizen, explorer Sir Edmund Hillary – he who made Mount Everest seem like a walk in a chilly park in 1953 – is listed in the Auckland phone book. Of course, he isn’t the national symbol. If he were, the natives would call themselves Hillarys. Maybe Eds. continue reading »
January 21 2000 | New Zealand | No Comments »
Waiotapu, New Zealand –
Bloop!
“Here’s mud in your eye!” seems to be the New Year’s toast from some underworld god lurking beneath the thick and grimy surface of the steaming pond. Bloop! Bloop! Plop! Plop! Two sudden spurts of wet dirt, splattering against my cheeks and chest, baptize me as I stand on a wooden platform at pond’s edge.
“Too close for comfort,” says my friend, Aurelio, laughing. “But at least it’s sacred water. That’s what Waiotapu means in the Maori language. Consider it a millennial badge of honor, bestowed on you in, shall we say, a supernatural rite. Anyway, it’ll wash off your T-shirt.” continue reading »
January 21 2000 | New Zealand | No Comments »
CAPE PALLISER, New Zealand – Life in the moist lane looks splendid.
Maybe not quite the “Wonderful Life” of James Stewart in the venerable film. But gazing upon this carefree, frolicking crowd at the local Bath & Racket Club – surfing, fishing, making love and noise – you’d probably give it your seal of approval.
Certainly it gets the approval of seals, whose lifestyle it is. Lazing on rocks or shuckin’ and jivin’ in the rough, cool sea that whams against the southern tip of New Zealand’s North Island, the congregation of thousands of southern fur seals is having a fine time. continue reading »
January 21 2000 | New Zealand | No Comments »
AUCKLAND, New Zealand – Is there a pill, a vaccine, an anti-inflammatory to ward off or relieve the dreaded plague called Millennium Malaise?
Here it is only April, and the toll is horrific. Millions, maybe billions, infected – sick of thinking, planning, contemplating, wondering how and where to deal with distant Dec. 31. Could anyone imagine that Millennium Malaise would be an affliction with its own theme song? But can’t you hear the soupy, aged strains of “What are you doing New Year’s . . . New Year’s Eve?” continue reading »
January 21 2000 | New Zealand | No Comments »
GREAT BARRIER ISLAND, New Zealand – Slop the cop!
That seems the most amusing amusement for the hardy band of islanders at their New Year’s fair: a good-natured dousing of the three policemen who don’t have a whole lot to do in the nature of catching crooks.
So on this day annually, they take turns at catching, head-on, a bucket of water that has been rigged precariously above, on a wooden frame over the wet seat. Through a system of ropes, pulleys, and hinges – a Rube Goldbergian contraption – the bucket is tipped and emptied whenever a splash-minded contestant triggers it by hurling a baseball-hard cricket ball against a target 20 feet distant. Throw a bull’s-eye, and keep a bull un-dry. Three balls for $2. Proceeds to a local charity. continue reading »
January 31 1999 | New Zealand | No Comments »
CAPE REINGA, New Zealand – The battlefield is wet and windy, fumingly ferocious, and relentlessly fascinating. As oceans collide like two white buffalo butting horns, your unobstructed ringside seat is on the grassy rise beside the Cape Reinga lighthouse. An ivory cinder block tower, it sits, beamingly, at the uppermost tip of New Zealand’s North Island, the storm-bitten nail of a slender, sandy digit pointed into endless expanses of sea.
A lonely, gale-pounded end-of-the-line, this is known to the Maoris as “Te hika o te ika” – tail of the fish. They say it’s the terminus of their earthly line, too, sacred ground, the jumping-off point for spirits headed to the next world. continue reading »
January 21 1999 | New Zealand | No Comments »
WHANGAROA, New Zealand – You’ve heard of faces that could stop a clock? Not Hog’s. His is as complex and intricate as the insides of a Swiss watch – a face that would stop traffic anywhere but New Zealand.
You’ve heard of face lifts. Hog’s has been raised to an artistic level that may seem bizarre to an alien but is really a throwback to a prouder time when their country belonged to the natives, the Maoris, and the English conquerors hadn’t yet landed. It is a warrior’s fearsome countenance deeply imprinted and illustrated, marked by tattoos in a time-honored style that dates back centuries. continue reading »
January 21 1999 | New Zealand | No Comments »
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