Lost in New Zealand: The South Island

While New Zealand’s North Island plays host to the bulk of its population, many people believe that its Southern sister provides far more in the way of stunning natural settings, atmospheric small towns and brag-worthy adventure activities. Amused by the sibling rivalry and excited to indulge our inner adrenaline junkies, we decided to follow up our travels through the north—Auckland, Rotarua, Tongariro National Park and Wellington—with a two and half-week road trip through the South Island. We’re not saying which of NZ’s two half is the better one—but we’ll let this highlight reel speak for itself!

1.Bottom’s Up at the Top of the Island
(Amanda): Almost as soon as we picked up our rental car (waiting for us in the ferry parking lot with the keys tucked behind the front bumper—how quaint!) we struck out for Marlborough Country, a region world renowned for the Sauvignon Blancs, Gewürztraminers, Reislings and Pinot Noirs, which ripen to utter perfection in its chilly marine environment. I’ve never been much of a vino aficionado—all that swilling and swirling and sniffing seemed far less interesting than the actual sipping part, but after learning that we’d be staying within walking distance of at least 50 wineries, I started to get into a Sideways frame of mind.

The girls and I borrowed bikes from the owners of our B&B (cheaper and more fun than paying $80 to get drunk with old folks on a tour bus) and hit up the first of several wineries. After sampling some of the world’s most exquisite reds and whites, I realized two things---1. The reason I’d never been much of a wine drinker is that I’d been wasting my taste buds on crap like Sutter Home and stuff that comes in a box or jug. 2. I was having an increasingly tough time staying upright on the top of my bike! The girls pulled over long enough for me to grab a sandwich from the local grocery store, and together we wobbled off in to the sunset.

2.Totally ‘WOW’ed by Nelson
(Jen): One of the best things about road trips is the ability to be completely spontaneous. While Holly, Amanda and I tried to stick to a tight schedule in order to fit in all the main South Island stops, an impromptu detour to the quaint and lovable city of Nelson reminded us that veering off course can sometimes be more fun. Ironically, what landed us in this town of eternal sunshine (seriously, Nelson holds the country’s record for the most clear days), was a sudden case of stormy weather. We had signed up for a 2-day hike/kayak trip in the nearby Abel Tasman National Park, but were greeted by a torrential downpour before we had a chance to step foot on the trail. As inclement conditions were considered rare in these parts, the tour guide suggested we hunker down for the night and try again the next day. Slightly bored by the string of one horse towns that fringed the National Park (or half horse towns as we liked to joke; we’re so funny!), the girls and I decided to make the 45 minute drive to Nelson to experience the lively arts, entertainment and coffee house culture that the city was so well known for. Little did we know just how lively the town’s art really was!

Intrigued by our Lonely Planet’s description of the World of Wearable Art & Collectable Cars Museum, we decided we had to check it out for ourselves. Although tiny in comparison to our favorite hometown art haunts - the Met, Guggenheim and Whitney – this funky, Nelson gallery packed a huge creative punch. Showcasing the highly imaginative, tactile and bizarre designs from New Zealand’s highly acclaimed Wearable Arts Award Show (held each September in Wellington); the WOW section of the museum is a dazzling spectacular of abstract fashion and avant-garde costumes, which included winners of the Bizarre Bra category. Amanda, Holly and I snagged “VIP” seats in front of an illuminated carousel turned catwalk for the collection of artfully adorned mannequins dressed in everything from chain mail lingerie and ball gowns made from boxes to glow in the dark handbags and multi-tiered skirts fashioned from astro-turf). When the fabulous fashion show was over, we headed to the other side of the building to check out the impressive display of vintage cars including a 1959 Pink Cadillac, a 1908 Renault and an E-type Eldorado.

We emerged from the museum feeling culturally satisfied, creatively stimulated and supremely happy that we opted to spend the day in Nelson rather than on a wet and muddy park trail. Plus, we had an entire evening ahead of us to relax, explore the town, grab dinner at a cute local café and maybe even hit up another vineyard or two for some more wine sampling. Just when we thought things couldn’t get better, the grey clouds overhead started to dissipate and the area’s famous sunshine made a surprise celebrity appearance!

3.To Hike Oar Not to Hike
(Holly): The weather may have took a turn for the worse the day the girls and I signed up for an overnight combo hiking-kayaking trip through Abel Tasman National Park (what’s the point of hiking if you can’t make out the scenery through the fog?), but we saw the bright side the very next day as the sun peaked out through the clouds.

So we set off in a water taxi to a remote part of the park and stopped along the way to watch seals sunning themselves on rocky islands. When we arrived at the drop-off point, we had a picnic on the beach (I’ve never eaten so many peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwiches in my life as I have this year). Then we walked for over four hours on a path that led past pristine beaches bordering the most emerald green water I’ve ever seen and lush rainforest.

It was dusk before we arrived at a proverbial fork in the road that lead to a communal hut containing bunks for about 30 people. A sign read “Stay right for high tide, left for low tide.” Not knowing where the heck the tide was, we opted to take the left. This, my friends, was one of those times when we should have taken the safe route. As we neared the bottom of a hill on the low-tide path, we discovered that it was completely flooded. And since we didn’t have enough time to retrace our steps before nightfall, we stripped down into our bikinis, carried our packs on our heads and waded through the chilly water. By now we’re accustomed to overcoming obstacles on the road (remember those cockroaches in our beds?), so we weren’t about to let a little water to stop us.]

Since there was no electricity at the hut and nothing to do, we dozed off immediately before waking at sunrise to head down to the beach (which was no longer flooded, f.y.i.). A boat had dropped off the remainder of our tour group so we could kayak the rest of the way back.

It was only two people per kayak, so I teamed up with a guy named Chris from England who was travelling with his two “mates” for a year (fellow Lost Boys!). It took us about five hours to make it back, but we stopped for a picnic lunch on the beach (and to periodically splash water on Jen and Amanda with our oars). High tides and dreary weather aside, I was sad when our trip through Abel Tasman came to an end—its speculator rainforests and azure-wave lapped beaches are Mother Nature’s gift to the world.

4.The Pirate Queens

(Amanda): The Lost Girls love any excuse to get dressed up in wacky costumes, so when our kayaking captain mentioned that the annual Abel Tasman Pirate Bash was going off that night, we decided to crash the party in our swashbuckling best. Here’s what we pulled together, a look inspired by Jack Sparrow’s surly crew and executed entirely with crap pulled from the depths of our backpacks.

