Month: October 2024

In New Zealand, there are few high speed, multi-lane highways.  The two-lane highways go through towns.  Foxton is a town about an hour north which we often pass through on our way to somewhere else.  It is a beach town with large estuary and a very good bird watching site.  

There is also a large windmill.  We always promise ourselves we will stop for a tour but alas, they are usually closed when we drive by.  It was a cloudy day, but it was not raining so we decided to drive to Foxton to take a look at the estuary.  Lo and behold, the windmill was open when we arrived.  

            Inside was a Dutch wonderland.  The first floor was the gift shop and, of course, I bought delft plates and windmill cookies.  On the next floor was an array of old-time games, called Castle Games or Kasteel Spelen, provided by the local Dutch Club.  Games with names like bowling billiards and shuffle billiards, each included elements of pool and shuffleboard.  They were a lot harder to play then they looked.  I immediately vowed I wanted to take one home.  

Then we went to the next floor where we discovered the most exciting part of the windmill.  It is an actual working grain mill with wheels and gears and sifters.  What fun!  We bought buckwheat flour and corn meal (impossible to find in New Zealand).

So why is there a working windmill in Foxton?  It seems that there is a long history of migration from the Netherlands to New Zealand and they have formed societies to keep up their traditions.  There are numerous Netherlands Societies scattered across the country.  There is even a Dutch Week, which we missed in 2024, but we are so taking part next year. 

            We vowed we would be back to visit and maybe play some more Kasteel Spelen.

            Big name bands, and even many small name bands, do not play New Zealand and if anyone bothers, they go to Auckland and leave.  (The exception to this rule is the Foo Fighters who love it here and even play the South Island.)

            What we are left with is tribute bands.  The Elton v. Billy Tribute Show?  The Prince Tribute show?  The Bee Gees Night Fever Tribute Band?  Yes, yes, and yes.  Matt wanted to see the ABBA approved tribute band, Bjorn Again.  For you non-ABBA fans, ABBA stands for the first names of the band members, Benny, Bjorn, Agnetha and Anni-Frid.  Hence, the play on the name Bjorn.   Matt is a huge ABBA fan.  When we went to Stockholm, he insisted we visit the ABBA Museum.  Yes, there is indeed a museum dedicated to ABBA and I have to admit, it was a blast.  

I am not a big ABBA fan.  I like some of their songs, but I did not particularly care for them when they were popular, mostly because they were impossible to escape.  How many times did they play “Fernando” on the radio?  It felt like every five minutes.  Same with “Dancing Queen.”  Every song rotation it had to include an ABBA song.  I just wanted them to go away.

But fast forward and here is my husband the ABBA fan.  So I agreed we could go and see Bjorn Again.  For me as an average human being, it was an okay experience.  But there was just something weird about watching these people pretend to be ABBA.   The weirdness came from the idea that this was not a cover band.  This was full out reenactment and some people in the audience were weirdly enthralled. In the photo above are two young girls partially obscuring the picture. They were dressed in ABBA style and singing along with abandon. I have no problem with singing with abandon but they were acting as if Taylor Swift was standing in front of them.

  I reasoned to myself that re-enactors play people all the time.  If Hal Holbrooke can play Mark Twain in a one man show for decades (which I saw), and if I can enjoy actors who interpret Washington, Jefferson and Lincoln, well, then why not a band?  

I have to admit I am still not convinced.  But living in New Zealand with limited options for entertainment, I guess I better get used to tribute bands.  

          

            Everyone loves cherry blossoms and New Zealanders are no different.  They have been in bloom everywhere.  A couple here in Wellington travelled to Japan and fell in love with cherry blossoms. They decided to create their own blossoms paradise. We went off to their farm, which they had landscaped and into lovely garden. It was just like we were in D.C. again–too many people talking, too many kids running amok, and too many people climbing trees and stomping on roots when they shouldn’t, all while others were trying to enjoy trees that call for quiet meditation.  It just proves that people are obnoxious no matter where in the world you are.  Well, we didn’t let that spoil our forest bathing.  Here are some pics:

        

            I have always wanted to learn ikebana, the art of Japanese flower arranging.  There are many types of Ikebana.  In Wellington, the Ikebana Society is of the Sogetsu style, which is considered a bit more bold and inventive.  I signed up to learn with a Japanese teacher and we are having a lot of fun.  She keeps asking me if I have ever had lessons because it seems like I know what I am doing.  What I tell her is that I was born to arrange flowers.  I started an Instagram page to share my progress.  https://www.instagram.com/mk.schmidt/  

      

            Although it is generally temperate, winter here can be pretty cold and gloomy. There is no snow in our region but we are blessed with lots of clouds, rain and icy, brisk (often gale force) winds from the south, and by south I mean Antarctica.  The gloomy, cold weather pushes most people to head for warmer climes come July and August.  

            We are not far from some tropical islands in the South Pacific, although, truth be told, New Zealand is not really close to anywhere.  Our preference is French Polynesia with their over the water bungalows and good snorkeling.  What is not to like?  But those islands are quite a ways away, so we looked around and decided we would give Fiji a try.  It is close by and we have never been.

