Zootastic

We did all the usual stuff, like tearing down the boardwalk to see the big African herbivores...

...looking at the Little Blue Penguins...

...and seeing how we measure up to NZ's long-ago penguins...

...to checking out the cool wooden lettuce-holding contraptions meant to give the keas an outlet for their pecking-and-pulling needs (as they don't have access to parked cars or sheep here)...

...finally being allowed to climb on the rocks next to the seal enclosure like all the big boys do...

...going down the big slide about a thousand times...

...and watching some meerkats sit in the sun.

Oh, this is something interesting.  See that plastic bubble in the ground?  It's a secondary meerkat-viewing platform.   You go around down the back behind the display, where there's an entrance to a concrete tunnel that looks for all the world like a culvert in a country ditch.  Never mind that, just go ahead and dive head-first into it and crawl along on your hands and knees.  What's that, you'd rather duck-walk through the tunnel because you think it'll help with this creeping sense of claustrophobia you're developing?  Nope--if you're an adult, the diameter only allows for the all-fours position.

So you crawl and crawl.  In the dark, around twists and turns.  Unsure of where you currently are or where you are going to end up.   Take deep breaths, the only way out is through...  And then you come to a ladder and peep your head hopefully up, all meerkat-like.  The ground-bubble neatly encases your head like some sort of deep-sea diver's mask and you take a quick look at the little critters eye-to-eye.   Then you descend back into your morlock-well and continue to scrabble madly along because the exit must be coming up sometime. 

The boys love these tunnels and I think they would spend all day in them if allowed; I had pretty much accrued my lifetime exposure limit by the second time through.
 

It must have been like taking a limo through switchbacks

The Opanuku Stream runs through town and was once an important commerce conduit.

The dam is long gone (although you can still see its pilings when the water level is low) and the lonely house in the picture is now replaced with a busy road and bridge.  But the mill's waterwheel is still there.

The boys are giggling as they imagine the frustrations of long-ago timber men trying to float kauri logs down this tiny stream.

 

'Eat your vegetables' is taken less seriously now that they have their own bags full of dessert

So... just about two years ago, this was me:  "Halloween is really not a holiday that's celebrated here...they just don't do it."

I was wrong.  I was totally wrong.  Kiwis DO do Halloween.  I think I was labouring under this misconception due to living in the inner city where children make up a vanishingly small proportion of the population.  There, we got lots of updates on topics like yachting and parties, but kid stuff just didn't make it onto the radar.

Out west, though, we've learned the lay of the land.  Costumes are encouraged, and this is the first time I've lived in a suburb where the bedazzled children descend upon houses in droves with loot bags extended.

There are some notable differences to the US experience, though.  Halloween is definitely a kids' thing here; there are no dressed-up adults and no costumed beer parties.  Refreshingly, the 'trick' aspect doesn't seem to have made it over either, so there were no reports of TPing of trees or egging of cars.  Or arson.  And, trick-or-treating as a cultural phenomenon is quite new for NZ as a country.  Apparently, few Kiwis my age would have done it as kids.

So, without further ado, may I present Noni the Pony and the Lone Ranger:

These were the costumes they requested.  I had been sure Arram would want to be a policeman, but he was quite clear and adamant.  They both also had stick horses to complete their costumes, but they proved to be poor pack animals out on the candy trail and so were left back at the paddock.

Amiri, as the oldest in our little trick-or-treating group, really took on a leadership position and demonstrated for the little boys how to knock on all the doors and holler the three magic words while we parents waited on the footpath.  He also kept us going at a brisk pace.

Don't call me a cowboy!

When it started to get chilly and dark, it was time to go home.  Look at their haul!

The Spring Fling

As if they hadn't gotten enough of choreography with their recent production, the primary school just put on the Spring Fling: a sunny hour of dancing performance in the afternoon.  The children had learned the moves for song after song and were so proud to show off to their loving families.  We were very lucky to find that Amiri's team did their dance right under our noses.  Amiri tells me that this soft-shoe dance is called the Gibbidy.

The eerie sense that you're standing on something hollow

Not long ago down in cave country, we took a little walk through the bush.  The hilly bush.  One of my glow worms needed a ride.

We went through all sorts of exuberant greenery.

And monolithic limestone formations.

