I’m not the best retiree, though I’m getting there. I like having something to do. I love to write, but it’s far too easy to put it off or feel uninspired. My husband retired almost twenty-five years ago and claims he has never looked back. I can’t say that, although I try not to make a habit of looking back. The difference has to do with our personalities.

“I’m easily entertained,” he often says, and this seems to be true. He’s content with his phone, TV, or a book most of the time.

He’d say my greatest weakness is that I always want to be doing something, even when I’m sick. I’d say his might be a lack of interest in doing something, even when he’s well. For example, I like to do, or think about doing, board games, card games, tennis, ping pong pickleball, snow skiing (though I haven’t yet), swimming, boogie boarding, and theater. He likes none of these. To be fair, he does make an effort on occasion, but I know his heart isn’t in it.

I’m reminded of the comedian Leanne Morgan, who said of her husband, “Chuck Morgan doesn’t believe in joy.” Like her, I may complain but not too seriously.

And I love to travel. He does not, though he’s a better traveler than I am in many ways…once we get there and settled. It’s the getting there and settling that are difficult.

These thoughts came to me as I prepared to post another travel blog. I remember my sister remarking of one of my travel blogs, “It was mostly about food.”

She wasn’t wrong, and I realized that a love of good food is one thing we share. When we travel, we both enjoy trying new foods, and he’s even more adventurous than I am about experiencing the local cuisine, wherever we happen to be.

We passed this love on to our son, who has practically made a career of it by directing more episodes (I believe) of Chef’s Table than any other director. He loves doing the research, sampling the flavors, and getting to know the chefs, as well as the actual directing of the episodes.

So, as I prepare to post my travel notes from my most recent trip to New Zealand, Part III, don’t be surprised if I talk a lot about food.

New Zealand 2025, Part III:
Still in Rotorua, NZ, Governor Gardens…After strolling alongside the flowers and snapping a few photos, we went in search of food. We tried Duke’s, a bar/restaurant inside one of the hotels we considered (Prince’s). Norm ordered a beer, but they were only serving a few items of food, all of which were deep fried. Yummy as they sounded, I suspected they might not sit well in my stomach. It was an odd time of day, late for lunch and early for dinner.

We found a nearby pub, The Fainting Goat, and seated ourselves. A “Reserved” sign on the table had a time of 5:30 indicated. Our server approached, looking perplexed.

“Talk to us,” Norm said.

“I don’t know if there’s enough time.”

Comprehension dawned. It was now 4:30. I’d already looked at the menu posted outside, so I said, “We’re just going to have a shared platter of hummus and dips.”

“Should I put the order in?” she asked.

I nodded, and Norm ordered another beer. I settled for water.

The drive back to Auckland went smoothly, much less winding and nausea-inducing than the one the day before in the opposite direction. Tiring nonetheless, so we spent most of the following day, Saturday, resting.

We did venture out for brunch, thinking we might eat breakfast food but choosing instead an Indian restaurant just opening at 11 AM.

On Sunday, we drove to Devonport for the second time. We watched a movie called Spit, an Australian comedy with a New Zealand actor in the lead role. Silly but fun and generally uplifting. I ate a choc-top, which is chocolate ice cream coated in dark chocolate with a sprinkling of nuts. It was delicious. I wish they had those at the theaters in the U.S.

I had brought a black blazer with me and a new pale pink sweater in case of excessive air conditioning. I draped the jacket over the sweater to avoid dripping chocolate on the pale fabric. I tried to be careful in the dark theater but discovered later that I’d indeed dribbled a fair amount of chocolate on the jacket. Must run in the family. I was just talking to my daughter yesterday about a recent experience where her husband took Elise, their ten-year-old chocolate lover, for a croissant at Starbucks before church.

“Don’t let her get chocolate on her sweatshirt,” Nikki warned her husband. He’d been put in charge of the kids because Nikki was driving separately to cover the welcome station at their church.

Predictably, when Elise showed up at the welcome station, she had a gigantic chocolate circle on the front of her white sweatshirt. “I told her to turn it wrong side out,” Nikki said just as I was about to say the exact same thing. Lots of experience.

Back to New Zealand…We ate lunch on Sunday at Manuka in Devonport, a café on the main drag where Norm had monk fish once before. He had it again, and I ordered a portobello mushroom drizzled in olive oil and balsamic with blue cheese. Both were very tasty.

As before, we drove to Cheltenham Beach. This time I changed into my swimsuit and went for a lovely swim. Two swims actually. We struck it between tides, which is ideal, At lower tides, the water isn’t quite so chilly, but it was high enough I didn’t have to go out very far to be able to swim or float about. We had guessed that Auckland traffic wouldn’t be quite so heavy around 5 PM on a weekend as on our previous visit, and we were right.

