In Auckland with Milica

Two Jehovah Witnesses came to the door, a tall girl with straight blonde hair and a younger girl accompanying her who was silent. "We have our own bible", Milica's mum explained as we sat at the dining table by the open French doors painting Easter eggs. It was already a week after the commercial Easter Sunday, but Orthodox Christians follow the original calendar from the Old Testament. She pointed to a picture of St George on the wall and explained he is their family saint.

Milica's family moved to New Zealand from Serbia in 1995 when Milica was 11. Both her parents were electrical engineers, but there was no industry in New Zealand. Her father instead became a taxi driver, but now he is retired and is helping Milica's brother start his own electrical engineering firm in Fiji. Her mother cleans houses and does ironing. She is also the best cook in the Serbian community, Milica says with pride, trying to glue a butterfly, before it disintegrates, onto an egg.

I imagine this is where Milica gets her adaptability from; already she has done more jobs than a spy. Before leaving school she did paper runs, worked in a pharmacy, a hairdressers, bakers, clothes store and did market research in a call centre. After graduating in marketing she worked in a financial services company for two and a half years, but then travelled to Italy and became and au pair. She then she taught English at a private language school in Pisa before returning to New Zealand to work as an account manager for a search optimisation company. We met in Japan, where Milica lived on the Ososumi peninsular for two years. After the JET Programme she worked on yachts living on and off in Majorca, where we met up for a holiday with Kat a year or two ago. She then came back to Auckland and has trained as a yoga teacher. Now she is saving up for a round the world trip.

Milica showed me some of the main sights- from Mt. Eden we could see a volcano caldera and a view of the city. We had lunch at Karangahape Road at a place run by Algerian chefs to get a taste of the multicultural centre. In the evening, after Milica's yoga class, we went to see a Tammy Nielson gig, a Canadian country singer, before going on to a bar called Racket to experience some of the Kiwi night life. We're off for a walk to St Helena's along the water by Mission Bay and I'll be catching my flight tonight if all goes as planned.

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Sharing the Honeymoon

It's the first honeymoon I've ever been on. Kat had packed, foraged for and organised for me a tent, sleeping bag, rain jacket and climbing shoes (she even remembered my shoe size).

Our road trip by van, departing from Wellington, would encompass, I only just discovered, Lake Taupo, Rotorua and on to Coromandel.

Kat was keen for me to have some Kiwi experiences, including trying national food such as pies and under Llyal's insistence, goodie goodie gum drop ice cream.

The drive to Taupo, where lies the largest lake in New Zealand, passed over some pretty diverse terrain, including a dessert and the dramatic Taupo Volcanic Zone where Llyal did his military training. Three mountains were barely visible through the foggy sky.

The lake itself is 8 cubic kilometres and sits in the caldera of a volcano that began erupting about 300,000 years ago. A lady with a speed boat was waiting to take us across to the other side. The waves caused motion as if on the sea but there was no salty taste to the air. At the other side we pulled into a little known free campsite carved into the bushes. Ducks paddled in the wake of the boat and Kat and Llyal's climbing buddies met us. We finished the day with a barbecue on the beach.

This trip has brought several firsts for me as I'd never been climbing in the great outdoors. The next morning, we fumbled along a barely trodden path over boulders and tree roots to get to the base of a cliff by the sea. It's exhilarating climbing - harness attached - above the thick forest of trees to sense the exposure of the world around, clinging (barely) to the face of rock 50 meters above sea level. Despite being quite safe (keen climbers fix bolts- small, permanent anchors fixed in the rock at regular intervals - at potential climb spots. They offer dependable protection and reduce the chance of a very long, potentially severe fall), climbs with high exposure are not for the faint hearted. For most of the climb, however, a climber is immersed in concentration. The thought process of where to grab handholds, trusting minute footholds and developing techniques that enables you to reserve energy, provides as much of the thrill.

Kiwis know how to enjoy life, choosing easily between the things that matter and the superfluous. Many are generous with what they have and prefer the simple option. Experienced campers on the whole- clean, prepared and respectful to the environment- they are treated in return with free camping opportunities throughout the north and south islands.

After leaving the lake the following evening, we spent the night in a free campsite by the river in Taupo. The next morning, after sighting the Aratiatia falls, we headed for Rotorua where a line of geothermal activity stretches as far as Whakaari. The Maori revered this place, and today 35% of the Rotorua population is Maori, with their cultural performances and traditional hangi as a big attraction. Despite the pervasive eggy odour, we enjoyed a lazy morning at Te Whakarewarewa, a thermal reserve, where we could also see traditional Maori weaving, wood carving and dance.

Maori is the "white" term for a people who prefer to be known by their specific Polynesian descent or 'Iwi'. Polynesians arrived in New Zealand from about 1200CE, wiping out the first native people of New Zealand. Today the Maori make up roughly 15% of the country's population.

We arrived at our batch in Coromandel by evening where we met up with Kat's Canadian friends. The "batch", or holiday home, was in the stunning setting of a harbour, lit brightly by the moonlight.

The holiday was starting to wind down and we finished with a day at the beach, walking through a cliffside national reserve to get to Cathedral cove.

The Wedding

Kat spent the morning of her wedding driving around in their van wearing her wedding dress. When I arrived at the venue- a quaint colonial style villa made of wood with white picket fences and a balcony surrounding the upper floor windows, I expected I would only see her when she walked down the aisle, but she was present in the reception area with her friends and family in full attire. A few guests arrived and apologized for being late, thinking they’d missed it.

