Feeding giant eels

The beach at Hokitika

Sun setting over the Franz Josef valley

It is a Ren or is it a rock?

Crossing the moraine field to Franz Josef

Franz Josef Glacier

That's Ren and I, eating crackers and singing "Poor Unfortunate Souls"

Mount Cook from our dinner table (seriously)

Our first destination for the day was the quaint little town of Hokitika (I love the name). It's a former mining town, though now the primary industry is tourism as far as I can tell. Like many of the coastal towns, it's built along a gentle beach. It is also apparently a local artist denizen (or at least that's what the tourist literature tells you). The primary industry seems to be selling what they call heritage jade to tourists. The stone, known to the Maori as Pounamu, has a historic and a cultural significance to the area and is relatively plentiful in the local Aurahuru River.

Kohji and the kids did a little walking along the beach, while I combed the little shops on the main couple of streets. They actually found another animal carcass on the beach, which they think was a sheep. The kids were quite fascinated by it, and when I asked Rennie about their walk, he was very excited to show me the picture they took of it! I wandered the shops looking at the various jade pieces, most carved into Maori sympbols or fairly traditional cuts. The story with the jade is that it is an heirloom piece handed down for generations, which is very similar to the Chinese jade factory story. They even have a Jade Factory in Hokitika, although there was no similarity to the one in Beijing.

Just before lunch, we decided to check out the National Kiwi Center - a little toursit kitch in the center of town that actually turned out to be fairly interesting. Kiwis are noctunal hunters, and so it's one of these nature centers that has reversed the clock so that visitors can take a look at the animals when they're active. As the kids had already been there when I met up with them, they were very eager to show me through the little place and especially remind me that we need to be quiet otherswise the kiwi will hide. They are rather funny looking bird, a tad furry looking with plump round bodies perced on these skiny little legs. The Center also offered Giant Eel feeding at noon. The center of the place has a massive equarium with a number of eels slithering about. The kids were actually able to feed the eels themselves, with a little help from a staff member and we learned an awful lot about the pre-historic creatures (probably more than I really needed to know about them).

Lunch was our first taste of whitebait, a local fish considered to be a delicacy and especially available at this time of year. I assumed it would be your standard white fish, but it was actually these tiny little fishies fried together in a sort of pancake. You could even make out the little bodies and eyes. Not at all what I was expecting, but fairly tasty.

After lunch, we headed further south with the goal to reach Franz Josef Glacier. Unfortunately, this is also when Ren hit a bit of a wall and had a full scale meltdown. Let me tell you, listening to a child scream while you're barreling along in a campervan is a special kind of unpleasant!

Thankfully, his mood seemed to have improved by the time we arrived at the Glacier a couple hours later, so we decided to head out on a little walk that takes you to a viewing platform. Well, that's what we planned to do. And then we came to an intersection, which pointed in two directions - one our little walk, the other to the end of the forest (which was about 10 minutes further). So we took the unplanned fork for what was supposed to be a 30 minute walk (you see where this is going don't you).

The short forest trail spit us out onto a massive morraine field with enticing views of the Franz Josef Glacier at the other end. The thing about glaciers is that they are big, and because they are big, it's hard to really get a sense of distance. So, we started across the morraine field (keep in mind, we started the walk at about 4:15 after listening to a solid hour of pre-school tatrumming this afternoon). The valley was impressive - a boulder strewn morraine field with forested walls reaching up on other side, a milky blue glacial stream myandering up the middle and the walls scattered with powerful waterfalls. All in all, a rather distracting walk, as the kids followed the boulder path, threw rocks into glacial puddles and generally scampered under the watchul eye of a massive chunk of ice. I had assumed this was part of the 30 minute trek (I assumed wrong). As we were about 10 minutes from the toe of the glacier, I asked Kohji how this could have possibly been timed at 30 minutes. This is when he informed me that the 30 minute walk ended about 30 minutes before where the tree line opened up. Ah well, I was already carrying Ren on my back, what was another 10 minutes.

