POST-DATED BLOG #1

Wicked weekend in the Waira... Wairara... Waipaparapaparapaparararara...?

The New Zealand Archaeological Association's annual conference was held in Masterton, the slightly-urban service center of the Wairarapa (WHY-rah-rah-pah) region. As you're probably well aware, this is the hallowed home of the Golden Shears sheep-shearing competition and, uh... a significant population of feral cats? It's definitely a funny little place to visit, let alone share with a hundred or so archaeologists. The town itself reminded me of so many highway-proximate mini-burgs throughout the west, where the diners are both many and greasy, enormous chain stores seem ridiculously out of place, and the lovely mountainous areas are always somewhere way off in the distance (for example, see Sheridan, WY). Also, it was a great deal colder than Auckland in June.

The conference itself was three days of talks from students, academics, and professionals, and is primarily dominated by thesis proposals redux and "What I did over summer vacation" reports. The vast majority of students at the conference come from Otago University in Dunedin; Auckland typically sends a sparse delegation, though this year's group of eight or so was apparently a huge improvement. While I found some of the papers that were given truly fascinating, such as some work done on the impact of moa grazing on prehistoric forest fires, there were definitely a few from the private sector that I was less than excited about. The hotel where the conference was held, curiously enough, had a fantastic trampoline and obstacle course, where myself and a few of my fellow Aucklanders often found ourselves during the doldrums of the days.

The third day of the conference was booked as a group field trip, one which I was not particularly enthusiastic about. Instead a number of my colleagues and I took a trip to the "famous" Palliser Bay site just north of Wellington, driving alongside breathtaking shorelines and stopping to visit with some basking fur seals, which then turned into an impromptu tour of the Wairarapa's historic lighthouses. We finished the day back in Masterton at a local Irish pub, fending off the cold and watching the All Blacks defeat Ireland.

On the last day, I presented my findings on the settlement of marginal islands in the next-to-last slot for the conference. I had been slightly nervous about switching between powerpoint and the program I use for modeling, but it went off without a hitch. A lot of interest was generated, and I fielded a barrage of questions afterwards. Apparently I answered them well, because I was awarded the top student prize; a prize that rarely falls to Auckland students.

Ending the conference on a high note, we spent the remainder of the day winding back on the road to Auckland. A light snow had fallen in the mountains around Okahune, and, being the tropic-dwellers we are, we stopped to appreciate it, which escalated quickly into a snowball fight.

Cheers,

Benji

Go The Corned Beef!

We recently attended the Pasifika Festival with our friends Matt and Jen; an all-day gala dedicated to the unique cultures of the Pacific Islands. It was kind of like Epcot, but full of corned beef and tattoos. In other words, it was WAY better than Epcot.

We cruised between island groups, sampling kava at Fiji, snacking on breadfruit at Niue, and picking up a pineapple sundae from the little stand dedicated to Hawaii. Our final stop was Tahiti, where Kate stood fixated on the supersonic shashaying of the dancers while Benji made off with free samples of Orangina.

Exodus

Over the four day long End of Kiwi Summer Holiday Extravaganza (otherwise known as Easter weekend), we packed up the mirthmobile and headed South, our sights set on Hawke's Bay wine country.

We thought we would be smart and wait out the mass exodus from the city Thursday night by getting a leisurely start South midday Friday. Unfortunately, half of Auckland made the same choice, so we still sat in traffic for over three hours before we could claim to have even left the Auckland Region.

Fortunately, our late arrival in Hawke's Bay only highlighted the beauty of the area. We drove North along the deserted, sea-pounded, curving spine of shoreline at sunset. Then we headed up into the orange sun-speckled cliffs rimming the bay, where we were greeted by rose coloured sheep and mandrin coated cattle. The road ended at a small but serviceable holiday and farm park nestled in a cove formed between towering cliff walls. In our little cabin, we had a bed, a coffee pot, and a fridge all to ourselves. Finally, we were on vacation.

Vacation

The first morning of vacation, we were awakened to the sweet trilling of children's voices just outside our cabin door.

"I'm a SUPER astonaut! Kneeerrooomm, bap bap bap bap, BLAM, BLAM! I'm gonna SHOOT you DOWN, DRAGON!" It was 6:15 am.

