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The rain settled in Queenstown during the afternoon on New Year’s Eve and we quickly altered our plans to head downtown for a series of outdoor concerts and fireworks to spend an evening of apps, Indian food, and wine at the house with Gretchen, Brad, Steve, Ali, and some family friends of theirs from the UK. But as the rain lightened around 10pm Gretchen, Brad, and the two of us quickly changed our minds and decided to ring in the New Year in downtown Queenstown under a small display of fireworks. We arrived in town an hour later only to feel the rain start to pour down again. Luckily we found a semi-broken umbrella in a trash can and walked to the nearest pub that wasn’t charging a hefty cover fee. We never actually heard anyone start the countdown but when the fireworks started we knew it had struck midnight and we scurried outside to celebrate with the rest of New Zealand.

On New Year’s Day, we said goodbye to Gretchen and Brad until we see them back in Jackson. It’s been so much fun sharing and laughing about our first experiences and adventures in New Zealand and we will surely miss their company. We pulled out of the car park at the same time. They headed to Dunedin and up the east coast to Christchurch to fly home in a little over a week. We drove north towards Mt. Cook to spend a day under the shadow of the tallest mountain in all of Australasia. The forecast warned us that it would be “Fine during the day with rain developing in the evening.” We have learned to pretty much ignore the weather forecast down here, plan for rain, be glad if it is fine (what they refer to as sunny, partly cloudy, warm-ish), and assume if it is fine that it will probably rain sooner than later. It is still technically spring here and very much like home in that sense.

We arrived in Mt. Cook Village to beautiful views of a cloud covered Mt. Sefton and the Footstool Glacier and the sunlit peaks of Mt. Cook, which towers over the valley at 12,313 feet. The Hooker Valley sits at 2,400 feet making the climb to the top of the snow and glacier covered Mount Cook look like quite a feat. The mountain has actually already claimed three lives just this spring. The wind was already starting to howl through the campsite and we decided to set up our tent in a somewhat protected grove of tall pine trees. We made several attempts to heat up our Indian leftovers as the wind kept blowing the flame out, even after we built a barricade with water bottles, bags, and our own bodies. After a luke warm meal, we contemplated escaping the cold wind and retreating to the tent to play cards. But the skies were still very light and realizing we were just 1k from a café, we hopped in the car and drove down the road to the Old Mountaineer’s Café to enjoy two pints that came with complimentary warmth and stunning views of Mt. Cook. Our night back in the tent was a bit more interesting. We fell asleep after a mean game of gin rummy and at about 1am awoke to our tent collapsing in on us as stronger and stronger gusts blazed through the camp. The tent would spring back to its normal shape and then collapse in on us again with the next gust. Like the fear of bears sometimes overwhelms us in the Tetons, we were suddenly overwhelmed with visions of our tent ripping and of pine boughs breaking off and crushing our tent . . . like I said we found a protected site under the only tall trees in camp . . . good one. Our car was only about 100 meters from our tent so as I stayed put to keep the tent weighted down, BJ made three trips to the car with all of our stuff. We waited until there was a lull in the wind and very quickly disassembled the tent and scurried to the car under, of course, crystal clear skies . . . the most stars I have seen in days. Other than waking up a few times to the car rocking in the wind, we enjoyed a very nice slumber in the back of the car. The morning brought rain and after coffee and a huge bowl of oatmeal, we told Mt. Cook we would see it soon, and started to drive back to Queenstown. Although a quick trip to the mountain, less than 24 hours, we do hope to return and do a bit of tramping with our parents this summer.

On the drive home we were nicely surprised with blue skies and took a quick detour to a mini Bryce-like formation in the side of a hill called the Clay Cliffs. The rain caught up with us again and we continued down the road with plans to enjoy a great rainy day activity . . . wine tasting. There are two wine regions just outside of Queenstown, Gibbston Valley and Cromwell , and both are well known for their pinot noir varieties. We sampled a few in the Gibbston Valley at Peregrine Winery as well as at Gibbston Valley Winery, which also had a cheesery . . . yum. We of course planned our dinner of homemade pasta and salad to go specifically with a bottle of Peregrine Chardonnay and Gibbston Valley aged goat cheese.

We joined back up with Gretchen and Brad two evenings ago and went out to Indian food . . . now the third time we’ve had Indian food since we’ve been in New Zealand. We just can’t seem to get enough. BJ has been working steadily for the last couple of days but I’ve been able to sneak out a couple of times for a short hike and a quick wine tour with Brad and Gretchen. The Nelson region is well known for their wineries. I’m not sure how well known it is but if you like Chardonnay, go try to find a 2006 Wimea. It got 5 stars, whatever that means but it was gooood.

We cooked mussels last night. They happened to be the cheapest item in the seafood section at the market. They weren’t as good as the ones we had on Thanksgiving, but the novelty of cooking them ourselves made them pretty tasty. Probably the most eventful moment we’ve had in the last few days was the 1st Annual National Duck Match. We didn’t realize we had such prime seating until the event started. We were minding our own business on our deck, just as the two resident ducks were minding their business in our meditation pond. In comes male duck number 2 to conquer the other. We couldn’t tell if he wanted his lady or wanted ownership of the pond. Whatever it was, all three ducks put up a good fight. We caught some video of the final round as male duck number 1 is biting his significant other on the neck while trying to drown male duck number 2. See the Duck Match for yourself although it is a little disturbing.