            I did a little research and concluded we should try one of the secondary islands just for a different experience.  I found a resort that had partnered with Jean Michael Cousteau, (Jacque Cousteau’s son), to create a sustainable eco-resort.  Located on the island of Savusavu, the second largest island in the Fijian chain, it is operated in cooperation with the local tribe, many of whom work at the resort.  There were numerous activities offered for free and most importantly, it was located near some of the best coral reefs in the South Pacific including the Namena Marine Reserve.  We were all in for this.  A half day away, and a place we had never been, we packed up the flippers and snorkel masks and boarded a plane.  

            Unfortunately, the weather for the week was much like we had left behind–windy, rainy, cloudy.  The only difference was that Fiji was warm.  But with the strong winds, there was little opportunity to head out beyond the reef surrounding the island. Visiting the marine reserve or any of the other coral reef spots is entirely weather dependent and it was simply too rough to be out on a boat let alone snorkeling.  The one day we did try to snorkel from a boat the water was so rough, I nearly lost my fins.  We decided it was better all the way around to stay near the shore and snorkel the resort’s  growing coral garden.  It had some remarkably varied fish and we did not have to worry about being pulled away by strong currents.  

            The resort guest rooms were bures or bungalows.  When we arrived, we learned they had upgraded us to a bure on Breezy Point.  This name had real meaning.  While we had a good view, the strong winds kept us off the front porch.

            We did luck out with a fishing trip.  The morning was forecast to be clear until noon when the rain showers would move in.  We sped out, dropped our lines, and hoped for a catch.  I got lucky and caught a yellow fin tuna, about eight pounds.  Matt caught a trevally and we lost a mahi mahi as we were bringing it onto the boat.  So we had a good day.  

          We left the trevally with the boat captain and took the tuna to the chef who agreed to prepare it for us.  That is as fresh as fish can get.  We got two dinners out of it, appetizers and dinner—sashimi and grilled tuna one night and ceviche and curry the next night.  It was delicious.  (There was no option to freeze the fish and ship it home.  They had never heard of such a thing.)

            With the rain, we were left to find things to do.  To bide our time, we did a lot of reading and bird watching. I made friends with a three legged dog. I named him Lucky. He was missing his right front leg but he hopped along pretty well. He followed me around the resort and stayed on our porch while we were there.

The resort did what it could to keep us engaged because there was not much to do on the island separate from the resort.  The local town seemed pretty down and out, certainly not a tourist town.  There were few shops or restaurants or businesses offering vacation activities.  The only option seemed to be to take what the resort offered.  

            One excursion took us for a visit to the local tribal village.  Here is how ignorant I am about Fiji.  I had no idea they still had tribes.  Well, they do.  This village was governed by a hereditary chief.  We were told that the national and local governments have to get his permission if they want to do any kind of development or construction in the Tribe’s territory.  I know a few tribes in the U.S> who wish for the same thing.

Here is the chief leading a welcome song, a cappella singing by the villagers was hard not to love.

            On our visit to the village, we learned about traditional Fijian crafts, dance and songs. 

Here they are showing us how to get the coconut meat out of the coconut using a sharpened bamboo pole. The coconut bowl is scrapped in a circular motion. I tried this at the resort and it was harder than it looked.

They took us for a walk around the village. Here is the cemetery and the hereditary chiefs’ burial crypt.

           

  Back at the resort, the tourist entertainment factor was very high. I usually frown on this kind of stuff as exploitative, but when you have no other choice, you kind of go along with it. They seemed to be having fun showing us their culture.

  Every night at dinner, they had a ceremony with one person playing a giant wooden drum (a hollowed-out tree trunk) while another person dressed as a traditional Fijian and lighted the tiki torches in a dramatic flame twirling dance.  

            On another night the resort prepared a Fijian Barbecue in an underground oven called “lovo.”  

Similar to the Hawaiian imu used to make a feast for a barbecue, the food was cooked in a pit covered with hot coals and palm fronds and left to cook for hours.  The result was tasty meat and root vegetables.  

            Then there was the kava ceremony.  Usually, a tribal chief prepares kava for visitors to his village.   Kava is an herbal plant used to make a drink that is claimed to be a calming and relaxing.   It is very popular in the South Pacific and with herbalists worldwide. In the U.S., the advice is to drink it with caution because consuming too much can cause liver damage. In some states, it is a controlled substance.

The drink is prepared in an elaborate ritual that includes the offering of kava root to the chief and the chief using a round bowl known as a tanoa to prepare the drink.  The local chief had given permission to the resort to depict the ritual.  The kava root is soaked in water and then, after steeping, it is squeezed dry into the tanoa and cups are filled.

The ceremony requires the visitor to clap once to announce an interest in sharing the drink.  After drinking the kava, the visitor claps three times to say thank you (at least that is how I understood it).  While we did not get to participate in the formal ceremony, we still had options to try it.  Every night, the local musicians, who entertained while we dined, also prepared kava that you could try.  The drink tasted like ground soil and root.  It numbed my tongue.  I felt a small sense of calm but nothing terribly dramatic.  But the musicians, who had been drinking it all night, looked pretty stoned. I brought some home to try.

