Oh Islands in the Sun

After three days in Napier we returned to Auckland, spotting in almost every village en route ziggurats, fountains, streamlines and the like. Actually some towns seemed more decorated than Napier but NZ just isn't big enough for two art deco towns. Auckland was once again no more than a jumping off point but this time a much smaller jump was needed.

Waiheke is an island about 20 minutes ferry ride from the centre of Auckland. It is large enough to have several small villages but I doubt if the population is much over 1000. Having tried old NZ and art deco NZ, Waiheke is, as bumper stickers there attest, "So far behind it's ahead".

Friends of ours, Colin and Rosie, have a house a couple of kilometres from Oneroa, the largest village. Like many of the houses on the island it has views over the ocean and, in this case, over an inlet as well. Because of the island's shape it must be difficult to find a house there which doesn't have views at least of the bush covered hills, probably of the sea somewhere, maybe the sea on both sides and in some cases as far as the mainland and the lights of Auckland as well.

View from Rosie & Colin's house

School playground!

At the top of Waiheke

Sunset at the beach

The house is currently being done up and during our time there it was being held up on three steel pit props. Changing houses seems to be endemic to Waiheke in both senses: modifying what you've got and getting a new house. The first sense often involves the sort of work that makes me want to hide - a wall down here, new decking added there, how about an extra storey? The second sense seems to be more of a pastime. Every year a large number of homes and businesses are put up for sale not because their owers particularly want to move but just to see if they get an offer. And if you get a good offer you can make an offer on somewhere else and the cycle continues.

We met one couple, Rob and Sue, who are just buying a new house, their fourth on the island. The new house is very run down. Even the estate agent seems to be struggling to sound positive and manages only something like "I truly believe that it would be possible for an energetic developer to make something of this property". Rob is 70 and sees this as an interesting project. I am impressed, but having seen what he has made of the previous two of their houses, I think he will turn it into more than the estate agent expects.

Generally Waiheke is a mixture of hippyish types, some 'original' inhabitants I guess, artists of various sorts, holiday makers and all the supporting infra structure that an island needs. Though it is small, most of your needs can be met on the island - though like a lot of places you can buy patchouli oil more easily than a pound of potatos.

There is no piped water supply so everyone stores rainwater in big garden tanks and recycles what water they can. Due to a drought this summer some people are getting low and having to buy water. The water company is very New Zealand-ish with the owner telling the local paper "Some people are offering us extra for a quicker delivery but they just have to take their turn with everyone else." Some key concepts of capitalism have yet to catch on here. On the other hand there does seem to be a three level pricing system for some things: cheapest if you are a Kiwi living on the island, next a foreign resident, finally holiday makers.

There are lots of foreigners on the island, our friends are British, their next door neighbour is French (the French community numbers about 30), Rob who I mentioned earlier is part of the largish Dutch community, we came across several Germans (there are about 40-50) and lots of others. New Zealanders include wealthy ones who commute every day to Auckland and every other strata as far as we could see. It is an exceptionally friendly mixed community with a small cinema, farmers' market, etc, etc.

I think we rather shocked Rosie and Colin by being so lazy. When they came to NZ they cycled from Invercargill to Auckland. Just hearing that made us want to lay down and rest. However we walked a bit, Eleanor swam, I helped Colin take rubbish to the tip, we helped cook supper, slept and read and three days floated by.

Having got over my initial distrust of winery restaurants, we had lunch at the local one. I don't know much about the wine but the view was stunning. The restaurant was built like a nest, jutting out from a cliff top, with fabulous sea views in three directions.

You may be surprised, if you have read the rest of the blog, but I can't think of anything else to say.  Some people have noted that my writing is often driven by the minor irritations and oddities of life. I don't remember there being any on Waiheke. Actually there was one fairly major annoyance - we had to leave after only three days and take the ferry back to Auckland for the long and frustrating penultimate journey of our trip.

Colin and Rosie gave us a ride to the ferry pier in an old van that island friends had lent them, from there we looked sadly over the stern of the boat until we reached Auckland harbour, from where on it got worse.

