The R&R Big Adventure

Here Comes The Rain Again

We have never experienced rain like this. Yes we have had days of persistent rain in the UK. We have experienced very heavy thunderstorms. We have been in tropical storms. But we haven’t been somewhere where it has rained so heavily, and so consistently, for so many days. This has been unusual by Fijian standards, even for a wet season.

When we arrived at our Airbnb cottage on ‘sunset strip’ on the south of the island on Monday afternoon, the air was already stifling hot and extremely humid: something was going to give, and sure enough it did, later that afternoon, when the heavens opened. Fortunately we had already planned to use that afternoon to stock up the house ready for Christmas. I am fully aware there are very many people in the world who would just like to have a roof over their head and some clean water for Christmas, let alone a decent Christmas lunch. But for those friends and family who stress about whether the ‘pigs in blankets’ are from a UK supermarket’s superlative range, or if the right duck fat is being used for the roast potatoes, you will empathise with our predicament. Supermarkets here have a very limited range – this is a developing country in the middle of an ocean after all. If you want potatoes, you buy the one bag on sale. There is one block of cheese for sale (if in stock); one brand of (frozen, not fresh) chicken etc. Like New Zealand, food is expensive, but especially so considering average wages here. We managed to pull together the main ingredients of a roast dinner, after visiting several shops, and were looking forward to cooking it on Christmas Day. Our ‘White Company’ candles this year were a box of cheap household candles, repurposed, and one supermarket even threw in a couple of festive teddy bears as we had spent so much. It really was beginning to feel a lot like Christmas.

The cottage was beautifully decorated, with a large garden full of tropical plants and palm trees (and a fair few frogs), across the road from a beach. The owner had even installed a hand-made artificial Christmas tree in the lounge, and vases with birds of paradise flowers adorned the tables. The one drawback was the only air conditioning was in the bedrooms, which we didn’t think would be a problem, if there were a breeze blowing through the house. Except there was no breeze: 85%+ humidity levels meant everything in the house felt continually damp – the sofas, the towels, even the toilet paper. Don’t worry, we thought, as we went to bed on Monday evening, this won’t last for long.

We woke several times that night to waves of heavy rain thundering down on the roof. The next morning, Christmas Eve, we decided to venture out during one of the few breaks in the weather to drive a short distance down the coast to see more of the countryside, and some waterfalls. When we arrived at the village (with a handwritten painted sign indicating we had reached the falls) we were asked if we would join a traditional kava (traditional drink of Fiji) ceremony in the village hall, where, crossed leg, it became apparent there would be a not insignificant cost to see the waterfalls, a local guide would need to take us (and it might take an hour to two hours – ‘Fiji Time’ – to get there) walking across several rivers in the process, oh, and it was expected we would buy some local handicrafts, laid out in the hall, as part of the experience. I didn’t want to be daubed with mud, or be forced to buy some cheap local tut, and in any instance we didn’t have the right footwear to walk through (by this time, overflowing and muddy) rivers, so that idea was kiboshed, and we drove back to the cottage. A wise move, as yet another band of heavy rain moved in and stayed for the rest of the day. We also noted on the drive back, through some villages, just how poor this country is, which most people staying in the big resorts don’t get to see.

Christmas Day we thought we would hunker down, turn up the carols on Classic FM, catch up with some family and friends on calls, and have a leisurely Christmas dinner in the evening, as the weather was not easing up. It was lovely to see family again, at the time of the year when we are usually all together. In a rainstorm interlude we managed a quick walk on the beach, but not for long. It wasn’t the best roast dinner, but certainly not the worst, and importantly, despite appearances, we didn’t get salmonella from the highly processed frozen chicken. It was so processed and misshapen, I didn’t realise I had carved it upside down, and therefore why there was so little meat on it.

Boxing Day – and the rain, unbelievably, got even heavier. As we tried to stream the Gavin and Stacy finale (and watch it before social media gave the game away), we had power cuts, water outages, and a few downpours that sounded like the house was going through a car wash. We had to pause iPlayer several times as we couldn’t hear what was going on due to the noise of the rain. We thought our washing would be done and dusted by Christmas, given we were in hot climes, but no, the humidity meant two days on our clothes were still damp (the bedroom air con didn’t seem to take the moisture out). In between power cuts we resorted to baking our pants and T-shirts in the oven (‘keep warm’ setting, 45 mins a go, turn regularly) to try and dry them out.

