Entering Asia: Anachronistic Bali

  

anachronistic - adjective - belonging to a time other than what is being portrayed. (Oxford Languages)

Bali, Indonesia is an island of distinct contrasts. It is as though it is involved in a tug-a-war between its past (its own culture influenced by firm belief in Hindi polytheism, the anachronistic side) and its present (Western culture, primarily American). Although seemingly at odds with each other, both have managed to coexist extremely well by allowing each other separate beds in the same garden to grow. 

As I was waking up to the heat and humidity (80 degrees F with ninety percent humidity at 9 a.m. soon to become 90 degrees) of Bali, the port in Benoa was painted in tones of grays. Normally colorful, the "jukung" Balienese boats (outrigger canoes) blended into the banal atmosphere. But the monotone look did not last long. It ended with the entrance of our animated tour guide Shoopy, dressed head to toe in red and black, two hues that would repeat themselves throughout the day in the pagoda-style architecture and temples. While inside of the bus, despite being effervescently friendly and completely complimentary (he said one of my seventy-year-old bus mates looked like she was seventeen), as his accent was so pronounced, I could only understand every third word he said: "Seesemmes so fities ah plastic bags, memistro tofememe cookies and coffee." You get the picture. 

I did pick up on one entire sentence in English, though: "No money, no honey." Which was pretty much the theme sentence for the day. Other than a few minutes spent at a magical Hindu temple (I had to wear a makeshift sari to hide my knees) and interesting artifacts museum, featuring prehistoric bones and other fossils, we were taken to one shop after the other (most likely owned by the cruise companies) with the sole intention of getting us to improve the Balinese economy. It was something that I did buy into as I pretty much felt sorry for them. In between the splendid, ornate temples, thousands of motor scooters and SUVs were slums and filth despite Bali's being a huge tourist destination. 

On the day of our arrival, the city of Denpasar was preparing for their New Year's festival, so the mood was celebratory and decidedly American. Oddly enough in a park across from the temple that we visited, there was a live classic rock concert going on before noon. As we stepped off of the bus, we were serenaded by "Knocking on Heaven's Door" by Guns and Roses (how ironic!) and later "Listen to the Music" by the Doobie Brothers, covers performed perfectly. A Honda 150 rode in front of me, the female driver of which was wearing a UCLA Bruins T-shirt. I had just enough time to give her a thumbs-up and to say, "Yay, Bruins!" Which she probably did not hear. (Although the U.S. may not be universally appreciated these days, I suppose California is still considered to be cool.) Within a block of us was a Burger King, a McDonalds designed to look like a Hindu temple–proof of my opening insight–and a Pizza Hut. Were the locals trying to make us feel more at home (so that we'd spend more)? Or had our culture completely won them over? Who's to say?

Before closing, here are some fun facts I learned about Bali: There are 4.5 million people on the island of 2,230 square miles. Two hundred languages are spoken. Cock fights are allowed, especially during New Year's. The people are highly creative, known for their batiks and woodcarvings, gold and silver jewelry. The "Love" portion of the Hollywood movie Eat, Pray, Love (Julia Roberts) was filmed there. I recognized some of the locations probably because I saw the movie more than once. 

Did I like Bali? Yes. And I can't quite say why. Maybe I just appreciate anachronisms, colors that clash.

#Bali, #travel, #cruise ship travel, #Indonesia, #blogger, #blog

Fremantle and Perth: Hooroo, Australia!

 

hooroo - Australian slang term for goodbye.

After 365 degrees of Australian coastal exploration, we wound up spending a final day on the continent, touring the sister cities of Fremantle and Perth, West Australia. My first impression of the port in Fremantle had more to do with my home state than of Australia as when I stepped out onto the balcony of the stern down the hall from my stateroom, what should I see but the stern of a Sicilian container ship by the name of Grande New Jersey. Ha! One never knows what one will find halfway around the world. 

