Oh, and much to Hoku's embarrassment, Mahea was mistaken for his girlfriend.

Arriving in Auckland at 1:30AM proved to be less than ideal. The motel we had booked was some distance away and our rental car had not been delivered to the Airport Centra Hotel as expected. We just spent the night at the Centra and got the car in the morning.

In New Zealand people drive on the left side of the road. Except for me, sometimes. It's not that hard to just drive down the street like everyone else, but turns were challenging for a while. Our "Kiwi Yankee Dictionary" warned me to "expect to be a bloody menace for three to five days".

To that I would add one day for each year of age beyond thirty.

The car, a bright red Toyota Echo, didn't help. Fortunately the pedals were where I'm used to, otherwise I would have killed us all. But every time I tried to shift I hit the door handle, then got fifth gear instead of first.Indicating a turn invariably wiped the windshield, and I couldn't find the inside mirror for a week. Parking on the left, which needed to happen every two minutes for map checks, often involved contact. My most memorable parking maneuver set a hupcap across the street and blew the tire. Oh well, why buy insurance if you don't plan to use it?

Navigation was also never boring. City streets tend to change name every few blocks and the street you are on never has a sign. Three, four, or more streets often come together at a circle, which is usually well signed and perfectly clear about the third time you drive around it.

The traffic rule is you will be killed from the right. Unless you are on foot, in which case you may be killed from any direction unless you are at a marked (and often illuminated) crossing.

The roads are narrower than ours but very well maintained. Ditto for the cars, ranging from mid-sized Hondas and Toyotas to tiny models not seen in America, all displaying inspection stickers. No potholes and no rolling wrecks. The speed limit on rural highways is 100 km/hr, slowing to 50 km/hr at each town. Every road more than a few km from Auckland or Wellington is a two-lane rural highway with one lane bridges and tunnels and slow trucks, so plan on longer travel times than in the USA. The frequent warning signs imply considerable carnage on the highways. Petrol is expensive at US$ 0.80 per liter, but the little Toyota burned only 6 liters per 100 km.

We covered only Te Ika-A-Maui (North Island), missing mostly the east coast, and still drove over 3500 km. Auckland and Wellington are in my estimation the only two cities. The rest is intensely rural, with farms and pasture, cows and sheep everywhere you look. All of the other towns looked more like agricultural communities, main streets lined with farm equipment dealers. You will also find spectacular parks and some plain old bush. The overall impression is green, green, and more green. Yet folks say Te Waka-A-Maui (South Island) is the beautiful one.

I guess it's green because it rains. The weather charts show annual rainfall around 1 meter, falling year round about one day in four, with sunshine every other day. Well, at the beginning of summer we got 20 rainy days and 4 sunny days. We even got hail way up in the warm north in Paihia. The papers said it was the coldest December in 59 years. It was also wet. One radio forecast said "Thursday, rain. Friday, rain again. Saturday, goddammit, more rain".

There must be a reason most houses have metal roofs.

Poor Mahea had packed all of her summer girlie clothes and was seriously freezing, so we bought her an Antarctic parka and a pair of wool longjohns. The locals don't let a little rain worry them. I witnessed my first beach volleyball tournament in the rain, and people everywhere were wearing shorts and tank tops. Mahea found the general sense of fashion nothing less than alarming. I must admit I had never before visited anyplace where the men dress badly and the women dress worse (and keep in mind who this assessment is coming from). I suppose it's a reflection of the general informality.

People came across as extremely friendly, helpful, accommodating, unassuming, and just plain nicer than I could have imagined. Some might say innocent or naive, but after seeing Michael Moore's "Bowling for Columbine" and visiting New Zealand I would say unafraid. As we were walking from the ferry terminal to town on Waiheke Island two cars stopped to ask us if we'd like a lift. In city parks solitary women will smile and greet you. At petrol stations you fill first, then pay. At one an attendant even pumped it for me. Tips are not expected. Holy 1950's, Batman! My overriding impression from the trip is how pleasant New Zealand people are.