We had bought a bottle of gin and vodka at the supermarket (as our duty free had been whisked off us, after our aborted Vanuatu flight) and thought we would have plenty left over by the time we left Fiji. Funnily enough, the measures were going down much quicker in this weather. We ate in again that evening: we would have liked to have tried the restaurant in a resort just down the road, but the rain kept hammering down, and we didn’t fancy arriving drenched.

This morning we were actually looking forward to being back in an airport hotel this evening (dry clothes! dry toilet paper!). After checking-in at lunch time, we attempted to go back to Port Denarau for lunch, as there was a good choice of restaurants in the marina. However our plans were thwarted, once again, by the rain. Many of the roads were flooded (it was hairy driving through some of the mini-rivers that had formed), and the rest were blocked with traffic. We had to admit defeat and turn back. After dropping off the (barely used) hire car at the airport, our best bet for lunch was the Burger King in international departures. We agreed they were good burgers though.

Looking on the positive, we did get some great weather for the first half of our time in Fiji on Malolo Island, we had a quiet Christmas, with time to recharge, and are now really looking forward to the next step of our trip in Asia. And the weather forecast there is considerably better.

Bula vinaka, Malolo Island

There was no bosom-brushing experience for Robert. Although he did say the masseuse went too far up one leg, but he was too polite to say anything.

The German couple who had just arrived at our resort yesterday didn’t have much luck. They had been staying at another resort and had island hopped to stay at our resort for a few days. They thought that, as it was a bigger island, they could go for walks, possibly trying different restaurants and bars. It was a bigger island than the others, but each resort was only accessible by sea, with no roads linking them. It was one of the Germans’ birthday that day, and his partner wanted to make it a special day. Soon after they arrived they sped off on a tender. It later transpired they had gone to Cloud 9, as R et al had done the previous day. Except Cloud 9 had no other customers, so they came back. The de-salination plant conked out in our resort in the afternoon, so there was no water in the taps or toilets. None of us could shower before dinner, so the sunset drinks stretched on. To celebrate the birthday, the guys were having a romantic dinner à deux on the jetty before sunset, with candles, flowers and lanterns. Except the wind was still gusting that night, so the lanterns and table linen were blowing everywhere.

As the rest of us were about to eat, the hotel staff suggested we all had a free cocktail on the house, owing to the water shortage. They were strong cocktails, clearly double measures.  We agreed that didn’t bode well for the water coming back on soon, despite the polite notes from management left in our rooms, along with a case of bottled drinking water. It seemed criminal to use Fiji bottled drinking water to flush the loo so, in the darkness, R and I were out in the sea, filling empty plastic bottles with seawater for our toilet. Our experience on the Inca Trail came in handy as well, as we had a flannel bath before bed. I felt sorry for the two honeymoon couples who were at the resort – what should have been the most romantic holiday, and yet potentially having to say to the person you want to spend the rest of your life with ‘sorry love, but it’s going to take more than two bottles of sea water to get that stubborn No2 down’.

Sunday morning the water came back on. Everyone looked very relieved, and fresh, at breakfast. It was still a gusty one – another coconut came down, but not near us this time. Two of the Brits were due to leave on an earlier ferry than us, to connect with the first of their three flights back to the U.K. Except the ferry they were booked on broke down. So – as you do – they had to book a helicopter transfer out of the resort. For the few of us now remaining, it created some excitement for the morning, and we waved them off enthusiastically in their helicopter from the lawn that doubled as a helipad. The resort advised us to get an earlier ferry in case the later one we were booked on was cancelled due to the weather. The staff – as they did for everyone – gathered at the jetty to wave us off, whilst singing a song to wish us a safe journey and to come back to the resort soon. It sounds cheesy, but it was done authentically (Fijians are genuinely very friendly), and we got hugs from many of the staff before we left. They all did a fabulous job. Considering we didn’t know this place existed until Tuesday night, it more than made up for missing out on Vanuatu.

Our crossing was indeed choppy but we are now back in Nadi, and staying at the pre-booked airport hotel we had planned to be in, given we were due to land back late from Vanuatu tonight. Not quite waves gently lapping at the hotel restaurant, and the path back to  our room is certainly not a sandy one a metre or two from the sea ☹.