We drove north on Monday toward Puhoi and on to Matakana. We had reservations to eat at a winery for 2:30 PM, so we drove out to Goat Island, which we remembered for the bright blue maomao fish. Often, kids would be feeding crumbs to lure the fish to the surface, though the signs advocate against this. We saw no blue fish on this day, but we did climb around on the rocks and shoot a few photos.

The beach and water were the busiest we’ve ever seen there. Apparently a few school groups were taking advantage of the lovely weather. Many people were wearing wet suits and snorkeling. We both remembered the time we tried this, and Norm panicked in the cold water. So we weren’t tempted to repeat the experience. I asked one woman, who had Scuba gear, if she saw anything interesting.

She nodded. “Several rays. And some massive fish.”

During our one snorkel adventure here, I too saw a few massive fish. In fact, I was about to steer Norm toward them when I realized he was climbing ashore. Snapper, I think.

Next we shopped a bit in Matakana, and I bought a beautiful black cashmere sweater dotted with a smattering of brilliant blue reminiscent of some of the colorful fish we’ve seen snorkeling in Fiji or Tahiti.

Our lunch at Brick Bay Winery was excellent. We ordered several small plates, and Norm had a flight of wines. I had fruit-flavored sparkling water. Our dishes included prosciutto, venison, carpaccio, bruschetta, beetroot hummus, focaccia, and more. No complaints here. The setting was lovely also, with blooming lily pads, olive trees, and sunshine.

On Tuesday we returned once more to Devonport, where we saw a third movie at the Vic. The “Widow Clicquot” tells the story of Barb-Nicole Clicquot, a 19th century female entrepreneur. She takes over her husband’s failing champagne business and eventually transforms it into a global empire using techniques still followed today, though the film ends before she becomes truly successful.

We remembered a Devonport buffet restaurant where we ate Baked Alaska for the first time. Unfortunately, the restaurant had changed ownership since then, and our meals were mediocre at best. Norm’s eggs were overcooked, and my pancakes were thick and slightly burned (I prefer my pancakes to be thin and crispy rather than thick and fluffy, but definitely not burned). Oh, well. We did have some very good ice cream, though, on the main drag near the ferry station.

It's Wednesday today, as I write this update, and we’ve been to Mission Bay, another old favorite. I almost always swim at Mission Bay, but the beach didn’t look inviting today. It was overcast from the time I awoke, and the rain fell just as we reached Mission Bay. We checked out all the menus, which are posted for easy access, before settling on the upstairs restaurant at the Belgian Café.

I first had NZ scallops in Mission Bay, though not at this restaurant, and they are my favorite scallops ever. Never before had I seen scallops with the gonads attached, and I asked Farshid, a colleague from Auckland University who introduced us to Mission Bay about them. “What are these orange parts?”

He flushed and shrugged. “I don’t know.”

I asked the waitress, and she too avoided the question.

I was delighted that my small plate of scallops included plenty of pinkish-orange parts as they are exquisite. Norm had a snapper ceviche, and we both had gelato at a spot boasting a host of well-merited awards. Mine was lime-mango-passionfruit, topped with a dip of rich chocolate. Norm had chocolate peanut butter and coconut meringue.

I’d ordered an iced chocolate at the Belgian Café, but it wasn’t great. Norm had a dark Leffe, and I decided to drink a beer for once, since Leffe is hard to find outside of Belgium. In the late 1990s, I spent a few years teaching grad students in Ghent, and they introduced me to various beers (including Leffe and one they called devil beer) and the importance of always having a drink that matches the glass. I ordered a blonde.

“You don’t want a blonde beer,” Norm said.

“I like a blonde beer, and I think it’s less likely to cause a migraine,” I said. So far, so good. (Note from later: I did have a migraine several hours later, but there might be no connection).

My dad’s been having a string of health issues, and I spent quite a bit of time on the phone with my sister discussing options. Then I talked to Daddy, and he sounded good. Much better than the last time, which makes my heart sing.
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That’s enough for now. FIJI COMING SOON.

Around 2:30 pm, Wednesday, March 5, 2025, we made our way to the Esplanade in Devonport, an old favorite for afternoon tea. The date scones were a bit hard; Norm always called them “stones,” but the clotted cream and tea were delicious. I chose a Jasmine, and Norm a passionfruit oolong.

After tea, we headed to Cheltenham, my favorite beach on the north island. The tide was quite low, and I walked in up to my ankles without changing into my swimsuit. Most of the bathers in the water were standing rather than swimming. We saw a house we’d looked at a few years back when it was for sale. Still lovely, and probably worth a lot more now than it was then. Not right on the beach, but only one house away. We hit 5 o’clock rush hour traffic as we made our way back to Auckland.

“If we come again, maybe we can avoid rush hour by coming on a weekend rather than weekday,” I said. “I really shouldn’t complain though. It’s nothing like Nashville.”