Most New Zealand people are descendants of either Maori (Polynesians who arrived nearly 1000 years ago) or of Pakeha (Europeans, mainly British, who arrived in the 1800's). For an informative and engaging history read the1000 pages of "Making Peoples" and "Paradise Reforged" by James Belich. For an executive summary keep in mind that many past injustices have not been resolved, but people are taking the situation seriously. We had many candid conversations with people holding differing points of view, and we could see the topic of race relations is every bit as hot as in the United States.

In my opinion the New Zealanders are approaching the problem in a civilized manner. That observation holds in other areas as well. Smoking has just been banned in public areas, working hours are regulated to preserve sanity, and pennies no longer exist. The whole country is very clean - New Years morning in Wellington revealed empty beer bottles not smashed, but stacked to be picked up when the crews resumed work. Even the farms are clean! New Zealand must have an effective social safety net as we did not see a single homeless person.

A less significant but more startling example of civilization was provided on the beach at Waiheke Island. We saw a large gas barbecue, provided free by the city government of Auckland, bearing the inscription:

To Get Cooking:
Press and hold button until indicator light turns on.
When light is on it indicates heating period.
Allow hotplate to pre-heat before cooking.
BBQ will be heated for 20 minutes.

This was followed by numbers to call in case of malfunction. Nowhere could we find any provision for payment or any kind of mess.

The ultimate measure of civilization in the eyes of any American is the convenience room, or as New Zealanders less euphemistically put it, the toilet. Every building we entered had well marked and spotlessly clean toilets. Every town had equally clean public toilets and signs pointing to them from blocks away. It was generally easier to find a toilet than an address. In parks I was surprised at the quantity of doggie droppings.



Auckland and Wellington are quite cosmopolitan and contain significant Asian and Pacific Island communities. We saw very few Africans. The neighborhoods contain people of different backgrounds and incomes and housing of different vintages in small areas. Nothing looks like America's vast, homogeneous suburban tracts or urban ghettos. Bookstores, cafes, and restaurants abound. Outside the cities we saw mainly Maori and Pakeha, somewhat segregated. On more than a few occasions country Pakeha stared at Mahea and Hoku like they had never seen an African.

Public telephones were easy to find and phone cards were available cheaply everywhere. Our mobile phones were technically compatible with New Zealand service providers, but due to issues with the American vendor Cingular we could not get them to work. Internet cafes abound, but most offer only web access. Getting to our POP email accounts was usually an adventure. The absolute worst was one computer gaming den watched over by this clueless, incoherent, prepubescent, pimply faced, cactus head geek.

Shopping was generally good in Auckland and Wellington, with almost anything you might want easily available at prices close to those back home. Business hours tended to be shorter than in the US, and many businesses closed for a week or more over the holidays. We were able to find very nice Maori carvings in wood, bone, and jade, but they didn't come cheap. What appeared to be an African store in Auckland contained vaguely African inspired clothing made in Taiwan and Thailand. On the topic of alternatives, the proprietor told us "This is as close as you're going to get". In Wellington we found a little shop with genuine African imports, it was run by an American who has been there 26 years.

With all the farms and all the restaurants we might have expected good eating. We were not disappointed. We gobbled down fish and chips wrapped in paper; munched on heavenly breads, pastries, fresh fruit, and yogurt; and devoured delicious meals at a variety of restaurants. Everything except one mediocre pizza prompted us to order another course. We returned somewhat larger and much poorer.

Coffee was another matter. Nobody sells a plain cup of coffee. It turns out most cafes have only espresso, so you must order a "long black" (diluted with water) or a "flat white" (diluted with milk). Should you enter a sufficiently equipped and enlightened establishment, two dollars and the phrase "filtered coffee" will get you a cuppa joe.

Our accommodations generally worked out well. Chalet Romantica in Paihia, Bay of Islands is a gorgeous chalet with a friendly family, beautiful views and a hot tub. Moanarua in Ohope Beach, Bay of Plenty is a lovely detached cottage owned by Miria and Taroi Black, who will appear later in this narrative. They too have a hot tub. Booklovers Bed & Breakfast in Wellington is just that, a Victorian in the Mt. Victoria neighborhood right in the center of town run by author Jane Tolerton. Henwood House in the country outside of New Plymouth, Taranaki is an immaculately restored Victorian with the best breakfast ever.

