How could you forget something like that? It's in Phang Nga Bay, in Phuket, Thailand. I was there on a working trip, my second time in the country (or third, if you count a stop at Bangkok airport after aborting in just Singapore my 1977 overland OE to England. Ran out of money. Had enough to buy a souvenir bronze letter opener though - which I last used just this morning). It was a very busy famil, and what with being on the go all day and evening, plus everything being so vibrant and colourful, the five days felt much longer.
Wednesday, 12 March 2025
White Lotus, black spider
How could you forget something like that? It's in Phang Nga Bay, in Phuket, Thailand. I was there on a working trip, my second time in the country (or third, if you count a stop at Bangkok airport after aborting in just Singapore my 1977 overland OE to England. Ran out of money. Had enough to buy a souvenir bronze letter opener though - which I last used just this morning). It was a very busy famil, and what with being on the go all day and evening, plus everything being so vibrant and colourful, the five days felt much longer.
Thursday, 20 February 2025
Cheating on Silversea - Edgy!
Because Celebrity Edge is BIG. It literally loomed over everything in Auckland's port, dwarfing the ferries and blotting out the Hilton. It is properly massive. It's not actually the biggest there is, by some margin (Icon of the Seas, 7,600 passengers) but, accommodating nearly 3,000 guests on 15 decks, with 30 bars/restaurants and three main swimming pools, it's far from intimate. And it’s way, way bigger than Silver Muse’s scant 600 guests.
The clever thing though is that the designers have catered for snobs like me by their ‘ship with in a ship’ scheme (which is probably not unique). On Edge, the cunningly-named Retreat is accessible only to those who have rooms suites there - some of which have two storeys and private plunge pools. It's all butler service, fancy restaurants, spa, complimentary this and that. Basically, Silversea.
But, Silversea with access to big-ship add-ons like a decent-sized swimming pool, massive theatre, wide choice of restaurants and entertainment - and the Magic Carpet. This is a tennis-court sized deck on the
It did help with the ambiance that most of the passengers were, of course, ashore - the bulk of them, it looked to me, queuing for the Waiheke ferry. So it was nice to wander through lightly-populated spaces, enjoying the elegant décor, the artworks, even the remarkably realistic plastic plants. And finishing up in a restaurant where friendly staff delivered a delicious but, afterwards, painfully generously-sized long lunch, followed by cheerfully juggling martini servers, was the crowning touch. So, would I? Would you?
Monday, 17 February 2025
Channelling Sir Ed. Sort of
Today I climbed a mountain, both literally and figuratively. Well, maybe "mountain". The day started well and then just carried on that way. Bircher muesli with fresh Otago cherries (shared again with my poultry visitors) eaten outside on a bright morning gazing at a sea view was an excellent opener, and a stroll around the farm to bid farewell to all the cute animals continued the pleasure.
Then, it was time for the mountain. Māngere Mountain, that is - one of the biggest and most intact of Auckland's 50-odd volcanic cones. It's actually only 108m high, but it's very noticeable, and inviting, poking up green above the surrounding suburbs. There's a lot of Māori history and stories about it, and geological information all laid out on info boards, but today I just used it for a pleasant bit of exercise with the reward of some lovely views in all directions: harbour, bridge, suburbs, city, airport. Lots of fresh air and nature, and other people climbing up and down. Nice.
That was the end of the holiday bit. Next came the campervan return chores, which I'd been quietly dreading - but, as with all my other novice worries, there was no need. Honestly, the hardest bit was wending my way to the nearest dump station - yes, the place to empty the self-contained campervan tanks containing the 'grey water' (from the sink) and the 'black water' (ahem) from the loo. I was expecting it to be a major, but in fact there was just a simple covered drain with a tap at the side of the Mobil petrol station. Once I'd got my instruction via a phone call to helpful Nicola at Big Little Campers, I was able to take out and empty the toilet tank (containing only #1s, natch), and even swill it out, and then drain the grey water - absolutely no big deal, easy as and not in the least gross. I actually struggled more with topping up the petrol tank afterwards, being somewhat out of practice.
Sunday, 16 February 2025
Mooo! (boo hoo)
It was a wild night, weather-wise (for me, there's never any other cause). And though this morning it was still pretty wet, I doughtily grabbed my umbrella and set off to re-acquaint myself with Takapuna, starting with the Firstborn's recommendation of a Beach Cafe almond croissant. Oh, yes. Mouth watering now, at the memory.
Duly fortified, I set off along Hurstmere Road, admiring all the gorgeous houses that are such a contrast to the simple (and infinitely cheaper, despite that $68) campsite life. I cut down then to the coastal track, about which I have written several times in the past and, dodging decent-sized waves breaking over the pathway, and exchanging cheerful greetings with equally wet dog-walkers, made my way back again to my Big Little Campers van, which I am happy to report does not have a vanity mirror. I had a prowl then around central Takapuna's shops and eateries, before setting off for my final - and finally independent - destination.