5.Freestanding Fruit
(Holly): I missed my favorite season this year—fall—because I was in Africa. But I still got to experience autumn because the seasons are reversed in the Southern hemisphere. And parts of New Zealand reminded me of Upstate New York—especially since the time was ripe for picking apples there. I bugged Jen to pull the car over as we sailed past orchard after orchard so I could buy apples from some of the help-yourself roadside stands. She reluctantly agreed, but became much more enthusiastic after she tasted the juicy fruit. There’s nothing better than an apple fresh off the tree, and New Zealand’s are especially sweet.

6.Blair Witch Beach
(Holly): We’ve made some pretty crazy pit stops during our Kiwi road trip—including stopping at the place where the Blair Witch Project was filmed. Just kidding! Seriously though, we pulled over for a bathroom break while driving down the coast to Queenstown and stumbled upon an eerie and beautiful beach. It was adorned with driftwood resembling human bones, the charred remains of bonfires and pale rocks arranged in creepy circular patterns.

There were tee-pee structures made of driftwood decorated with hanging stones tied by reeds. We couldn’t figure out what the heck they were for. Jen speculated that they were some kind of Maori offering. Amanda theorized they were a sacrificial burying ground. We could have stayed there for longer and really let our imaginations get away from us. But with the sun setting fast, we decided not stick around to find out.

7.Frozen Solid
(Amanda): Clawing and pick axing one’s way up, over and through a huge melting mountain of ice may sound like an uncomfortably chilly way to spend an afternoon, but we totally dug our “hard core” climb on the blue tinged, 20,000 year old behemoth known as the Franz Josef Glacier. After getting suited up in a half-dozen layers of clothing (to defend against the elements), strapping crampons to our hiking boots (to prevent slip-sliding over the edge) and getting a crash course in glacier science (it’s blue because tiny air pockets only refract a certain wavelength of light), we trekked a few kilometres to the base of the beast and started our ascent. While it was definitely wet work, we felt pretty bad ass squeezing through the narrow crevasses and making forays through frozen caves such as this one. I loved acting like an ice princess, but my favourite part of the day was warming up with a massive bowl of chilli at the Landing Cafe later that night. Yum!

8.Road Rules
(Amanda): Driving at night in New Zealand requires a certain kind of commitment. First, the “highways” really consist of unlit two-lane roads that careen around cliffs and whip around mountains, the kind that look fabulous in artsy car commercials but require 1000 percent of your attention lest you pull a Thelma and Louise and careen over the guardrail. Then there’s the wildlife: Rabbits and possums like to make their appearance once the sun goes down, and choose the very second that your vehicle is gunning down the road to make a mad dash in front of the tires (we were able to swerve most of the time, but one sickening crunch was enough to put us off our midnight snacks!).

For these reasons, and others I’m sure, Kiwis don’t really drive at night, but we had no idea that they locals actually hate and discriminate against nocturnal travelers until we visited the tiny town of Franz Josef Village. First, the reception desks at every single hostel had closed by 8:00pm, forcing us to pay nearly three times as much to check into the town’s resort hotel. When we tried to leave the next day after our hike, we found the only gas station locked up tight at around 7:30pm—the guy at the nearby service station actually seemed offended that we expected the place to be open. “Well what do you want….its the middle of the night?” Some of us actually like to get up early and get home early.” So, not to be deterred in our midnight trek, we coasted 100 km down the highway (most on fumes) and filled up at the one pump in the entire South Island that actually let you pay for gas by feeding bills into a machine. Apparently, even that pump didn’t like to be woken up from its deep sleep---it ate $20 of our money but spit out enough gas to fuel our ride to Queenstown.

9.Jet (Boat) Setting!
(Holly): Tours are like a box of chocolates: You never know what you’re going to get. Thankfully, the jet-boat excursion Amanda and I opted to go on in Queenstown was a blast. Our driver, a 21-year-old Kiwi who navigated Lake Wakatipu and the Shotover and Kawarau Rivers, got our feet wet as the boat hit speeds of 50 mph in water sometimes as shallow as four inches. While some passengers couldn’t keep from shrieking as he turned the boat in circles and narrowly missed granite boulders protruding from shore, we were pleasantly surprised by the joy ride. When it comes to speed, we say bring it on!

10.A Ring Around Queenstown
(Jen): Unless you’re living under a rock, it’s common, pop culture knowledge that Peter Jackson shot the internationally-acclaimed Lord of the Rings trilogy in his home country of New Zealand. But what the average tourist may not realize is that the dozens of stunning locations and natural wonders displayed in the films are being repackaged as ‘must see’ sites and served up as special movie tours by local companies across the North and South Islands. Practically every town in the country has jumped on the Hobbit bandwagon, cashing in on J.R.R. Tolkein’s epic tale through themed hikes, drives, boat cruises and even helicopter flights. And Queenstown was no exception!

Now, Holly, Amanda and I aren’t generally fond of hokey, guided excursions that we could just as easily do on our own, but when we heard about a four-wheel drive adventure tour offered through Nomad Safaris, we thought it’d be a fun way to see the area’s main attractions. As a hard core LOTR fan, I was happy to buy into the whole ‘walk in the footsteps of Hobbits, Elves and Dwarfs’ line, so I insisted that we pick the package that included fun facts and behind the scenes info about the local locations used in the three films. After a breathtaking, four-hour tour that wound up a steep, narrow dirt road to Skipper’s Canyon, ran above the Shotover River, took us off-roading through rushing creeks and provided gorgeous views of the famous Remarkables mountain range, we arrived back into town with a greater appreciation of the region’s natural beauty. Not to mention, a more in-depth knowledge of how and where specific LOTR scenes were shot. In case you’re interested, the accompanying photo of Holly, Amanda and me was taken at the river that Arwen (Liv Tyler) raced across on horseback as she fled the ring wraiths chasing her and Frodo (Elijah Woods).