Grand Chateau in Whakapapa Village, Tongariro National Park is if nothing else grand. The Bavaria Bed & Breakfast in Auckland is conveniently situated in the Mt. Eden neighborhood and provides off street parking. However, the decor is stark white and almost all of the guests were from Germany. Everyone else speaking German gave breakfast kind of a weird vibe, and many of the guests reminded me of grumpy French tourists in Tahiti. The Centra Airport Hotel is, well, close to the airport.

Our truly memorable, even magical experiences all involved people we met. We told our hostess in Paihia that we were interested in Moari people, and she mentioned a nearby town she had heard of but never visited. So we drove the 20 or 30 km to Moerewa and got out to look around. Before long two young girls Lennie and Jaeger struck up a conversation with us and pretty much attached themselves to our chick magnet Hoku. Presently we found ourselves in a shop run by somebody's relative. We hung out for a while with the very nice people inside, one of whom gave us a mini tour of the adjacent buildings. Meanwhile this tour bus appeared, disgorged its passengers for five minutes of frantic souvenier shopping, reloaded, and sped off. Too bad on them - they missed outon the community Christmas party across the street.

In that little block-sized park a small stage had been set up with a few mics and amplifiers. Some local musicians played for a while, an ice cream truck
came by, and the mood was as mellow as could be. After a while the MC asked people to come up and strut their stuff, which quite a few did. Every kid who came up was deemed the best of something and scored a Christmas gift. The highlight of the afternoon involved a stubble cheeked, stogie chomping Santa running across the field like the Pied Piper tossing candies to the pursuing kiddies. Another highlight was the appearance of actress Rina Owen, who had grown up in the area and starred in the film "Once Were Warriors". Actually my personal highlight was talking Mahea into going onstage, which wasn't easy. She sang a beautiful Tahitian song a capella. The people just loved hearing this foreigner singing in their language (Tahitian and Maori are close enough they could understand). By the way, many people thought we were from Africa. Understandable, we saw very few Black people and all but one appeared African. We told people we were from California, which sounds better than America these days.

Three months before I had booked four nights at the Moanarua Cottage in Ohope Beach because the owners, Miria and Taroi, had the only Maori names I could see in the online listings. Since one of the days was Christmas I had asked if they knew of any restaurants in the area which might be open. They told me not to worry, they would prepare us a traditional hangi on Christmas. What a treat that turned out to be! Something like a Hawaiian Luau, food all cooked together in a pit over a hot rock. The meal was punctuated with a Christmas pudding (traditional here, my first) covered with whipped cream and custard.

This is Mahea butting in here.....not that Stu isn’t doing a great job of describing our adventures in Aotearoa. But I just wanted to try to convey my sense of wonder about the next turn of events.

So, while we were staying at Moanarua we were invited to listen to the CD collection left for us in our room. There was one CD in particular that caught my attention. This was, I was certain, the same voice I had been listening to for the last six months, ever since our Tahitian family gave us a compilation CD of Oceanic music. As it happens, one of the songs on the compilation, "Te Aroha Nui", really caught my fancy, to the point where I would just listen to it over and over again while driving the M.U.C.I.D. - mobile. The group on the compilation CD was listed as “Big Belly Woman”. I could tell that the language was Maori, but beyond that, the identity of the woman behind the powerful vocal was a mystery. All I knew was that this song was becoming a part of me as I continued to deal with the business of healing from and coming to terms with my surgery as well as all that had happened in the last year.

Fast forward back to Moanarua, I asked our hosts about “the voice”. I was told that it belonged to Taroi’s sister, Whirimako Black. Thinking back a few days, I recalled reading an article in a local magazine about Whirimako, in which she was identified as a Taonga (national treasure) of New Zealand, who was recently becoming internationally recognized. Having a little trouble believing the coincidence, I pressed on by singing a few bars of my mystery song and was told that, yep, that was also Whirimako a few years back before she became a soloist.

Further, she and her family were in town and they wanted to invite them all to come and meet us the next day!