           On our last night, they had a hermit crab race to raise money fora local charity.  We were all in, betting good money on the crabs we had selected to win the race.  We were the only adults participating.  It made me wonder if parents avoid activities that they think are for their kids.  It was weird.  Well, we had fun even though my crab lost.  

            That was about it.  The weather prevented us from venturing to some of the best coral reefs in the area so we made do.  

            Look, I am a foodie.  I think about food–preparing it and savoring it–all the time.  I can’t help myself.  I think of it as part of my creative repertoire and part of my curiosity.  I love to try food from anywhere.  Food has my attention.  So, bear with me as I go on about food.  

            Sausage.  Early on I posted a complaint about the terrible sausage they have in this country, which is ironic since it is one of their main food staples.  They love their sausages.  My issue is that they all have the consistency of hot dogs and lack vibrant seasoning.  

            Many of you suggested I just make my own sausage.  Well, I heeded your advice, bought a meat grinder, and have been trying to work out Italian and breakfast sausage.  I have the flavor down for sure.  But I had a difficult time locating pork shoulder.  I found legs (basically ham), loins, roasts, none with the right amount of fat.  I think I finally located the right cut, and I will report back.  The process is ongoing.

            Biscuits and Pie Crust.  I think I have discovered the two foods that they are missing here that truly makes me sad for them—buttermilk biscuits and flaky pie crusts.  They have “biscuits” which are cookies.  And they have scones, which are dense biscuits.  But they do not have good old fashionedbuttermilk biscuits.  They don’t even know what they are!  We take them for granted in the U.S., but we sure do feel their absence here.  My oven is entirely untrustworthy but I have been baking them from scratch because when I realize the absence of biscuits, I just want them even more.  I think that the next time we are invited to a potluck, which they call “bring a plate,” I am going to bring biscuits and open some eyes.

            As for pie crusts, mamma mia!  How much time do we spend in the U.S. arguing about pie crust.  Here there does not seem to be an argument.  They eat a lot of pies.  Pies are served for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.  But their flaky crusts are made from puff pastry or a short bread which is kind of like pie crust but not.  So far as I can tell, and I have not visited every bakery in the country, a flaky pie crust with layers of butter and flour that we savor as we fill them with cherries or pecans or apples, does not exist here.  So sad.  

            Cereal.  Good Lord, they need help on this one.  There was actually an article in the paper about an American kid doing tik toks on NZ cereal and how awful it is.  Kid, you are so right.  Why are they awful?  Well, let’s start with the comparison to cardboard.  Just chewing and chewing a flavorless mess of nuts, oats and a lot of unidentifiable crumbs.  The real crime is that they have “Cheerios” here.  From what I understand, Cheerios licensed their manufacture to a company here in NZ.  I think General Mills may have omitted a key ingredient.  Otherwise, how can you get Cheerios wrong?  How is that possible?  I don’t know.  But somehow they have managed to produce little tasteless Os.  We finally stopped trying to like the cereal here and started to import all of our cereal.  

            Okay.  Okay.  We get it.  You don’t like Kiwi food.  But there has to be something they do well, isn’t there?  Yes, there are a few things.  Most of their dairy products are superb.  New Zealand has a huge dairy industry, and they do it right.  We live right next to the cows, so I can attest to their diet and treatment.  Here are our neighbors. Look at her checking me out. She never stopped watching me.

            The milk is delicious, as is ice cream, yogurt, and butter.  The cheese is good.  My only complaint is that the selection is a bit limited.  You are talking a million different versions of cheddar, havarti, and gouda.  These are flavored with smoke or chilies or cumin, (an NZ favorite spice), or other spices.  Then there is an entire cheese section made up of cheese called “tasty,” which I think is along the lines of American cheese/Velveeta.  (I am afraid to try it.) Then there is “everyday cheese.” Oh, my. Call me suspicious. You might find a few other cheeses like mozzarella, blue and feta.  But if you are looking for anything even a little out of the ordinary, that will take a trip to a specialty shop, which may or may not have what you want.  To this day I have been unable to locate Monterey jack cheese for nachos.  I am stuck with cheddar and havarti.  Still, the dairy foods here are superb.  

            In the U.S., Meyer lemons are a thing—prized and available only in winter months.  Here, everyone has a Meyer lemon tree in their backyard, including us.  That is very convenient and fun.  I love having a lemon tree.  This means we have Meyer lemons very nearly year-round.  

            Of course, they know how to produce lamb and venison.  These are big exports to the U.S. markets.  If you like those meats, this is the place for it.  Like the dairy cows, I know how the lamb is raised.  I see sheep every day munching away in pastures. 

            My biggest shout out would be to their potato chips.  I am a big fan of chips and they have them mastered with a perfect crunch and flavor.  Really just so good.  

            So there.  There are foods here that I like.