You'll be glad to know...

...that this is the last of my New Zealand posts. I was debating whether or not to even put this one up, but the gloominess of our Oregon spring and summer has persuaded me.

First, a short lesson on the Maori language. I know that you have been skimming over the Maori place names because they are intimidating. I tried to get my choir at church to sing a Maori hymn and, my goodness, I got such resistance that I gave up!

It's really quite easy, from a little white girl's perspective.

The Maori language has five distinct vowels, the same as in English. When vowels are placed next to each other, both are pronounced. Most vowel sounds are short, with long vowels being designated by a macron.While the vowel pronunciation can vary from one word to another, you should be able to manage a fairly accurate pronunciation by making sure that you pronounce every vowel in a word.

There are ten consonant phonemes in Maori: h, k, m, n, ng, p, r, t, w, and wh. "Ng" is a strange one, articulated at the back of the throat.  "Wh" is pronounced as an "f". So you can imagine the fun that Australian comedians have with names like Whakapapa. 

So, on my last day in Onemana (can you say it now? On-eh-mah-nah) we took a short drive to Whangamata (Fan-ga-mah-tah) and walked on the beach.

It was a glorious morning.

These two were in their element, as usual, and managed to scrounge a thing or two from the tides.

I could have spent all day, paddling in the surf and letting the sun burn my retinas.

Some marine creatures come to a sorry end on this beach.

That one eye is rather disconcerting, eh what?

It's been raining today in Oregon. This seems like such a distant memory already.

All too soon, we had to leave for the airport.

But not before I visited this.

The world's most sophisticated toilet.

It speaks to you.

And plays music.

And flushes automatically.

And locks electronically.

It proved to be too much for me and I couldn't get it to lock.

It kept flushing instead.

I was videotaping the whole thing but it is too embarrassing to post.

And finally, one last view of the Norfolk Pine.

You can tell them by the star at the top.

And then I came home.

Wordless wonders: patterns from Onemana

Like father, like sons

What's a Nostalgic Nana going to do if she can't brag on her grandkids once in a while?

Thomy and Jeff spend Thursday evenings with us while Jon is at work and Jenny is at her English class.

They play legos and Alien versus Predator.

Their Daddy's old toys.

And eat toast.

Last Thursday, they turned up in new outfits from Fred Meyer.

Check out the boots!

No, I said, look fierce!

Well, Thomy kinda managed it.

Jeff, not so much!

Just doing my bit for the New Zealand Board of Tourism

My last two days passed quickly. Anne and I had accomplished what we had hoped, which was sorting out Mum's belongings and making a start on getting her house ready to sell. I had spent some quality time with Mum and spent three hours leading sing-alongs with her group. I said goodbye to Mum on Monday, so all that was left was relaxing after the busyness and stress of the last week. 

And relax we did.

Except for John, who is enclosing the poles of their house to make more living space.

What you don't see about this frail sturdy scaffolding is that it is about 30 feet above the ground.

Yikes.

I ventured out on it and felt quite wobbly in my tummy, but John is an old hand and struts his stuff with abandon.

In no particular order, we ate awesome fish and chips on the beach at Whangamata.

We drove up the coast to Opoutere and went for a short hike in the forest.

This is looking over Wharekawa Harbour, where the trail begins.

The forest floor was littered with these beautiful mushrooms.

We drove on a little further around stomach-churning curvy roads to Tairua, where the twin-coned volcano, Mount Paku, awaited us. Tairua Beach, at the base of the volcano, is the site of the earliest evidence of Polynesian settlement.

There she is!

We drove as far as the road would take us and then hiked the rest of the way to the top.

Here we go...

The bush was full of birdsong, especially the tui. I recorded the song but it didn't turn out too well, so here's one from YouTube.

Looking down at Pauanui and Tairua.

After consulting with the local tourist centre, we decided to attempt a walk along the ridge, although directions were decidedly vague.
It was muddy and steep and slippery, but we did our best.

The mighty kauri.

Anyone up for coming with me next time?

The Prints of Tides

Yup, still doin' the travelogue.
If you don't like gorgeous beach and surf shots, better go visit someone else today!

Anne and John's house is in a quaint little town called Onemana, on the Coromandel Peninsula. It is a long and winding drive, no freeways on this route! There is only one road into Onemana, so it is very quiet, even at the height of summer. Their house sits on a steep section and you can see the ocean from their front deck. Every morning, they go for a walk on the beach. They often scavenge driftwood for their garden decor. 

Our first night at the house was stormy, but we awoke to almost clear skies, so we walked. I had planned to run, but had managed to catch Anne's cold.

Top o'the morning to yeh!

There they go, over the soggy grass.
Did I mention that my sister no longer wears a watch?

It was a little hazy when we started out...

...but things cleared up quickly.

I love the Norfolk pines that are ubiquitous in new Zealand.

Beach art!

The heavy rain had cut a channel through the sand and we got a little wet.

This giant pohutakawa tree seems menacingly close to the house next to John and Anne's place, but city regulations forbid its removal.

This one is in front of the same house and I believe it is about 400 years old. The pohutakawa is also known as the New Zealand Christmas tree. It is tough and adaptable and thrives in the difficult environment of the coast. This article tells more, if you're interested.

Roll on, deep and dark blue ocean, roll.
Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain.
Man marks the earth with ruin,
but his control stops with the shore.
                                                                                                      Lord Byron.