Showing posts with label Rotorua. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Rotorua. Show all posts

Friday, May 24, 2019

Māori


Before there was New Zealand, there was Aotearoa. Before Abel Tasman first spied land east of Australia and named it after part of his Dutch homeland and before that name was Anglicized into its current spelling, the islands had been given another name by people already living there, master mariners of Polynesian descent who called themselves Māori. This final post about New Zealand (for now) is about those people. And because they called the land Aotearoa, I will only refer to it that way in this post after this paragraph.  OK so there's one exception.

When we left San Francisco on March 1 bound for Auckland on a very long flight over the Pacific Ocean, we hoped we were heading to a nation which celebrated the people who were there before the European explorers and settlers. After all, people of Māori descent make up over 15% of the total population. We hoped there would be a lot to learn and appreciate so we deliberately tailored part of our agenda to focus on Māori sites, particularly on the north island. I don't think we were disappointed by what we found. I hope that comes through in this post.

But before we get started in earnest on this post, let's clear up some pronunciation. Before setting foot in Aotearoa we were halfway convinced the correct way too say Māori was "mao-ri", not "may-or-ee" as we'd heard some people say. We were almost right. It is "mao-ri" but with a roll of the tongue on the r syllable. Glad I could clear that up. Let's move on.

Māori warriors, Tamaki Māori Village, Rotorua.
The islands of Aotearoa were one of the last spots on Earth to be inhabited by man. It shouldn't seem that way to me. There are many many pieces of land way smaller than the nation's two main islands pretty close to them in that part of the Pacific that were settled by men many centuries before. I would assume the biggest islands would always be settled first because they are the easiest to spot. Maybe not when you are as far south and east as Aotearoa. I'm sure the ocean's way bigger than I imagine it is.

So how late in history did man first land in Aotearoa? How about really late? Like about the year 1300? Seem too late? It did to me too. I assume mankind has inhabited every reasonably-sized, at least temperate speck of land on the whole planet for a couple of millennia at least. Not so down in the part of the world where the Māori decided to stake their claim. 

Maybe we should delve into a little big picture history. Isn't that always useful, after all?

Before European settlers were taking their ships out of sight of their homelands and still believing the world was flat, Polynesian people were sailing across the biggest ocean on the planet (what is now known as the Pacific Ocean) exploring our world. While most of the entire Roman empire was still intact, there were men and women sailing in relatively tiny boats from the Marquesas Islands in French Polynesia all the way to Hawaii. And not by accident. There is evidence that once they got there, they successfully traveled back and forth to home deliberately. Across a distance of over 2,300 miles. As long ago as the year 300.

They didn't stop there. By the year 1200 they had reached Rapa Nui or what is now known as Easter Island, almost 2,300 miles in the opposite direction down the Earth from the Marquesas. Then by the end of the 1200s, historians believe the Polynesians had discovered Aotearoa (which means "long white cloud") and had decided to stay. More than 3,400 miles from home. In dual-hulled catamarans way smaller than we really could imagine crossing a stretch of water that vast. While Europeans were about to start exploring the seas, the Polynesians had been there, done that for about 1,000 years. And with a lot more success.


Feel like a 3,400 mile ride on this? New Zealand Maritime Museum, Auckland.
For about 400 years, the Māori lived in Aotearoa (which at the time was a name applied to the north island only) untouched and undiscovered by any other men. Then in December of 1642, the Dutch explorer Abel Tasman became the first white man to find the islands and meet the Māori. Apparently it didn't go that well for the Dutchman. He failed to reach the shore, beaten back by the inhabitants. 

27 years later, England's Captain James Cook found the islands and the Māori in a substantial enough way that he was able to place a guess on the population of 100,000, a figure which today is believed by historians to be accurate. It was the first contact between the Māori and the English, who had already claimed neighboring Australia to the west as a territory. There's some foreshadowing there. 

After Cook came the whalers. And the sealers. Then the missionaries and the settlers and the miners and the ranchers and the loggers. And the whalers and the sealers and the missionaries and the settlers and the miners and the ranchers and the loggers brought with them muskets, which allowed whichever Māori tribes got their hands on these weapons first to wage more efficient war on their rival tribes. They also brought diseases that became the number one killer of Māori who were powerless to stop what they could not see. And eventually they brought requests and demands to share the land. Why wouldn't they? They had done it everywhere else.

In 1840, the Māori and the British signed the Treaty of Waitangi. If you go souvenir shopping  today, you will find the date 1840 printed on all manner of trinkets and t-shirts (I have one with 1840 on it) claiming that's the date the nation was founded. Call me skeptical on this one. For the British, it was a chance to grab Aotearoa for the crown; for the Māori, it came with a promise of protection against the French and guaranteed British citizenship, whatever that meant.

The three articles and The Treaty of Waitangi. Te Papa Tongarewa.
It came with immediate problems. First, not all the Māori signed the document despite representatives of the British government spending seven months transporting various copies of the document around the island. So it was by no means accepted by everyone. Second, the Māori didn't understand land ownership in the same way the British did. For those of us in the United States, this has to sound familiar. 

Disputes over land started less than 10 years after the Treaty was signed. New rules were introduced. The British wanted proof of land ownership from the Māori (which of course they couldn't produce). Any land not in obvious use by the Māori automatically became property of the government. Any Māori deemed rebellious by the government forfeited their lands. Troops were brought in to enforce laws and eventually the line between enforcing laws imposed by an all-white parliament and unlawful treatment of the natives got blurred. Homes were destroyed. People were evicted from their land. Eventually there were arrests and what seem to be to be unjustified killings. Ring any bells here my fellow Americans?

This went on for more than 100 years. It would be the 1980s until any real meaningful balance was brought to the relationship between the Māori and the British, which by that time was the New Zealand (not using Aotearoa here because it's just not appropriate) government.

Told you there was an exception.


Māori tiki, Rotorua.
So back to our trip.