During our gleeful sunset arrival, we failed to realize that our cabin was located next to a large rusted out tractor, which served as a jungle gym, space ship, dragon's lair, and WMD for most of the children staying at the camp. While the early wake up call did allow Kate to catch the sunrise over the Pacific, it might have pushed any plans to procreate back by a few years.

Another benefit to starting early was that it allowed us a full day to explore the region. We headed South along the coast, passing by Napier on the way to Hastings and the wine soaked suburb of Havalock North. Our first stop was the Black Barn winery's boutique farmer's market, where we were tempted to have a wine tour and some fancy spread samples for breakfast. But after a quick wander around we determined that eggs and bagels at a cafe in town was probably the better choice if we wanted to explore more than a few kilometers of the area that day.

Make Wine, Not War

After a full breakfast we headed for the hills to get the lay of the land and stretch our legs a bit. Te Mata Peak, a 399-metre outcrop towering over Havalock North, is the highest point in the region. At least one of us thought it was an excellent idea to head there for good walking.

Especially after reading the local Maori legend regarding the mountain's formation:

Maori chief, Te Mata O Rongokako, was a giant of a man who preyed upon Heretaunga (the Maori People of Hastings). The Heretaunga chief's daughter was very beautiful, and after seeing her, Te Mata O Rongokako decided to woo her rather than make war. She set him many seemingly impossible tasks, which he accomplished until she told him to eat his way through a nearby hill. The giant began to plough his way through the hill, but choked on a large rock and dropped to the ground, stone dead.

The moral here is obviously, "don't get greedy, savor every bite." Or the logical alternative, "make wine, not war, and then the beautiful girl will want to marry you instead of murder you."


After thoroughly enjoying the hike, which took us along the giant's spine where we were afforded views all the way to Tongariro National Park (see previous blog entry), through golden pastureland, and deep into a moist cedar wood, we headed back to the valley to practice some savoring of our own.

Wine tasting is great because a) you get to sample fantastic wine that you would never actually purchase, and no one will fault you for it b) it is a guilt free way to develop your pallet and niche vino knowledge so that you can sound educated at parties or on dates and c) it is a cheap or free way to see the insides of beautiful buildings and stroll around gorgeous grounds.

What's not to like?

So although we are really enjoying life in Auckland, we did keep our eyes open for some potential investments in the Hawke's Bay region...
Despite the proliferation of wineries in the region, we discovered that fine dining was less easy to come by. Almost every interesting eatery in Napier was either closed or empty (on a Saturday night!), but we finally found a surf n' turf chain that was both suitable and open. Then we enjoyed the rugby and a pint at the Irish pub in town, which was what everyone else in town (literally, there was a line out the door to get in) was doing that night. Ah, vacation.

Family Outings

After a lazy morning at the Farm (someone must have warned the kids to stay away from the crazy Americans), we began a leisurely trek back towards Auckland City. Along the way we stopped at our old stomping grounds, Kerosene Creek, to take on the geothermally heated waters. Who knew that we would make so many friends in New Zealand so quickly? A large family (in every sense of the phrase) that we shared the watering hole at Kerosene Creek with liked us so much that they included us in all of their family photos! Needless to say we continued on to Taupo (quickly), where we took some family photos of our own before the final push home to Mount Eden.

Since our east coast expedition we've been staying local, enjoying being lazy as the wet, wintry weather works its way to Auckland. The highlight of last weekend was a lovely tramp in the hills around Piha, about half an hour west of the city. As usual, there was an overabundance of dramatic scenery and a welcome dearth of anyone else enjoying it. We effectively had several miles of magnificent beachside cliffs all to ourselves.
Go The Rugby!

This weekend, our good friends Matt and Jen took us out to see "The Rugby." The Kiwis have a tendency to add "the" to the start of any sport or team, so to our yankee ears its kind of like when great-grandma asks if you've been watching "the basketball," or when a presidential candidate refers to "the youtube," but even worse: imagine chants of "Go Sox!" being replaced by "Go The Red Sox!," as if "Sox" could mean any sox. When we started yelling "Go Blues!," some children immediately questioned us. "To which Blues are you referring: THE Blues, or another Blues altogether?"