Kat and Llyal bring credence to the phrase “Other half”. They first dated when they were 16 until Kat left for university and Llyal for the army. One of Llyal’s friends described the day after they first broke up and Llyal came into work and didn’t stop crying until he was sent home. Towards the end of Kat’s year in Japan, where we met, she and Llyal started Skyp’ing and they reinstated their relationship shortly after her return. They then spent a couple of years in London before careering around Europe in a camper van together. With the familiarity of childhood sweethearts, shared friends, laughter and tolerance they commit to spend their lives entwined.

In the setting of the manor house grounds, with the backdrop of the sea, Llyal’s parent’s married them. His Dad then politely asked the atheists if they would patiently accept a prayer for the newlyweds.

Sail Away

The idea of long stretches of sea, boyish boat knots and potentially treacherous waves never seemed to appeal compared to land or air travel. I've never considered sailing as I haven't got sea legs, but now I've been developing them by living on the Thames, a pretty fast flowing river, the paddles on the sea gates are slowly opening.

Hannah's husband Daniel explained that you can sail around the world in 15-17 day crossings. The possibility of connecting the dots, the freedom of the sea and the level of self agency has an allure.

The sea has its own laws; not only are you subject to the waves themselves but international maritime rules are different to the land. You have up to 72 hours once you enter any place. Although you are expected to use a boat passport, in reality you can dock anywhere in any country largely unnoticed.

Daniel built their family boat from a hull and skeleton, originally crafted around 1900. At one stage Hannah and Daniel took their kids out of school to sail 9 months around Tonga and the Polynesian islands. When they returned to school, the teachers noted their increase in confidence and self-reliance. "Books aren't the only education that matters", I noted during one of our conversations.

When we set off for the Abel Tasman National Park, the harbour in Takaka was very still. The clear blue water glistened with sunshine and the horizon afar stood very flat, challenging vessels afloat to reach it. The odd seal bobbed in an out of sight. As we picked up speed and sensed the salt air, the surrounding view of rocks and islands in the vast waters rendered images of olde sea tales like Moby Dick, Robinson Crusoe and Pirates of the Caribbean.




As we sat on deck with a beer and sunshine in our faces, the experience mellowed and became very relaxing. When we approached Adele island I could hear this raucous from the trees- the strangest array of bird noises as if creatures were pumping air down long metal poles of different lengths. As we pulled up, Daniel got ready to anchor and Hannah told me, "they're bell birds".

We would spend the night by the little island with gentle waves splashing against the rocks and the prehistoric sounds emerging from the overgrowth.

That evening, after the kids had finished exhausting themselves exploring in their little kayaks, we played Kiwi monopoly. Outside the porthole, the brightest moon could be seen filling the sky with silken light.



The next day we were up to hear the very first bird call which resounded over the island as the first light fetched the blackened water from the sea. We then sailed to Nelson where I would pick up a bus to Picton and from there a ferry to Wellington to meet Kat for the wedding.

The World between the Horse's Ears

Riding can be a bit like speaking your mother tongue- you know how, but have no idea how you got there. I explained to Baerbel, our guide, that even though I've ridden horses my whole life, I have really no idea what I'm doing. I realised this when I arrived at a beach in Malaysia on a male Thoroughbred and it took one look at the stretch of beach and galloped. All I could feel was the power of its muscle beneath, but with feet fallen out of the stirrups and the horse's determination to win whatever race it had constructed in its head, despite sunbathers in its path, I really had no control. Baerbel explained that horses in Malaysia are built for racing. They're programmed to reach the other side as fast as possible. The only way to ask them to stop in that situation is to force them to take a sudden change of direction and break that resolve.

Right now we were approaching the beach in Golden Bay not far from Hannah's house. It was early morning and the crickets were stretching their legs in chorus and dew drops rested on the palm leaves hanging over the track. The sun was just settling in for the day, with its golden glow stretching over the patches of cloud. As we stepped out onto the sand, which compressed gently under hoof, my horse let me know she wasn’t a bolter. The sea climbed up the beach to the right and between the horse’s ears the bay could be seen curving around the rocky hills with layers of greenery and tall trees poised on the hilltops. People had built simple wooden homes in secluded spots peering out of the foliage.

When you haven't ridden in a long time and you're new to a particular horse you start off stiff and it takes a while to ease into it and build communication. After an hour or so your movements become more as one and even the subtlest indicators such as the movement of one leg or shifting in the seat can signal a particular direction or action. There are different techniques for long distance riding, it’s important to look into the distance to guide the direction of the ride, you should also stand up as you gain speed to ease the load for your horse.

We galloped up the beach racing against the incoming tide. There was a river to cross further along before it became too full and strong to cross on horseback.

We rode through Collingwood. The first settlers came to these parts first. Following the discovery of payable gold-deposits in the Aorere Valley in 1856 the town's population surged and the suggestion was made that Collingwood should become New Zealand's capital. The calm safe bay provided the illusion that this would be a good spot for the ships to moor, but it was too shallow.

The ride ended at Farewell Spit, a long narrow stretch of white sand, protected in the confines of a natural reserve, specked with drift wood and fossils. It forms the northern side of Golden Bay and is the longest sandspit in New Zealand, stretching for about 26 km above sea level and another 6 km underwater. It is located about 50 kilometres north of Takaka, where Hannah lives, and 20 kilometres from Collingwood.