The kids actually did surprisingly well. Apparently, the trick to keeping Ren happy on a hike is easy access pockets stuffed with snacks. I just kept filling his pockets and he happily munched his way back across the valley floor, with nary a peep (well, except that he kept asking me to sing while we walked. I got some pretty funny looks when I was singing Poor Unfortunate Souls from The Little Mermaid).

The campground has proved to be one of the nicest ones yet, and we lucked into a clear night and a view of Mount Cook. Not a bad dinner view for dinner I have to say (even if we were eating instant noodles and cucumber slices).

Now, we're bunked down in Frank Josef itself, awaiting tomorrow's adventure. It seems the hike was indeed sufficient to knock the kids out (either that or the 1/2 hour they spent on the trampoline at the playground here).

Things we learned today: Giant eels travel more than 6000 kms from ocean to inland lakes and live up to 100 years old.

Over the rainbow...

Sunset in Greymouth

The gemstone beach

Picnicking in Charleston

Views of the west coast

More west coast

Blowholes at Pancake Rocks

Pancake Rocks

Goofin' at the beach

Don't look down

Walk across Buller Canyon

The gods help me, the Wizard of Oz has been the soundtrack to our NZ experience. This is the kids" favourite music at the moment (especially Ren). Now, I can't argue that it doesn't somehow match the landscape. The wildness of this country can indeed make you feel like you're gone over the rainbow into some other world, but if I hear Judy Garland sing that song one more time, I may also be tempted to call on the flying monkeys to .

Today, we swung up the West Coast. To borrow an analogy I used earlier, if the north coast of this country is the friendly farm girl - all sweetness and warmth - the west coast is the tattooed sailor - swearing a blue streak and just daring you to piss him off. The coastline here is rugged with crashing surf, dramatic drops into the void of a swirling ocean and rocky beaches. All of which gets negotiated via a knife edge road that is chiselled out of limestone hills rising out of the sea. In some places, it even is down to one lane (often over bridges) and you have to make sure there is no on-coming traffic before you proceed.

Since it was a long day's drive and we left early so we could make it to the Pancake Rocks at high tide, we built in a few stops along the way. Mid-morning, we stopped at the Buller Gorge Swingbridge. The bridge spans a milky river gorge at the site of an old gold mining encampment. The kids tore across that thing without an inch of fear. Never mind that it was swing a couple hundred feet above a fast moving river - Ren led the way with aplomb all the while choo-chooing as he said the bridge was tracks and he was a big train.

We also stopped at the tiny three building town of Charleston, which had a lovely little cove where we spread out our picnic blanket for lunch. Apparently, the cove is home to the notoriously shy little blue penguins, and while we saw no evidence of any, it was kind of fun to be sitting somewhere that is, in point of fact, a penguin residence. Kiyomi hunted in vain.

The west coast is supposed to have some of the worst weather, but we lucked out today and had great weather. This made the Pancake Rocks alot more enjoyable than we were expecting. Everyone else we've met here who had travelled along this coast experienced some pretty foul weather (not such a surprise from a place that actually has a Foulwind Point). The Pancake Rocks are striated towers of stone that rise out of the water and shore line - effectively looking like stacked pancakes. As this formation butts up against the sea, at high tide there are also some pretty impressive blowholes. The whole area is touristed up - with walkways, signage and guardrails. Given we arrived in a campervan, we fit right in. It must have been a pretty impressive site before it was tourified though, especially viewed from the rocks above. I couldn't help and thinking about backpacking trips in the pre-kid era, where I would come to places like this and scoff at the people miling. What goes around, comes around I suppose. This time, it was my kids tearing around the walkways and looking for rainbows in the splashbacks.