I felt like an old hand now, driving the van, and the route was initially familiar, so I cruised along the motorway through the city like a professional. A professional who had forgotten to plot the route, so it was a bit of a muddle at the end, but I did eventually roll up at Ambury Park, on the opposite coast's Manukau Harbour, just north of the airport.
The other sad thing about today, I was informed by the farmer doing the rounds of every camper on her quadbike, was that the ruckus from the cows was because they were today separated from their calves, who at 6 months old were to be sent to market. They were now in paddocks about 100m apart, well within hearing range, and were calling out to each other continuously. Boo hoo.
I really regretted having a tin of beef chili arranged for my dinner, especially when I went out for another walk and got up close to both calves and cows - one of whom was a gorgeous Jersey, with enviably long, lush eyelashes, and all of whom were clearly well along in calf again. I tried to distract myself by visiting the goats, pigs, hens and turkeys, but just got hotter and damper in what was later reported to be 100% humidity. Thankfully, the campsite had a shower so I was able to get comfortable again - though the lady just leaving as I arrived briefly disturbed the ambiance with her story of her "haunted granddaughter" and dying mother.
But my mood was restored by realising, back at the van, that there were no mosquitoes! So I used the van's gas cooker to heat up my dinner outdoors on a picnic table, watched closely by a pukeko, a duck and seven hens/chicks. I shared my dessert cherries with them, charmed to see the hen making sure all the chicks got some. And then, as the evening cooled, I sat in the van with the door open, smugly watching a movie I had cleverly downloaded, and thoroughly enjoying the ambiance. Apart from the constant cow chorus, that is.
Saturday, 15 February 2025
Big adventure, little itinerary
My first night in my Big Little Campers van was quiet, snug and comfy, the only disappointment being that I didn't hear a kiwi in the night - Shakespear Regional Park is a wildlife sanctuary, protected by a very serious pest-proof fence, with a good population of little spotted kiwi (accurately named, it turns out). Well-rested, I was up early and energetic enough to test out the upper sleeping area, which is easy to install, but a challenge to clamber into and, I thought, a bit claustrophobic, though other family members disagreed.
We explored one of the reserve's many walks, up a steepish hill past many busy pukeko to a little lookout tower with a very impressive 360 view. Unfortunately, part of the view was looming rainclouds, and they arrived just minutes before we did back at the campsite, so we got soaked. It's still so warm, though, it didn't matter.
Then I was off by myself again, heading to my next campsite back down on Auckland's North Shore - I am not challenging myself, distance-wise. This trip is all about the journey, not the destination. Nevertheless, I took the scenic route to Takapuna, along the East Coast Bays, having a snoop around seaside suburbs that were once familiar. On my second day now, driving the van was feeling easy, backing and manoeuvring it not at all challenging, and I cruised down to Castor Bay for a break feeing very laid-back. Oh yes, you're right - drama coming up.
I parked above the beach for a snack, and then drove around the turning circle to head back up to the main road, passing underneath a classic big old pohutukawa tree. And then, augh, bang, crunch, scrape. I had forgotten my extra height - 2.7m with the rooftop extension, remember - and I had snagged a low-hanging branch. Oh, the pain and self-recrimination! Coming out the other side, cursing and feeling so stupid, I stopped to review the damage; but I couldn't see high enough. At least, the solar panels weren't hanging over the back.
Chastened, I carried on to Takapuna, where I had booked at the beachside campsite there - this one privately-owned and charging a stinging $68 for the night, compared with Auckland Council's $22 for Shakespear. It is well-placed, though, just down from the busy shopping area with all its restaurants, and only a path's width from the water. The facilities are a bit tired, but I wouldn't normally complain - though this time I am, because of that fee.
Meeting up with the Firstborn and partner (also a BLC partner) I was embarrassed to admit my mistake - but was calmly reassured that there was no serious damage, this sort of thing happened all the time, often much worse, and not to worry. I still did, a bit, but that was good to hear. A tasty dinner from the deservedly popular Beach Cafe right next door settled the remaining nerves, as did a stroll along the beach - famously used as a landing by Charles Kingsford Smith in 1933 in the 'Southern Cross', the plane in which he'd been first to fly across the Tasman Sea in 1928.
And then I settled down again for the night, feeling calmer and more at home - and, incidentally, reassured in this busier, smaller campsite, that the window shading is remarkably effective, so even with the blinds up, no-one can see inside. On a windy, rainy night, the campervan was a very snug and cosy place to be - especially since that stinging $68 includes WiFi, and I'd got my devices charged during the drive.