11.The Queenstown Scene
(Jen): During our time on the road, Amanda, Holly and I have found that a city is often best defined by its people. And it didn’t take us long to discover that Queenstown’s laid back, extreme action and ‘totally radical dude’ culture cultivates a bad ass, yet carefree and seriously cool breed of residents. So when one of the hostel workers we’d befriended invited us to a house party he and his roommates were throwing, the girls and I happily accepted. Excited to replace the standard backpacker party fare of overcrowded clubs and beer soaked bars with a more authentic local experience, we met up with our new group of buds and headed into their hood. What started as a small get together soon erupted into an MTV Spring Break-worthy bash as neighbors, friends of friends and enthusiastic onlookers piled in to drink and dance the night away! A few hours and hundreds of candid snapshots later, Amanda, Holly and I headed back to our hostel to catch a few hours of sleep before hitting the adventure activities circuit in the morning. Were we worried about making it through the next day after a night of partying? No way! We’re Queenstown-ians now!

12.The Thrillogy
(Amanda): Adrenaline junkies like my dear friend Jen seem to find hurling themselves out of airplanes and off of bridges to be good, harmless fun, so I wasn’t surprised when she told me that she wanted to sign up for AJ Hackett’s “Thrillogy,” three super sized bungee jumps that take place in and around New Zealand’s adventure capital of Queenstown. What did surprise me was the sound of my own voice, volunteering to do this insane thing with her. The night before our scheduled jumped, I was literally quaking between my sheets: when the time came to test both gravity and the strength of the cord tied to my ankle, could I really be counted on to take the leap? The answer—and lots more fun photos of me tweaking out—to be found in the next blog entry. Stay tuned!

13.Christchurch Chillin’
(Jen): Just like with Auckland, Christchurch was a city that many Kiwis and fellow backpackers told us not to waste too much time visiting. While the girls and I preferred to stay in Queenstown as long as possible, we were booked on a flight out of Christchurch, so it made sense to crash there for at least a night or two prior to our departure. As it turned out, The Lost Girls’ take on the city was a little different from all the ‘naysayers’ that had come before us. Lush botanical gardens, narrow, cobble stone streets, lively buskers, sweeping gothic steeples and colonial-era architecture gave Christchurch a unique and elegant charm that reminded us of Boston. Slightly burnt out from our 3 ½ week race across the country, Holly, Amanda and I greeted Christchurch with open arms. It was the perfect place for us to relax and refuel for a couple days before jetting off to Sydney. Between long jogs in the park, movies nights at the local cinema, a free buffet dinner at the city casino (hey, we had a coupon, alright!), beers at the neighborhood pub and impromptu photo shoots in town square, the girls and I perfected the art of Christchurch Chillin’ and arrived at the airport refreshed and excited to take on our last destination – Australia.

Stay tuned for The Lost Girls’ adventures Down Under!

- - - Amanda, Jen and Holly

Lost in New Zealand: The North Island

Having alighted in a fantastically picturesque city where the streets were spotless, the residents spoke our language and we could indulge in the creature comfort we’d abandoned nine months ago (we now consider drinking water from the tap to be a rare treat), it was tough to fight the urge to plop down and spend the remaining months of our journey living the sweet life in Auckland.

Despite our local friend’s protests that living in the city was about as exciting as waiting in line at the post office or getting your teeth cleaned, we loved the town and lavished the attention and care dotted upon us by our new local pals Carmi, Wendy and Greg. By the fifth day in town, however, we realized that we needed to get our asses in gear and so Jen and I hightailed it to the travel desk at our hostel to find out if we should rent a car, invest in an intra-country bus pass or get tickets aboard the two main backpacker buses—Stray or the Kiwi Express.

Jen, who generally crunches the numbers for the group (I tend to be better at directions than budgets, while Holly does destination planning), determined that it would actually be the least expensive to split the cost of an economy car—and we’d have total control over where we’d go and when we’d get there. We’d learned that New Zealand is filled top to bottom with amazing wineries, fruit orchards and even boutique chocolate factories, so we were eager to pop in and sample the goods whenever the mood struck (as it often does!).

We had one last stop before leaving town—the New Zealand Tourism office (located near Pier 1 along Auckland’s waterfront)—to pick up discount passes for activities throughout the country. Lost Girls Tip: If you’re coming to Kiwiland, it’s very much worth your while to scout the racks in hostels, hotels and local tourism information offices for great deals and discounts—you can get from 10-30 percent off the listed price of an activity just for holding the right coupon. Even if you can’t find a coupon, you should call or email the tour company to see if they have any unlisted discounts—many properties are happy to give you a bit of financial encouragement to book with them.

We spent just under four weeks touring New Zealand’s superlatively gorgeous countryside. The impending autumn turned the whole world from mossy green to shades of gemstone rarely seen outside of a Harry Winston display case. The first part of our drive, through the slightly more populous North Island, took us from Auckland, through the volcanically active town of Rotarua, past Lake Taupo, onto the Tongariro National Park (where Mt Doom is located!) and finally ended in New Zealand’s social, political and cultural capital of Wellington.

Rather than recap the entire Crossroads-style highway adventure (do you really want to read about our 7-11 popcorn, candy and soda binges?), we’d decided to run the highlight reel of our top 10 favorite stop-offs, local interactions and Kiwi insights. Enjoy!

1. The Kiwi Experience
(Amanda): Back in Auckland, the girls and I had to make a quick decision whether we wanted to tour New Zealand on a pricey guided-bus adventure, or a rent a car to make the same journey. We chose the latter, but we didn’t realize what a wise decision we’d made until the first time we saw a mega-sized tour bus pull up in front of a hostel and watch 60 exhausted gap year travelers spilling out into the road, straining under the weight of their backpacks, daypacks and bags of travel grub. They herded past the reception desk en mass, picking up their keys and shuffling off to rooms to prepare for another night of partying.

This is a generalization, I realize, but many riders on Stray and Kiwi Experience busses told us that the best part of the hop-on, hop-of adventure is the chance to knock back a pint or six with your brand new friends and fellow travellers. Honestly, if I’d come to NZ just after graduating Florida State, I’d have been the first one to sign up for a big bus tour, but as I’m rounding 30 (egad!), I’m thrilled to gas up my own little car and see the country with my best girlfriends. We can come and go as we please, stop anytime to take photos or stock up at country fruit stands and sing radio tunes at the top of our lungs. What could be better than that?!