Tropical hazards

We circumnavigated Rock Island in our kayak on Friday morning. OK, it was a forty minute paddle there and back but, still, for only our third kayak together we were pleased with our achievement.

There are currently only fifteen guests in the resort (there is a maximum capacity of forty-eight, and at one point, we had only twelve). R has got to meet most of them – five Brits, five Americans, a South African, two Germans and two Chinese. We were the only gay couple here (it is legal in Fiji), but since we arrived on Wednesday, it has become a semi-gay hotel, with the addition of an American and a German couple. Actually, one of the Americans here with his new wife on honeymoon has such a camp demeanour by the pool, it is surely only a matter of time before he comes out as well. The Germans have only just arrived, so I cannot comment. A South African lady and one of the English ladies (here as friends) were living in the UK together (Earlsfield – small world) but now live in Australia. We got chatting to the four of them; the ladies we met on a lovely sunset boat trip on Thursday night. R arranged to go on an excursion to Cloud 9 yesterday afternoon with them. Famous in these parts, Cloud 9 is essentially a large, double-decker floating platform, anchored out at sea, at which day-trippers drink, eat pizza, and jump in the water. I preferred a quieter afternoon, so as they sped off in the tender to get there (around twenty minutes from our island) I headed up a small hill next to the resort where the spa was situated. I was having a foot soak and body massage. The location was idyllic – set on a promontory, it had water on three sides, with a gentle breeze blowing through the palm trees and the open-sided treatment room. It was a very relaxing massage, and my masseuse was a lovely, friendly lady. She was, however, a well-endowed woman, and as she leant over me to massage my chest, her ample bosom kept caressing my face. I don’t know if she was oblivious to this, or whether most of her male clientele didn’t complain. Either way, it didn’t bring my sexuality into doubt.

I heard the singing coming from the tender before it moored. They had returned from Cloud 9 in time for karaoke at the waterside bar at 5pm. Now usually (when sober) R is adamant ‘he is not a performing seal and will not sing on demand’. After an afternoon’s drinking in the sun, and with a new audience, it is a different matter though. I am not a fan of karaoke, and was about six drinks behind them, so decided to leave them to it, whilst I appreciated the beautiful sunset. From someone who doesn’t sing on demand, there was a lot of Mariah Carey and Whitney Houston coming from the bar. The resort staff loved R’s singing. R loves all of them.

My Insta story of last night’s sunset was picked up by Meta as potential branded content (I had posted the caption ‘today’s sunset has been brought to you by… Malolo Island’). If only Meta’s algorithms were as hot off the mark at picking up violent and extremist content, rather than misinterpreting innocent holiday posts. Common sense has now broken out at hotels.com: they have confirmed a refund for one of our hotels in Vanuatu, and I am hopeful for the second. There are still no flights to and from the island however :(

This morning was rather gusty by the pool – so much so that a couple of branches and a coconut have been blown off the poolside palm trees (tropical island occupational hazard). Imagine if we had avoided an earthquake, only to be killed by a coconut instead. The low occupancy rate here has also meant blissfully quiet meals – we have been the only people in the waterside restaurant for lunch the last few days, and today was no exception; it felt like we had our own personal chef and waiter.

R is having a massage as I type – I will be swapping notes on his bosom-brushing experience when he returns.

A Close Shave

In the confusion of Tuesday’s events I said it was Day 79; it was actually day 78. Very sadly, at least 14 people are reported dead from the major earthquake that struck Vanuatu on Tuesday; more than 200 are injured: a seven day state of emergency has been declared; and the airport will be closed due to structural damage for several days. The hotel we were due to be staying in when we arrived was severely damaged, according to their Facebook update. If our flight had been a morning flight… The sad irony is that the places that we have seen so far on this trip that have had the most spectacular scenery – the Andes, New Zealand, the Pacific islands – have come about due to tectonic activity. That same force of nature has caused so many deaths and destruction this week.

