Snapper Jack

We've recently emerged from a primitive hut deep in the rainforest (well, it would be more accurate to say 'an airy cabin in a clearing with hot and cold running water' but this doesn't read so well) and headed East to the Coromandel Peninsula. On arrival my first instinct was to seal myself away in our room for a while but the owner of our lodgings invited me on a guided tour of her house, carefully explaining each colour scheme, the cushion choices, why she and Bob disagree over the patio and so on. I have never understood why people do this.
The sun beats down without mercy. I'm determined not to return from my holidays looking like these overtanned people who strut back to work with smug faces, and I have to say 'don't you look good?' but I'm thinking no you don't look good, you like someone's taken a blowtorch to your face
In other news I've a bee in my bonnet because I haven't changed into a different person yet. That's what's meant to happen when you travel, I've read it in books. It's been two months now and nothing's happened. I'm thinking of asking for my money back.

Picture: Richard is standing beneath the largest known kauri tree - 51.5m high with a 13.8m girth. The oldest known kauri, not far from this one, is thought to be around 4,000 years old. In typical human fashion all but 4% of New Zealand's kauri forests have been felled.

A Slippery Slope

We are in Hokianga. Do come here if you want total detachment from the known world.
This afternoon: sandboarding. As we approached I saw the slopes were peppered with achingly beautiful people, all in the peak of fitness. I thought 'posers. Anyone can do this' and positioned myself at the top of a nice gentle slope to start with. 20 minutes later I was still there, flapping like a stranded sea-lion. I had also partly buried myself.
'Er, excuse me love,' said a soft voice. I looked up into the face of someone supernaturally gorgeous. He said kindly, 'you need to turn your board up the other way.'
'Oh' I replied and watched as he launched himself, centaur-like, into the air and hurtle downhill into the sea. I saw him in slow motion as is the case when a mind is in the presence of a body performing a sports move perfectly.
Richard took to it straight away of course. By the end of the day he had found his own style
I don't think I'll continue with this sport in the future. Maybe I'm just overqualified? I might stick to lying in this hammock, reading the book, Dune, instead, which is just as good, if not better.

Russell

I am in awe of the names given to towns, islands etc. in this area. You have Taupiri Bay, Whangaruru Harbour and the breathtaking Whangaparaoa Peninsula. These are names that command respect. They are the sorts of names that ask you to furrow your brow when saying them. This is why I am slightly bemused by the town of Russell. I mean, you have Okiato, Waitangi, and... Russell. In 1840 the Maori people must have thought, 'well, we've been made to sign this treaty by the British saying "your land is ours now, ta mate," but never mind that - they've given us a town called Russell.' They may as well have called it 'Dave' and had done with it. Next I'll find that it's twinned with Bert in the Maunganui region.

Steinlager

This week on my holidays I am in the Northlands - the Bay of Islands. Population: virtually 0. Hurrah for islands, large and small! I see many. All their trees and ferns have that oversized look of things that have just been left alone.
It's odd being able to walk around in very little. I am slightly irritated to notice that Richard looks lithe and lean despite having a diet regime to rival that of Henry VIII.
There is talk of something known as a 'sky-dive.' But I say, what for? I've never understood why people suddenly want to jump out of planes. Isn't it enough just to drift peacefully on said islands
I'd rather chew on those cockroaches I saw in our kitchen the other day. I'd rather boil my own head. I'm not doing it.

Kia Ora

Due to forces of nature we have had to bypass Fiji. We are in Auckland, New Zealand - 13 hours ahead for your information.
There was confusion at the airport, the Fiji crisis being quite recent news. I approached the helpdesk but knew there'd be a problem because the lady sitting there looked like a stoat. Her response to our plea went something like: 'all of Fiji shut down by storms, you say? Yes that is your fault. No, you won't be getting your money back. Goodbye.' I tried to point out that when Hurricane Godzilla is pursuing you around the globe it isn't always down to your own planning, but there was no response. Such is the outcome when dealing with someone who looks like a stoat. It's a worldwide phenomenon.
Anyway, 4 weeks in New Zealand have become 6. It's so warm here - and it smells of summer, the way England used to, I forget what year.
So many things to consider: like, where's all the wine? Which national chocolate icon can I become unnaturally preoccupied with? And where is that 'McCracken' sign - the one that everyone sits on with their buttocks on display? Maybe it's on the South island.

Or maybe not.

OK...we're good

When we were in LA before, I came across some treasure: a roadtripper's guide to the USA, lovingly annotated by someone called Alex from Boston and left in a drawer with a Post-It note saying 'bon voyage' inside. I took it along with us, with a view to adding my own thoughts and then burrowing it away in a cupboard, romantically, so that its next owner might get the same thrill I did.
...But Richard has just handed it to someone who speaks no English other than 'I no travel' and 'I go home tomorrow' (sound of apple core being thrown at Richard's head)
Coming soon- Fiji.

Counter Culture

...So we flew back down to LA - I never got my beloved Coast Starlight - and we're now at some backpacker's place or other. We've just had the most wonderful night-time bathe in this abnormally hot swimming pool under a full moon. Richard mentioned how quiet it was. I assured him that the place was full - it was just that all the other travellers were indoors glued to their laptops.
This weird epidemic is changing the face of travelling I'm sure. Whereas you once walked into a cafe / common room and got lively faces, bustle and chatter, now you just have an intense humming noise and 30-odd gormless expressions. I wonder what it is they're all doing?
Ah. Time to log off now, I suppose

Marooned

All major over-land routes out of the Seattle area are blocked. Mudslides are hampering the railways. Naturally all of this clashes with the beautiful Pacific Coast train journey we've had booked for some time. There is clearly zero chance of this going ahead and we need to make other arrangements; for now I am adopting the principle of doing nothing and hoping the problem will go away

Home from home

Yesterday we decided to visit Snoqualmie Falls, a Washington beauty spot - on the worst day for flooding in a long time (possibly ever)
Of course we weren't aware of this ('it's only a bit of rain' we cried) until we got there and noticed the road closures, 80ft logs hurtling downstream and so on. As conditions deteriorated we also noticed that we were stranded. I never like these things. Richard remained upbeat but I stopped abruptly and stamped my foot - my cloak flapping moronically - and said 'I want to go home.'
To counter this story I attach a sunny sort of picture of us taken somewhere in Arizona. Richard's horse was asleep admittedly, and mine was definitely insane but the picture looks good therefore everything is OK.

Alien beings

Yesterday we visited Seattle's Science Ficton Museum - the world's first of its kind. I was in heaven but it was busy, with the usual clutch of people who assume they have the right to walk straight through you as you innocently try to take in the Cyborg section, and who hover uncomfortably close to your face, glaring, when they discover that they actually can't.
Later on- a night in was necessary and I needed space as always. Tired of being asked to say 'this is the 9 o'clock news' and 'Harry Pot-ter and the Philos-opher's Stone' (etc) I skulked off to the wonderful cinema in the basement. It was empty! I settled down with some suitably creepy sci-fi but to my disgust other hostel-goers appeared and began perching all around. One of them had a cold. That was the end of that.

Long Island Iced Tea

08:15
Happy New Year.