2. Hell’s Gate Mud Baths
(Holly): Remember the “star baths” in Kenya where the three of us had to share just two tubs? Well, the girls and I went beyond getting our hands dirty and jumped right into a single mud bath at Hell’s Gate, a geothermal reserve near Rotorua. Heated by lava very close to the earth’s crust, the sulphurous water was hot—and stinky! But the natives of New Zealand—the Maoris—have long celebrated the geothermal pools for their natural healing properties.

The Lost Girls decided to soak up the benefits by ditching our bikini tops and smearing the clay-like mud across our chests and faces for maximum exposure. Not quite your typical luxurious spa experience, we felt like we were applying war paint. Still, we were reluctant to climb out and rinse off with a cold shower after we’d reached the twenty-minute time limit. And I don’t think it was simply power of suggestion that had us feeling so rejuvenated after only a short dip.

3. Lava Bar at Hot Rocks
(Amanda): When you’re talking “nightlife’ in Rotarua, there’s really only one watering hole to speak of—the bar at the Hot Rocks Base Backpackers where we stayed. And since we were required to stroll past the place every single time we left or came back to our dorm room, we ended up getting sucked into conversations and boozy invitations quite often. Fortunately, the ultra casual, saloon-like atmosphere of the place meant that we could wear whatever we wanted, so the three of us ended up tipping back pints in our sweats while we watched teenaged girls, freshly scrubbed after their journey on the Kiwi Experience bus, pretend that they weren’t freezing their asses off as they braved near freezing temperatures in tube tops and sun-dresses.

During our nights at Lava Bar, we met an entire cast of characters, including two young American dentists—Dave and John—who not only bought us a round, but offered to provide free teeth-whitening procedure if we visited them in Portland and Seattle. We re-met a freaky Danish guy who’d already approached us in Auckland with an offer to snap our photo, and who did the same again in Rotarua. Somehow, over the course of the next month, this determined, bearded dude “re-met” us so many times and in so many places, we were convinced that he was stalking us! As for me, I ended up chatting with a gorgeous English guy whom I was planning to make my next boyfriend—until I learned that he’d just graduated high school. I normally love younger men, but when I found out that Jack was a mere babe of 18 years, I had to politely dip out of our flirtation. Oh my god, when did I become the dirty old woman at the bar?!!?

4. River Rats Rafting Adventure
(Jen): During our five-day stopover in Rotarua, the girls and I were determined to squeeze in as many adventure activities as possible. At first, we were a bit overwhelmed by the extensive laundry list of adrenaline inducing sports to choose from. But after perusing several glossy brochures, comparing various packages and chatting with other backpackers at our hostel, our mission was clear - - sign up for a white water rafting trip with River Rats! One of the regions most popular companies, River Rats offers daily cruises down the Rangitiaki, Wairoa and Kaituna rivers, even taking on a few Grade V rapids along the way. But what really caught our attention, was the promise of a death-defying plunge straight over a 21-foot waterfall – which incidentally, is the highest commercially-operated drop in the world! Always up for a challenge, Amanda, Holly and I registered for the next available time slot.

The next morning, a psychedelic pink and purple van pulled up to our hostel, carrying a motley crew of staffers, river guides and wide eyed tourists. We hopped aboard, taking in the rapid fire instructions, trip information and safety warnings as we headed towards impending doom, I mean, the rapids. Nervous laughter filled the vehicle as we each signed a waiver exonerating the company of any liability and stating that we fully assumed the risk we were about to take. Umm! Sure. OK! After getting geared up in sexy helmets, life jackets and water booties, we were issued paddles, assigned to a team and given detailed instructions on how to operate the raft and what to expect as we headed downstream. Confident that our guide wouldn’t steer us in the wrong direction – literally and figuratively – we hit the rapids with enthusiasm.

A few baby waves building up to a Class ‘3’s and some solid group paddle practice under our belts, we were ready for the Big One – we hoped! We could hear the roar of the waterfall in the distance as the raft glided closer to the edge. But before anyone started panicking, our guide stopped the boat a safe distance away for a pep talk. “Now, there’s a camera rigged to the trees to take your picture, so make sure you smile on your way down,” she prompted. Although grinning for a group photo was the last thing on our minds, it lightened the mood and loosened everyone up for the dramatic descent. Also, the group before us had made the fall without capsizing, so now the competition was brewing. Make it over in one piece or risk being added to the River Rats Hall of Shame! Not these Lost Girls! Ready, set, paddle. We propelled our raft forward as fast as we could and as soon as our guide yelled, “Drop”, we hit the bottom of the boat and braced ourselves for the 7 meter plummet. As we sailed off the edge, white water roaring below, it felt like more like we were flying in a weird rubber plane and that we’d keep going forever. That is, until we crashed back into the rapids. But wait, we were still right side up. We’d made it down alive and even had time to flash a quick grin to the camera before it went off. Are we rock stars or what?

Our group gave a dramatic high five with our paddles and then quickly prepared for the next big rapid that waited for us just around the bend. We spent the next hour enjoying the river, taking in the scenery and learning to “surf” – reversing the boat to head up stream then forcing the front end into churning water so it kind of floated there as huge waves crashed over our heads. Another perfect photo op! We arrived back on land looking like, well, drowned river rats, but totally pumped full of adrenaline just as we'd hoped for. Exhausted, but supremely satisfied, we patted ourselves on the back for being so brave and then raced over to the River Rats office to check out the candid shots taken of us on the river. With expressions on our faces that could only be described as “special” all we could do was laugh at ourselves, hop the next bus back to town and hit the pubs for happy hour!

5. Running with the Redwoods
(Amanda): While in Rotarua, Jen and I decided to take a jog around the lake, but the overwhelming stench of sulphur and lack of a proper path around the water forced us to turn back. After chatting with a few friendly locals, we learned that there was a far more scenic—and far less smelly—jog to be had through a national park just a ten minute drive from the town center. Jen and I took a quick spin over to Redwood Forest Park to find tens of thousands of acres of towering trees and rolling green hills laced with enough hiking and biking trails to keep even the most dedicated outdoor enthusiast fascinated for months. Thanks to the help of one amazingly kind Kiwi (who literally stopped us three times to show us the proper twists and turns on our jogging path), Jen and I experience an absolutely breathtaking sunset run and felt like we were truly running at the feet of ancient, enchanted giants.