Needless to say, we were mortified, but managed to be more specific in future chants and enjoy the rest of the game quite thoroughly. The Blues of Auckland were playing The Brumbies of Canberra in the Super 14, one of what seems like an endless string of end-all, be-all rugby competitions between Australia, South Africa, and New Zealand. By the way, if you don't yet know what a Brumby is, you'll probably be okay not knowing for the rest of your life.

The game was not unlike a Manchester Monarchs home game, with lots of flame throwers, helicopter landings, and rather ho-hum cheerleading. The rugby, however, was far more brutal than any hockey game I've ever been to. While the Blues may have lost 11 - 16, we were still completely jazzed by the experience. We're hoping to attend one of the Tri-Nations games (guess which three) later this year, where we'll cheer on our national team: the All Blacks.

This week is mid-semester break, so Benji will be taking a break from teaching to actually doing some studying of his own. Kate will be working, kickboxing, and yoga-ing as usual. And we'll be planning our winter vacation to that far-off, mystical land: the USA.

Cheers and Go The All Blacks,

K & B

Leave No Tongariro OR Central Plateau Is For Lovers

After more than a few false starts, wrong turns, detours, delays, mishaps, minor calamities, two orc attacks and a dwarf rebellion, Kate and Benji embarked, at long last, on their first multi-day campaign to wrest Middle Earth from the forces of darkness.

That means we went on a backpacking trip.

Tongariro National Park, located in the Central Plateau, is where the Fellowship would be truly tested. We planned an ambitious trip for ourselves: the Tongariro Circuit, a three day, two night loop around two active volcanoes and in the eye of a third. We would cover 50 kilometers of some of the most diverse countryside New Zealand has to offer. And we would carry packs. Heavy ones.

Day One: The Bellies of the Beasties

At least one of the members of the Fellowship may have had some early reservations about sleeping in the lap of three somewhat active volcanoes. Mount Ruapehu has erupted as recently as 25 September 2007; at 8:15pm, the volcano belched out a steam and ash cloud that rose above 5000 meters into the air, and a minor lahar, a wave of water, rocks, and earth, went surging down the mountainside. But we double checked the geologic activity in the area before leaving, and with no suspicious reports from the vulcanologists to dim our spirits, we set out.

Our destination that first evening was Mangaehuehu Hut, where we planned to camp and use the cooking facilities. Mount Tongariro, the oldest and most decrepit of the three volcanoes, and Mount Ngaruhoe of Mount Doom fame, rose up out of the high grassy plateau 13 kilometers ahead of us. Mount Ruapehu, that antsy, hulking, uppity teenager of a volcano lurked somewhere behind a heavy bank of clouds 50 kilometers to the West. We planned to skirt lightly around the edges of all three volcanoes, without attracting any unwanted attention or waking any slumbering beasts.

Arriving at the hut an hour or so before sunset, we managed to squeeze into the last available tent site and cook some hard earned pasta and stir fry before the evening’s breathtaking display began. Although there were more than a few noisy compatriots to share the site with, nothing could dampen our appreciation of the vision of rosy light lingering on the valley below and accenting the snowcapped peak of Mount Taranaki, some 350 kilometers to the West. When night finally set in, we snuggled into our tent, reassured ourselves that the grumblings and rumblings we heard were only the snores and carousing of our fellows, and slept somewhat soundly.

Day Two: Misty Mountain Hop

The lesson every backpacker should learn on their second day is that if you plan to be up before everyone else to get a jump on the hike, you WILL be the last ones out. No matter. We enjoyed a sunrise view of Taranaki before packing up our gear and heading into the valley.

The beginning of the Northern Circuit overlaps with the most popular day hike in all of New Zealand: the Tongariro Crossing. Literally hundreds of people cross these 10 kilometres every day, so we were not lacking for company. Most of this company, however, was not carrying forty pounds of equipment on their backs, making for a vast difference in pace. Some just grumbled as they passed. An overzealous German hiker insisted on following inches behind Benji despite numerous attempts to wave him by.