We started and ended our exploration of Māori history and culture this past March in museums, hitting up the New Zealand Maritime Museum and the Auckland War Memorial Museum in Auckland and Te Papa Tongarewa in Wellington. I found the Maritime Museum to be a great introduction to the history of Polynesian exploration in the Pacific; I honestly had no idea that these people ranged so far in such small craft so long ago. It is useful to stand next to replicas of the catamarans and imagine nothing but water as far as the eye can see. Stunning and a little scary actually.

Both Te Papa and the War Memorial Museum have incredible collections of Māori art, artifacts and watercraft and both places have a full size Māori meeting house for you to walk into (without shoes). If I had to give a nod to one over the other, I'd go with the War Memorial Museum. Their collection seemed much more tied to an historical timeline of the Māori and they allowed pictures, whereas Te Papa does not. I also got a lot more perspective on the relationship between the Māori and the European settlers in Auckland. 

If you need one reason to go to each place, hit up the War Memorial Museum for the carvings. The cover photo of this post is from that museum. And Te Papa? I found the most valuable exhibit to be the life-sized Māori storage house that you could poke your head up into from below. It provided a touch to an aspect of Māori life that we got nowhere else.

Think we just visited museums, though? Come on! Seriously? In between the start and end of our Māori exploration, we spent three days in Rotorua, the Māori capital of New Zealand. And there we learned a whole lot more.


Te Puia geyser, Rotorua. As seen from Whakarewarewa.
Rotorua is located a couple of hours drive from Auckland in what is known as the Bay of Plenty area. Like most all of the land in Aotearoa, the area in the Bay of Plenty was formed by volcanic eruptions; unlike most of the rest of the country, volcanic influence is still present and affects life in the area every single day. The Māori settled Rotorua in the 14th century and found a place with built in central heating for keeping warm, a reliable source of hot water for bathing and an ability to cook food without fire. What else could you ask for in the 1300s?

In Rotorua, the Māori are not squirreled away in a museum with stories on walls describing their history and what the Europeans did to them. Instead, they are living their lives in their own town and sharing their culture with visitors. We spent time in two places with the Māori in Rotorua: at Whakarewarewa just south of town and at the Tamaki Māori Village quite a bit south of town. Both these places are Māori owned and feature the opportunity to learn about Māori culture and history in addition to being entertained for a couple of hours. 

Tamaki Māori Village is a nighttime affair, featuring a welcome ceremony where elected chiefs from the three busloads of tourists are challenged and ultimately allowed to enter in peace and ending with a traditional hangi, a celebratory feast of meat and vegetables slow-cooked below ground on red hot rocks. It's similar to a luau in Hawaii (if you've attended one of those) and so the experience could be decried as something invented to cater to tourists from outside Aotearoa. 

Maybe. 

I didn't see it that way. 


The unearthing of the hangi. The lamb was the best part of this meal.
So, sure, the food was served at long picnic tables buffet style next to people generally from North America and Europe. And there was pavlova, which is decidedly not a traditional Māori food. The food wasn't the highlight of our night. It was everything leading up to that point.

The Māori are perhaps most famous for the haka, a ceremonial dance with plenty of loud chanting, body slapping and facial contortions including widening of the eyes and sticking out of the tongue. This dance was performed before battles a long time ago, either to demonstrate strength to their opposition or just psych themselves up for the skirmish. Today, most kiwis can identify this dance by watching their national rugby team, the All Blacks, who perform the haka before rugby matches to the same effect that their ancestors used it centuries before. 

The haka was performed for us before we entered the village, right after our chiefs for the night offered ceremonial silver ferns and stood their ground in the face of wide eyes and wagging tongues. Determined to neither show aggression nor fear before a wall of Māori warriors, the simultaneous showing of respect without terror by us, the visitors, was a palpable throwback to the past. I am sure centuries ago that I would have been more than a little unnerved by the possibility of doing the wrong thing and getting my head bashed in by a jade club but the seriousness of the interaction came across nonetheless. 


Learning about Māori weaponry...
and the use of the poi balls.
After admission to the Village itself (and without being attacked by jade club or spear-wielding warriors) we went through some Māori history lessons, including talks about the development of their weapons, their expertise in watercraft, their storytelling traditions and their use of the poi balls. 

Poi balls, you say? Yes. Poi balls. These balls on strings, which were originally rocks wrapped in bullrushes attached to a length of rope likely made from the flax plant,  are used in a ritual dance. Their ancient purpose though was to teach young warriors coordination in the art of weapon use. They stopped this practice when the Europeans imported the musket. All of a sudden, hand to hand combat with sticks and clubs was rendered absolutely useless. Those muskets changed the Māori way of life suddenly and irreversibly. 

The men in our tourist group were also forced (or maybe peer-pressured is a better term) to perform the haka dance as a group activity. A couple of things here. While the dance is marked by the same activity over and over again, it's not so easy to pick up when you have like a couple of minutes to learn it before having to make your debut in front of your fellow tourists. I got the tongue thing down (I mean who doesn't love sticking out their tongue?) but failed to coordinate it with the big eyes. The rest was just a mess.

Second, I'm sure it's way more intimidating wearing Māori warrior gear rather than a bright blue Patagonia rain coat. I could be wrong here but I doubt it. There is photographic and video evidence of all of this that will not be shown on this blog. I haven't even brought myself to watch the video yet. I can tell you it's a lot easier to pick up jumping with the Masai in east Africa than it was to do the haka, although i'm convinced if I could be better at one, it would be the haka. My knees and legs aren't made for getting any serious air in Africa, if they ever were. I'm convinced I can scream and slap my body loudly and I'd likely get the tongue coordinated with the eyes eventually.