6. Fat Dog Café
(Jen): As you should know by now, The Lost Girls take food very seriously - - Holly has developed a unique rating system for veggie burgers, Amanda requires bakery employees to pass a cream cheese frosting test before she’ll buy their carrot cake, and I refuse to indulge a red meat craving without a glass of Pinot Noir and dark chocolate to follow! Unfortunately, living on a backpacker’s budget with often limited meal choices has forced us to lower our culinary standards significantly during our trip. So on the rare occasion we find a restaurant that falls within our price range and satisfies our discerning taste buds, we run – not walk – to the nearest entrance.

Such was the case in Rotarua when we discovered Fat Dog Café, a funky eatery serving an eclectic menu of nouveau Kiwi comfort food like BBQ chicken pizza, caramelized fruit pancakes, pumpkin and feta paninis, spicy potato wedges, fresh baked breads with Mediterranean dips and a wide range of gooey baked goods, including thick slices of carrot cake with Amanda-approved frosting. With portions plump enough for three LGs to share; we were able to save enough cash to justify a glass of wine and dessert with every meal. But the decadent dishes weren’t the only thing that kept us coming back. Dressed from floor to ceiling in hip, canine couture, with walls drenched in deep burgundy hues and quirky quotes splattered across crooked wooden chairs, Fat Dog Café scored high on The Lost Girls' ambience meter. Transitioning from a hip, coffee house by day into a cozy, candlelit bistro by night, Fat Dog Café was the ideal space for us to relax with a cappuccino, catch up on our journals, pour over celebrity gossip magazines (our first in months!) and soak in the local culture, which is pretty much what we did every day. Hey, if this is what life in New Zealand is all about, consider us converted Kiwis!

7. The Maori Experience
(Holly): While Jen and Amanda were off running in the Redwoods, I decided to go the tourist’s route and see a Maori Twilight Cultural Tour in Rotorua (it’s the lazy woman’s way to pick up some basic local history, fast). This involved boarding a bus with about 50 other travelers before getting dropped off in a “village” to watch poi dances (where women twirl balls of woven flax) and haka (war dances where the men paint their faces, wave spears and belt out fierce battle calls). Our group wandered around the make-believe village to witness woodcarving and tattoo demonstrations and listen to tribe members tell their people’s stories. Long before the Europeans first set foot on the islands, these Polynesian descendants called it home. Exactly when the Maori arrived, and where they originally came from (Tahiti? The Cook Islands? Marquesas?) is still up for debate.

After the history lesson and dance performances, we dug into a Maori feast, called a hangi. The meat- and potato-heavy meal was cooked for four hours in an earth oven. I carb loaded on my favorite veggie, sweet potato, which is known as kumara in NZ. Heck, the $85 price of the tour was worth it for the smoked meal alone.

Even without my fellow Lost Girls to share the experience with, I was having a grand old time. That is, until our guide announced that it was tradition for tourists to share songs from our home countries. I’d rather be stuck with a spear than forced to sing in public, so I tried to inconspicuously slump down in my seat and hide behind my hair. As luck would have it, our guide zeroed right in on me and thrust the microphone in my face. “Let’s hear it for Holly from New York!” he yelled as everyone applauded. How had he remembered my name?! The first song that came to my head was, of course, “New York, New York.” As the group fell silent in anticipation, I had no choice but to utter my best off-key rendition. I can guarantee that nobody wanted to hear me sing. Poor, poor people!

8. The Tongariro Crossing
(Holly): We admit it: We were hoping to spot some hobbits in this “Land of the Long White Cloud,” as New Zealand translates to in Maori. So we decided to make a pilgrimage to the gateway to Middle Earth where “Lord of the Rings” was filmed. Having a rental car granted us the freedom of the open road, where we cruised the Geothermal Highway and made frequent pit stops to check out the plethora of thermal springs, bubbling mud pools and spewing geysers that has sprung up from this land of molten volcanoes. Our final destination? The Tongariro Crossing, home to the setting of Mordor’s Mt Doom.
The 17-kilometer, one-day trek is one of the North Island’s most popular and winds around volcanoes, through glacial valleys, past emerald lakes and into lush forest. The downside was some over-crowding on the trail, but it was a small price to pay for such stunning scenery. The bigger cost? Seriously sore muscles—the girls and I felt like hobbits ourselves the following day after hobbling around with aching legs.


9. Wellington and Peter Jackson
(Jen): With so much to do in New Zealand and so little time (3 ½ weeks to explore an entire country can be a bit tricky), there were definitely some places we wish we could have visited, but didn’t get a chance to and others that we loved, but didn’t have enough time to explore properly. For me, that was the country’s capital of Wellington. A sci-fi geek to the core, I couldn’t help but get a rush at the thought of hanging out in Peter Jackson’s hometown. For those of you who don’t know who that is (shame on you), he’s the acclaimed director of Lord of the Rings – one of my all time favorite film trilogies.


A town built on its hip, café culture, thriving art community and sophisticated late night scene, Wellington is a place that you can just kind of “be” in without feeling the need to race around and play tourist. Don’t get me wrong, there are plenty of Lonely Planet-recommended activities to keep visitors busy for days (Botanic Gardens, Te Papa museum, Parliament House and the Carter Observatory – to name a few). But after only a few hours in this bustling hipster haven, I knew I'd prefer to experience this city through more low key activities like sucking down stiff espressos in local diners, catching a show at an art house cinema and bar hopping from one live music venue to the next. With barely a day to explore before we had to hop the ferry to the South Island, the only Wellington sites we really got to see were the inside of our hostel and a couple neighborhood cafes. Although, seeing Dominic Monaghan and Billy Boyd, two of the Hobbits, grab a meal in Fidel’s (a famous dive that serves the most amazing eggs, muffins and, of course, coffee) in one of the movie’s special features, then eating there myself – practically in the same booth – was pretty freakin’ cool. Hey, I told you I was a geek!

While I was a bit bummed at the lack of time we had in Wellington, our visit there really just affirmed something we already knew - - New Zealand is at the top of the list of countries we must re-visit in the future. And when a Lost Girl sets her mind to do something, you better believe it’s gonna happen!