After an eleven hour and relatively painless flight to Fiji, BJ, Brad, Gretchen and I quickly left Nadi and took a city bus down the Coral Coast to the town of Korotogo. Before finding lodging for a few days along a quiet stretch of beach, we had to stop for a celebratory beer to welcome ourselves to Fiji. The Coral Coast seemed to be a popular vacation spot for Fijians but was nonetheless very quiet.

A day trip from Korotogo to the Sand Dunes. We hiked out over the dunes during the heat of the day and ran into a Fijian-Indian family along the beach who quickly approached us and wanted to shake our hands and introduce themselves. The Fijians are some of the most carefree and good natured people I have ever met.

Natadola Beach, known as Viti Levu (the main island)’s most beautiful beach. We spent just a few hours here swimming and body surfing. By far the most beautiful beach we had seen yet, we had no idea what was to come once we travelled out to Fiji’s many islands.

We initially put up a fight on the price our taxi driver quoted us. But after he drove us to the sand dunes, waited for us even though we told him not to, drove us to Natadola Beach and back with a side trip to his brother’s house so he could fill up his slowly leaking tire, we befriended him and gave him the amount he initially requested.

All of the guide books warned “whatever you do, make sure the boat you take out to the islands is licensed and has life jackets.” We didn’t exactly follow the rules and arrived in about half the time . . . not that time matters when you are in Fiji. We headed to an island in the Yasawa chain called Waya. It is one of the largest of the Yasawa islands and we hoped to explore a number of hiking trails.

Waya is connected to Wayasewa (or “Little Waya”) twice a day when the tide is out. This is the view over the sand spit from Sunset Resort as the water is going out. Although Sunset Resort was a little more primitive than we were expecting (like the size of the spiders that we slept with every night that made us a little uneasy) the family and village that ran it were wonderful.

We ate huge portions of fresh fish every day for lunch and dinner that the staff would catch out in front of the beach. Over the course of three nights at Sunset there were only a few other visitors from England. A boat would arrive from the village, located right around the corner from Sunset, every morning to drop off a handful of family members to work in the kitchen, work in the office, or to sit around on palm leaves on the sand laughing and sharing stories with one another.

Every evening the younger members of the family would have some sort of entertainment planned. We just happened to experience two nights of “traditional” dancing including a fan dance and fire dance. They dropped the fire sticks so many times during the fire dance we though the place was going to burn down. Although these dances may have been meant for single young ladies, it was extremely entertaining.

My long hair was driving me crazy in the humid and hot climate. So one evening, Gretchen borrowed Brad’s leatherman and gave me a “little” trim. That evening was probably the best one spent at Sunset. Enesi and some of the younger men at the resort bought kava from a neighboring village and invited us to drink Kava with them for an evening.

Kava is considered to be a sort of drug made from the root of the kava plant. It is ground up and then filtered with water. Traditionally, you sit in a circle and the kava server passes a coconut shell full of kava to you when it is your turn. You clap before you drink and then everyone else claps when you are done. Once everyone has had a turn you relax and chat for about 10 minutes and then around it goes again. Although we didn’t feel any other effects from kava than a very full belly, many of the village members told us they were still drunk on kava the next day. Aside from one hike overlooking the resort, we spent most of the day reading and laying in the hammocks so maybe we just didn’t notice.

After three days at Sunset Resort, we decided to splurge and stay at Octopus Resort, located directly on the opposite side of the island. Octopus was VERY different . . . it had fine dining and a full bar, a swimming pool, lounge chairs and umbrellas on the beach, private bungalows. Although very modern and luxurious (to our standards), we were expecting to have similar encounters with the staff as we did at Sunset. It felt very corporate to us, as if the staff were instructed not to engage in conversation with the guests. But we still had an amazing time snorkeling, sitting on the beach, reading, drinking Fiji Bitters (what Fijians just call “Beer”), playing poker and eating great food.

Back on the mainland we decided to head inland to the mountains for our last few days in Fiji. We rented a car and BJ had his first test of driving on the opposite side of the road. Our destination was the village of Navala where we stayed with a family who had a few bures for rent. Mama greeted us with big warm hugs, fed us way too much food, and had a funny way of saying “Vinaka” or “thank you” even after a few minutes of silence. One Fijian characteristic that I have somehow left out until now is their laugh: high pitched, more like a giggle, and frequent. They laugh at everything and Mama’s husband would laugh at the end of every sentence. Her son Tui was a pleasure to spend time with. He invited us to drink kava, took us on a tour of the  village and told us about the ancient tradition of cannibalism, and took Brad on a hike to a nearby mountain so that he could paraglide down into the village. The children in the village of course were ecstatic to see someone just fly into their soccer field. We spent the last hour in Navala with the kids, taking pictures and asking them to sing songs for us.

Looking back on how much we actually did and saw while we were in Fiji, it surprises me that we left feeling almost “too” relaxed. Fiji is a beautiful country and the color of the water the most stunning I have ever seen. But the people are what make the country so enjoyable. Their laughter, welcoming embraces, willing to share stories and answer questions about their family, and downright enjoyment of life are what really made the trip for me and opened my eyes to how little you need in life to be happy.