I pretty much knew this area of the country would be extra friendly from the second we stepped onto the gangplank as we were greeting by a local band playing a rock 'n roll classic from the 1960s. Our German (?) tour guide Ingrid met us at the bus driven by a young woman from Africa. Needless to say, Australia is a country of diversity. An Australian resident since the 1980s, Ingrid had memorized all of the ins and outs of the area. As we rode through Fremantle, a small town reminiscent of Skagway, Alaska (but not as rustic), she pointed out the jail, which convicts from the U.K. built in the 1800s to house those guilty of minor crimes (the murderers were hanged). The prison was in use until an uprising closed it in 1992. At present, it is the primary tourist destination in Fremantle other than Cottesloe Beach, famous for sharks and surfing. And no, the two don't go together well. Ironically, there was a shark net cordoning off the water, but no surfers as there wasn't any surf. (Wrong time of year, maybe?) What stood out for me were the colorful, modern art installations right on the beach and the throngs of school children, all dressed in uniforms. Apparently in Australia, both public and private school students wear uniforms except the private school students have the advantage of donning "designer" looks for the sake of class differentiation. Personally, I'd rather be an unobtrusive, public school Aussie kid. 

On the way to Perth, we drove through Billionaires' Row, a neighborhood similar to Beverly Hills composed of fabulous multi-million-dollar homes of various architectural styles, ranging from Tudor to ultra contemporary. Like much of urban Australia, the gold rush made the inhabitants rich. Apparently, the largest nugget in this area weighed 75 kg (I weigh 52 kg). So yes, it was massive for a solid gold rock. 

About an hour later, we arrived in Kings Park, way larger than Central Park, overlooking the skyline of Perth. Most of the park is still bush although part of it houses the Western Australia Botanical Gardens, an expanse of beautifully sculpted areas of rocks, ponds, grass, and indigenous vegetation, including the 750-year-old Gija Jumulu (Boab tree). (It looked its age.) After a side trip to a wonderful gift shop selling gorgeous local artisans' wares, we re-boarded the bus for Perth. We spent the next thirty minutes touring the town, taking in all of the sights of Perth, a very clean city. (I only saw two homeless people.) The weather, like that of SoCal, is moderate all year round as Western Australia has a Mediterranean climate. 

On the way back to the ship, we took Canning Highway, the inspiration for Australia's Bon Scott's AC/DC hit, "Highway to Hell." According to Ingrid, underaged Bon had visited his favorite bars along this highway, often getting in trouble with the police. Sadly, alcohol poisoning eventually took his life when he was only in his early 30s. But the song most certainly lives on and on and on.  

Overall, Australia as a country met my often grand expectations. If all goes south in my neck of the woods, I could easily see myself living in Melbourne, which was my favorite city destination on this expansive leg of the journey. Hooroo, Aussies, kangaroos, koalas, cockatoos, etc. I will miss you all. 

Stay tuned for adventures in Bali, Indonesia. 

#WesternAustralia, #Perth, #Fremantle, #travel, #cruising, #PrincessCruises, #blog, #blogger

Preternatural, Natural Adelaide and Perth

 

preternatural - adj. - beyond what is normal (Oxford Languages)

Although the third largest city of Adelaide, Australia (a near duplicate of Grand Rapids, South Dakota) did not impress me, Cleland Wildlife Park, a multi-acred expanse devoted to the preternatural, natural animal species of Australia did. And I almost sailed out of Australia sans seeing these creatures, unique to the continent. Shame on me! If I had, I would have missed out on Australia's true worth: its amazing marsupials, etc.  

When my friend Victor, a self-pronounced Mexican playboy, and I were informed by our tour guide that we would have only an hour and a half (too brief) to explore, we hit the dusty trail at the park's entrance, running. It was in vain as by the time we arrived at the koala habitat, there was a long line of tourists waiting to pet and hold one of about three koalas. Fortunately, there were other koalas to see, so rather than spend time waiting, we just watched while the three left in the cage entertained us. If you have never seen one of these cuties, definitely try as they are worth the admission price to the right zoo. 

What I liked about this preserve was that the kangaroos (big and small, old and young) were left to roam freely. The little ones were extra friendly, and we enjoyed feeding them pellets, the kind you'd feed rabbits. But be careful. They have feet like ravens' and the claws are just as sharp. We also saw a lazy yellow dingo, a dead ringer for a yellow lab mix, wallabies (very small kangaroos), and a Tasmanian devil, who behaved like the Pope at the Vatican. In full control of his audience, the little devil (who had the face of a bear cub) would come out of his log home to greet the onlookers and then would retreat after about two minutes. He did this intermittently to keep everyone in place, hungry for the next appearance. Clearly, the critter really knew what he was doing. 