Our day ended in Greymouth, the largest town on the west coast at a rather lovely campground on a very cool beachcombing beach. Rather than sand, alot of the beaches we're experiencing here are rocky, which is great when you have a rock hound for a daughter. This particular area is known for its gemstones and so the kids happily hunted up and down the beach for gems (I confess, I don't have any idea what makes a gemstone, and so the collection we hauled off the beach are basically just a bunch of pretty rocks which I am calling gems). I'm going to be fascinated to see the expression on the border officer when he/she asks us if we have something to declare and I say "rocks, lots and lots of rocks!"

Things we've learned today: blue penguins are notoriously shy and generally only come out at dusk and dawn; in the mid- to late- 1800s, there was a gold rush along the west coast, with small prospector towns popping up everywhere; the Buller River Gorge was the epicenter of a massive earthquake in the mid-1980s, where the plates underneath actually shifted.

End of the earth

You know I had to include at least one!

Wharariki Beach

Sledding NZ style

Hiking to the beach

Guess who wins this stare-down?

First bouldering lesson

The bluffs around Farewell Spit

At the Grove

Today was a leisurely day. The kids and Kohji slept late, while I enjoyed the luxury of a shower all by myself! Funny the things that become luxuries after only a week.

We started out for the day at the rip roaring hour of 11 am, headed for a tiny little patch of rain forest (yes, you read that right) called The Grove, just outside of Pohara (to the extent that anything can be considered outside of town, when town is about 500 meters worth of buildings along the road). It's a limestone grove with the feel of a rain forest - tree roots snaking around two story limestone rocks, massive palm trees, complete with a moist, rich smell unlike anything else in the area. It was a short 30 minute loop, complete with lookout and the change at the end for Kohji to give Kiyomi her first bouldering lesson on a large chunk of exposed granite. She caught on pretty quick, and ever her father's daughter, I looked up to see her about 15 feet off the ground!

As we had had a pretty late breakfast, we decided to head towards our next destination, Farewell Spit and Wharariki Beach. The small town of Collingwood seemed our best bet to grab some lunch, but it turned out to be a much smaller place than we had predicted. The one restaurant in town was open on Sunday, so we decided to give it a try. Now, in walking in to the restaurant/tavern as it billed itself, we were expecting the standard pub fare at best. So to our surprise, as noted in the last post, we kicked back in the back patio area chowing down on grilled cod open face sandwiches for us and home made mac and cheese for the kids. The back had a lovely little atrium that looked out over the tidal flats.

You'll note I keep refering to tidal flats and that's because it is a huge feature of the terrain aroun here and rather hard for me to get my head around. In some instances, the tide moves so far out at low tide that you can't even see the water's edge if you're standing on the water's edge. The difference in the appearance of the little communities around here is striking. If you do through at hide tide, it seems to be a little coastal town, Collingwood, for example, seems to be a little costal town complete with fishing boats and gulls. At low tide, the fishing boats appear to be abandoned relics moored to the mud flats and the gulls, merely out of place.

After dragging ourselves away from our cosy little spot, we headed along a narrow road (or at least it seemed perilously narrow in the Beast) towards the northern most point of the South Island, Farewell Spit. First off, gravel roads in the Beast are an adventure. Scottie's infamous words kept running through my head "I can't hold'er together Captin'". Secondly, if it looks like your heading into nothing but sheep pastures, you probably are. After finally reaching the parking area, such as it is, for Farewell Spit (noting that the parking area does double duty as a grazing pasture for both cows and sheep), we headed through not one, not two, but three seperate pasture gates before realizing that we had probably taken the wrong path. How can that be, you might ask, when you're effectively in the equivalent of an alpine meadow with a 360 degree view of open, green rolling pasture? I can only tell you it takes a special sort of talent. Also, don't be surprised if the kids tell you that the highlight of their New Zealand experience was playing "dodge the dung".