Friday, 14 February 2025
Vanlife experiment
Anyway, instead of being part of a group, with guides, and sharing the driving duties with another writer, this time I was all on my own, so I reckon it counts. The van this time was a Toyota Hiace with a roof-top extension that made it a towering 2.7m high, lent to me by Big Little Campers. One of the partners of which is a family partner, to be transparent. That meant my pick-up was made convenient for me (only involving one bus and two ferries) and my introduction to the vehicle was probably a bit more casual than usual - though I do know they provide full support to their renters.
So it wasn't too long before I was off on my adventure, driving cautiously along familiar roads, even to the supermarket for some provisions, and then, gasp, onto the motorway. It was reassuring that my bulk made me noticeable to other drivers, and that handling it quickly became easy. I enjoyed sitting much higher than usual. At no stage did I get into car-mode, though - the sloshing of the watertank right behind me, and the rattle of cutlery in the drawer were constant reminders that this was a proper campervan.My destination was modest - Shakespear Regional Park, just a bit to the north of the city - but the actual location was a novelty: a self-contained campsite. That is, only for campers and caravans that have all their own water, power and tanks. So when I had wound my way along to the end of the Whangaparaoa Peninsula, all I had to do was pull on the handbrake, open the sliding door to the main body of the van and there I was, set up.
BLC calls this van the Big One, because its roof extension means it can sleep one person more than the Small One's two occupants. You'd have to be on good terms, though - it's amusing (and realistic) that the company recommends everyone has their own headphones and eyemask - and I was glad to have it all to myself.
Full disclosure, though: the Baby and family, experienced campers, were right next door, full of advice and reassurance.
Shakespear (named after the original farming family, hence no final -e) was new to me, and lovely: quiet, rural, wide sandy bay looking across to distant Rangitoto and the city beyond, hills behind, big old pohutukawa trees scattered over the site, which was far from crowded (apart from a remarkable number of pukeko/marsh hens). It's become a very warm summer, so the sea was inviting despite today’s cloud, and the afternoon passed pleasantly, finishing with a bbq and family chat.Getting ready for bed I got fidgety, but entirely because of being a novice. The too-dim lights I didn't know had 3 settings. The flashing CO2 monitor was easily covered up. The noisy fridge can be turned off overnight. My phone would have been charged up if I had brought a cord with the right plug. And the reserve had a toilet block, to my relief, because I was a bit anxious about using the in-van loo - but turns out that was no big deal either.
And the bed was comfy, cosy and spacious (for one), and the night very dark and peaceful, with only cicadas and the occasional shrieking pukeko breaking the silence. Good start.
Sunday, 9 February 2025
Super Bowl Monday
It was both a trip back in time today, and also into an alternate reality - one where I am interested in sport. Specifically, the weird world of NFL, where bulked-up real-life avatars with helmet heads run around on artificial grass in a strange sort of choreography, apparently avidly followed by millions.
The reason I was nominally one of them was an out-of-the-blue, but very welcome, invite from Brand USA to the launch of Louisiana's new 'Feed Your Soul' promotion. Regular😄readers will recall that, having been to New Orleans for IPW in 2016, after spending a few days exploring Lafayette beforehand, I am both very familiar with, and a huge fan of, Louisiana cuisine. Sadly, FISH restaurant on Auckland's waterfront couldn't come up with any really authentic dishes, but they did their best, and I tottered away after a delicious lunch very satisfied - and also clutching a gifted table flower arrangement which coincidentally matched the top I was wearing. I hadn't actually registered that gold, purple and green are the Mardi Gras colours, so that was fortuitous. Shame the receptionist who took this photo as I left was even less on the ball than me.
The Super Bowl game (taking place in the New Orleans Superdome, the Philadelphia Eagles v Kansas City Chiefs, for readers as vague about such things as I am) was live on a big screen above us as we - other travel writers and reporters, Brand USA reps, the Australian promotors Gate7, travel agents - sat and ate and chatted about all sorts of things, and occasionally glanced up to see what the score was. Apparently it was not an exciting game, the Chiefs falling well short of what was required to secure their three-peat and, according to the Americans in the room, the play overall was less than gripping. Can't say it was much of a disappointment to me. I preferred to remember my own time in the Superdome, for the IPW opening, when there was music of all sorts, ditto dance and food, and finally indoor fireworks.
What was lovely about today (which really was Monday because we're ahead on time here in NZ, as well as on much else) was being able to share stories and impressions of our various Louisiana experiences (including my terrifying self-drive from Lafayette to Avery Island and - thankfully still in one piece - back again); to envy the lucky writer soon to head off to take part in a Mardi Gras parade; and to get a taste of the Before Times, when events like this were regular, and often accompanied by similar invites to me. Sigh.