Our apartment in Parnell, NZ, this time is on the fourth floor and right across from the heated lap pool and small gym. I’ve only used it once so far this trip, but it’s always pleasant.

On Thursday morning, we headed south toward Taupo. I wasted way too much time looking online at hotels in the Rotorua and Taupo area, trying to decide where to stay. The drive took the bulk of the day and was much more winding than I’d remembered. We were both tired and grumpy by the time we arrived.

The Wairakei resort seemed nice enough, but our room did not. Knowing the temperature would drop into the 40s Fahrenheit at night, Norm tried to turn the heater on and failed. Once more, we had to switch rooms.

“What were we thinking?” I said, chastising myself. We scrimped and saved, staying in cheap hotels when we were younger so we wouldn’t have to now. Old habits die hard, though. At least the heater worked in the second room, but the walls were scuffed and the carpet stained. Seemed clean, as far as bathroom and sheets were concerned.

The heated pool was warm as most hot tubs. Pleasant at first, but you couldn’t swim for long without overheating. The entire area is one of the geothermal reserves, and the sulfur smell permeates Rotorua but not quite so intensely in Taupo. The resort wasn’t exactly in either city but closer to Taupo and quite near Huka Falls, which we remembered for its brilliant blue hues.

We went to the spa (basically a hot tub) after leaving the pool. I could feel my blood pressure escalating so refrained from staying in very long. We had dinner on the premises at the Geyser bar. I ordered duck confit, and Norm had John Dory. Both were delicious, and huge portions.

The next morning we checked out early and headed toward Rotorua. I had intended our first stop to be the Waimangu Volcanic Valley, but a sign caught my eye for Orakei Korako Geothermal Park and Cave. I pointed it out.

“Do you want to do that?” Norm asked as we headed past the turn off.

I hesitated, knowing he hates to backtrack. Once he’s passed an exit with tempting restaurant or gas station choices, I know better than to ask. “Yes,” I said at last.

We didn’t have to backtrack far, but the road to the park and cave was very long and winding, or so it seemed to one prone to motion sickness. I never had that problem as a child (back then I could read a novel in a moving car), though both my kids did. I do now, however, but I made it reasonably well by concentrating on the road. Well worth the drive, in the end.

We took a short ferry across to the geothermal park. I could see there were going to be a lot of steps, and I prayed my knee would hold out. Luckily, there were numerous landings and terraces, and most of the steps were not steep ones.

Lots of thermal gasses, some bubbling pools, yellow and gold algae, very pretty really. More steps to get to the cave. We couldn’t go inside but impressive to look at, one of only two geothermal caves in the world. The other is in Italy.

Oh, I forgot to mention our stop in Hamilton on Thursday on our way to Taupo. We’ve been to the Hamilton gardens a few times before. I think I appreciate it more than the locals. When I mention it to my colleagues at Auckland, no one sounds very impressed. But I like it a lot.

A new garden celebrates Egypt, reminding me of a river cruise I’d scheduled a few years ago but canceled due to hip pain (I still hope to get there some day). The garden was very colorful, quite lovely, and we took several photos. We also visited the kitchen and herbal gardens, the Chinese garden, the English garden (always makes me think of a Paul McCartney song), the surreal (or fantasy) garden with huge doors and oddly shaped trees, reminiscent of Alice in Wonderland. We strolled briefly through the Mansfield garden, having spent time there before, where a garden party is being laid out with cakes and pies on the tennis court.

We went to the café at the Hamilton Garden, ordered coffee for Norm, mince and cheese savories for both of us, and a delicious custard muffin to share. I planned to buy another muffin to take away on our departure, but they’d sold out.

As we left Orakei Korako, we walked through their café, planning to snack there. But the café had filled up, and a lengthy queue formed. We decided to move on toward Waimangu. The tickets for the boat ride there were quite expensive, about $370 for the two of us, but we’d expected them to be. Our feet and legs were tired, so we bought the ticket that allowed us to be driven by bus to the boat pickup and returned the same way.

The lake covers the area once famous for pink and white terraces. These were quite a tourist draw in the 1800s but destroyed by a volcano in the late 1800s. We saw a few smaller terraces with traces of the salmon pink color, as well as some bright yellow ones similar to those at Orakei.

Two smaller lakes once populated the area, now subsumed into one large lake. We sat in the bow of the boat in front of the captain alongside another family. The boat just before ours had been packed with people, but we were the only five passengers on our forty-five-minute cruise. The hot sun baked down on my black jeans until I thought to cover them with the map of our journey. Much better!
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Norm drove us next into the heart of Rotorua, where we parked in the Governor Gardens we remembered from previous visits. A gorgeous bed of ranunculus, replete with delicate, satin-like petals, reminded me of the ones at our daughter’s wedding, the first time I ever heard of the flower—now one of my favorites. PART III COMING SOON