When we finally headed up to Farewell Spit, it's name did indeed do it justice. Looking out over a massive stone archway, it felt like we'd come to the edge of the world. I couldn't help but imagine a 19th century sailor's wife trecking up to this point to gaze out at the churning waters and vastness beyond as a way of saying goodbye. The bluff looked out across a bay to a limestore cliff rising out of the water like a bastion against the rising sea. It was dramatic to say the least.

However, the impact of the Spitt was negligeable compared to the one made by the Wharariki Beach. To give you an idea of the character, one of the guidebooks descriped the beaches at Able Tassman as the supermodels, while Wharariki is a moody, tattooed, tempestuous women. The track to get to the beach starts in, what else, a grazing meadow. There are no slapping water sounds, no salt spray smell. Just meadow as far as the eye can see, complete with dung dodging opportunities. Don't get me wrong, the meadows themselves are beautiful, with steep valleys carved out, and trees along the valley floors that appear to have been sculpted by the wind.

About a 10 minute tramp in, your feet hit sand. All around you though, is still meadow. 5 minutes further on, you're spit out onto this massive sand dune. It's the most incongruous and surreal terrain change I've ever experienced. The dune itself seems endless and the kids tore into it at full tilt. In true Canadian fashion, Kiyomi immediately exclaimed that it was like snow and darned if she wasn't right. It did seem like I should be slapping on a pair of skis and taking off across the fine soft sand. A minute or so later, I was wishing that I had my ski goggles as the wind was indeed wiping the sand around.

After the dunes, a vast beach opens up into the interminable sea. We were there at low tide and it was literally like walking on the ocean floor. Massive stone islands towered above us, complete with caves and lounging seals. The tide moves out several hundred meters here and so, you literally are walking on the sea bed. It's breathtaking and a little frightening. Although I knew the tide was still on it's way out, it felt like at any moment a wave to come to retake it's rightful land. I'll try to include a couple pictures, but truth be told, I don't have the words to describe the impression this place makes.

We left Wharariki rather late, so dinner was at the Telegraph Hotel in Takaka. Once again, a surprising dining experience from something that on the outside looks and feels like a pub. Kohji had lamb shank with garlic potatoes and fresh vegetables, while I had curried vegetable soup and orange ginger wontons, with some short of winter veg inside (yummy). This from a place that looks like it's standard fare would be crisps and lager by the pool table. I guess today was the hidden treasure day.

Things we've learned: New Zealanders use the term "sweet" when they mean to say something is good.

The whale that cost me my lunch

Cavorting seals

View from Pitt Lookout in Able Tasman

Waiting for the boat at Anchorage

A resident of Able Tasman

View of the beach from the Anchorage camp ground

End of the day on the tidal flats


How much fun is this?

Wow, yuck and whoa!

This country has some unparalelled vistas.

Thursday started with a leisurely track along a coastal bluff at Kean Point on the periphery of Kaikoura. After parking the Beast right up against the largest tidal flat I've ever seen (and waving at a couple of fur seals who were laying out in the sun waiting for the tide to come back in so they wouldn't have to crawl their way back to the water). The short route took us along pasture land (and when I say pasture, there were indeed some patties to side step) looking down at a white beach leading gently into turqoise water and a fast sea beyond. From the bluff, the view was awesome, especially as we had a blue sky day with light fluffy clouds. The kids happily scampered up the initial incline and were amazed to find shells at the top (likely dropped by gulls trying to get at the yummy innards).

It was the return trip along the beach though that was the highlight. It was a treasure trove for beach combing and Kiyomi was in her element. The beach was more shell than sand and it went along for a couple of kilometers. In addition to the numerous shells, we found bones, a seal skull, a fossil and a seal carcass. I wasn't initally sure how the kids would react to that, but they were fascinated. Oh ya, and there were the live seals as well. They come to the point for a little r'n'r after a night of hunting and are pretty much just beaching waiting for the tide to come take them back out. In fact, on two occassions, we didn't even notice a seal in our path until he conveniently snored to alert us to his presence. A very big wow-factor!