Sulfur pools in front of houses at Wharekarewarewa.
Before we went to Tamaki Māori Village, we visited Whakarewarewa (pronounced fa-kar-e-wa-re-wa; the wh in Māori produces a ph sound), a town constructed right on top of one of those volcanic hotspots found all over Rotorua. If our experience at the Tamaki hangi was a polished, scripted affair which is abandoned for the night once all the tourists are gone (not being derogatory here; it just is what it is), Whakarewarewa was anything but. This is a living, breathing town where people sleep at night, leave to go to work, leave their kids to go to school and then come home at night, bathe, eat some thermally cooked food and then do it all over again.

Just like at Tamaki, Whakarewarewa offers a guided tour; some lessons about this history and culture of the Māori; a performance featuring a haka, poi ball demonstrations and singing; and some food cooked underground. Only here, the food isn't placed on hot rocks in an excavated hole, it's just dropped into one of the few plywood boxes located about the property above a high temperature vent in the Earth and left there all day. Raw food goes in at the beginning of the day; hot cooked food comes out at the end. No fires to start, no gas to turn on, no electricity costs, just good cooked food. We'd seen this same sort of thing years ago in Iceland when we ate some rye bread baked in the hot soil around a sauna. That was a gimmick. Whakarewarewa is the real deal.


The world's least expensive and most efficient oven.
Today there are about 25 families living in Whakarewarewa (the full name of the village by the way is Tewhakarewarewatangaoteopetauaawahiao; they shortened it so tourists could pronounce it reasonably easily) which represents typically between 65 and 75 people. At its height, it housed 500. Availability of utilities which are more reliable and predictable and seeing what the hot steam venting from the ground does to wood framed houses (it's not good) likely caused most of the village's residents to accept remoter but maybe more homey settings. 

Because the village is a real genuine Māori community, they have a meeting house that's actually in use towards the center of the property. The front of the Māori meeting houses are a metaphor for a man, with a face at the top of the gable end, the slopes of the roof representing the arms spread over the community and the vertical supports symbolizing the legs. The most celebrated houses are adorned with carved patterns and images of tikis, sometimes with their tongues extended as if right in the middle of a haka.

Because the missionaries that came after the whalers and the sealers did a pretty effective job of converting the Māori to christianity upon their arrival to Aotearoa, there's a cross next to the meeting house in what looks like either a mixed message or a blending of two very different worlds which are now both embraced at Whakarewarewa.


Overall, the feeling I got at Whakarewarewa is one of genuine-ness and refusal to compromise all the Māori traditions even in the face of life which might be just more convenient and comfortable if they just ditched the village and lived like all the European settlers today. I think this is probably a good thing. It certainly seems like there's room enough for both traditions in the country today. I can't imagine how noisy those geysers are at night though. I suppose you get used to it.

So about that equality thing. I mentioned that it got to be all the way into the 1980s before the Māori started to get any sort of acknowledgement from the descendants of the Europeans in Parliament that their rights as a people were just as important as the rights of the invaders from Britain and other parts of the other side of the globe. A minute or two to review that is probably appropriate.

In 1977, a group of Māori occupied a piece of land called Bastion Point near Auckland as a protest. The land had been confiscated from the Māori in 1886 under the pretense that the land was needed for defense of Auckland harbor. The land wasn't developed for the purpose claimed by the government but they never returned the land. In 1976, it was decided that the land could be sold to a developer for high-income housing. The Māori disagreed and unsuccessfully protested, ultimately being evicted from the land again just as they were some 90 years prior.

But the land was never sold, and in 1985, the Waitangi Tribunal was set up to examine past wrongs on the part of the government related to Māori lands. At first the Tribunal concerned itself with recent wrongs, including the Bastion Point dispute of the mid-1970s. But eventually they examined more historical land seizures and have recommended land be returned to the Māori with compensation and apologies. And in some cases, the lands have been returned.


The haka as performed at Whakarewarewa, Rotorua.
While I'm not celebrating the Waitangi Tribunal as a righter of all past wrongs (I mean, how could they possible repair the lives destroyed or taken away outright decades ago?), it is notable in contrast to our own history with Native American peoples here in the United States. The United States government brutalized the Native American tribes in this country, exterminating them with violence and disease, much as the Europeans did to the Māori in Aotearoa. They also forced migrations off their native homelands then coveted by whites to a spot in the U.S. territory less desirable to whites.

Once the tribes were relocated, they were sometimes relocated again, driven off lands promised or established by treaty as belonging to them in perpetuity. As It turned out if the white man wanted some place occupied by Native Americans, the white man won, even if it meant breaking a promise or tearing up a piece of paper. Words were cheap and unreliable.

The same kinds of broken promises and forced relocations happened in Aotearoa. Let's make no mistake about that. But some lands have been returned to the Māori. And no, it's not anywhere close to all the land confiscated. But it's infinitely more than has been returned to the tribes that occupied the nation where I call home when Europeans arrived on these shores. Maybe I'm reading too much into my own emotions about my experiences with the Māori over a couple of weeks in early March 2019, but I feel the relationship between the Māori and Parliament is far, far better than the analogous situation in my own country. And I think that's really too bad that the United States hasn't done more to repair those past wrongs. Maybe one day. In the meantime, I understand a little more about Māori culture and will honor the time I spent learning this year.

Māori meeting house detail, Whakarewarewa, Rotorua.

How We Did It
It's fairly easy to find and enter the three museums referenced in this post. 


The New Zealand Maritime Museum is located right on the waterfront in Auckland at the corner of Quay and Hobson Streets. It's open every day except Christmas Day from 10 am to 5 pm. There are many many more stories to explore in the Museum other than the history of the Māori although we found that most compelling.

The Auckland War Memorial Museum is located in Auckland Domain Park. It's a little far from the center of the city for a walk, especially on a hot day. We took the Auckland Train Network's Southern Line to Parnell and walked across the Park and we taxied back to town fairly cheaply. In addition to Māori exhibits they also have moa skeletons. The Museum is open daily from 10 am to 5 pm.

Te Papa Tongarewa is right in downtown Wellington and unlike the other two museums, it's completely free. Woo hoo! It's open daily except Christmas Day from 10 am to 6 pm.