10. Ferrying to the South Island
(Amanda): When one speaks of “ferry ride” to a New Yorker, the first thing that comes to mind is the miraculously floating hunk of iron and steel that provides utilitarian transportation to and from Staten Island. This is the sort of vessel I was expecting to deliver us from New Zealand’s North Island to its South Island, so you can imagine my shock and delight to arrive at the dock in Wellington to find what can only be described as a first class airline terminal designed for water travel. Quite possibly the very last three passengers to arrive (isn’t that always the Lost Girl way?), we walked straight up the reception counter, placed our bags onto conveyer belt and boarded the boat, ascending six floor to a massive passenger lounge that remind me very much of American Airline’s first class Admiral’s Club.

Rather than stiff wooden benches and stale chips (the offerings on most ferries), this ship offered outstanding deli-style lunches, first-run movies on two big screens, incredibly comfy the lounge seating and even a cocktail bar for those who wanted to get loaded during the three hour journey across the channel. The girls and I were psyched to plug in on computers and get caught up on blogging and were actually a little sad when our ship—all too quickly—pulled into port.

And that's all for the North Island, folks!
Stay tuned for more adventures from the South Island!

Sweet As! Our Week in the City of Sails

ADP: Casually mention to a Kiwi that you’re spending more than a night in Auckland (or just mention that you find the city charming) and 9 out of 10 will stop what they’re doing and stare at you in anticipation of some sort of punchline.

“Really?” they’ll inquire cautiously, as if they’re still not sure if you’re kidding or simply a misguided tourist. “Auckland?”

The most surprising thing about this nose-crinkling attitude is that Aucklanders themselves are usually the first to point out how lifeless and uninspired their modest little metropolis really is. They seem to feel that when you’re in a country that boasts some of the world’s most stunning natural formations--active volcanoes, steaming sulphur pools, electric blue glaciers, and knifed-edge mountains featured in a certain Oscar winning trilogy, what could possibly be of interest in their safe, distinctly un-edgy metropolis?

Having not yet visited the superlative sights of New Zealand’s great outdoors, Holly, Jen and I couldn’t make comparisons, but we found plenty to love in the town gracefully sprawled out across several periwinkle and slate-colored bays topped with silver spangles.

Part of the reason we spent so long in Auckland, nearly a week in all, was that we met two really fantastic sets of friends.

Our first, Carmi Ludlow (see: Lost Girl of the Week), played chauffeur and tour guide, taking us to The Auckland Museum, Mission Bay and The Queens Street Market…all the while regaling us with tidbits about Kiwi relationships.

“After decades of proving that women are equal to men, relationships between guys and girls are very progressive. You’ll usually see men looking after the babies, putting them in prams and taking them for walks while the mum goes off to work and earns the living.”

And on meeting guys:

“We definitely don’t go on ‘dates’ here like you girls do in the States…none of this Sex and the City stuff. It’s not like a guy will come up to you in a bar and ask you out. You usually just meet someone through friend and get together. That’s it.”

And on matrimony:

“You’ll find lots of couples who’ve been together for years and years and live together, but don’t get married. Marriage itself doesn’t really seem to be as much of a priority as it used to be.”

As always, we chewed on this information, considered it very carefully and filed it away for future reference. In the event that any of us jumped ship completely and decided to pursue a future in New Zealand, we’d have to know these things.

We were introduced to another second set of Kiwi pals—Greg and Wendy—through a friend’s of Holly’s from back home in Syracuse.

Much to our surprise and budgetary delight, this young couple (with a gorgeous one-year old daughter), completely opened up their home, inviting us to stay for days on end and fattening us up with gourmet multi-course meals that included perfectly grilled filet mignon, spice-rubbed pork chops, seared tuna steaks, artisinal cheeses and breads, wines from across New Zealand and the local kicker—Tim-Tams and Hokey Pokey ice cream. We were all awe inspired that Greg—the owner of a recently opened Pilates studio—could be such a genius in the kitchen and in the gym.

To work off the considerable caloric damage we’d done, Jen and Holly joined our new pals and their friends for the annual “Run the Bays”—a five mile race through Auckland that attracted tens of thousands of outdoor enthusiasts, athletes and community members. While I ended being too sick to go (non-stop travel does catch up with your immune system eventually), the girls spent their run checking out the million dollar homes overlooking the water and the gorgeously toned locals sprinting next to them on the race course.



That night, we got as gussied up as our limited backpack rations would allow and headed east of Auckland proper to attend a dinner party hosted by one of Greg and Wendy’s good friends.

There were four married couples in attendance, several children, three lost girls--and one seriously gorgeous single guy named Cam. When we weren’t sipping glasses of Sauvignon Blanc and taking turns gawking at the hottie across the table, the three of us did our best to make intelligent conversation.


Considering that we’d spent the previous three months filling out bellies with cheap bowls of ramen, questionable stir fries and countless portions of white rice with hot sauce, the meal laid out before us seemed a veritable feast.

When the expertly grilled, incredibly tender beef fillet finally made its way to the table, even Holly—a staunchly dedicated white meat eater—couldn’t help but finish her portion.

We topped off the evening with a slice or two of Pavlova, a fluffy meringue dessert that every Kiwi at the table swore was invented in their own country—rather their larger neighbour across the Tasman Sea. To this day, we still have no idea whether the Kiwis or Aussies really created the dish, but we immediately placed it on our don't miss dessert hit list.

Fluffy, sweet and impossible not to love!

Here's a recipe for Pavlova, courtesy of the BBC: http://www.bbc.co.uk/food/recipes/database/pavlova_2949.shtml

Lost Girl of the Week: Carmi Louw

Several months before we were scheduled to touch down in New Zealand, the girls and I received an email from Carmi Louw, a 24-year old Auckland gal who tuned into our website upon a friend’s recommendation and discovered that she was indeed a fellow Lost Girl. Dry witted and hilarious, Carmi’s wry emails about her hometown provided some great insight into NZ’ s largest and most cosmopolitan city and gave us a head start on our travel planning.

Hardly content to let her newfound American pals wander unguided through Auckland's "dodgy" city streets, Carmi insisted on picking us up at our hostel (the venerable Auckland Central Backpackers) the afternoon after we arrived to give us the grand tour.

Holly, who anticipates visits to foreign grocery stores the way that religious disciples look forward to their pilgrimage to Mecca or the Wailing Wall, requested that we stop first at the New World supermarket to check out all the unusual and exotic foods consumed by New Zealanders. After a quick spin through the aisles, (“Look! Low-fat granola bars! Splenda!), we purchased a few essential rations and struck off to find entertainment in Greater Auckland.