Back at the Beast, we made some sandwiches and just chilled watching the tide slowly make it's way back in. It was a pretty amazing spot for lunch, and pretty interesting to hang out with the seals. For the record, we couldn't even make them look up!

After lunch, it was a whale watching trip. Something for which Kaikoura is well-known. They actually have some pretty sophisticated equipment and will track the whale to maximize the change of seeing one. There is a deep water trough not far off the shore which is actually the year round residence to sperm whales and in the summer months also home to migratory species such as humpbacks. The good news is that we managed to see a whale, the bad news is that I managed to loose my lunch. This is where the yuck comes in. Seems I remain a landlubber with a weak stomach at the best of times and the swells were rather unpleasant. Kiyomi, I think enjoyed the experience. Ren, however, slept through most of it and woke up saying "where da whales?"

Friday was a jaunt up the coastal road towards Moteuka. Our first stop was 20 minutes down the road at Ohau Point, the home to a huge seal colony. There were hundreds of them clamboring over rocks, jostling each other, lounging on the rocks, swimming. Unlike the ones from Kean Point, these ones were active and busy. We spent quite some time watching them, especially teh cubs and the juveniles. The kids fought over the right to hold the binoculars the wrong way round to "see" the seals.

The rest of the drive had the same adrenal effect as driving across the Saskatchewan prairie in a white out snow storm. It would seem camper vans are not well handled in high winds, and with gusts preported to be up to 100 kms hours, we were not amused. The van literally shook with the wind, and when a gust hit, the whole business floated like a leaf in the wind (or at least that's what it felt like as the driver). Adding insult to injury were the steep, windy roads, with the vertical drops along the edge and the laughably posted speed limits of 100 kms an hour. Without a doubt, as long as I'm driving the Beast, there will be no speeding tickets. And that's how we got to the whoa! It was a relief to finally see the main strip of Moteuka and uncurl by hands from the steering wheel.

Moteuka itself is a feeder town for a number of national parks that sit on the nothern end of the South Island, including Abel Tasmin. This, I'm convinced, was the setting for any and every stranded in paradise movie. The park is served uniquely by water taxis, and you motor in to either hike, camp or just plain hang out. From the boat, you see an undulating flow of soft green's interspered with golden crescent beaches. The word "inviting" was coined for this type of place.

Our first stop was the little tourist hamlet of Kaiteriteri out of where the water taxis run. We boarded at 9:15 and set out a little bay called Anchorage. It was a pristine, half moon, white sand beach with a gentle slope into turqoise (albeit cold) water. Kohji and I were a little envious of the trampers who were camping at this spot, but we consoled oursleves with a short tramp up to Pitt Head Lookout and a brief descent to Te Putekea beach - which at high tide was a shoe string, but no less fascinating to hang out it, especially as we had it all to ourselves. The highlight here for the kids was dragging drift wood across the beach (for no descernible perpose other than they could!)

After lunching on the beach, we got the taxi back to Kaiteriteri. Once again, the campervan proved awesome as we hung out for an hour or so while Ren napped, and Kiyomi did some school work. It was a little surreal, actually, to be doing all this day to day things, but to look out the window at a breathtaking beach (am I sounding like a campervan commercial yet).

Saturday night, we found ourselves in the small little hamlet of Pohara, after a harried drive over Takaka Hill - twisty roads, steep drops, 2nd gear, need I say more? The views up the valley were idealic, with lush green fields dotted with sheep (what else). The kids exhausted themselves running around the tidal flats (tidal flats seem to be very common feature of the coastal landscape around here) and collecting other treasures. All in all, not a bad way to spend a couple of days!

Sunday was a lazy day, with Kohji and the kids not even stirring until 9ish. And now, we're seating in the little town of Collingwood, chilling at the one and only local restaurant (Collingwood isn't big). where the food was awesome (Kohji and I had grilled cod) and they even have a little sandbox for the kids. We're contemplating spending the day...