Tamaki Māori Village offers tours and hangi feasts nightly. In warmer months, they offer 6:15 and 7:30 shows. We generally book these types of activities early and would have preferred the later show (figuring the haka would have been more atmospheric later on) but found it sold out at that time. The Village offers hotel pickup which is great if you don't have a car in Rotorua (we didn't). The ride can get long. We were picked up before 4 pm for our 6:30 show. The pickup vans take you to their downtown office where you board larger buses after a wait. The ride home was much quicker.

Whakarewarewa can be reached by taxi or bus. We took the Number 11 bus from downtown. Get off right after the bus turns on to Sala Street. It's a quick walk south from there. Guided tours are offered several times each day either preceded or followed by a cultural performance. There are also a series of geothermal nature trails on the property. We skipped these in favor of making our way to the Redwoods Treewalk. The Village is open every day except Christmas from 8:30 am to 5 pm.


Wednesday, April 24, 2019

Porridge, Pies & Pavlova


It's been a couple of years since I've written a country-wide post about food so I think it's about time. The last trip that yielded one of these was Japan in 2017 and honestly the places we've been since then were either uninspiring from a food standpoint; repeats of past trips; or filled with not quite enough awesome eats to fill a whole post. New Zealand broke that mold.

Not familiar with New Zealand food? Neither was I. I quite frankly wouldn't have been able to intelligently articulate anything about food from that country more than maybe six months ago. But some advance research, some paying attention along the way and refusing to back down from anything that sounds like I've never heard of it before got me some interesting meals and snacks. So here are a few words about food and drink from our latest excursion. OK, maybe more than a FEW. And the drink is not what you think, I'm guessing.


Porridge

I'm starting with breakfast, I guess. If the above picture isn't the prettiest bowl of porridge you've ever seen, then you didn't grow up in England in the 1970s eating Ready Brek.

At its most basic level, porridge is ground starch or grains of some sort mixed with milk or water. Before New Zealand my experience with the stuff was limited to instant oat cereal made with hot milk and maybe a dollop of jam on top for some flavor other than the standard sugar that could be sprinkled all over the top to sweeten it up a little. The kiwis are taking this stuff to a whole new level. Polenta porridge with lime and macadamia nuts? Yes, please! Yummy!! And with a iced chocolate drink on the side. What a way to start the day.

As frou frou as this bowl sounds (edible pink flowers? really?), it was actually delicious and I would have loved more but it was honestly pretty difficult to find porridge on menus. An internet search for the stuff yielded some advice on where to head including a dedicated porridge restaurant which it appeared had closed. I mean, I might have had a craving for the stuff while we were in country but I don't see a restaurant surviving long exclusively serving this dish. If my one New Zealand bowl was the last one I have, I'm happy with my lifelong porridge experience. 


The Dairy

Ever since I visited Japan, I've been curious about convenience stores all over the world. If you have no idea what I mean by this, go to Japan and spend some time in a 7-11 or FamilyMart. Tell me you can't walk out of either one of those places with like eight or ten delicious food items.

In New Zealand, the convenience store is more often known as the dairy, even though it has nothing to do with milk or cheese or anything else related to dairy production. Some of the things we found here were purposeful pilgrimages; others were accidents. I think a quick couple of sentences or so is worthwhile for each item that we found there.

I hate to keep bringing up Japan like it was one of the best trips of my life (although it was) but one of my favorite Japanese snacks are strawberry Pocky Sticks, thin sticks of cookie coated with oh so delicious faux strawberry creme. Imagine my surprise when I saw what looked to be a dead on knockoff in boxes of Lucky Stick. The cookie sticks are thicker, meaning the cookie to strawberry ratio is higher. I'm in it for the strawberry; higher cookie ratio is bad. Just one box here for me.

I cannot explain Chocolate Fish being marshmallow covered in chocolate but I'd eat these things occasionally in the U.S. if they made their way stateside. I mean who doesn't love flavored marshmallow and chocolate? If they did ever make their way to America, they'd have to lose the "as kiwi as jandals" slogan. Don't ask. I cannot explain this either. 

Any hankering for dark chocolate with orange candy shells? See, you didn't even know these things existed but I got you thinking now. Jaffas were probably the hit of our dairy exploration. Dark chocolate and orange is a classic combination. Or maybe fake orange if you prefer me to be more accurate. Good stuff.

If there was a supreme disappointment in New Zealand convenience store fare, it was Pineapple Lumps. Yes, I know the name sucks. Who would really want to eat anything called "lumps"? But pineapple flavored whatever coated in chocolate? On the scale of awesomeness, how could this do anything but rate "supremely awesome"? 

It wasn't. Honestly, I felt like I was chewing chemicals eating these things. Totally disgusting and totally disappointing. The most disappointing thing about New Zealand by far. I threw half of the bag away. And I really had to choke down the first half. I take notes when I travel. My notes about Pineapple Lumps read "gummy and unpleasant". And there was such possibility...


Lemon & Paeroa 

Sure, I could have put this in the same section as the rest of the delicacies and disgustingness I found at the dairies but I decided not to. L&P is the only drink I'm featuring in this post and it deserves its own spot. You thought I was going to write about beer, didn't you?

I would describe Lemon & Paeroa as a cross between lemon-lime soda (although no lime really) and cream soda, but with the cream soda backed off to like 15 or 20% of cream soda-ness. Just a hint of that bite that cream soda sometimes has. I don't drink soda really ever, and certainly not non-diet soda, but I had three L&Ps when I was in New Zealand. If I could find this stuff locally, I'd buy some every now and then. I'd put it in the same soda category as Faygo Rock & Rye and Vernor's ginger ale. And yes, that's some high praise.


