We Take Ourselves With Us

We saved the most dangerous adventure for our last day, when it didn't matter so much if Ned and the kids lost limbs: swimming with the sharks!  I passed on this--not because of the sharks: I swim with those every day--because every other line on the website was a version of the following: "If you tend toward seasickness, you WILL get sick on this trip."  So, Pasadena. I dropped the rest of the family off at the boat launch on the North Shore, and we said our possible last goodbyes. Then, with a heavy heart and empty stomach, I set off for breakfast.  On the way to my actual destination (through my worry, I had managed to Google several options), I saw a roadside sign for an organic farm dotted with kicky striped umbrellas and pulled over. The view was gorgeous, the fresh breakfast was yummy, and for quite some time, it was just me and the glowing supermodel who was running the register (seriously, I think I need to start juice fasting because all of th...

Aside from hanging with family, we had a couple things we really wanted to squeeze in to our time in Rotorua: Hobbiton and the Waitomo Glow Worm Caves .  Ned booked a package tour with a driver who would zip us (well, zipping is a relative term in NZ) from the house to Waikato for Hobbiton and then to Waitomo for the caves.  All told, we'd be on the road and touring from about 8:30 am to 6 pm. Our driver to Hobbiton was Fran--who had some very definite ideas about migration into NZ that were balanced with a wide-ranging sense of NZ history and geography and solid recommendations on ice cream.  So, six of one, half a dozen of the other.  On the drive, we were struck by the beauty and variety of the countryside.  For a few kilometers, we'd be surrounded by mounds in the earth that served as pressure release valves for the region's volcanic activity; then, rolling farmlands with hundreds of sheep or cattle; then, acres of corn; then, small suburbs; then, ...