We reached the first crater, and immediately the ‘lunar landscape’ descriptions we’d read in travel guides came to life. Hard-packed volcanic dust comprised the crater floor, vegetation was scarce, and clouds began to envelop the higher altitudes. While neither of us has been to the moon, we’ve talked about going, and this hauntingly beautiful scene may have sealed the deal.
The wind and rain pushed us back and forth as we crept along the knife’s edge, with a cloudy abyss lying on either side of us. At moments like these, when peril is so palpable, the reflexes of the mind are always at their sharpest…














Suddenly, up ahead in the distance, we spotted the famed Crystal Lakes. Or, at least, we smelled them anyway. These sulfurous pools are the result of thermal activity in the area, and on a clear day look like gemstones sparkling in the alpine saddle. To us, however, they had a much more primordial-swamp appeal, and we half expected to run into some kind of reptile-human crossbreed carrying helpless tourists into the viridian depths.












Given that the lakes are the major attraction for day hikers (and the powerful stench that both were giving off), we decided to keep up our pace. We left behind the Tongariro Crossing crowd and made our way into Oturere Valley, better known to us layfolk as The Realm of Lord Sauron himself, Mordor. This vale is largely the result of volcanic activity from Nguaruhoe, with long-hardened pyroclastic lava flows and basalt megaliths dominating the scenery.

Here we found ourselves skidding down slopes of scoria scree, stopping every few meters so Kate could snap a picture of some alpine moss for later identification. As the slope leveled off, we found ourselves treading across dunes of volcanic ash, like some grey-black beach dotted with lava bombs and pumice. Despite our best efforts, neither of us could think of a comparable landscape anywhere else in the world.
A short stop for lunch at the Oturere Hut and we were back on the trail. We passed over rolling steppe and scrub, with the magnificent green slopes of the Kaimanawa Ranges just off to the east. Eventually we worked our way into a forested area with a beautiful stream. Our final stop for the night was at the Waihohonu Hut, where we were able to stake out a nice shady spot next to the most picturesque brook you’ve ever laid eyes on; a truly beautiful spot to spend hours stretching.

Day Three: The Sound of One Hand Clapping

Being in no hurry to vacate this splendour, we slept in and took our time preparing for the hike back to civilization. Day three was to be a relatively level hike, but it was a long haul across the desert like basin between Tongariro and Ruapehu. As we stepped out of the forest, we found ourselves face to face with the latter mountain and all its stunning glaciers and menacing multiple peaks, for the first time.
Old Tongariro and grumbling Ngaruhoe had been our constant companions for two days, but the sight of Ruapehu dropping its seven cloudy veils was humbling anew. The intimacy of that glimpse was reward enough for our perseverance across the Circuit. We heartily congratulated ourselves for taking the long way round. Then we started planning for a perfect pizza dinner.
The basin was long, hot, and relatively unbroken but for a few inviting creek beds, random pockets of soap stone, and one very large and brightly coloured lake where we ate lunch in what little shade the shrubs and grasses could afford. We did our best to remain covered with either clothing or sunscreen, but still managed to score some pretty decent sunburns. We made it back to the mirth mobile by mid afternoon and set a course for Lake Taupo. We planned to stop only for either hot springs or pizza and beer. Whichever came first.

Not surprisingly, hot springs are more common in the area just outside Tongariro National Park than pizza joints. We came across our first thermal pool just a few kilometres from both the park and a small Trout fishing tourist trap called Turangi. The Department of Conservation runs a tidy, if slightly run down thermal reserve in Tokaanu where it is possible to get your own private hot pool for 20 minutes, just as long as you promise not to put your head underwater. Beware the ameobal meningies that lurk within! This threat did not thwart us from taking the waters, however, and after 20 minutes of hot sulphuric treatment, we felt as though we might someday be able to walk again. With renewed vigor, we aimed for Taupo.

Lake Taupo is 622 square kilometres large and reaches depths of up to 160 meters. It occupies a series of old collapsed volcanic craters or calderas that over millions of years of eruptions created the massive one filled by the lake today. The most recent eruption, the Hatepe eruption took place around 180 CE and was the largest eruption in New Zealand in the last 20,000 years. The resulting ash is supposed to have turned the sky red over Rome and China.

That afternoon the lake was navy blue and inviting as we entered the city that owes its name and prosperity to the violence of volcanoes. Lake Taupo is nothing to any of the Great Lakes in sheer magnitude, but it is perhaps still a rival in impressiveness and certainly in beauty. The towering presence of the three volcanoes at its Southern tip, and the volcanic remnants rising all around, do a great deal to improve a lake’s natural physique. We certainly enjoyed it as we sat at the Northern tip, staring back at the enormous distance that we had covered in the last few days, and had a beer to celebrate. We enjoyed it so much in fact, that we didn’t even mind that there were no pizza joints open in this town, either. We settled for delicious sandwiches and fries, and made it back to the little trailer well before dark.