Before having to report to the bus, Victor and I took in the huge pelicans, musical cockatoos, and content wallabies (mini kangaroos). Although I tried hard, I couldn't seem to locate the wombats (that are a cross between guinea pigs and woodchucks), but I was told that they were out of sight, asleep, anyway. 

If you are anywhere in Australia, don't forget to get to a wildlife preserve. They have them near every major city. You won't be disappointed. 

Last stop in Australia: Perth

#Adelaide, #Australia, #animals, #wildlife, #blog, #blogger, #travel

Burnie-Devonport, Tasmania vs. Melbourne: A Tale of Antithetical Ports

 

antithetical - adj. - directly opposite

Australia, the land down under, is a vast country of contrast. In Tasmania, an island unto itself off the southern coast, we were treated to the past; whereas, in Melbourne, a thriving, ultra-modern city a mere 653 km from Tasmania, we were reminded of the present and future. Together they compose a tale of antithetical ports. 

Our ship docked in Burnie, a quiet port town similar to Picton, New Zealand. From there, a bus load of us departed for Devonport, a quaint hamlet where the trading of commodities, such as potatoes (for McDonalds, apparently) takes place. The jagged coastline reminded me of Maine's; the landscape was similar to Pennsylvania's. In the far distance were mountains similar to those found in Yosemite. Our first stop in Devonport was the Don River Railway, the branch line of which had closed in 1963. The last passenger train to run in Tasmania was in 1978. The station and yard have been meticulously maintained for the sake of visiting school children, brides and their grooms, as well as tour groups. As I enjoy stepping back into the past, I delighted in riding the preserved train ensconced in a first-class car for about twenty minutes, round trip. Many of the original train cars, including one meant for royalty (Edward) have been preserved so that onlookers can note the extremities of classism, which Australia inherited from Mother Britain. For example, the first class cars are richly carpeted and had comfortable, well-upholstered seats as opposed to the second class cars that have unfinished wooden floors and benches. 

After a short ride on our first class coach bus (the modern equivalent of the train), we arrived at the home of Joseph Lyons and his wife Dame Enid Lyons. His claim to fame was that he was Australia's tenth prime minister (1932-39). Enid's was that she gave birth to twelve children, beginning at 19. Although she was a favorite of royalty at that time, she had no taste in wallpaper. 

Our final destination on the tour was the Devonport Maritime Museum, a lovely museum dedicated to the history of ships in the area. As the place was small, I was able to take in the whole place, sneak out the back door, walk across the street, and spend awhile photographing the coastline, which included a lighthouse reminiscent of those scattered along the east coast of the U.S. The day was well spent.

The following morning, we woke up to a view of Melbourne's skyline. Given that the last port we saw was Burnie, Melbourne came as culture shock, for sure. It looked like the downtown portion of Manhattan except most of the buildings had been built within the last thirty years and many were constructed in the last ten. F.Y.I.: The tallest building is one hundred stories and is the newest to scrape the skies above it. 

Our completely thorough tour started at 8:30 a.m. and concluded just shy of 1 p.m. Although we only stopped twice (at Fitzroy Gardens and the Shrine of Remembrance), we got a taste of the entire city while glued to the windows of yet another new coach bus. In between much coughing (the perils of cruising with an older set of passengers - I wore a mask as I'm no fool), the tour guide presented us with everything we wanted to know but were afraid to ask. I did ask a question myself and found out that the rents in Melbourne are just as expensive as what I am paying in L.A. What I couldn't help but dwell on was the sparkling newness and cleanliness of the city despite the fact that the original Tasmanian settlers had illegally established the town in 1851. The current, free tram system is the largest in the world, and the subway system is also vast. Surprisingly, despite the superb mass transit, there is still traffic, so it took us some time to negotiate the streets. 

What has stayed with me is the image of a water skier on one ski being yanked down the clean Yarra River that separates the city like the Chicago River does in Chicago. Also, the gardens. Diversely colorful Fitzroy and the botanical gardens are perfectly designed and manicured. I could have spent the entire day at either location or just in the compact conservatory at the Fitzroy. What can I say? I dig beauty, especially natural. 