Stunned just doesn’t quite convey it. At this point I will hand it back to Stu....

The next day she came over to meet Mahea and the two of them really hit it off. All afternoon Miria and Mahea danced their dances and Whiri and Mahea played their music. Whiri's tane (man) Justin plays a variety of instruments, sings, and dances, but he has some kind of magic with flutes. The man can make music, beautiful music, with anything possessing a cavity. Shell, driftwood, rock, no matter. Whiri will be singing, and seemingly without a thought Justin pulls some strange object out of his bag, puts it to his lips, and plays the perfect match to Whiri's mood.

Two days later Whiri visited us again, this time with her parents. Whiri's mum gave Mahea a special blessing (karakia, or prayer), and her dad regaled us with tales from the old days. Whiri's grandfather turned out to be Bay of Plenty notable whose history can be found in the Whakatane Museum. We also got to spend some time with Miria's brother Richard, and were able to share dinner with him two weeks later and continue our conversation. Altogether an incredibly sweet family - meeting them all through such an unlikely chain of events can hardly be explained as mere coincidence.

We spent one of our Ohope Beach days driving around exploring. One of our stops was the small town of Opotiki. As usual we found ourselves in a shop admiring the carvings and jewelry. Before long the owners, Tangimoe and Josie, invited us to Tangi's house for tea. Tea turned into a lovely evening including dinner with maybe a dozen friends and family members. Tangi and her tane Tu gave us a quick tour of the dairy farm where he works. And I do mean work, 4:30 AM to 6:00 PM seven days a week! That gave me a little respect for the cartons of milk at the supermarket. In another "coincidence" we ran into Tangi's friend Arthur a week later at Te Papa museum in Wellington.

Mali'o, one of Mahea's dancers, had put us in touch with her friends Dean and Jo in Raumati Beach not far from Wellington. Dean (with his group Upper Hutt Posse, named for the town they grew up in) is THE Maori hip-hop artist. His lyrics speak with power and eloquence to the plight of his and other colonized and marginalized peoples. We spent the afternoon being fed, entertained, and educated by this fascinating guy. He struck me as angry, but so intelligent, informed, articulate, positive, and good hearted. We were blown away by "Ngatahi", a 2 DVD street documentary Dean had filmed around the world in 2002. See his web site at www.tekupu.com (Te Kupu is his nickname, D Word).

Dean also hooked us up with his friend Tihikura in Taranaki. Tihikura and his three little daughters treated us to lunch, an afternoon visiting Parihaka, another hangi dinner, and an evening of thoughtful conversation. Parihaka was described by Jenny Bornholdt in New Zealand Historic Places Magazine (Aug 2000) as "... the scene of one of the most lamentable infringements of civil rights ever witnessed in this country". The story is the subject of an entire book, "Ask That Mountain" by Dick Scott. Briefly, the Taranaki Iwi (tribes) never signed the treaty of Waitangi and never ceded any land or authority, but the Pakeha confiscated Taranaki land on all sorts of pretexts. From 1869 (the year of Gandhi's birth) the Taranaki Maori under Te Whiti and Tohu engaged in a campaign of nonviolent resistance which continues to this day. The Pakehea response was to march on Parihaka, arrest and remove the residents (some to slavery), and raze the village. Much of the land was then sold to Pakeha settlers or awarded to Pakeha soldiers and militiamen for their service.

As things stand now the village of Parihaka is owned by the Iwi. The tombs of Te Whiti and Tohu stand in Parihaka. A few Maori reside in the village and the marae (meeting area) is in active use for monthly gatherings of Maori from all over the country. Tihikura is descended from people whose lands around Taranaki were stolen. He and other Maori hold title to small, scattered plots of land and are at the mercy of the Pakeha landowners. The large plot adjacent to Tihikura's has the only navigable creek and other communal uses, but the heirs of the British officer who was awarded the land have decided to subdivide and sell. Now the Maori face the prospect of dealing with eighteen owners rather than one, and possibly condominiums rather than pasture. The row of For Sale signs along this breathtaking beachfront brought tears to our eyes.