Fiji Airways staff were very good handling the situation, although R and I did note that the first thing the airport ground staff did when we landed back at Nadi airport, after our flight returned, was to grab our duty free off us. Important matters first. Tuesday afternoon was a sombre affair – not helped by being in another dour airport hotel. The room had the most amazingly up-to-date 65″ TV in it, but a bath tub that was so scratched, dented, and discoloured it looked like it should have had crime scene tape around it. We spent the rest of Tuesday trying to find availability in hotels in Fiji, now that we weren’t going anywhere. Why do all the major incidents we have incurred when travelling (air traffic control failure, CrowdStrike, and now this) happen in peak season, when any decent rooms are scarce and expensive. We decided to tilt this to our advantage: on Monday in Port Denarau we talked about how it would have been nice to visit some of the smaller islands off Viti Levu (Fiji main island), but that our itinerary didn’t allow it. We eventually found a resort on Malolo island (that had come recommended) that wasn’t silly money, and which we could justify given we would no longer be paying for car hire, and our flights should (theoretically) be refunded. It was adults-only (we have had our fair share of hyperactive kids by the pool and parents who are oblivious to it all) and a small resort, so took the plunge, and booked it for the next day.

Yesterday morning there was still no news from Fiji Airways about what was going on with our flights (we just wanted them to officially cancel them, which they did later that day, so we could get the refund). After going to the airport to the Fiji Airways office to try and sort this, we headed back again to the port to await our catamaran to Malolo island. The boat makes a series of stops en-route to other resort islands, day-tripper islands, and even one where apparently they film the American ‘Survivor’ reality show series. I have never watched it, but I am sure they don’t included footage of a thrice daily catamaran, filled with tourists, in their final edit. Some of the islands really were Robinson Crusoe-esque: a small patch of sand with palm trees, albeit some also with beach volleyball nets, a bar and restaurant. The boat was playing island-disco remixes of Christmas songs and carols. Frosty The Snowman didn’t seem quite the right accompaniment to the journey we were taking.

Only R and I got off the catamaran to go to our resort, and some of the staff at the hotel welcomed us with a traditional Fijian welcome song when we disembarked our tender. The resort is very quiet, not full, with a picture perfect view across still waters to another small island (which the locals call Google Island, as Larry Page brought it, and several other islands apparently, during COVID). We spent the rest of yesterday doing not very much at all. We have been so used to walking, hiking, driving and generally exploring places we have been to, it is going to be a big behaviour shift for us to relax. The resort encourages a digital detox, so only the common areas have WiFi, and that can be temperamental. I was involved in a long and frustrating virtual chat with hotels.com yesterday afternoon to try and explain to them that, as Vanuatu airport was closed, and the hotel we were supposed to be staying in had incurred significant damage, and therefore we couldn’t stay there even if we could get to Vanuatu, that we shouldn’t be charged. ‘Candice’ kept referring back to official booking policy. Perhaps if some of these companies sent their staff on ‘common sense awareness’ training modules they might surprise themselves at how many fewer irate customers they have. Anyway, the WiFi kept dropping and I had to move to nearer the corner of the swimming pool where a couple were doing a convincing impression of trying for a baby in the water. I thought I needed a sign saying ‘I am honestly not watching, I just need WiFi’. Last night the very friendly staff put on a traditional Fijian song and dance performance, that ended with the lighting of the Christmas Tree by the beach (just like any other Dec 18th for us, really).

No WiFi also meant no reaching for the phone first thing in the morning and checking for updates. R usually takes longer than me to wake up properly in the morning but unsurprisingly today he was keen to get to breakfast – and to a signal. We had a strenuous morning of feeding fish off the jetty, followed by kayaking around the bay of the hotel. We might go kayaking past Google Island tomorrow, and on to Rock Island (which sounds like something out of Scooby Doo). Or maybe do some snorkeling. Decisions, decisions.

Earthquake in Vanuatu

In case any of you are reading about an earthquake striking Vanuatu, we were fortunately not there when it struck: our flight was en-route and turned back to Fiji about 30 minutes before landing. It appears the earthquake has been quite severe with many buildings damaged there: we hope no one was killed or seriously injured. A guy on our minibus travelling to the airport hotel where we are staying overnight has lost his home; it seems his family there were ok.

Once we know more I will update you. I would say we need a stiff drink after that, but don’t think we will be having cocktails in Fiji just yet 😱

Short but sweet Samoa

I thought there would at least be some nod to traditional Samoan culture from ‘The Boys Show’ dancers in the hotel on Friday night, but no, they were just dancing to pop songs from across the decades, wearing only sarongs. The high humidity certainly did make them glow quite quickly. A group of raucous Australian women were in the front row and lost no opportunity to get on stage with them as soon as they could. They made it quite clear to everyone they were the ‘single ladies in the house’. One of the younger dancers looked quite petrified: they made a speedy exit when they finished their performance.