Pies

If there's a kiwi food that deserves a special place in the food of the world pantheon, it's New Zealand's hand pies, mobile hot pockets of savory deliciousness. Now, this is not the first time I've written about the joy of pies. I had plenty of steak and ale and chicken and mushroom and every other kind of pie in England in 2014 and 2016 (even if I didn't write about it that last year). But whereas you need a knife and fork and plate and plenty of gravy and some time to digest what you've eaten in a pub in Britain, New Zealand's pies are an on the go food.

How's that work, you might ask? Well, folks that make these things have made the insides solid enough (yet still moist) so that you can bite into them without the whole filling (or even a part of it) dripping out and onto the floor, sidewalk or, worse still, you. Does that inhibit the flavor? Not as far as I can tell. At least two of the pies I ate in New Zealand were some of the finest bites I had on this trip.

Mince and cheese pie in Rotorua. Almost gone and no mess. Genius!!
These things are pretty much everywhere. We found them in supermarkets just waiting to be taken away and eaten (I did), in dairies ready for a quick meal while walking to wherever you are going (we didn't do this), in dedicated pie shops (so good...) and in honest to goodness full blown restaurants. The variety is astonishing but they are generally flavored in the British style but lighter, meaning beef and chicken with mushrooms and even butter chicken (albeit the kiwis somehow dump a ton of sugar in their butter chicken; not sure why) but without all the artery clogging fat or suet in the crust. Or at least I like to think so anyway.

The other great benefit of New Zealand pies? The smaller size means they are cheaper. The best pie I had during our two weeks in country cost me just $4.90. That's $4.90 New Zealand dollars, meaning about $3.25 U.S. These are the one food I miss on a weekly basis since we got back. Someone in the Washington, D.C. area needs to open a New Zealand pie shop and quick!


Hokey Pokey Ice Cream

I don't normally eat ice cream when I travel. Not that I don't like it or anything; it's just not part of my regular diet. True, I spent pretty much all of my time in Italy four years ago looking for gelato, but never since. 

Until New Zealand. I knew about hokey pokey ice cream before we landed in New Zealand and pretty much the first time I saw an ice cream stand the day we got there I was over at the counter checking to see if they had some. They didn't. But we found some on day two in country after a tramp to the top of One Tree Hill. There's a creamery at the bottom of the hill, in case you are interested.

Hokey pokey ice cream is vanilla ice cream with small pieces of honeycomb toffee to provide some crunch (and which WILL get stuck in your teeth) and some extra flavor when you are working your way through a cone or bowl of plain vanilla. It's apparently the number two selling flavor of ice cream in New Zealand after (you guessed it) vanilla. It's a rite of passage to get some I guess. I settled for one bowl while I was over there, although we did get some on the airplane ride home across the Pacific.

Fun facts: hokey pokey was apparently a slang term for ice cream sold by street vendors in New York City during the 19th century. It's also the generic term for anything honeycomb in New Zealand. My beloved Crunchie candy bars that I get every time I go to England are also available in New Zealand but instead of the wrapper advertising honeycomb covered in chocolate, it's hokey pokey covered in chocolate.


Pavlova

So after working your way through Chocolate Fish, a box of Lucky Stick, maybe some hokey pokey ice cream and some Jaffas but definitely no Pineapple Lumps, are you finally done with the sugar in New Zealand? Not until you've had some pavlova, you aren't. 

Pavlova was invented either in New Zealand or Australia (yes, there's a debate about this) to celebrate a visit by the Russian ballerina Anna Pavlova to the two countries in the late 1920's. It's pretty much completely made out of meringue and whipped cream with a little fruit scattered on top or around the sides (to make it seem healthy I guess?). The trick with this dessert is getting the ingredients and the bake right to have the meringue crisp on the outside and the cooked to the texture of marshmallow on the inside. The whipped cream can then be piled on top to complete the effort.

This stuff is pretty darned good. I'll take this over a trip to the dairy or some almost vanilla ice cream any day. Plus the fruit makes it healthy, right?


Muttonbird and Paua

No trip to a foreign country would be complete without at least a little bit of adventurousness at the breakfast, lunch or dinner table. If there's something I've never heard of or a vegetable or animal I have heard of but have never seen on a menu, I'm mostly all in. I've tried springbok in Zimbabwe, guinea pig in Ecuador, runny and mold-covered cheese in Paris and who knows what it was I ate in Marrakech. In New Zealand, it was muttonbird and paua. Not together.

So I get that neither of these dishes was particularly out there on the strangeness scale but you have to work with what you are given. Muttonbird is the name given to the meat of the sooty shearwater seabirds that make their home on the islands around New Zealand. The meat apparently tasted to someone like mutton and hence the name. If you find some on a menu like we did way down on Stewart Island, give it a try but know that the bird has been harvested as a baby from the nest while its parents are off fishing for food for the day. Nice, right? The meat is dark with a deep flavor of red meat, albeit it a little dry like most wild meat tends to be. This is a truly New Zealand dish; I'm not sure you are getting young sooty shearwaters on too many menus outside the country. The image above is a plate of muttonbird artfully arranged with some side vegetables.

Paua, on the other hand, is a type of mollusk. If you remotely play tourist in New Zealand, you will find the iridescent shells of the paua for sale in pretty much every city you visit. Paua is a Māori word for the giant sea snails that live close to the shore of the country; in other places in the world, they might be called abalone, if that means anything to you. I had my one plate of paua in a restaurant in Wellington the first night we were in that city. I am not sure the dish I had was representative of the general quality of this meat; if it is, I can't imaging a lot of people would eat it all that often. I'd characterize its texture as rubbery, not unlike poorly cooked squid. I'd take muttonbird over paua, but I'm not really hankering for either as I write this.

A dish of paua with clams. The paua are the mushroom looking things. If only they WERE mushrooms...
So that's my food report on New Zealand. No it's not the culinary wonderland that is Japan, but there's enough here worth seeking out even if it's just a pie washed down with an L&P and finished with a big plate of pavlova.