The Taranaki region is a semicircle of coastline around the 2500m Taranaki volcano. We caught a few glimpses of Taranaki through the clouds, enough to imagine the whole stunning view on a clear day. It's possible to walk to the top, but not necessarily a good idea. The weather is unpredictable and the mountain is tapu (sacred, therefore off limits under ordinary circumstances). Tihikura told us the legend that Taranaki once stood among the other volcanoes Pihanga, Tongariro, Ngauruhoe, and Ruapehu in the center of Te Ika-A-Maui. Then one day Tongariro caught Taranaki messing with his lover Pihanga. After the ensuing battle Pihanga stood at Tongariro's side. Taranaki fled to the coast, leaving a gorge which became the Whanganui river. To this day his summit remains shrouded in tears.

In modern times Tongariro got a national park named after him. The Grand Chateau is right in the middle of the park nestled between 2300 m Ngauruhoe and 2800 m Ruapehu. We got a great view the evening we arrived, then the clouds rolled in. The park is quite a ski area, even in summer, though that's not our thing. We were content to rest there on the way from Ohope to Wellington, but I did manage to get in a nice walk to pretty Taranaki falls. Other trails go much farther if you've got the time and the energy. These trails, like all the others we saw, are clearly marked with destinations and transit times.

Between Ohope and Tongariro lie Rotorua and Lake Taupo. We had enough time to enjoy the volcanic sulfur stench driving through Rotorua but not to check out the many geothermal areas and tourist attractions. Lake Taupo is so large (over 600 square km, about the size of California's Lake Tahoe) we got to enjoy the view for some time from the car. We opted for a safe and excellent onshore Indian dinner over any questionable offshore activities.

The other memorable scenery was way up north. The Waipoua Kauri Forest on the west side contains the few surviving kauri trees, some of which are the age (2000 years) and girth (16 m) of California giant redwoods. They were nearly logged out of existence, earlier for waka taua (war canoes), later for more prosaic purposes. The giant kauri Tane Matua (forest god) so dwarfs its surroundings I couldn't cover it all with an 18 mm lens.

Tokerau (Bay of Islands) on the east side is exactly that, a beautiful bay containing countless island jewels. I'm sure it's best seen from a sailboat, but we were all recovering from colds contracted on the flight over and chose to just take the short ferry ride from Paihia to Russell. We had also planned to walk from Paihia to Waitangi, but the colds dictated driving the car.

This was the area of first European settlement, and Waitangi was the site of the signing of a treaty between the British Crown and some 45 Maori rangatira (chiefs). The Treaty of Waitangi is considered by many to be the founding document of the country of New Zealand, and the signing date 6 February 1840 is the national day. Of course not all rangatira signed the treaty, and the English and Maori texts differ significantly. In 1975 the Waitangi Tribunal was established as "a permanent commission of inquiry charged with making recommendations on claims brought by Maori relating to actions or omissions of the Crown, which breach the promises made in the Treaty of Waitangi" (from the government web site). It's a start.

The house where the treaty was signed has been restored and the surrounding grounds are now a nice museum. Our visit included a Maori music and dance show performed by six talented and energetic young people. At the end they dragged Mahea, Hoku, and some English guy up on stage. I was told to remain seated. Part of the show, and also what they coached their male captives to perform, was a haka. That's a scary chant designed to pump up your warriors and intimidate the enemy, and has become part of the national culture for both Maori and Pakeha. Before every match the All Blacks, New Zealand's national rugby team, intimidate the opponents with a haka. We didn't get a chance to see them, but we were sufficiently intimidated by the US$ 130 price of their shirts.

After a fairly tough drive through the city we also got to the War Memorial Museum in Auckland. This one has a whole floor of Maori exhibits well worth several hours. Some really nice crafts in the museum shop were priced about ten times what we could afford. Sigh. We saw another Maori performance, this time sans volunteers.