Saturday morning we left the hotel early to catch the ferry to Savai’i which is the other large Samoan island, but is far more sparsely inhabited. I didn’t want to know what the safety record of the ferry company was: all the cars were packed so tightly together that most people couldn’t get out of their cars for the crossing (or for that matter, in an emergency…). Fortunately, just because a large truck couldn’t squeeze up next to our car, we were one of the few who could get out of their car for the ninety minute journey. The boarding ramps had large gaps on either side, and the ramp started to come down before the ferry had even turned round to dock. Thankfully the crossing wasn’t choppy.

However, we managed to get a nail in a tyre on the way to our hotel, and had a slow puncture by the time we arrived. The husband and wife owners of the hotel – a very simple and quiet place consisting of just ten bungalows by the water’s edge – gave us a warm welcome and spotted the puncture. We didn’t want to risk driving on it before the tyre repair shop (fortunately only 5 mins down the road) opened on Monday, so we had to spend Sunday relaxing on the beach in this glorious setting, trying our hand for the first time at kayaking, and R doing a bit of snorkeling (spotting loads of colourful fish, but no turtles). This was after much frustration first thing Sunday morning when the (lack of) Wi-Fi meant R couldn’t watch the Strictly… final as intended. He got there eventually. We’ve also been reminded, especially this weekend, of lots of Christmas parties, birthdays, events and general festivities with friends and families we cannot be at this year. I’m sure they are people in London reading this who would quite like to be in Samoa now. Grass is always greener, and all that.

The heavens opened at the end of the afternoon, but it was lovely being in our fale outside our bungalow, watching the tropical rains come down. The hotel in general was beautifully quiet and serene, especially compared to our first hotel in Samoa; all the staff were very friendly, and the on-site, water’s-edge restaurant offered a short, but delicious, selection of meals chalked up daily on the blackboard. Last night I had to try the seafood platter – half a lobster and two pieces of fresh grilled fish 😊. Despite being pretty much in the middle of nowhere, Graham Norton-branded red wine was on the drinks list. Apparently his wine does big business in New Zealand as well. As the clouds started to clear at sunset, we had a beautiful orange tinged sky to accompany our evening meal.

It was shame we couldn’t stay longer, but we had to be up and out this morning for our ferry back to Upolu and our flight to Fiji, where we are staying one night before our connection to Vanuatu tomorrow. The tyre repair shop was brilliant and patched the tyre (for just over a tenner!) in no time. We just had enough time to squeeze in a visit to some nearby lava fields from a 1905 eruption. You could clearly see how the lava had swirled and cooled as it reached this part of the island, and three walls of an abandoned church still stood with lava piled up inside it. Fortunately no one died in that eruption. In all the villages we had passed in Samoa you could see evidence of lava – whether it was the black rocks used as rockery, black gravel on the pathways, or just the fertile soil and abundance of plant life everywhere.

We carried on to the ferry terminal.  However, on boarding, found we couldn’t get out of the car this time during the crossing. The sea was decidedly choppier, but we arrived incident free.

Our flight to Fiji took off early, however it wasn’t incident free, as R’s permanent black pen exploded all over his best Reiss shorts (!). Despite not believing the steward’s advice, soaking it with soda water did seem to do the trick.

Getting a taxi to our hotel near Port Denarau Marina, Fiji already looks and feels very different to Samoa: dual carriageways, regular shops, and ‘normal’ houses – albeit we are in a tourist hub on the island. We managed to catch the lovely sunset from our terrace, and also discovered we have a washing machine and dryer in the apart hotel, so it looks like R’s shorts have been saved. R’s Mum and Brother had Fed Ex’d Christmas cards to us at this hotel, and as I was trying to sort out the washing, R was blubbing on seeing their hand writing on the envelopes on the table. We got there eventually.

40 Tala

Unbelievably, our bags made the short transfer with us. After weeks of being in small hotels and motels, suddenly we had arrived in a beach resort, and it was busy, noisy and hot. There was a prom going on in one part of the hotel, a pre-wedding party in another, and live singer in the open air restaurant: we had a quick dinner and retired to our air-conditioned room.

