Quitting My Day Job & NZ Part III

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.