We made it to most of the spots on Carmi’s hit list rocking out to the mix-CD that our host had create for us—a disc fully loaded with music from top local artists. Here’s the breakdown of Carmi’s recommendations and her killer Kiwi playlist. For those who’ve never heard of Brook Fraser, we suggest you hop onto iTunes for an immediate download---we know you’ll love her as much as we did!

Carmi’s Auckland Recommendations

• The Auckland Museum: “This has just been renovated and looks super flash! It’s got quite a bit about the Maori culture and I would suggest the traditional Maori dance performance (if they still have it) it brought a tear to my eye....but that could just have been hormones. The museum is in the Auckland Domain (like a big park) which is quite nice to have a stroll in, and also visit the Winter Gardens (a big greenhouse).”
• Queen Street: Lots of clothing stores and site of a weekend market where you purchase clothes and accessories right from the designers who made them.
• Viaduct Harbor: A sun-drenched outdoor spot overlooking the water, filled with cool cafes and al fresco lunch spots.
• The Sky Tower: “Yes. It’s a tower. Its gives you a good view of the city, the harbour and the bridge. You can walk on the glass floor or dine at the revolving restaurant....and even do the Sky Jump which is like abseiling down the tower. Haven't done it...but should be fun.”
• MMMMMMMMMMMMMission Bay! “I say it that way because it is probably my fave place in Auckland. A very trendy beach lined with restaurants and cafes...with many foreigners...Mission Bay is the place to go, and 10 minutes drive from the CBD (the centre of town).
• Take the ferry! “Where? Well, there's Devonport, a trendy suburb on the North Shore where they have wine and jazz festivals, or Rangitoto if you feel like climbing a volcano, or Waiheke Island if you feel like relaxing in the sun with the rest of the ‘alternative’ locals.”
• Newmarket: It's not too far away from central Auckland (you can take a cheap bus that does the rounds from NM to city) and it's got some great shops.


Carmi’s Kiwi Downloads

1) Welcome Home - Dave Dobbyn (the "immigrant song" I thought it was appropriate)
2) The Otherside - Breaks Co-Op
3) Maybe Tomorrow - Goldenhorse
4) Weather with you - Crowded House (added in because I completely forgot about it but it is essential!)
5) Roady - Fat Freddy's Drop
6) Sometimes Enough - Black Seeds
7) Slice of Heaven - Dave Dobbyn with Herbs
8) April Sun in Cuba - Dragon
9) Victoria - Dance Exponents (another classic I couldn't leave out)
10) Six months in a leaky boat - Split Enz
11) Listening for the Weather - Bic Runga
12) Loyal - Dave Dobbyn
13) Albertine - Brooke Fraser
14) Beside You - Dave Dobbyn
15) Home Again - Shihad

We love you Carmi....thanks for everything!!!

A Day of Remembering

HCC: We interrupt your usual broadcast of travel follies, restaurant picks and sporting adventures for a more serious topic we felt important to include in this here record of our around-the-world trip. Due to the graphic content, parental discretion is advised…

Inaction itself is a choice. There have been many times when I’ve scanned a newspaper, read stories covering tough topics such as war crimes in Bosnia or genocide in Darfur, and then put them out of my mind. Why? Because the tales took place far away from my home. Because it was easier to go about my daily routine rather than to decipher the complicated motives behind the conflict. Because I didn’t want to believe that human beings could torture, rape and murder their fellow human beings on the basis of what class they belong to, religion they practice or ethnicity they were born into. Besides, what could I ever do to stop a bloodthirsty regime in a far-off country?

Then I traveled to Phnom Penh, Cambodia with the specific purpose of visiting the famous Killing Fields I’d heard so much about. Since the Killing Fields were about a 20-minute drive from the bustling city center, the girls and I hopped into a rickshaw as our driver expertly dodged the mayhem of pedestrians, cyclos and cars zigzagging through the crowded streets. He was even kind enough to hand us face masks to help block the clouds of pollution threatening to choke us.

Our driver waited outside patiently while we paid the $3 admission fee and entered the Killing Fields of Choeung Ek. Before the Khmer Rouge took over in 1975, the area was an orchard and an old Chinese cemetery. Afterwards, it was converted into a mass execution center to exterminate “traitors” thought to be against the Khmer Rouge’s communist agenda (such as doctors, professors, diplomats and other educated types).

A stupa containing about 8,000 human skulls housed a memorial for the roughly three million victims who lost their lives during the regime. Staring at the skulls riddled with bullet-holes and fractures from Lord-knows-what kind of atrocities, it was impossible to keep my stomach from knotting up. Standing on the same ground where so many people were tortured and murdered made the crimes nauseatingly real.

The largest mass grave contained 450 corpses, while another held 166 headless bodies. Though I didn’t want to believe it, all I had to do was look down at the earth to see where tattered victims’ clothes had washed up to the surface after heavy rains.

Our guide told us how soldiers often knocked on citizens’ doors unexpectedly ordering them to follow the soldiers so they could fulfill some sort of “duty” to the government. After being taken away, they were never heard from again. Other times, soldiers escorted entire families to this burial ground, where they were murdered with bullets or clubs used to smash heads. The girls and I were told that some were even buried alive. We saw a killing tree where children’s skulls were supposedly bashed to preserve precious bullets before being thrown into mass graves. The perpetrators were said to have played music from loudspeakers during executions to mask victims’ screams.

After I lit incense at a shrine in front of the stupa and said a prayer of remembrance, our guide recommended we head straight to the genocide museum in the city. Formerly a high school, the Khmer Rogue converted the grounds into the S-21 prison. This is where Cambodians were interrogated and tortured before being shipped to The Killing Fields for execution.

The grounds were eerily silent as we wandered through classrooms that had been converted into prison cells where captives had been locked to single beds with shackles. Bullet holes and bloodstains speckled the walls forming ghoulish patterns, and many cells displayed a photo of the prisoner, exposing humans with sunken ribs and bodies swollen from starvation.

Nothing in my life has taken my breath away and turned my stomach like staring at the monstrous display of victims’ headshots that had been snapped upon their arrival. Victims’ clothes were then taken and biographies recorded so the Khmer Rouge could keep track of the “enemies” before they were thrown into their cells.

