In an earlier blog I pondered why, if Dunedin is the New Edinburgh, they didn't call it that. Well they did. Dunedin is Gaelic for Edinburgh. Eleanor, with her superior knowledge of NZ history pointed this out to me.
And a Kiwi (a person, not the odd little bird) tells me NZ wine is another example of NZ's "No. 8 'll fix it" not a nasty foreign invasion. I should learn to love it. As a test we are going for lunch at winery tomorrow.
Back to the plot
We spent just one day in Auckland, just long enough to hire a car and go for a bus ride. When we are away we often get on a bus, more or less at random, just to see where it goes and what life is like away from the tourism.
This time, as we admired the suburbs of Auckland, we noticed something going on in a little park and got off to explore. It turned out to be Auckland-Asian Day and the park was filled with stalls representing all aspects of Asian culture. As we arrived a beautiful Chinese woman wearing a long dress made of what looked like baco-foil was playing Katachurian's Sabre Dance at very high speed on an accordian. You don't get more traditional than that!
Later there was Tai Chi, stilt walkers dressed as exotic surreal insects, dancing, Chinese paper cutting and I can't remember what else. And all along the park were little stalls selling assorted national dishes. Most of the servers seemed to be young teenagers with mothers and granmothers doing the cooking at the back. We had a complete meal of Chinese, Thai, Malaysian, Vietnamese goodies.
Next day off up north to Bay of Islands. This was one of the first Maori landing places, then Captain Cook came and a few years later a whaling station was set up at Russell where we stayed. This is real old fasioned New Zealand heartland. Once it was even the capital of NZ with a population of several hundreds. It has risen now to about 1000 people but the rest of the country has left it behind a bit and it is a tranquil backwater.
 Russell is to right Ahead is Mahauwhi Bay |  A busy day on the Strand |
 The Strand from the sea |  Paihia seen from Russell |
On the otherside of the bay is Paihia which is a real tourist trap from which a ferry trip to Russell is popular. Most of the tourists however arrive at the little jetty, walk down to the strand (a lane of about 1/4 mile, fringed with shady old trees) and get a bit of shock when that realise that's all there is. OK there are two more streets with a few shops, mostly for tourists (though it does meet my criteria for a real town by having a hardware shop) and there are several cafes but you could visit every tourist attraction in under an hour. Which most people do and then leave.
We did the reverse: we stayed a week in Russell and took the ferry to Paihia. After 1/2 hour I wanted to go back, which we did.
We spent one night in a very upmarket B&B run by a retired business man and his wife, Rodney and Adele. The bedroom alone was bigger than some house and we also had the run of the lounge (about three times as big), the sun room, .... At 6pm we were offered G+T and sat and chatted in the evening sun. It was fascinating to meet an old school Kiwi, a racist (as he cheerfully admitted), totally Anglophile, indignant at the all the wrongs of the country (due to the socialists and bleeding heart liberals), and furious at the 'running down' of NZ's armed forces.
We got on really well, especially when I asked him what he thought of a proposal to change the NZ flag to show a Maori emblem. I think a fair summary of his views would be he wasn't in favour. I will censor the rest in case any socialists, bleeding-heart liberals or fuzzy brained do-gooders are reading this.
This is their house. I think the sign may be ironic! They've just spent 11 years sailing the world in their yacht, flying back every six months or so to check that NZ hadn't fallen to the Communists.
We moved down market to a flat in Mahauwhi Bay (ten minutes walk from the real Russell but good enough for whingeing poms). After all our dashing around the country it was very relaxing to sit on our veranda and watch the sun going down, stroll into town in the morning to buy croissant (the bakery stayed open each morning till it has sold everything then it shut, usually about 11am) and just loll about.
 |  View from the flat. Mahauwhi bay just through trees |
There was a small beach which, on one exceptional day, had over 10 people on it but mostly the picnic tables out numbered the visitors. Most people said "Hello", and surprisingly many were British.
We did the tourist bit at Russell but managed to stretch it from an hour to several days. The church (first Anglican Church in NZ) was briefly attacked by Maoris (you can still see the musket holes). In one part of the graveyard was the grave of the Captain of HMS Hazard which was involved in the fighting (by mistake) while the few crew who died were buried in a very different part. Even dead people knew their place in those days. If you slip across the road to the cafe between the various excitements ("I've found a musket hole", "Good. Let's go for a coffee") you can make a visit last hours!
There was also a Catholic mission (first in NZ again) - where you can play croquet on the lawn if you know the right people - and the most desirable police house (also the first of course) in New Zealand. Given the crime rate is small enough to need a microscope to see it and probably the culprits are fairly obvious in such a tiny place, being PC in Russell would have its attractions.
But what do the rest of the locals do for a living? We asked our landlady, Jane, who described her portfolio of jobs, some paid some not (but maybe will be one day). Both she and her husband Geoff do about a dozen different things a week.
Letting out holiday homes is good source of income. Tourists will pay a premium to stay in an old house so Jane and Geoff bought an old house in Auckland and had it moved to Russell. This is a standard activity in NZ. A team of carpenters removes the roof of a house, saws it into sections and transports them to a new site where the whole thing is re-errected. In this case it was sufficient to cut the house in half and put each half on a low loader. Since land in Auckland is in great demand, having moved the house you sell the land it stood on and have an authentic 19th Century house to let. Not authentic 19th Century Russell of course.
Jane has a cat called Nipper who reminds me of house moving, or at least the re-construction phase. Nipper was run over and put back together again by a graduate of the Victor Frankenstein School of Vetinary Science. All the bits are there and they work. Nipper seems quite happy but she lacks the grace and elegance you expect of a cat: either in appearance or movement. If you stroke her, she purrs happily but what you feel are lumps, bumps and rather worrying gaps. I'm terrified of encountering a beating heart just below the surface and at the wrong end. Her companion Bart is physically fit but blind. He looks at you with scarey eyes but sees nothing. He sat quite happily staring a post from a distance of about three inches for an hour one day. Then he got up and bumped into it. One thing Bart has got sussed, if you call him he makes his way very carefully to where ge gets fed. All you need to know really.
We are now fully rested. We have done Russell. Even the estate agents. You may, rightly, guess that Russell isn't the cheapest place to live. But maybe they need a new policeman? An elegant, white, colonial style, house overlooking the ocean, goes with the job. Must be prepared to deal with occasional litter louts and up to three or four cars an hour on Main St during rush hour.
Here's the Police House. In case you can't read the sign on the door, I think it says "Please do not disturb".
Dream on.