Things we've learned over the last few days: whales will dive to around 850 meters and will stop clicking just as they are about to surface, "cool" is a very commonly used term in New Zealand used as an "uh-huh" or "ok".

Ah retirement....

It's official. We must be retired. How else to explain the fact that we're driving well below the speed limit, we're taking hours to get moving in the morning and we're just plain not watching the clock. Oh wait, it's the campervan effect!

Yup, we're driving a camper van. We've packed ourselves into the confines of a 6 meter vehicle in order to hit the road at the speed of paint drying. Driving takes on a whole new meaning when you're pretty much driving a house around, on the left side of the road, with the stick shift on the left side (that's been interesting to say the least). I seriously pity the people who are stuck behind me while I drive!

Until today, the last couple days were rather uneventful. Mainly spent provisioning for the trip (you should try parking a camper van at the grocery store) and getting settled in the "Beast" as she is affectionationely known.

That said, we've seen another side of the city, one that seems to have been less scalded by the earthquake. The campervan park is nestled into a little residential area. I can't really call this camping. Not only are we able to plug in for heat, electicity, plumping, there is a full kitchen, bbqs, playgrounds, a heated indoor pool. This is the type of camping I used to make fun of when I was dragging along a 40 pound pack and thinking I was smart!

The kids officially love this place. What's not to like about someplace that has a gigantic jumping pillow as well as a trampoline? And they love the little cocoon that they get to sleep in. Albeit, there was some jostling over who was going to get to sleep on what side.

Today, we hit the road for Kaikoura – a relatively short jaunt up what is supposed to be a spectacular ocean road. It's also supposed to be a whale feeding ground, so I think the real adventure starts over the next couple days. As adventurous as it's been trying to figure out what type of milk was what at the grocery store (for those uninitiated, skim is trim, 2% is light and standard is homo), I'm ready to start seeing the outside in New Zealand!

After a mandatory session of giant pillow jumping, we hit the road, although in truth in the Beast, you don't so much hit the road and lumber towards it. The area around Christchurch is undulating green hills, with alternating swaths of light (grass), dark (pines) greens and yellows (some flowering bushes I have yet to identify). And of course – sheep. Lots and lots and lots of sheep. They dot the landscape from all directions, looking for all intents and purposes like wooly rocks blended into the hills. Sure, there are the occassional grouping of horses or cows, but this terrains belongs to the sheep.

After a brief stop in the little hamlet of Cheviot (where there is a replica of a medieval church, built sometime in the early 50s and an Italian French Antiques store), we made it to Kaikoura by mid-afternoon. The cool thing about campervaning if that you're a travelling house. So I sat for awhile, writing the post that I had started this morning at a little road side pull-out just before town, while Kohji and the kids went exploring the first of what I have no doubt will be many, beaches.

Kaikoura itself is rather spectacular – sitting at the water's edge with a view of mountains that dive into the sea. The sky, sea and mountains are a harmonized trio - each offering their own shades to a stunning, and humbling, canvas. The town has obviously taken advantage of the tourist beacons with offerings of whale watching, swimming with dolphins and albatrose encounters. I'd be keen to know what protective gear one has to wear when conversing with large seagulls.

After setting up camp (which consistent of plugging in the Beast and watching the kids burn energy on yet another bouncy pillow, e spent a little time combing a fantastic rock beach that runs along the town's main street. The stones are the smoothest I've ever felt. It was a challenge keeping Kiyomi down to 4 rocks (she initally had about 15 stuffed into her pockets).

The kids have made a friend at this camp park, and have been hunting the grounds for him. He and his family are from Rotterdam and coincidently seem to be on a very similar trek to ours, though they are already 3 weeks in. Tico (we think) is almost 4 and can't speak a word of English. That hasn't stopped the kids from running around the campground desperately looking for 'best friend'.