The cover picture of this post is me downing a colossal cream and caramel donut at the Thursday Night Market in Rotorua. While the food there is not particularly New Zealand specific, the atmosphere, the choice of dishes and the prices made Thursday night in the Māori capital of the country one of the more enjoyable food experiences we had while we were over there. I'd recommend scheduling a Rotorua trip around Thursday night just for this market.

How We Did It
I am fairly sure that if you visit New Zealand you can find some of the kiwi delicacies in this post with just a little searching, if you even have to exert that much effort. Although maybe not the muttonbird. In the interest of giving credit where credit is due, however, we felt the following places served us outstanding food while we were in country and we would recommend you seek these places out if you are in the neighborhood and have a hankering.

If you are in Rotorua and you want a great pie, head over to Gold Star Bakery at 89 Old Taupo Road. These were definitely the best pies we had in our two weeks in New Zealand. And at just $4.90 NZ, they were also the cheapest. I can highly recommend the Mince & Cheese. If I lived or worked in Rotorua, I'd eat here a lot. Like four or five days a week.

The only other pie spot I'd recommend (and I know this is a total curveball) is the food counter at the Invercargill Airport. I know it sounds really weird to have airport food endorsed but the chicken, mushroom and leek pie was amazing. And don't worry about which food counter at the airport I'm talking about; there's only one. Just like there's only one door to the runway.

If you want the prettiest bowl of porridge ever shown above, make your way to Chuffed Coffee at 43 High Street in Auckland. There's only one porridge option offered there and I can't speak to the rest of the menu (because we both got the porridge) but that dish was pretty darned good. I'd definitely eat it again even with the bananas which are not by any means my favorite fruit (in fact I pretty much avoid them everywhere...except in Ecuador).

Seeking some good pavlova? We got some at the South Sea Hotel on Stewart Island and took the picture in this post above. We might have more pavlova recommendations (because honestly who doesn't like meringue and whipped cream making up 90% of their dessert) if we could have found it more often. The picture above represents exactly half of the pavlova we ate. I definitely would have tried more if it was available where we ate.

Finally, because I know it's probably not going to be on most menus in New Zealand, I just wanted to give a quick shout out to our hotel, the Church Hill Lodge, for serving mutton bird on their menu. This is the only place we found this dish. If you are in Stewart Island, I'd recommend a meal here, especially because there are like three places to eat dinner on the entire island. Make a reservation.

And if it didn't sink in the first time. if you are ever in Rotorua, go to Gold Star Bakery. You will not regret it. Will not. 

Sunday, April 7, 2019

Great Walks


I like the idea of hiking. Wide open prairies that lead to petrified forests where what used to be trees are now solid rock. Winding mountain paths in the woods to find crystal clear waterfalls. Discovering ancient petroglyphs after a mile or more journey over ancient lava. Canyon trails that lead to emerald green pools in the cool early morning. Wild looking rock formations shaped by wind and water in a volcanic canyon. They all sound great, right? Romantic, peaceful, wistful, a return to simpler times. And since I started this blog, I've made every one of these hikes right here at home in the U.S. of A. and always in one of my trusty pairs of Timberland boots.

Have to take the Timbas on vacation with me.

So what's the problem? Why do I just like the "idea" of hiking and not the hiking itself? Well, I do really like the hiking too. If I didn't do you think I would have done everything I listed in the first paragraph above? It makes me feel like slowing down is a good thing and I love the scenery and the clean air (especially with a little old man's beard around to make me feel really good about what's entering my lungs). I just don't want to meet any of the wildlife that I love watching and photographing from afar. And for sure that inhibits my enjoyment of hiking a little bit. No way do I want to meet a bear or mountain lion in the woods or a bison or wolf out on the range or an African oryx in the middle of the New Mexican desert (seriously; apparently those things are kamikazes).

Done laughing yet? I know, I know, I'm a chicken. Or worse. Go ahead. Take your best shot. I don't care.

View from the beach on Ulva Island during a half day's tramp. Mussels on the rocks at the bottom.
So why am I writing about all this when I just got back from New Zealand? Well because New Zealand doesn't have any native mammals so that country is like the perfect place for me to go hiking. Only they don't call it hiking in New Zealand; they call it tramping. Is a tramp a predator-free hike? I have absolutely no idea although I don't really think so. I just knew I was pretty excited to do some tramping in New Zealand.

New Zealanders (using this term so I don't confuse you by using the term kiwis) apparently love tramping. They love it so much that they have created a series of Great Walks which range in distance from 32 kilometers long to 145 kilometers long and are outfitted with reservable huts for sleeping in. Just bring your own sleeping bag and food. There's no place to buy snacks along the way. 

If 32 or 145 kilometers seems like a long way to tramp, or walk, you'd be correct. The New Zealand Department of Conservation recommends between two and five days to get any one of these Great Walks done. Want to do all ten? Well, that's going to take a whole lot of time.

So this post is about us conquering one of the Great Walks while on the other side of the world, right? Nope. No way. Not even close. No way were we going to do that on this trip. But we did do plenty of tramping. Around Auckland and Stewart Island and Fiordland National Park and Wellington and Ulva Island and even past a few hobbit holes in Hobbiton in some place called Middle Earth. We always seem to do a lot of walking when we are away from home; personally I think it's the best way to see wherever you are. All told, I averaged (according to the pedometer built into my iPhone) an average of 4.7 miles per day. That's a little more than 7.5 kilometers per day, which would be good enough to get a 32 km Great Walk like Rakiura Track on Stewart Island or Routeburn Track across the Southern Alps in about three days if you ignore the fact that we weren't carrying a backpack full of stuff with us.

While this post may not be about New Zealand's Great Walks, it is about some of the places we did walk purposefully and deliberately to slow down, take in the scenery and breathe in the clean air. And yes, we did see some old man's beard along the way. Let's start right where our trip started in Auckland.


One Tree Hill
If you own U2's The Joshua Tree, you might have heard of One Tree Hill. You also might know the story. In case you don't, or (like me) your U2 collection skips from War to Achtung Baby, read on.