Just about every single one of the hundreds of black-and-white faces staring out from behind the glass looked like they surely knew they were about to die. Some had eyes swollen shut from beatings; others’ eyes appeared hollow and devoid of emotion; others’ eyes virtually shone with terror.

In an act of remembrance, I walked through and examined each and every face in those horrendous photographs. And every so often, I would come across a face where the captive stared boldly into the lens and smiled ever so slightly at the camera. Each time I saw one of these rare expressions, a shiver traveled from the base of my spine up to the back of my skull like an electric shock.

If these people had endured being separated from their families, stripped of their clothing and forced from their homes, why the heck were they smiling? If they suspected that they were going to be tortured, raped and murdered, why did they smile?

Staring into their rebellious eyes, I formed my own theory: These seemingly odd expressions were actually sending a powerful message. They seemed to be saying, “You can take my clothes, take my home, take my life. But there is nothing you can do to me physically that will ever break my spirit.” The small gesture was an act of defiance and a testament to human strength. It’s a reminder to those still living on that we all have a part of us no one can ever steal.

So the next time I read a news article about mass violence in a far-off land, I will think of my day at The Killing Fields and know that it is not so far away from home because the world is much smaller than it seems. And while I may not be able to change the past or intercept an army to prevent future deaths, I can help keep the victims’ stories alive by choosing to share what I’ve seen. Forgetting may be easier, but I think it’s better to remember.
--Holly

Finding Nemo

HCC: I had many goals for my yearlong, around-the-world adventure: Hike the Inca Trail in Peru, volunteer in Kenya, do yoga school in India. I wanted to explore all the things I never had time to while slumped over my computer. Somehow I got the chance to try it all, and my final frontier was to dive into the ocean.

Though I was seriously short on cash after many months spent on the road, there was no way I was going to miss the opportunity to get certified in scuba diving while I was in Thailand. As a kid, I’d spent hours flipping through biology books splashed with Technicolor photos of fish and coral, all the while imagining what it would be like to float through this underwater world. The child in me would never forgive myself for not jumping on the chance to experience this firsthand—even though the adult in me will be less than thrilled when I return to the concrete jungle with a credit card bill as long as the earth’s circumference. But you only live once, right?


So after returning to Bangkok from Myanmar, The Lost Girls went their separate ways. Amanda was hanging out with family who flew out to see her, and Jen was chilling with her family back in the Sunshine State. Since the other girls were already PADI certified, it was prime time to hit the islands on my own for an open-water course.

After hopping an overnight bus to Koh Tao—an island in southern Thailand famous for diving—I wondered if I’d made the right decision. This is me at 2:30 a.m., tired and ticked off. Trips such as these often take twice as long as they should because travel companies make pit stops at partnering restaurants and shops all along the way to suck as much cash as they can from customers. I boycotted this restaurant stop by staying on the bus. Besides, I was still full from binging on my convenience-store stash of Snickers, almonds and corn chips—7-11s are more common in Bangkok than Starbucks in the big apple. That’s good for me, because God forbid I should have to take a road trip without emergency sustenance on hand.

After stepping off the bus about eight hours later and taking a two-hour ferry ride to my final destination, any doubts I'd harbored about my detour disappeared. White sand beaches, turquoise water and thatched-roof bungalows dotted the landscape like a scene straight out of “The Beach.” I worked my way through the crowd on the dock to spot a man holding up a sign for Ban’s Resort, the dive school I’d signed up for. Back in Bangkok, I’d flipped through my tattered “Lonely Planet” and decided this school looked as good as any. A four-day course at Ban’s Diving Resort costs around $300, including lodging, gear and manuals. That was a heck of a lot cheaper than anything I’d find back in the States.


Exhausted from my overnight trip, I had a few hours to kill before our first class that afternoon. Luckily, Koh Tao turned out to be the perfect place to chill. I quickly learned there's nothing much to do besides dive and sip a cocktail at one of the many beach bars on this laid-back island.

During the first class, our group of six watched a video and were informed that we’d have to complete four dives total (including spending a day in the pool before jumping into the ocean) and pass a final written exam. That's me, below, getting ready for my first dive, more than a little freaked out. My mind flooded with worst-case scenarios: What happens if I sea a shark? Or if my airtank malfunctions? Or if the ship leaves without me and I’m stranded at sea like the couple from that movie “Open Water.” I don’t want to be fish food!

Luckily, my instructor, Si, talked me off the ledge (literally). After I jumped off the boat, he held my hand as I held tight to a rope that lead down to the ocean floor. The pressure in my ears was painful during the descent, but I had learned in class how to equalize. To minimize the pressure, I closed off my nose with my fingers and breathed into air spaces in my sinuses. I concentrated on deflating my lungs, and watched the bubbles from my exhalations travel up to the water’s surface like a glowing lava lamp.

Once the pain dissolved, I stopped looking up and cast my gaze down towards the bottom. I was in a whole other world: I spied fish that were brighter than any neon sign I'd ever seen. I let go of the rope and scissor-kicked my legs in the direction of a rock decorated with spindly urchins and fluorescent plants that folded closed as I hovered about them. I pumped my arms and moved forward, overcome with a sense of weightlessness that was simultaneously like flying and floating. Caught up in the moment, I kicked my legs again and did a sommersault. I followed a fish that was as long as my body. I couldn’t stop smiling. Then Si brought me back to reality by grabbing my arm and motioning for me to stay with the group. Note to self: Now is not the time to let you’re A.D.D. take control.

I spent four glorious days going to classes, diving in the ocean, studying my manual and running on the beach. After our final exam, we finished our last two dives, where I found nemo (but no sharks, thank God!). I had celebratory beers with my classmates from Sweden and Switzerland. That laughing guy in the back is, Si, a self-proclaimed “lady boy,” as they call themselves in Thailand. He announced that our group’s dive video was better than other groups’ because he was "the leading actor and actress all in one.”


I don’t know about our dive video being the best (who looks like a star in a wetsuit?!), but the final accomplishment on my laundry list of goals can be checked off because I’m officially a certified open water diver! I can now do Australia’s Great Barrier Reef with Jen and Amanda. Sure, I won’t like seeing my credit card bill when I get home, but I can sum up my Koh Tao diving experience in a single word: Priceless.