A Sampler Plate of Weather and Geography

We said our goodbyes to Carrie and sweet little Millie and set out just before eight. We would drive south along inland Motorway 4 until we reached Maxwell, just west of Whanganui. There we would stop for lunch at the farmstead of a friend's sister. We knew New Zealand's weather was fickle, but thus far we had been lucky with warm temperatures and clear skies. Along the way, it rained on and off, sometimes very hard. Just south of Te Kuiti, the road started to ascend into the Tongariro National Park area. The road signs for some corners on this route advised a 35 kph speed limit. There were several washouts where the road was reduced to one lane, and we had to be careful to watch for large trucks and careless motorists tearing around blind corners. The drive itself, while requiring attention, was not particularly difficult, but it did take forever. There were few places to stop for petrol or the loo so we had to keep our eyes peeled for these opportunities. We also had our first self-serve gas experience that day, with me trying to figure out how to manipulate the buttons at the pump, and grossly underestimating what it would cost to fill our car. Fuel cost almost $5 USD per gallon, which is the norm everywhere but the US.

We made it to Whanganui safely and without getting lost, and then turned on the GPS and followed the landmarks we had been told to look for to get to the farm in Maxwell. The social connection to the people we would visit here is an interesting one. It begins with my husband, Charlie, whose father Tony was in the US Foreign Service. As a result, Charlie spent several years of his childhood in Benin, West Africa. While there, Tony played on a rugby team with a Frenchman whose son, Nicolas, would become close friends with Charlie. Nic and Charlie spent several summers visiting one another in either the US or France, and kept in touch over the years. We spent time with Nic during our sojourn in France, and he came to our wedding a couple years later. He had been living in Australia for some time by then and soon after became an Australian citizen. In the meantime, Nic's sisters had also become world travelers, and the youngest, Mareva, had settled in New Zealand with her partner Cameron. Unfortunately, Mareva was at work the day we passed through Whanganui, but her mother, Marie-Christine (who lives in Brittany, France) happened to be in town for a long visit and invited us to lunch at the farmhouse. I had never met any of these people, but had interacted and chatted with them on Facebook. When Nic realized that we were all in New Zealand at the same time, he put us in touch.

The white farmhouse was nestled in a grove of trees amid a vast expanse of paddocks. We pulled in and a white golden retriever with a flattened rugby ball in its mouth immediately rushed out to greet us. Marie-Christine stepped out onto the porch and waved to us as we walked across the lawn. We said our customary French hellos (an "air kiss" on each cheek) and were invited in. As the door opened, a fluffy grey and white cat skipped out to say hello. The kitchen and living room area of the house were beautiful, with dark wood floors, cabinetry, and support beams made of what is now a protected species of tree, and grayish-blue paint. We could hear hammering coming from the back of the house where Cameron was working on renovations.

A beautiful home indeed

A picture on the wall of Nic, Charlie's longtime friend.

Marie-Christine gave us a tour of the inside of the house and then took us for a walk around the grounds. Behind the house sprawled a vast green lawn decorated with numerous giant trees. We walked its perimeter and Marie-Christine showed us the flowers, vegetable garden, and even fed us a strawberry from it. The dog followed along with us and at one point the friendly cat came skipping up to join in the fun. Back at the house, Marie-Christine invited us to sit at the long dining room table. She served us drinks and we chatted a bit while she buzzed around the kitchen making lunch. She served us a meal of chicken fried in bacon with a balsamic cream sauce, served over risoni pasta. She also made far breton for dessert, a custard-like cake made with flour, eggs and the farm's own milk.

Since needed to get into Wellington at a decent hour as a courtesy to our AirBnB host, we could not tarry long. We said our goodbyes and took some pictures on the picturesque porch, the golden retriever even posing with us. It was a lovely afternoon pause from the winding chaotic road and wonderful to experience such hospitality from complete strangers.

Human and canine smiles

Global connections

Now we were in the final stretch, with about three hours to go until we would reach Wellington (during evening traffic). The road was much straighter now and we got up to 100 kph for quite a long while, even daring to pass slower vehicles along the way. The traffic began to slow as we approached the city, and Mem anxiously waited for the sea to appear. From looking at the map we knew that we should be able to see the Cook Strait at any moment. We rounded a small bend just south of Queen Elizabeth Park and suddenly there it was! The wind was stirring up formidable choppy waves, crashing in all directions onto sharp rocks near the shore. That beach would have been death for even the best of swimmers. I wasn't sure I had ever seen waves quite that large.

 

Our first glimpse of calm Wellington Harbour

The evening traffic congestion was just subsiding when we entered the city and it wasn't too difficult to find our AirBnb in the suburb of Brooklyn. We climbed a steep hill and located the house, turning down a one-way the wrong way, once by accident and once on purpose for lack of a better idea. I parked on the street and we walked up to the door. We knocked and Sally immediately opened, welcoming us into her immaculate home. It smelled of the bouquet of lilies sitting on her dining room table. She had an eye for design, and her home was decorated with elaborate furniture, art and sculpture, framed in dark woods, gold, black, and white. There were blue and white Chinese vases in the hallway, heavy monarchic looking chairs, and sparkly crystal. Her living and dining area opened onto a reddish brown deck overlooking all of Wellington. The view was breathtaking. In the yard was her brown and white puffball of a Birman cat named Coco. I went to test her for friendliness and soon carried her in my arms. The wind was blowing hard that day and Sally complained that it had taken her furniture down the hillside with it. She sat us down for a cup of tea and we talked about the state of American politics.

View of Wellington from Sally's deck in Brooklyn

Coco inspecting the newcomers

I passed her test.

All is well.

After a while we brought in our luggage and then ventured into the living room to watch TV and chat. I had been wanting to show Mem What We Do in the Shadows, a mockumentary about "real" vampires living in Wellington, but Netflix NZ didn't have it. Sally suggested we watch Boy instead, a charming coming-of-age comedy by the same director. We were not disappointed. After the movie, we went to our lavish room and got into the soft bed, complete with more puffy pillows than we could ever want or need, and fluffy covers.