One Tree Hill is a (not necessarily extinct) volcanic cone not far from the middle of the city of Auckland. Much of New Zealand, like many of the other island nations in the Pacific, owes its existence above the ocean to volcanic action, and despite the danger of eruption which eventually seems inevitable to come to pass, both Māori and European setters were determined to build their homes in what would end up as Auckland. Something about the harbors, if I'm guessing.

The Māori called the hill Maungakiekie which means "mountain of the kiekie vine" and it happened to be the site of the one of the most important and impenetrable pā, or forts, which sheltered and protected a population estimated to be approximately 5,000 people. That is before the Europeans arrived and inevitably and permanently altered Māori history for the worse. Something about the muskets, if I'm remembering right.

There is no tree on Maungakiekie today but there was one when the place got it's current name. Let's see if we can recap the tree / hill status quickly. The Māori in their pā were defeated by the Europeans (again...something about the muskets) leaving a single tree which was sacred to the Māori (this is when the name came in). In 1852, that tree was cut down by a European settler angering the Maori. To make amends (don't laugh) John Logan Campbell planted a series of pines in the 1870s, which died. Pines!!! Well, all but two died anyway. Those two lasted about 90 years until Māori activists cut one down. They tried for both but were thwarted. In the year 2000, others finished the job. So from one to some to two to one and then none. Got all that?

Atop One Tree Hill looking towards Auckland. The fenced area is where the trees used to be.
For an urban walk, tramping to the top of One Tree Hill is a bit of a workout. It's all uphill on the way there and it's about the highest point in Auckland so the view to the city and the water beyond is pretty spectacular. We kept the obelisk shown in the second picture above in our sights and kept following the signs. It's longer than it looks because after the initial climb, the walk takes you all the way around the base of the hill before you start going up in earnest.

So about that obelisk. The same John Logan Campbell who tried to grow a stand of pines on the hill also paid for the obelisk, a monument to the Māori people, whom he apparently admired. There is a statue of a Māori warrior on the front of the the thing and two panels with some words on either side. You can decide for yourself if they are a little patronizing. Oh...and Campbell is also buried right in front of it, so it's also one of the tallest and most grandiose headstones that I've ever come across.

In all likelihood, unless you take a taxi or drive as close as you can to the summit, you'll end up walking to the Hill through Cornwall Park, a combination of planned, formal roads and allées of trees surrounded by informal landscapes and maybe the odd one or two or whole herds of sheep (it wouldn't be New Zealand without sheep, even in the largest city in the country). There are tons of trees in the Park which provide much needed shade on a sunny day. Once you start the last ascent, there's no relief from the sun, unless (unlike me) you take a hat with you.

Māori warrior statue with John Logan Campbell's obelisk.
For us, this tramp was important as our first connection to some place sacred to the Māori, which we wanted to learn more about on this trip. And the view was pretty cool. There's something satisfying about climbing a hill and seeing how your perspective changes once at the top. I'd say tramping up here was worth it.

When we visited Stonehenge in 2014, I listened to Spinal Tap's epic song about that mystical circle of rocks. We therefore had to listen to U2's One Tree Hill when we reached the top. I may have skipped The Joshua Tree in U2's catalog but my wife did not.

The best thing about climbing to the top of a hill? It's all downhill on the way back. On to something less urban.


Rotoroa Island
One of the things I wanted most to do in New Zealand was to get out onto the water in the Auckland harbor (and beyond) to Hauraki Gulf and maybe spend some time on an island for the better part of a day. Ultimately it would have been nice to head further north to the Bay of Islands, but we didn't think we had time on this trip so we settled for a day in the Gulf. Settled may be underselling the experience by a ton.

The island we chose to visit was Rotoroa Island (not to be confused with Rotorua where we headed right after we were done in Auckland), an island inhabited by two permanent caretakers, a number of different species of birds and the occasional overnight lodger. While it might have been cool to stay on the Island for a night, we decided a day trip would do us just fine. Maybe next time...

Now, if I had been heading to Rotoroa about 15 years ago, I would likely not be going for an day trip or an overnight stay. That's because from 1905 to 2005, the Island was operated by the Salvation Army as an alcohol and drug rehabilitation center. Nothing like some time on an isolated island to detox for a while, right? It ended up being so effective that people actually didn't want to leave and some fell right off the wagon when they left so they could get back there. I mean why would you want to get off an island where you were taken care of and return to society where there are challenges and temptations all around you? I'd probably want to stay too.

The Salvation Army still owns Rotoroa Island today but the property is leased on a 99 year term to the Rotoroa Island Trust which operates the island as a wildlife sanctuary. And in New Zealand, a place with no endemic mammalian species except for a short-tailed bat, that means birds.

A family of takahē. Rotoroa Island.
Unless you have your own boat or intend to hire your own boat or seaplane, you'll likely need to take a ferry over to Rotoroa and you'll need to make an all day commitment. The ferry drops off passengers at about 10 in the morning and picks everyone up at 3:45 in the afternoon. Need some lunch? Bring it. There's no food available for purchase on the Island.

Our tramping agenda for the day was to basically cover from the north to south end of the island seeing as many species of birds as we could along the way. There's a guided walk available for purchase as a supplement to the ferry ticket. We started there and then took care of the rest of the island on our own. The guided walk, led by our guide Toni, who is one half of the permanent resident caretaking couple, got us a good look at the north side of the Island including some history and some information about the birds. And the Trust's efforts to eradicate all mammals, most especially rats, from the Island.

Rotoroa is semi-tropical, which meant when you got off the paved or gravel paths that are marked around the island, you are essentially in a less humid and less hot version of a jungle. Even some of the paths that are created around the Island are overgrown in parts which makes you feel like you are crashing through someplace a lot less tame than New Zealand. The first photograph of this post was taken on Rotoroa. It's sort of cool in a stupid sort of way.