We made dinner in the campground kitchen tonight and the kids (Tico included) were squirming out of there seats trying to get outside together again. It's a wonder any one of them managed to consume anything. The kitchen itself boils with a variety of languages and smells. It's a large area, with about 5 or 6 sinks and the same number of stoves. In addition to the Dutch family, I heard Parisien French, German and a couple of other languages I couldn't place, and that was all before we sat down to dinner.

Things we've learned today: ketchup is called tomato sauce here (not sure what they call our tomato sauce), sandflies bites (nasty little buggers), and if anyone ever asks, the town of Kaikoura only lets you take 4 rocks per person (the rest belong to the town)!

The Beast in all her glory

Shockingly, I managed to get it in gear

Yes, they do think they can do a better job of driving

The hills around Christchurch

Bedding down the first night

Ah the bouncy pillow

Need I say more?

Rock collecting

Beach combing 101

The stunning view from Kaikoura

Well, that was easy!

3 airplanes, 2 trains, a rental car and 33 hours later, we've arrived in Christchurch. We're more than a little exhausted, but shockingly, there were no major meltdowns... and the kids weren't too bad either.

Our first impression of NZ really was the walk from the international to the domestic terminal in Auckland. Interesting that you could actually physically stroll the 1 km between airports, including skirting cargo and hangars. This was my first impression that Kiwis just may be slightly less control freaks than we North Americans. I postulate that it has alot to do with the fact NZ is pretty much far away from everything, and so they're aware that it's not the best place from which to plot world domination anyway, so draconian security provisions are probably overkill.

One of the first things I notice whenever I travel to a new place is the smell. Our short trek in Auckland had a faintly familiar sweet smell. I couldn't place it until Kiyomi independently stated, "it smells like brown sugar." And damned if she wasn't right. Not sure if that's normal or just the early Sunday morning (it was about 6:30 local time).

Christchurch has been a learning experience for us. We arrived around 9:30 am local time. It was pretty disorienting trying to navigate unfamiliar streets while driving on the left side of the road. Thankfully, there isn't must traffic early Sunday morning. At first, I didn't give much thought to the earthquake that happened here last February. My first impression was lush, tree lined streets, with many of the trees budding in spring. However, it didn't take long for us to notice crumbled buildings, cracked streets. Suddenly, the empty streets had a deeper tone than simply the laziness of a Sunday morning.

We spent the afternoon in Hagley Park - a large greenspace akin to New York's Central Park - taking in 27 degree weather. The kids had a blast at the playground and exploring he botanical gardens. There was a feeling of early summer release about the place with people taking in the first warmth of the season. I imagine that it's been a particularly long, difficult winter for people here and the warmth of spring carries a special sense of relief and renewal. Children were playing, the wading pool was open, parents lounging around enjoying the soft flutters of summer sun.

Today, we really understood the devastation of the earthquake. It's cool and rainy, and so we spent some time trying to find a make-shift container shopping area that has been built up near the city center. Most of what was the downtown remains cordoned off months after the earthquake and you don't have to get that close to the barricades to see the true ferocity of the disaster. Entire buildings turned to rubble, parts of buildings sheared away, floors left dangling in mid air, cracks snaking across the facade of buildings like shattered glass.

Beyond the damage though, what really struck me was that there was no activity - no people buzzing about, no cars shooting by, no customers emerging from shop fronts. The area is simply devoid of life and movement. I saw a few construction workers and the occassional construction vehicle, but they seemed as out of place as they would on the bleak landscape of the moon.

The damage is not limited to the downtown area of course. Every street you go down has damaged buildings. Some, like the brick buildings, are barely recognizable as former structures. Others, are in various stages of reconstruction.

In many cases, a city's downtown is usually it's anchor. It helps define the city, guide it's development. It is the core, the roots of the municipality. How does a city regrow it's roots? Perhaps it doesn't. Perhaps a devastated city rebuilds the way the banion tree lays down roots from the outlying branches. Anchoring itself at the weak points. We visited a couple malls today - looking for the necessary supplies for our campervan escapade - and they had obviously been recently renovated giving the impression of restoration, though some of the stores were not even open yet.