Day Four: That’s All She Rotorua…(har har har)
Believe it or not, the fun and novelty of the trailer wore off the moment we woke up in it. We cooked up a quick breakfast in the communal kitchen (which we shared with about twenty French teenagers on a scouting trip), then cruised on out of Taupo and up the road to Rotorua. We were no more than ten minutes outside of town when the delightful scent of geothermal activity caught our noses, and we were on the hunt for a hot spring.

Halfway between Taupo and Rotorua is an area called Waiotapu, which, if our knowledge of Polynesian languages serves us, means ‘sacred waters’ in Maori. Waitapu is home to a number of hot springs-themed resorts and spas that are just waiting to be stumbled upon by budgetless backpackers. Having splurged the night before on our *deluxe* accommodations, however, we decided to try and find something a bit more finance friendly. We found it in Kerosene Creek.












Kerosene Creek is under the jurisdiction of the Department of Conservation, and was 100% free (don’t tell anyone). Here we were, outdoors on a fabulously sunny morning, surrounded by all manner of New Zealand greenery, wading into a natural stream that was as hot as any bath. Even our lovely experience in Tokaanu could not have prepared us for how amazing this was. We lay out on the rocks as the water rushed by, soothing away the aches from our long walk. We must have stayed for almost an hour before deciding to move on to Rotorua.

The township of Rotorua was much as we expected: laid out in a grid, with plenty of boutique shopping and a myriad of opportunities to jump out of planes. A fine set up for tourists, but not exactly somewhere we wanted to hang around. We made a quick circuit of downtown on foot, then headed out of town to do some lake swimming. Despite enticing names like Green Lake and Blue Lake (names which are largely based on mineral content), we headed for Lake Tarawera, and sang it's name to the tune of "Guantanamera" the entire way. This was a lovely, crystal clear loch just outside of town, and made for a fantastic picnic spot. We followed this up with ice cream and, just for kicks, a sample of blueberry wine (which tastes more like blueberry juice), before settling in for the long ride back to Auckland.

What an amazing weekend. Meanwhile, back in New Hampshire…
Uh... stay warm!

Cheers,
Kate & Benji

Writing is fun!

After consulting with our lawyers, we at An International Love Affair have come to the unwelcome conclusion that we do not stand to benefit from our solidarity with the Writer's Guild. Boo. Guess that means we've got some catching up to do.

Chapter 1: Of Cows and Computer Simulations...

In November, Kate decided that her desire to teach High School Biology in New Zealand was not equal to New Zealand Ministry of Education's desire for paperwork and certification payouts. Instead, she returned to her original calling; managing bullsh_t.












Kate's new job working for Auckland Regional Council (translation: State Government) as a Rural Compliance Officer (translation: Environmental Police Officer) has allowed her to take the management of sh/t to a new level. Kate now spends approximately 40% of her time tramping around dairy farms all over the Auckland Region (or riding around them on the back of a four wheeler), attempting to spot environmental problems with their effluent disposal systems (translation: cow poo irrigators). Although her experience with managing dairy waste was previously limited to once having milked a goat, Kate has learned quickly. It hasn't been too hard to learn because, as she explained to her manager during her interview, "I like cows."

Sputtering and flapping over the finish line like a pukeko in a trundler, Benji completed his first year of postgraduate bruahaha with distinction. Among his multitudes of final projects, one of the more interesting involved using GIS technology to show water-gathering strategies on a remote Hawaiian Island. Over the summer, he'll be working for a local archaeologist, sorting through tuatua shells and carbonized fish bones in order to prove that Maori did, in fact, eat seafood.

Chapter 2: The Great Visit

Kate's parents came to visit as well, and while we can’t rightly say it was the Griswold’s Go To New Zealand…
















...there may have been a few similarities. Our first trip out of the City of Sails took us to Kerikeri, a bucolic spot up north in the Bay of Islands. We saw giant kauri groves, beautiful endless beaches, and explosions?