We picked up a hire car the next morning and decided to explore more of the island (Samoa is composed of two main islands – we were on Upolou, on which is the capital Apia, and Savai’i, where we are headed tomorrow). Little more than five minutes drive out of the capital and it quickly became B-roads lined with a series of small villages. The total population of Samoa is not much more than the borough of Hammersmith and Fulham, over an area nearly double the size of Greater London. The CHOGM (Commonwealth Heads of Government Meeting) was held in October in Apia, and lining pretty much every road, and certainly every village radiating out from Apia, were flags of the different Commonwealth nations. Many of the villages we passed were ‘dressed’ in the colours of the flag of a particular nation. The villages were very colourful in any instance, with all kinds of exotic plants lining the road (most using brightly painted old tyres as plant pots). Every village had a meeting space – a covered, but open-sided building where I understand community meetings regularly take place. Churches are everywhere – this is a very religious country, and apparently one should avoid driving or walking through villages on a Sunday. A few car stickers proclaimed ‘Jesus is Coming’ or that ‘Jesus Loves You’ in large letters. Maybe not for us, in a country where it is still illegal to be gay.

Passing through countryside thick with tropical green forest, we stopped at an impressive waterfall and a famous ocean trench To Sua (an inland, ocean-fed swimming hole which requires descending a steep ladder to get to), before stopping at a very quiet beach for a couple of hours sunbathing. It truly does look like a tropical paradise. Now I am fully supportive of foreign tourists giving back to the local communities, and that the local population has to make a living… but then there are also cartels. The ‘entrance fee’ (to go across someone’s land) to get to the waterfall – 40 Tala (about £12); the watering hole admission – 40 Tala; parking at the beach – 40 Tala… apparently it is considered rude to haggle with the locals. I wonder if a local wrote that. We stopped at yet another picturesque bay for lunch, before returning to our hotel in the late afternoon.

Some – but by no means all – Samoans really are quite a size. I appreciate some of this is genetic, but eating a dozen pancakes with maple syrup and cream, followed by a plate full of sausages, at breakfast, might also have something to do with it. At dinner last night it looked like the Samoan women’s rugby team props were having a night out. It was an all-you-could-eat meat BBQ night (we stuck with one course from the à la carte) and they certainly were digging in, especially when they went up for seconds. In addition to the several cans of lager lined up in front of them on the table, they also had jugs of fruit juice, into which one of the ladies was not indiscreetly topping up with the contents of a full size bottle of Johnny Walker Red Label, which was sticking out from her handbag. Unfortunately we weren’t there to see how their evening ended up.

We wanted to get our hair cut before Christmas, and Samoa seemed a better bet to do this than in Vanuatu, our next port of call. Most of the barbers we Googled seemed to have either closed down, or were closed, but we finally found somewhere open this morning (thanks to the intervention of the guy who had processed Robert’s passport at Apia passport control recognising him on the street, and giving directions). The barber shop seemed fairly dead, but then from nowhere, a couple of well-built guys with tattoos and heavy chains round their necks appeared. We weren’t sure if we going to get a hair cut, or be inducted into a Samoan gang. Fortunately it was the former. And the price for two haircuts? 40 Tala (actually a bargain, compared to the parking charge). I also needed to get some eye drops from a nearby pharmacy… 39.50 Tala.

The weather held out all day today (despite being the rainy season) so we have had a leisurely day on the beach. Thankfully a strong, cool breeze was blowing for most of it. Tonight’s evening entertainment in the hotel is ‘The Boys Show’ – which, from the picture, looks like well-built guys dancing in just sarongs. Suddenly R has discovered an interest in traditional Samoan dance.

Phew

We made the connecting flight to Samoa – in fact, we ran to the empty desk thinking we were the last to the board, but they hadn’t even started boarding. No idea if our luggage made it, so if you see us wearing the same clothes in the next few days’ Insta photos, you know it didn’t.

P.S. I’ve never seen so many very large-boned people on one plane. And I’ve been to the States.

Kia ora Aotearoa

Well, the Blue Penguins did behave themselves at Oamaru, and appeared on cue, waddling up a slope from the sea at dusk to return to their nesting boxes. It was an organized display area, with seating areas on both sides, and the admission fees going towards the local penguin conservation effort. It was cute to see them doing it in groups – nervously collecting together at the top of the slope before making a dash (of sorts) for it altogether for the last part of the journey. Some of them had even learnt to make their way through the middle of the stands to reduce their waddling time to their nests. We also got to see some sea lions playing as well. Aww.