Admittedly, I liked Melbourne a bit better than Sydney or the antithetical Tasmania due to its multifaceted nature. It has everything: Broadway-like theaters, art museums and complexes, Olympic sports facilities (the Gran Pix was being held while we were there), well-tended parks and gardens, historical monuments and museums, an aquarium, shopping malls, varied architecture (especially in the gold rush historic district), and even a classic amusement park, Luna, near the beach that made me think of Coney Island. Just before we were returned to the ship, our tour guide, a Jim Broadbent lookalike native to Melbourne said, "Sydney is the pretty girl you date; Melbourne is the girl you marry." Enough said. 

Final Aussie stops? Adelaide and Perth. Stay tuned.

#Tasmania, #Melbourne, #Australia, #travel, #cruising, #blog, #blogger

Scintillating Sydney

 

scintillating - adj. - sparkling, brilliant

Although I featured it in an early blog from 2021, I could not think of a more appropriate word than scintillating to describe the Coral Princess's most recent destination, Sydney, Australia.  Luckily, the ship got a great parking spot at a dock nestled between the famed opera house and the upbeat, quaint section of the city known as the Rocks so that I could have toured by foot. 

However, I opted for the hop on, hop off bus, the red and blue lines, that took many of us on a complete tour of the entire city in about three hours time. Prerecorded information was conveyed to us via a set of ear buds. I enjoyed a seat on the second floor of the convertible, double-decker bus. As it was quite warm and humid, the constant breeze made for a comfortable ride. Two facts that stayed with me were that Sydney, a combination of Vancouver, London, Boston, and maybe even L.A., is young, having been established by British convicts in 1788. The second was that Bondi Beach, a destination for surfers, was one of the first to utilize lifeguards regularly. Oddly enough, I saw two homeless people about two miles apart who, compared to those in L.A., seemed to be living quite well on the sidewalks with their clean, white sheets, queen-sized mattresses, and "gated" rooms made by well-organized crates. 

After the bus tour, I explored the opera house but was unable to score a ticket for a tour of the interior spaces as they were sold out. However, based on what I observed inside the box office area (and on the internet), I'd say the space is very similar to the Disney Center in Los Angeles. The woodwork looks to be about the same although the architecture of the Sydney Opera House is more original, modern, like a piece of modern art. It is, to say the least, sculptural. To me, an opera house should be elegant, but as there are so many performance spaces in the Sydney, I'd say that it is much more of a performing arts center than a traditional opera house. The exterior and interior designs are appropriately rustic given the nature of Australia itself. 

After strolling around the botanical gardens and wharf area, I headed into the modern art museum to witness some inexplicable art installations. One included footage of O.J. Simpson's white Broncho, a closeup of his face after hearing his acquittal, and Kim Kardashian revealing her mother's grief over the loss of her best friend, Nicole Simpson. What the artist was trying to convey via the medium of video was beyond me, but I was impressed to see a portion of Los Angeles history in Australia. 

One last standout had to do with the wildlife in scintillating Sydney. Amidst the packs of uniformed secondary school children lined up on lawns awaiting tours were flocks of wild, black and white ibises and white cockatiels. At that moment, I was reminded that the species of creatures are very different from what we have in the Western Hemisphere. Maybe before leaving Australia, I'll have to visit a zoo so that I can see kangaroos and koalas. 

Next stop? Burnie, Tasmania. Until then, good day, mates! 

#Sydney, #Australia, #blog, #blogger, #travel 

  

Nau Mai to Tauranga, Picton, and New Plymouth, New Zealand

 

nau mai - Maori term for welcome

Tauranga: At first glance, the colors of Port Tauranga are dark blue (the ocean), green (the plant life on the hillsides) and white (the houses and businesses). On this particular Sunday, our coach bus tour included a ride through the beach community (considered legendary by surfers) with its protected coves, high dunes, surf shacks, and contrasting multi-million-dollar, modern glass homes (like you would find in Los Angeles) across the street from the sand. Just beyond these natural and manmade riches, tucked between residential neighborhoods, is the Elms, a historic village dating back to the mid-1800s when Queen Victoria's people decided to impose their culture (which included their Christian beliefs) on the Maori tribe, the natives of New Zealand who still make up twenty percent of the population. What I enjoyed about the place is the well-tended English garden that encircles the property composed of a restored chapel, library, and main house, used primarily for sleeping. Our knowledgeable docent provided us with everything we needed to know and more.