Auckland is a very large city with a growing ring of suburbs, so we didn't get to see much of it. The city center was almost as busy as San Francisco and a bit too far from our B&B to walk, so we mostly avoided it. Closer and less congested were Ponsonby Street and Mt. Eden Village, which resembled nicer shopping areas back home in Oakland such as Piedmont Avenue, Rockridge, or Montclair. The city contains more than a few "mountains", actually small volcanoes. The newest, Rangitoto Island, erupted into existence some 600 years ago in Hauraki Gulf barely 10 km from city center. More recent history was supplied by the French, who in 1985 sank the Greenpeace ship Rainbow Warrior right in Auckland Harbor. Well, Greenpeace is still in business here, with an office about two blocks from our B&B.

We also looked up Awhina, a lady we met at Tangimoe's tea. She has a shop in Auckland's Victoria Park Market. I liked her almost instantly - when I was describing my job, after about three words she interjected "You're a geek". Direct scores big points with me. As with Dean and Tihikura, we learned a lot spending the afternoon in her company. She had the best stuff, too. We got Tino Rangatiratanga (Maori sovereignty) shirts and a Maori flag, and after tea Awhina gave Mahea a beautiful pounamu (greenstone, or jade) pendant. Mahea can wear it properly because pounamu is supposed to be received as a gift, not purchased for one's self.

Unlike in sprawling Auckland, we immediately felt at home in the compact, cosmopolitan capital of Wellington. The entire downtown could be covered on foot and contained just about everything I could imagine looking for in a city. I lost count of the interesting restaurants, bookstores, and shops while noticing little rubbish and no beggars. A modest walk up 200 m Mt. Victoria rewardrd me with a fantastic view of the city and its surrounds. A few hours after arriving I could see us living here. Mahea also liked Wellington, but is taking a more conservative approach to the idea of running away from home.

While walking through Wellington after buying some books we blundered across the offices of Wellington Access Radio, which had emailed Mahea regarding her new CD Tatau. The people there were more than helpful, then they directed us to Samoa Capital Radio which has been playing the CD. There we met Melania, who is in charge of just about everything since her technician left. She showed us around the studio and explained what they do, which is broadcast Pacific Island music and talk in more than a hundred languages. This, Maori television, and many other artistic activities are supported by the government.

We spend part of a day in Wellington at Te Papa, just six years old and by far the best museum we encountered. We regret lacking time and a clear day to take the three hour ferry trip from Wellington to Picton. Another item to attend to on our next visit. Actually our chief regret was having to depart after the fastest 24 days I can remember.

Fortunately we had arranged a two day layover in Tahiti on our return flight, and seeing our friends there really picked us up. First the weather was warm,very warm, about 10 C warmer than in Aotearoa. Then our friends spoiled us rotten. We didn't need to do anything for ourselves for two days. Everybody gathered at the airport to greet us with more leis than our necks could hold, then treated us to more food than our tummies could hold. Next morning we slept in at Rio and Turere's place, finally succumbing to the calls of the roosters. We got fed again, then taken to spend the day just hanging out with Hiro and Simone. Then more food at a nice Japanese restaurant in Papeete. The day after we had a barbecue at Auntie Debbie's with Rio, Turere, Hiro, Simone, Frankie, Myrna, Tavake (not a child anymore!), Tekou, Heiva, and more kids whose names I can't remember (except I'll never forget my little buddy Mariana who sat next to me on the bus on our 2001 trip. Also there were the current singers and musicians with Ori Here (Turere's dance company). They entertained us all afternoon and performed a new song written just for KaUaTuahine (Mahea's dance company).



Photography by Stuart Fogg:
*Photos from various websites
1) Interior of the Treaty of Waitangi House
2) Mahea standing next to a Pohutukawa tree
3) Hoku sketching outside of the Treaty of Waitangi House
4) Christmas at Moerewa
5) Hoku on the road to Moerewa
6) War Canoe at Waitangi
7) Te Whare Moanarua
8) Whirimako Black's second CD Hohou Te Rongo*
9) New Zealand Musician Magazine cover*
10)On the deck at Moanarua. From left to right: Miria, Taroi, Stu, Whiri's Mom, Mahea, Whiri's Dad Stuart, Whirimako and her daughter, and Justin
11) Dean*
12) Kauri Tree
13) The Treaty of Waitangi House
14)Hoku looking for shells on the beach at Paihia