Monday morning was an early start as we had a four hour drive ahead from Oamaru to Akaroa, which is on a peninsula ninety minutes from Christchurch. We also had to be in Akaroa by midday, as R had an appointment to swim with Hector (small) dolphins in the harbour! We made good time and arrived to another glorious day (I will need to consult a thesaurus for more glowing adjectives to describe New Zealand) in a wonderful natural harbour, created by a caldera a long time ago. Whilst R went off to catch his boat for his swim (a small boat, and potentially choppy open seas, were not for me) I explored the small town and the lovely views from the various vantage points on the coastline. R was very lucky and apparently (according to the crew) had had the best dolphin spotting/swimming of the season so far. That evening we met up with up an ex-colleague of R’s from his former school who had relocated with his family just outside Akaroa. They made a wonderful home cooked meal for us – thank you Stuart and Anna for your kind hospitality; lovely to meet you and your family!

The next day we arranged to go for a hike with Stuart in the neighbouring hills, which gave us incredible (my thesaurus is running out) views down into Akaroa and the surrounding area. What a complete lifestyle change from living and working in central London, but we could easily see the attraction.

It was then off to Christchurch airport, and our flight to Auckland. Following the cancellation of our last flight to Queenstown, we were apprehensive about anything going wrong with this flight, but everything went smoothly. Apparently the 5pm flight is ‘koru’ hour for Air NZ, which meant free wine, cheese and crackers on board. The rather camp (female) cabin services manager was getting very excited about the wine selection on offer, telling us how ‘they were spoiling us’ and that ‘we should have a glass of wine for her’. The three Air NZ flights we have had have all had very friendly and helpful staff. We stayed overnight in the Novotel at Auckland Airport – a new(ish) hotel, a short walk from the terminal, and a huge step up from previous airport hotels we have stayed at. Far less 1970’s grey conference room, and much more Hoxton hotel.

We turned up in plenty of time for our check-in this morning for our flight to Nadi, Fiji (to be followed by an onward connection to Apia, Samoa). We wondered why the queue was moving slowly and then it became apparent there was a software issue affecting check-in. Who would have thought it – first the air traffic control software incident in Aug 2023, which stranded us in Spain for two days; then the CrowdStrike (security software) issue in July this year, meaning we lost a day in Palermo, Sicily (which was a real shame as we only had a few hours to explore the city); and now this. Software, bloody software. Everything had to be hand-written at check-in, and the queues were building up. I hoped Auckland Airport had brushed off its contingency plans following the CrowdStrike incident so it would know what to do this time round.

Our flight to Nadi eventually took off two hours late, meaning we have – theoretically – only 20 mins to catch our next flight to Apia. Apparently they are going to delay the next flight as there are quite a few passengers making the connection. More fingers crossed.

Whilst I am typing this on board, I am reflecting on what a fantastic time we have had in New Zealand. Both R and I agree it is our best country of the five we have been to so far this trip, and we had a great time in South America. Aside from the natural geological advantage NZ has, and millions of years of tectonic activity creating the amazing landscape it has, there are several other reasons why we both feel this way: the friendliness of the people, and their cultural love for the country means they look after it – ecological awareness is a big thing, as well as respecting both the land and each other, which sadly so few nationalities have. Things generally work in NZ – we didn’t experience any hassle, and even when our flight was cancelled, it was sorted quickly. The country is so clean, and litter- (and mostly) graffiti-free: you really notice this, especially when compared with the UK or other European countries. Everywhere we went, public realm was immaculate and looked after – verges were mown, flowers pruned. We stayed at some great places – even cheap motels were spotless and well looked after. So what are the negatives? Distance is the obvious one – 24+ hours travelling means it is a (very) considered destination to travel to. Culture and nightlife and not big here – this is an outdoors destination, and things tend to pack up after dark. I understand its economy could be in better shape, but then, hey, look at the UK at the moment.

We both would love to come back – there is so much more to see and do. We have been very lucky with the weather as well on this trip: hardly any rain, and when it did bucket it down, it made the Milford Sound waterfall experience all the more memorable.