I can't even imagine how it's possible to rebuild the city center. By all accounts, very few, if any, buildings can be made inhabitable again. And yet, things move forward. While we didn't find it, merchants have set up the container mall, residents are contemplating what can be done, new buildings are anchoring the city and setting the future course.

Or perhaps the bricks and mortar of a city are merely the skeletal structure and it's the people who truly set the tone. We have certainly found some friendly folks and teh greetings feel warm and genuine. Maybe that is the better indicator of what the future holds for this city.

First taste of NZ kiwi


Hanging in Hagley



Some of the devastation


The final flight

Arriving in Auckland

And they're off

At least as far as Vancouver...

It's actually a little hard to believe that we've embarked on this insanity. After years of talking about it, who really thought we were actually going to do it. But here we are... 16 hours after we left the house, we're in Vancouver. Yah well, at least we've started.

Five years ago this month

"You must have been warned against letting the golden hours slip by; but some of them are golden only because we let them slip by."

So warns J.M. Barrie through his most famous and timeless character, Peter Pan. Although in truth, I'm not sure it's Peter himself who utters this little truism. However, the realm of Peter and his friends seems all the more meaningful as I watch my little girl create her own Neverland and translate her world for me everyday.

Five years of moments have slipped by since Kiyomi came into our lives, and while I have been present in every one of them, it often feels like the moments slip past - elusive little whispers of time. No matter how hard I tried to pay attention, it seems I've turned around and my baby girl is now... well ... a girl... with her own thoughts, personality and dreams.

All I can do, on her sixth birthday and the fifth anniversary of our adoption is watch in awe and wonder as she takes her place in the world, with poise, grace and humour.

Thank you baby girl for five years of wonderful moments. In keeping with tradition, I offer a small little retrospective of the last year to capture just a few of the moments that shape our lives together.

One year

While it passed with little fanfare, April 25th marked our first anniversary as a family of four. In keeping with a little family tradition, I will avoid the paltry attempts to put into words all that my children are and mean to me. All I can say is that one scared, loving and beautiful little boy opened his heart to us and allowed us to be his parents. There are no words. Instead, I offer a little reminder of all he's been through in the last year, and how far we've come as a family.

Oh, it's out there

Every now and again, something happens that makes me realize I live in a bit of a bubble, and boy is it an eye opener when it pops.

A couple weeks ago, we had a maintenance guy come to the house. As he was leaving, he was explaining to me that the space between our air condition and furnace was pretty narrow, making any repairs difficult in future should a problem arise. Unless, of course that is, "we wanted to get a little Chinaman in there."

I will confess, I was blindsided by this comment and just stared in response. In truth, I wasn't sure I had heard what I thought I had heard until our exchange was over and he was on his way. I will say upfront, that I have way of knowing whether the guy meant anything cruel or

bigoted in his comment. That said, at best, it was poor choice of words, at worst, it was an ignorant, derogatory comment based on prejudice.

There was no harm done in the moment. My kids weren't around to hear it, and nothing I could have said to the guy would have made him rethink his poor choice of language. Perhaps I should have called the guy on his ignora

nce, told him that his comment was rude and offensive. In hindsight, I do wish I'd had the presence of mind and wit to throw a zinger back at him.

It was, however, a telling reminder that ignorance and prejudice are out there and while my kids won't likely experience much of it in our little bubble, it's a big, twisted world out there and when they leave the shelter of our family and friends, they are likely to come face to face with it. Ultimately, I can't protect them from it, nor can I eradicate it from the planet. All I can do it prepare them for it and be there to support them when they face it.

That said, I hope that at least next time, I won't be blindsided. This little experience has reminded me, rather unpleasantly, that it's out there and if I'm going to help my kids face it, then I need to be able to respond to it myself.