Dunedin

Officially halfway through our trek through New Zealand! This is such a lovely country with lots to offer the traveler. Roundabouts on all major (and minor) routes eliminate necessary stops, antics of newly born lambs jumping and cavorting at every turn entertain the road weary, vistas that rival the best in the world begging to be photographed. Dunedin is a medium sized city with a Scottish influence. Set smack dab on the Otago Harbour, it is buffeted by two seas separated by fingers of land with high ridges which offer the best views of the city, day or night.

We walked through Larnach Castle and were saddened by its history (the original owner spent 12 years having just the ceilings completed) of the financial ruin of William Larnach, his marital difficulties and subsequent suicide. The castle languished when he died, as there were settlements to be made which kept the estate from any of his surviving children. It became a ruin, a shell, with, at one point, roofs collapsing and animals and local children playing inside. Enter a new owner committed to bringing it back, buying the house in 1967 and restoring it and the lovely gardens to what they are today. She also purchased the house adjoining, completely renovating it into an upscale boutique hotel, the Camp Estate, which is where we are staying.

Tonight, the wind is blowing furiously outside our windows, and the fireplace here in the room is most appreciated. We are worried about our intended jaunt to Stewart Island tomorrow, and our trek through the southern most bird sanctuary in the world. I do hope the weather clears. The storms which are raging come up from the Antarctic, so they are cold and rugged.

We did visit the yellow eyed penguins today, what a treat! They are the most endangered in the world as they do not tame and do not survive in captivity. Larger than the blue penguin but smaller than the Emperors, they are somewhat antisocial. The area around the Otaga peninsula is stunning and the nesting grounds are quite the spa for these birds. The owners of the sanctuary are trying to help increase their numbers.

All for now. Stewart Island, Queenstown coming up next.

They Say You Can Never Go Back

Two visits to Pearl Harbor have impressed upon me that brief glimpses of the distant past are possible  to us under certain circumstances. Twice I have come away feeling like I have revisited segments of my childhood in visiting an active naval base. Base housing has a look to it that one recognizes immediately. The area around Hickham Field felt especially familiar to me since the last base quarters I inhabited with my parents was 45 years ago in Charleston, South Carolina and those were built in the 30's &  40s themselves. Military public works departments are quirky. For example, in Quonset Pt., RI, the steam radiators were turned on by date, not by the actual temperatures prevailing. So you might be roasting on an Indian summer afternoon listening to the clanging and banging of those old radiators coming on and just shake your head in wonder.

Paint is bought by the shipload, so all buildings get a coat of whatever that surplus happens to be. It did not surprise me when we toured the relatively new Pacific Aviation Museum (begun in 2006 yet still a work in progress) and saw the hangars from WW II with the bullet holes from the strafing still puncturing various panes of the hangar windows. Certainly, it must have been intentional, but it struck me that the military keeps such excellent maintenance of the materiel which keeps its missions functional and safe yet at the same time, ignores aesthetics. Those restored airplanes are an exception to that observation, however. They are beauties. So well worth a visit. The smells of old leather and jet fuel, the mannequins with uniforms that had gold stripes on the sleeves and oak leaves on the hats, the descriptive epithets painted on the noses of the planes, the strangely shaped ammunition and fuel tanks welded to the planes all whispered "Dad" to me. Isn't that just the most ironic thing: that what typifies the military SOP (standard operating procedure), should be so deeply embedded as a memory of someone so nurturing to a child and young person? So for a brief moment today, I revisited some place hidden away from long ago. "You can't go home again," isn't true. You can, as long as it happens in short moments, triggered by a smell, an image, a "frisson" or shiver, as the French term it.

New Zealand Here We Come!

Watch this spot, as I hope to add posts often during the next two weeks, as we trek over to Honolulu and then down from Auckland to parts south.