From there, we motored inland past rolling hills, farms like you would find in Pennsylvania, yet more reminiscent of Scotland (where most of the British immigrants came from) until we reached a kiwi orchard, where we learned all about how New Zealand's cash crop, the kiwi, is grown on vines. At first glance, we thought we were in a vineyard. The grapes, however, were camel-colored, oval balls with fine hair. The last stop was a community center, a version of an Elks Club, outfitted with booths containing products, such as jams and jellies, cosmetics, tea, chocolate bars, etc. all featuring the kiwi as a main ingredient. (Tourist trap, maybe?) My personal favorites were the kiwi tea and scones with kiwi clotted cream. Here Great Britain met New Zealand in a delicious way. 

Picton is a quiet, quaint hamlet by the sea that the large ships often bypass. Shuttles for the ship's passengers were provided as freshly cut lumber dominates the port area resulting in no safe areas to walk. We strolled through much of the town (a few blocks large), hiked through a slice of the outback (two miles worth) that rose up from the bay, and were treated to narration from Hannah (Vancouver native who wanted to find touches of her home elsewhere) and Andy, a native New Zealander. The most interesting fact that I gleaned had to do with the possum, a rat-like creature in a cuter outfit that I grew up appreciating while living in a mid-century modern house in the woods of New Jersey. The Europeans introduced possums to New Zealand in the 1800s. Since then, the population has exploded to 80 million creatures that the government is trying to curtail, sadly. No matter where you are in the world, overpopulation can happens when a new species is introduced to an ecosystem. However, the most memorable trait of Picton was/is its "handmade ice cream." All of us on the excursion received a free cone of honey vanilla from a local merchant. So delicious! Unsurprisingly, New Zealand is known for its dairies. I haven't had ice cream like NZ's since my college days amidst the dairy farmlands of Pennsylvania. If you are willing to take this world cruise or at least two planes, Picton is an unspoiled, unforgettable delight. 

New Plymouth: The first bit of information out of our bus driver's mouth was that this mid-sided city in the shadows of Mt. Taranaki was the filming location for The Last Samurai, chosen by Hollywood movie location scouts because Mt. Taranaki looks remarkably like Mt. Fuji. For some reason (probably monetary), the company couldn't film there. Apparently when Tom Cruise, the film's star, was in New Plymouth to shoot, he was able to disappear into bars and restaurants. No one wanted a selfie with him in it. He was treated like a regular citizen. 

Upon exploration, I found that New Plymouth looks similar to one of many Canadian towns along the St. Lawrence. The name "Devon" is everywhere as the first British settlers came from Devonshire, England in 1841. Land tensions between the native Maoris and the Brits led to war in 1860, which lasted about ten years. There was much division and resentment up until 1972, when the New Zealand government admitted to stealing Maori land and paid 98 million dollars in reparations to the tribe. Also at that time, tribal traditions and history were added to school curriculums (and remain) to ensure that the Maoris maintain their cultural identity. Peaceful relations between the factions continue to be a priority. (In this regard, the U.S. could really learn something from New Zealand.)

The most interesting sights along our two-mile walking tour of New Plymouth (hosted by a senior British docent) were the Richmond family home (New Plymouth's first family), a six-hundred-year-old sweet chestnut tree, antique American cars participating in the "Americarna" road rally, a verdant park where the original railway was built in 1875, and a cemetery where soldiers who died during the "Maori trouble" are buried. Of special interest to me, the retired English teacher, was an outstanding symbol of three feathers that is repeated on local monuments. A Maori prophet, their Gandhi, introduced it to represent "glory to God, peace on Earth, and goodwill towards men." (Sound familiar?) I spent the rest of the time allotted exploring a shopping mall right next to the shuttle bus stop, featuring some American stores, such as Sketchers. (The sneakers were very expensive at about $200 U.S. dollars at pair). I met a very good-looking young clerk who told me he was in love with the idea of my home state California, a visit to which is on his bucket list. I suppose the grass is always greener. Just one more thing: many Americans are applying for New Zealand residency lately. Hmm. I wonder why. 

Next stop? Sydney, Australia. Catch you soon! 

#New Zealand, #down under, #travel, #blog, #blogger 

A Tale of Opposing Ports: Lively Lifou, New Caledonia and Immaculate Auckland, N.Z.