Then we came out into the bottom of this bowl-shaped clearing and the bits of limestone sticking up around the edges reminded me oddly of the Roman Forum.  A helpful sign let us know that this patch of earth was not always shaped like a bowl-- it became that way all of a sudden one day when the roof of the cave below suddenly gave way.  That was ages ago and it was a freak one-time thing of course, but I got a little horror-movie shiver thinking about holes and subsidence, under me.

We had a mission to get to the lookout point on top of the hill.  So we went up.

Along the muddy path.

Up into the setting sun.

Up. Up. Up.

And then we were there and it was just so pretty. 

Farmland, the sweet-smelling air, golden sunlight.

 
A view of a hotel in business since 1908.

And then we walked back down.

Harbour View beach

On a whim, we jumped in the car and zipped over to Te Atatu* Peninsula.  So what if it was threatening rain?  We needed some beach time!   Harbour View Beach looks nice from the satellite view on the online map; let's see what it's like in real life.

Well, hmm, that's deflating.  View of the Harbour, yes.  Beach, not so much.   More of a mudflat.

A rare miss for NZ beach beauty-- we rated it only a 2 out of 10.  But to be fair, we were there during probably the gloomiest possible weather, at the lowest possible tide, and had we been there to do a little clamming we'd have thought this was perfect.

We made the most of it and ended up having a wonderful afternoon.  And the boys, with their adorably short memories, said they liked this beach the most of any we've been to.

After all, who wouldn't like the opportunity to explore a real live natural mangrove forest?  That's what the bushes and the sticking-up rootlets are, real mangroves!  Their seeds float and you find them on the shores everywhere.

And there was a cool rock seawall that was good for climbing on.

And so many neat shells to sift through.  I like how each beach we go to has its own unique mix of shells.  Here, the striped-snails (bottom picture, far left and far right) became treasures and we filled both boys' pockets with them.

*Pronounced tey ATTA too
 

Possum products

The souvenir shop I visited today had lots of high-end knitted possum products.  There were all kinds of things-- gloves, socks, sweaters, scarves, throws, and wristlets for the hipsters.  One of the item's tags said, 'Support backyard businesses!', which I thought was a rather intriguing statement.   So when I got home I jumped online, as you do, to find out more about the informal possum fur trade.

OK, yep, it seems there's a ready market for the person who finds himself in possession of possums and/or fur.   But wait, how would the average person (presumably, with a backyard) do that? 

Well, they'd start by going to Trademe, of course.  I showed you the box-like Dept of Conservation traps in the bush recently, but it seems that these will also work...

And once you've acquired one of the critters you can make use of it in its natural state, I suppose....

What you really want, though, is just the fur, not the skin, for making into yarn.  But because its fibres are so short and slippery (they're like fluffy minks), possum fur by itself won't hold together well enough to be spun.  So it's blended with usually merino wool or alpaca or something nice like that, and the resulting fabric has this wonderfully soft, silky texture.  I bet this fellow is pretty awesome to cuddle.

But, wait, let's back up a second.  How do you get the fur off the possum?  Do you... shave it, or something?

Nope, you pluck it.  Like plucking a chicken.  Or you can again turn to Trademe and the wonders of modern technology.

Just imagine reading the owner's manual.  I think I am going to have nightmares.
  

We got a few gorgeous shots just seconds before the rain started

Daisy chains

Springtime comes with lawn weeds just like back home.  But dandelions aren't all that common here; instead we have these lovely wee daisy-like flowers.

They only grow an inch or two tall, but that's enough for making daisy chains.  Arram industriously picked an enormous collection of them, and Grammie wove the chains.  He and Amiri (once he came home from school) wore them proudly.

The chains dried beautifully and I want to save them forever.
 

Year Three

Today marks the end of our third year in New Zealand.

It's bittersweet, really; so many of our hopes ended here.  But in another way, we can look forward to brighter days to come.  And even considering all of everything, there are seriously so many days when I wake up feeling like the luckiest person on earth.

NZ has truly lived up to its legend; it's our warm and welcoming adopted home.  Will we go back to the States?  Yes, I know we will.  But...when?

Thank you to all my readers for your continued love and support.  Knowing that you're out there makes this little hobby of mine so much more fun.

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