You spin me right round, baby, right round.

Our final morning in Auckland (until our return flight, that is), Rosie treated us to a nice breakfast of sausages, hash browns, toasted bread, yogurt, and fruit. We packed our things and decided to head out shortly before midday. Rosie and John were nowhere to be found, so we just left a note to thank them and left. Traffic was always bad on this stretch of Manukau Road, so we ended up having to take a detour to even get onto it facing the direction we wanted to go. Thanks to our fickle GPS and my novice knowledge of New Zealand road code, it took a few more turnarounds before we managed to get on the highway. Today we would be driving to Otorohanga, a small 3500-person town a couple hours south of Auckland, making a stop at Hamilton Gardens about two-thirds of the way there.

Once again, the GPS gave us the runaround, suggesting circuitous routes when all we needed was to stay on Motorway 1 heading south. The map also seemed to be out of date because it suggested many turns that did not exist and then would get confused and repeatedly instruct us to "Proceed to the route." We drove through countless small towns, both picturesque and poor, and must have traversed a dozen or more roundabouts, which routinely took the place of stop signs. There is a specific protocol for signalling as you approach, enter, and exit a roundabout, and I'm sure I failed to do it properly at nearly all of them.

A few green acres along the way

After a stupidly indirect route that seemed to take forever, we pulled into the car park at Hamilton Gardens, a vast free attraction of themed botanical gardens. We were really only making a prolonged pit stop so we lingered a mere hour, but one could easily spend a day there exploring the labyrinthine layout of its carefully crafted sections. As soon as we approached the entrance gate we could already appreciate the fragrances of the multitude of plant species. We explored the Paradise Gardens, which were a collection of small idyllic creations, including a Japanese zen garden, an Italian renaissance garden, and an Indian palatial garden, among others. They were all connected by way of hedged plazas, giving the impression of a storybook maze. The maze contained many intentional blind corners that, when rounded, would reveal a breathtaking scene. The splendid colors and perfumes attracted large orange butterflies and light yellow honeybees with almost clear wings. Tourists and wedding parties sauntered about, taking it all in with their eyes and their cameras. In one garden we happened upon another mother-daughter team, who offered to take our picture, and then we continued running into them in each subsequent garden we toured.

After too short a while, we made our way to the exit. As we approached a small wooden footbridge leading to the main plaza, I spotted a small fuzzy potato-like shape on the ground. From afar, it looked like a giant acorn husk. As we got closer, we realized it was an animal. I suspected it was a hedgehog, but had never seen one in real life and it looked a bit different from the pictures and videos of domesticated hedgehogs I had seen on the internet. We knelt down to have a closer look. The thing seemed docile and moved around slowly, dragging its feet and freezing in place if we moved too quickly. At one point it began to crawl toward Mem so she wisely backed away, not sure whether it might be a bitey sort of creature. We took a few pictures and then continued on our way, heading into the information center/gift shop. As we paid for our souvenirs, we described the animal to the ladies working there. One looked a bit confused at first but confirmed that it was indeed a hedgehog. She also mentioned that it was probably quite ill and dying since they are generally nocturnal and quite shy with humans. She grabbed a brochure off one of the racks and went out to go scoop it up off the footpath and set it down under a tree somewhere so that it could die in peace. Poor little thing.

We got back into the car and programmed the GPS for our next stop, an AirBnB property in Otorohanga. I examined the map to determine the most direct route and defied the GPS lady's unintuitive instructions, following the road signs like one would have done in the olden days. It worked, and she eventually conceded the fight and proceeded to my route. We arrived in the tiny town in less than an hour, ascending into a manicured and emblossomed neighborhood just north of downtown and Rotary Redwood Park. I had the address slightly wrong in the GPS, so we couldn't find the house we were supposed to go to. I asked a friendly neighbor who was standing in his driveway, and he said he had helped other tourists find the place. He was kind enough to tell us the correct number, which was just a few houses down. We pulled into a steep downhill driveway and approached the rectangular house at the end. A brown and white terrier immediately sprung from the front door and I recognized her as Millie, the dog whose picture I had seen on the B&B owner's profile. Then came the owner herself, Carrie, who tried to calm friendly Millie's excitement as she came out to greet us.

Carrie showed us to our rooms and then made us a cup of tea. We sat for a long time talking about this and that and getting acquainted. As we talked, Millie would go from person to person, strategically seating herself just beneath their hands where they would, almost on autopilot, begin to pet her. After a while she began to beg Carrie for food and we realized that we too were hungry.

Carrie's map with pins indicating her many visitors' home countries.

The view from the deck.

Millie inserts herself into the conversation.

We opted for the renowned Thirsty Weta, a pub named after the horrifying giant locust-like insects that live here. We had seen several signs for fish and chips on the way down so it was on our minds when we walked in. It also happened to be the special that evening, so we both ordered it. We realized we hadn't eaten since breakfast and had big appetites, cleaning our plates.

Thirsty Mem tries a local beer at the Thirsty Weta.

Once sated, we headed out into the nearly abandoned downtown strip. Every shop that wasn't a restaurant was closed and few people wandered the streets. We walked up and down the handful of blocks that comprised downtown, contemplating the contents of the shop windows and trying to orient ourselves to some of the places Carrie had described. We found Ed Hillary Walkway a small outdoor museum-like display featuring general information about New Zealand's history. It was somewhat hokey and kitschy, feeling like a mix of superficial information and pure advertising of New Zealand products, but I learned a few things I didn't know. For example, the walkway's namesake Sir Edmund Hillary, the "first" man who climbed Mount Everest (that we know of), was from New Zealand. This was also the first country in the world to give women the right to vote in 1893.

Having seen about all there was to see in town at this hour, we headed back to our car. As we approached, a freight train went by just a few meters away and we noticed what looked like a small station next to the tracks. As we got close enough to read the signs, we realized that it was in fact an espresso bar run by Origin Coffee. The signs said that it offered espresso tastings, but it was of course closed already. Across from it stood a public toilet with different slang words for bathrooms painted on the outer wall. These included terms like "bog", "throne","powder room", and "loo", with the ruder sounding ones on the men's side. I suggested adding "Pee House", which was a term my brother and I had been using since we were children. We had heard it from a family friend, a New Zealand native, who had used it to describe the bathroom the first time we visited his home. Unfortunately, we later learned that "P house" was now local slang for a meth lab.

Mem wanted to see what lay beyond where we could see on the south end of town, so I drove us there, unfortunately pulling out onto the road in front of a policeman. I was still making plenty of driving errors and was a bit nervous, especially after Carrie told us stories of New Zealand policemen having to revoke the driving privileges of reckless foreigners. But he either didn't notice or didn't care that I drove like a drunk blind person. When we discovered that there was a whole lot of nothing south of town, I turned off the road and he didn't follow.

We went back to the B&B and appreciated the magnificent view as the sunset colors were starting to emerge. We had more good tea and conversation with Carrie until it was dark. A big fat full moon was just beginning to rise above the trees.