 

immaculate - adjective - free from flaws or mistakes; perfect. (Oxford Languages)

    If there are angels put in place just to govern the weather, they must be watching over us on the Coral Princess because even though it is rainy season here in the South Pacific, we have experienced very little of the wet stuff. However, the morning we landed in Lifou, New Caledonia, the angels might have been snoozing as there was a down pour that lasted two hours. Ostensibly, they woke up as the clouds cleared and the sun came out just before my cohorts and I got out of a tour van to begin a hike through one of New Caledonia's ancient forests. 

     Along with twelve other shipmates, two native Kanak guides named Flo and Liz, and two nameless stray dogs, I spent about two hours stepping over roots and negotiating rugged, volcanic terrain in my very worn New Balance sneakers. (As the path was slick from the rains, it was a miracle I did not fall.) Since the mutts never left us, I decided to name them after two of the trees we came across: Blueberry for the (pregnant) female and Manna for the male. They proved to be excellent, ebullient companions. As we journeyed past sandalwood trees, endemic conifers, wild calla lilies, vanilla bean vines, etc., Flo enlightened us with information regarding New Caledonia. What I remembered at the end of the day was that the island has10,000 inhabitants who are under French rule. Although the islanders live for free in hatched huts decorated with hand-woven rugs or in concrete and tin shacks, they have few modern conveniences. The Kanak natives are mainly self-sufficient, depending on some livestock (pigs) and home-grown crops. As divorce is not an option, many of the young people delay tying the knot, or they remain single, something Flo admitted to being. 

    After about a half mile, we came across a scenic overlook of the largest bay in New Caledonia, a verdant hook of tropical vegetation, white sand, and water of glacier blue intermingled with turquoise. It was so clear that I could see many fish playing tag along the volcanic reefs from about 100 yards above the ocean. On the way back, we came across a deep, dank grotto containing human bones. Apparently, the dead used to be left in these caverns that punctuate the earth like black craters. Flo had no idea just how old the remains were. About an hour later when we were back in the vicinity of the ship, I took one last look at the island and realized that I had run out of synonyms for paradise. 

    Two sea days later, we found ourselves in contrasting, immaculate Auckland, the largest city (1.8 million people) on the island of New Zealand. Wealthy, westernized Auckland could not be further from Lifou. It reminded me of any one of a short list of international cities: Helsinki, Old Havana, London, and L.A. But if push came to shove, if you were to blindfold me while I was still out at sea on the ship, and then drove me from the port into the middle of the city, upon removing the mask, I'd look around and guess that I was in Vancouver as the city just feels Canadian. Which makes sense as once upon a time, the British made themselves known in Canada as well as in New Zealand. 

   Tu-EE, an indigenous person (Maori) who sounded like an MP, probably from the House of Lords, was our tour guide as we rode throughout the city. Just like I have found in L.A., a million dollars will buy you a home of 1200 square feet or a three-bedroom condo in Auckland. The American influence is greater here than anywhere else since they have a number of fast-food restaurants (KFC and Pizza Hut, plus Burger King and McDonalds) and mall shops (Lululemon, H&M). As our brand new coach bus was too comfortable for the octogenarians onboard, we only stopped once at a park just outside of the city that had spectacular views of the bay and skyline. From Tu-EE, we learned that New Zealand's economy depends mainly on dairy, agriculture, timber, and tourism. What impressed me most is Auckland's extremely organized public transportation system. Bargain hunting in the main shopping district is easy as the U.S. dollar is worth 30% more. Our tour took us by parks where cricket was being played, through Parnell Village–Auckland's equivalent of Notting Hill–up to the War Museum, down to the shopping district (Queens Street), around the sky needle, and back to the harbor where there were many opportunities to gape at tall ships and/or dine al fresco under multi-colored umbrellas. The perfect SoCal-esque weather (70 and clear) brought many New Zealanders out of their homes on this particular Saturday. 

    Once the tour was over, I had a chance to do a bit of traveling by foot around the city. Doing a bit of people watching, I noticed few differences between the tourists off of the cruise ships and the natives. Let's put it this way: If you saw any of them walking down 42nd Street in New York, you would not point and say, "Look! New Zealanders!" Despite the presence of indigenous peoples (Maori make up twenty percent of the country) who hold onto their customs, Auckland is very diverse. I could see myself living here as I am sure many others can. 

    In my next written episode, I will give you the lowdown on Tauranga, Picton, and New Plymouth–all in New Zealand–just in case you would like to take a separate trip here yourself. 

#New Zealand, #blog, #blogger, #personal essay, #travel