You bet. We just happened to be out on a cruise of the bay while the famed ship Canterbury was being scuttled, so while we missed out on dolphins, we did get to see something large and expensive blown up. Ah, memories.

We separated briefly, letting the folks travel the countryside while we returned to our real lives, before reuniting in Dunedin, a lovely burg in the extreme southeast of the country. We ventured out to the end of the breathtaking Otago Peninsula, taking in an albatross colony there, and then made our way west through steppe and slope to Queenstown.

While we’ve been known to swipe a picture or two from the internet to express a point, you can be sure that 1) yes, we did take this picture and 2) yes, it really does look like that. In fact, we were so suspicious that it was really just a huge, airbrushed backdrop that we ended up waist-deep in an alpine snowfield trying to find the backstage area.

Queenstown turned out to be a lovely experience. We wined and we dined. We snoozed, we cruised, and we even luged. We made the most of the few days we spent there, and still left with lots to come back and see.

After a final swing through Auckland, where the folks enjoyed dinner at the Fortress of Fun and a ride across the harbor to hike Rangitoto, we bid farewell and promised to see each other again soon. But how soon? Only time would tell…

Chapter 3: Kiwis Come Home!

In the middle of December we were planning a fantastic camping trip. We would hike up the Tongariro Crossing to the top of an active volcano, then we'd paddle down the Whanganui (fan-GA-noo-ee) River for three days. We were just about ready to put a down payment on our canoes when serendipity struck. As it does.

Each morning we check Air New Zealand's Grab-a-Seat fares, keeping an eye out for decent deals. That morning there was a flight to Los Angeles listed, with a price to be posted later in the day. We mused about the prospect of a surprise visit home, and, just for fun, we set a ridiculous dollar limit that would determine whether or not we'd actually commit to it. We set to our daily tasks, which included making arrangements for accommodation on our camping trip. Later that morning the price was posted: one dollar below our predetermined limit.

Who are we to blow against the wind?

After letting the folks at home know "weeeeee'd be hooooome for ChriIiIiIstmAaAas" in the video posted on our A Kiwi Kristmas? entry, we packed our things and, on Christmas Eve, took the 20+ hour flight back to New Hampshire. We stepped through the front door at home at approximately 12:15am Christmas Day, just minutes ahead of Santa.

While we only had six days on the ground at home, we made the most of them. Christmas with all the family units kicked it off, followed by gatherings with grandparents, supper with siblings, functions with friends, and, occasionally, we got some sleep. Fresh snowfall gave us the opportunity to go snowshoeing in Walker State Forest, and, of course, a reunion show for Losers Fight It was obligatory.

Our escape from the States had serious metaphysical overtones; we flew out of Los Angeles on New Year's Eve 2007 and arrived in Auckland on the morning of January 2nd, 2008. It was pretty much Back to the Future IV.

Chapter 4: Back to the Future IV

In the future, it was summertime.

We took advantage of this fact by recovering from our second 24 hour flight in one week on a beach on Auckland's well protected North Shore. In short order we also went camping in Wenderholm Regional Park , held a successful BBQ at Casa de Davies with a handful of Kiwi buddies, and took part in an all day musical event, Big Day Out, the largest music festival in the Southern Hemisphere. We have to try to keep things interesting, since it is just the two of us down here!
The Big Day Out was a highlight for both of the Southern Davies. In one day we managed to see; Spoon, Billy Bragg, Acealone, Unkle, and long time favorites, Rage Against the Machine and Bjork, perform. In addition to the international acts, we also enjoyed local bands Katchafire and Battle. And we can now bear witness to the fact that the Kiwis are absolutely the most rabid music fans on the planet. When local-boys-gone-big Shihad took the stage, the entire audience was on their feet, fists raised, singing along to ALL the words (see photo above). Meanwhile, we sat mesmerized at the back of the arena, asking eachother: WHO ARE these guys again?

Although some of the Kiwis were less than impressed with Bjork's musical extravaganza, particularly pinioned as it was between hard boy acts Shihad and Rage, the icelandic enchantress managed to cast a spell over most of the audience, and made the entire Big Day for the Davies. While a description of her performance merits a blog entry twice the length of this one, we will limit ourselves to saying this: A Genius in Her Own Time.

Next time on "An International Love Affair..." the Davies go to Mordor . Don't miss it!