Next stop – the Pacific Islands: here’s hoping we make that connection…

The Glorious Catlins

Friday morning it was time to leave Fiordland and head south to the aptly named Southland region. We knew the first part of the drive from the coach trip we had taken to and from Milford Sound, and now, with blue skies, the mountains bordering Lake Wakatipu looked amazing. Our overnight stop was Bluff, one of the most southerly points in New Zealand, in a hotel (The Land’s End) overlooking the sea. The weather changed when we arrived in Bluff, and was actually more suitable for a windswept, land’s end setting: moody grey skies and crashing waves. Our walk to the top of nearby Motupohue hill didn’t deliver the views we were expecting over the Foveaux Strait, as it was shrouded in low cloud. We hadn’t seen anyone at check-in (our key was left with my name on the counter); no-one was there when we got back from the nearby restaurant at night; and just when I thought I would actually get to stay at a hotel and not interact with any member of staff, someone appeared at breakfast, and actually gave us a good recommendation of where to stop for lunch (‘Peake’s Kitchen Gourmet Food Truck’, if you are ever near Papatowai).

We had a long drive ahead to our next stop in Dunedin, on the south-east coast of South Island. First stop was Slope Point, the most southerly point on the mainland of New Zealand, and therefore the most southerly we have travelled on the planet (for reference, other than some small NZ islands off the coast, only the tips of Chile, Argentina and the Falkland Islands are further south). Interestingly all the grasses on the cliff tops here were growing almost horizontally, despite there only being a light wind when we visited. Similarly the trees were growing at a 45deg angle away from the sea – clearly there are some regular gales in these parts.

It was then on to a couple of beautiful waterfalls about forty minutes from each other – the McLean Falls and Purakaunui falls, with a stop in between at the Cathedral Caves. As their name would suggest, these are a couple of cavernous caves you access via an unspoilt beach on private Māori land, and only accessible at low tide. By sheer luck, our stop coincided with that. Aside from these amazing natural attractions we saw, equally as stunning was the Catlin range we passed en route – unspoilt hills and forests stretching for miles. New Zealand has a population roughly the same as Ireland, but with a land mass 10% larger than the the UK. We certainly realised that yesterday, with so few people around, and for a warm, early summer Saturday as well.

We didn’t reach Dunedin until nearly 6pm, by which time the the metaphorical tumbleweed was already blowing down main street. New Zealand has lots going for it, but nightlife isn’t one of them. The hotel we were staying in that night, ‘The Fable’, is part of a small boutique chain in New Zealand. It was more style over substance to be fair, especially when I was given an iPad at check-in ‘for information about the hotel’ (which could have been printed on a few sheets of A4 in the room). One of these pieces of information warned about the dangers of excessive perfume, or steam from the bathroom, setting off the fire sensors in the bedroom (?). This morning as we were getting ready to leave we were careful to shower with the bathroom door closed. At the exact moment R opened the door after his shower, the hotel fire alarm went off. Oh Christ, I thought, have we done that. For some reason – and as R reminded me later today – I closed the bathroom door, with him still in the bathroom with the speaker telling us to evacuate the building immediately. Very quickly he pointed out the alarm in our room wasn’t flashing red (and therefore hadn’t been activated). Phew. We got out – with passports and Eeyore – and used the opportunity to have (a very tasty) breakfast at a nearby cafe. When we got back the hotel staff confirmed it was a false alarm – maybe it is time to update the bedroom fire sensors…?

Plans to visit the nearby Otago peninsular were abandoned as it was shrouded with thick cloud, and visibility of only a few metres. A few people have now said to us that you need to dress for all seasons in New Zealand, and today proved the point. It was pouring with rain when we evacuated the hotel; thick fog and a temperature of 13 deg on the peninsula; but by the time we reached our overnight stop, Oamaru (90 mins drive north), it was 22deg, clear skies and sunny. This is probably the least inspiring towns we have stopped at in New Zealand – a main road with a few motels, takeaways and petrol stations. We went for a walk earlier and the highlight was seeing an older woman in the front room of her bungalow, plucking hairs out of her chin. We are in a very bland motel for tonight, and life admin is required. I am typing this whilst waiting for an ancient motel tumble dryer to dry some of our washing, whilst R is catching up on the Strictly… semi-final. Our trip is not all Insta photo shoots. There is a reason we are here though – a short drive up the coast this evening we will hopefully be seeing hundreds of Blue Penguins returning to their colony at dusk. Fingers crossed.