Good bye Waiheke

The bus to the airport was OK though traffic was very slow. The slowness didn't matter since our flight was delayed by over 90 minutes. Eventually we did take off for a 13 hour over-night flight which was as uncomfortable as any masochist could hope for. And of course we missed our connection in LA.

What has happened to the US? They aren't even friendly these days. The security precautions mean that you fill in lots of forms, answering questions like "Are you a terrorist or saboteur?", "Are you carrying any substance which may not be taken into the USA?", "Have you been on any farm/prairie/pasture prior to you arrival". By the time I'd written down my name and address, date of birth, contact address and signature three times and answered 50 inane questions, the temptation to go back and revise my answer to "Are you planning the violent overthrow of the goverment of the USA?" was becoming overwhelming. But, I consoled myself, it probably doesn't need my help if they have so much bureaucracy.

It's even worse when you land. Even if you are just changing planes you have to collect your luggage, go through customs then come back in again to check it in all over again. At which point all luggage gets x-rayed and the security guard seems convinced that the combination of a digital camera battery charger, mobile phone, pocket backgammon set and several dirty pairs of socks are a threat to mainland security (he may be right about the socks). Then back the way you came for more x-rays, searching, more checks and assorted bits of paper stapled into passports. No question it's making work for lots of people but whether it's doing anything much for security I doubt.

Various people are collecting for charity around the airport, though the announcements about not giving money which come over the tannoy suggest they may not be genuine (I think that's what "Don't give money to solicitors" means). The main targets seem to be helping needy children overseas and homeless/disabled war veterans. Eleanor hurries me away as I prepare to suggest that a change of foreign policy might reduce both problems.

Alaskan Airlines which flies (eventually) to Vancouver is a return to the friendly corny folksy cutesy US of days gone by. The Captain says "If any of you folks looks out of them left hand windows you'll sure see a durn purtty sunset. Sure makes you feel glad to be alive", and the steward announces "We've some of them darned form things that all those bureacratic city slickers are so keen for everyone to be filling in. But don't you worry none, I'm here to help." (The accent sounds more mid-western than Alaskan.)

It is raining in Vancouver - what bliss! - we catch the ferry to the Island and are picked up by our friend Mark. He and Jane came here from Edinburgh an bought a house by the ocean. It is dark so we have little idea of exactly what to expect the next morning. On waking we find the Pacific about 30 yards from the window. The sun is shining and we can sit out on the decking enjoying the view across the bay with the snow covered Olympic Mountains of Washington State in the distance.

Vancouver Island is nearly in step with England's climate at the moment. There are daffodils beside the roads, lambs in the fields and flowering currant bushes in the woods. Proper gardeners have already mowed their lawns at least once. The temperature is a bit warmer than the UK (but quite a lot colder than NZ). For the first time in nine weeks I need a thin fleece over my shirt. One day it rains and I wear a water proof jacket as well. Good acclimatisation
for our return.

And again we are in a beautiful house in beautiful countryside. The garden is full of flowers and plants from yucca to hyacinths and a short walk along a log strewn beach takes us to a path into the woods. I associate Canada with pine woods but here there is every sort of tree. Perhaps fortunately we didn't see any of the more exotic wildlife though such as bears and cougars. We hoped to see orca in the bay but were unlucky though on our last day, as we sat on the deck eating lunch a bald eagle swooped over us, circled the bay and returned.
Not far away, is one of the top 10 hotels in the world according to some survey. Sooke Harbour House serves us an appropriately splendid dinner in relaxed surroundings. The next day we bump into the one of the waiters in town. He comes over to say "Hello" and congratulate me on my choice of wine! Should I tell him I only chose it because it was grown on the island?

Canadians are one of the most friendly nations in the world, where else would a waiter remember who they had served, let alone come over and talk to them? NZ maybe? Reading the paper you get a sense of a world very different from that of their neighbours over the border. Trudeau called it "Sleeping with an elephant".