From the moment we arrived in Auckland, we have found that New Zealanders are the kindest, most generous people. My cousin Teresa, whom we had never met before, lended us a car, a mobile phone and the use of her house while she was in Austrailia for a wedding. As our flight was arriving, hers was boarding and we saw each other only briefly through the impenetrable glass doors in the airport that separate potential incoming smugglers from those departing the country. As planned, we found an envelope at the airport information with keys to the car and instructions to her house in Hamilton. On only a couple hours of sleep, I somehow managed to drive the car from short term parking in Auckland International down what seemed to be the wrong side of the road all the way to Hamilton.

In the week that we spent there, we enjoyed listening to the radio for the first time in months and familiar Christmas songs finally put filled us with Christmas spirit. The constant rain during this week reminded us of a Vancouver winter, and we joined the crowds downtown rushing around for last minute gifts. Christmas shopping doesn’t seem right without a toque and a scarf, but we dressed for the weather and donned our jeans and raincoats. The Kiwis, in defiance, sported sundresses, boardies and flip-flops. To them, Christmas means summer, and in true hobbit fashion, many didn't even wear shoes as they walked the streets of downtown Hamilton.

While in South America, we didn't really hear much about the weather, partially because we wouldn't understand it, but more likely because it was consistent. Once we arrived in New Zealand, there seemed to be contant talk about the changing weather. More wind patterns than I knew existed were frequently referenced, and it was initially difficult to decipher the reports. Anything that isn’t rain, hail or gale winds is described as “fine.” Fine periods are a good thing and mostly fine is probably the best you can ask for. The clouds move swiftly and if it is not fine on your way to the beach, it will usually be fine by the time you get there.

After taking it easy at Teresa's, we headed north to Auckland and met a couple of familiar faces at the airport. It was great to meet up with Brett's parents since Christmas just doesn't feel right without family. We somehow managed to squeeze the four of us and all of our luggage into Teresa's tiny two door Pulsar and drove north to a little town called Russell in the Bay of Islands. Consisting of around 150 mostly undeveloped islands, the Bay of Islands is a popular coastal retreat for sailers and beachgoers alike. Russell is a charming sleepy town where we were able to relax by the beach and catch up with Brett's parents before heading to Whangerai for Christmas at the Todd’s place.

In the heat of the New Zealand sun, it was hard to get into the Christmas frame of mind. This was made more confusing by partaking in the local Christmas eve festivities. Jacqui took us out to a few of the bars in Whangarei and judging by the crowds, this is a normal way to spend Christmas eve. After Brett being asked for ID at Rhyno's, the bar with the Christmas Eve wet T-Shirt contest, we changed venues to the more relaxed, and pricier Killer Prawn which Jacqui and her friends refer to as the Killer Purse. The next day we started the Christmas feast at about 11:00 am on a large make-shift table on the Todd’s front lawn just after a sleepy-eyed Craig arrived. We dipped ourselves in sunscreen and used a combination of umbrellas and silly hats to protect us from the sun and lounged around drinking beer and wine all afternoon as Murray conjured up one gorgeous seafood dish after another. The food flowed on into the evening and before we saw Lindsay's miraculous 13 sliced pavlova, we didn't think we could eat another bite. We finally collapsed in our beds, fatter, happier and only a little burnt around the edges.

Boxing day was spent at the beach, another Christmas first for us, and I was able to catch up with my family in cold Vancouver as they begun their Christmas celebrations. At that moment I missed curling up on the couch with my mom’s homemade Baileys and doing nothing all day except hanging out with my family and catching up. Brett and the boys played a round of golf on the sheep littered course adjoining the Todd's property and amused themselves immensley as sheep scattered whenever a ball was hit. I guess that could be one way of keeping track of your golf balls. On courses like this electric fences surround the greens, keeping the sheep out, but making it a little nerve racking tring to put.

After a couple days of amazing hospitality at the Todd's place, we greeted yet another familiar face when Karli arrived at the Hamilton airport. Nearby Hamilton is the surf beach of Raglan, made famous by the 60's surf movie Endless Summer. Surf was smaller on our visit, but still big enough to provide some good viewing of the well practised surfers. Down the windy Surf Highway we travelled to the tiny town of Opanake and the nearby dormant volcano Mount Taranaki. On sunny days we spent hours at the beach either surfing, body boarding or just sitting around eating ice cream. On our rainy day, we hiked around Mount Taranaki where the sun peeped out of the clouds just as we were deciding on whether or not to jump off the cliffs into one of several freezing cold pools.

We stopped for one afternoon at the beautiful and sacred Waitomo Caves. One cavern is twenty metres in height and looks like the inside of a cathedral complete with a nave and pipe organ. The acoustics are excellent in this particular cavern which attracts many notable singers to fill the cave with their songs and several couples choose the romantic setting to exchange wedding vows. Deeper into the cave we reached a cavern where glow worms dangle from the ceiling high above (glow worms are maggots, but I think in the interest of tourism they refrain from calling them glow maggots). Our group climbed into a rowboat and a guide paddled us through the dark cave lit only by thousands of glow worms that looked like an impossibly brilliant starlit sky.

We spent our New Year's Eve in Palmerston North, which many described as the armpit of New Zealand. The town was hardly this, and we were pleasantly surprised. Brad and Marilyn's friends, the Carpenters, made us feel very welcome and pointed us in the right direction of a good night out. There are a few benefits to spending New Year's Eve in a place that has been rendered uncool. There are no cover charges nor line-ups, drinks are cheap and you are free to bar-hop all night. As you are almost guaranteed to run into nobody that you know, acting the fool has little or no consequences. However, Karli and I did forget about the photographic evidence...

New Year's Day was our last with Brad and Marilyn and the Carpenters, prepared a proper turkey dinner for the occasion. While they headed south to Wellington to rediscover their old stomping grounds before catching their flight, we headed north with Craig and Karli in search of more Kiwi adventures.

I expected New Zealand to remind me of home but except for being a developed country and the initial rainfall, it became instantly unique to both of us. The landscape has a different kind of green and the high rolling hills are dotted with hundreds of fluffy white or completely shorn sheep. Winding roads weave through the changing landscape with an average speed limit of one hundred kilometers an hour, making driving an adventure in itself. Maybe this was just a taste of New Zealand's reputation as extreme adventure destination.

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