Chris Booth's sculpture Kaitiaki at the south end of Rotoroa overlooking the Hauraki Gulf.
It's a decent almost one hour walk from the north end of the island to the south so spending about six hours on the Rotoroa is perfect. It gave us time to spend about 90 minutes on the guided walk, stop for some lunch and then make it all the way to the south end where there is a sculpture overlooking the water and the adjacent islands. Along the way there was plenty of time to check out the flightless birds (New Zealand has more than its fair share) including the endangered takahē, the mischievous weka and the pukeko, which makes me totally believe dinosaurs and birds share common ancestors.

Two things stick with me from our tramp around Rotoroa. First, the water in Hauraki Gulf is just the most gorgeous blue-green color. I expect to see water as cool and inviting as that in places like the Caribbean; I didn't expect to see it in New Zealand. Second, spending a day on an island with nothing to do but walk and surround yourself with nature is good to do once in a while. We spend a lot of time rushing from one place to the next while we are traveling. We deliberately slowed down on this trip a couple of times. Rotoroa was the first of a couple of days where we made ourselves relax a little more than we normally do.


Redwoods Treewalk
Of all the tramping we did in New Zealand, our walk in the woods at the Redwoods Treewalk in Rotorua (why any place has two places worth walking named Rotoroa and Rotorua is beyond me but it is what it is...) was definitely the most unusual and not just because we were walking among a forest of California redwoods.

But since I mentioned it, let's start there. I mean why is there a grove of California redwoods in an island country thousands of miles from California? Well of course there's a logical explanation that speaks right to human greed.

When European settlers first arrived in New Zealand, the entire landmass was mostly old growth forests. So, being European and used to plundering natural resources of newly discovered lands as soon as possible, they started cutting down the forests for lumber. I mean, why not, right? They found lumber from the kauri tree perfect for use in ships due to its height and exceptionally straight growth. Then they started realizing the forests were disappearing at a pretty alarming rate and would need to find something that grew faster than the native trees if the lumber industry was going to survive. 

Enter the California redwood, which was introduced by the New Zealand government in 1899 to the Whakarewarewa Forest near Rotorua and then in other areas in the 1920s and 1940s. This initiative was after experimenting with several species, including the Monterey pine, since the mid-1800s. Turns out the redwood takes very well to certain parts of New Zealand, particularly the area near Rotorua. 

California redwood. Rotorua, New Zealand.
So what's so great about roaming around a stand of redwoods in Rotorua? Well, you aren't walking on the ground. You are walking on a series of bridges suspended from the trees anywhere between 30 and 65 feet off the ground. For someone who is constantly in search of getting a new perspective on things, I had to do this. I've never walked around a forest from this sort of vantage point. I mean...why would I? And how?

There are some rules. There are person and weight limits on the bridges that span between trees and there are weight limits on the platforms that circumvent the each tree. Don't want to strain the cables holding up either the platforms or the bridges and certainly don't want some kind of wild swaying of the bridges due to tons of people walking in step with one another. And don't worry about the bridges harming the trees. Everything is hung off the branches and there are no mechanical connections, which admittedly makes everything sway a little bit. 

As for the person and poundage limits? Not an issue, at least not when we were there. We rarely had to cross a bridge at the same time as another group. 

I'd have to say this experience is one of those that fits into the "where else can you do this?" category. The best part was never having done this before and never in all likelihood going to have the chance to do it ever again. It for sure got us a different look at a redwood forest. I'd only ever walked through one at Redwood National Park north of San Francisco before and this was definitely a unique experience. As a tramp, it wasn't particularly difficult but I am counting it as one of my personal great walks in New Zealand. We went there to walk and nothing more. Therefore it's on the list.

Timbas. Walkway. Fern. Not often you can have this perspective.
Even if one day I return to New Zealand, I'm not likely to ever tackle any of the real Great Walks, if for no other reason than I can't see myself slowing down enough to do nothing but walk for three days or so. One day is fine. Three days separated by less walking is also fine. Heck tramping every day is fine if I can do something new or exciting when I get to the end of my walk. For this trip, these three will have to suffice. Each meant something to me and I'm glad I did them all. I got something out of each one, which is not something I can say about every experience I've had in the last almost six years. 

Would I have done these in a place other New Zealand? Maybe. But I can't say for sure. The fact that the kiwis (the human ones; couldn't resist using it once despite the earlier disclaimer) have Great Walks and call this stuff tramping made it irresistible. I have a feeling I'll be doing some tramping in the very near future on another continent. And maybe some more towards the end of this summer.

Didn't need this on this trip. Maybe one day...

How We Did It
One Tree Hill is located about five miles from downtown Auckland at the very highest point of Cornwall Park. You can walk there if you want. We opted to take the light rail known as the Auckland Train Network to the Greenlane station on the Southern Line. It's pretty easy to use. From there, it's a pretty good mile and a half walk (or tramp) to the top through Cornwall Park. If you get into the Park and it seems like you have been walking forever, I found that the last walk up the hill was steep but quick. Don't give up. Reward yourself with some hokey pokey ice cream at the Creamery on your way back if you must. I must.

If you decide to go to Rotoroa Island and you opt to take the ferry instead of procuring your own custom transportation, it leaves from the Auckland docks at 8:45 a.m. on the water side of downtown. It does not run every day. Check the Fullers360 website for details and to reserve tickets. Follow the directions to the dock and be sensitive to the instructions for arrival time and for packing food. Fullers runs other boat trips to other islands in the Hauraki Gulf if the Rotoroa trip is not available on the day you want to go.

Redwoods Treewalk is located south of the town of Rotorua. While you could tramp there, it's probably too far to bother. Better to take a taxi or the Number 3 bus from downtown; it drops you off right at the end of Long Mile Road and it's about a 1km walk from there. We got to the Treewalk by walking from the Māori village of Wharekarewarewa which seemed like a quick walk but depended on us cutting through an office property which was prohibited. We went around through the woods, which was longer but not as long as walking on the road.