The third great white cloud

 

Massimiliano Baravelli
To arrive in New Zealand it took 24 hours to fly three different aircraft, with stopovers in Frankfurt and Singapore before landing in AUCKLAND. A want to see from another angle, we have instead developed over fifteen years, because it was from 1988 (guilty or responsible, for a service in a newspaper) that I dreamed of going right over there. I was also given a kind of time limit, 2000, but was not able to respect it. For one reason or another - too much money, too far, too few canonical two weeks' holiday - to me it seemed an impossible task. Then, suddenly, we have decided (because in the meantime I have infected my girlfriend): first the request for three weeks of vacation, then the booking agency. Basically just wanting to, and February 5 were there.

FEBRUARY 5-7: AUCKLAND
The journey was long and exhausting. But also into the adventure, for us Italians, along with other Europeans, we are the most distant ever (12 time zones), and few are willing to come here. "Down under, down under the second definition of the New Zealanders, we are rare, so rare that in twenty days we have not met any other Italian: honestly, the better case.
Escaped the jaws dell'inflessibile customs service to one of the afternoon, after 45 minutes in a row, under a summer sun but let's just lukewarm rent the car: the super-equipped Toyota Corolla costs 50 dollars a day (less than 30 euros) an excellent price. Taken quickly comfortable with the leadership down, the toll to the origins of Anglo-Saxon country, starting in the direction of Coockle Bay, suburb of AUCKLAND, where we expect our bed and breakfast, booked via the Internet. Chatting with the owners, friendly and available, walk on the beach, dinner with fish in a restaurant there, attacked, and then finally to bed.
The next morning we discover why the New Zealand Maori language is called Aotearoa, which means "land of the long white cloud". Here, in fact arrive, virtually unabated, all the cloudy masses that are formed in the Tasman Sea, in the 2000 km that separate Australia from New Zealand. Not finding obstructions, clouds become a stable presence: it does not rain too often (at least not on us), is not a gray sky, but the nuvolaglia white is a constant.
For our first day in AUCKLAND, the sky was rather dark and covered, but at least did not drop. Following the Tamaki Drive, which offers a beautiful view of the skyline of the city, we arrived in the center, where we visited the port, the quays of the America's Cup (there were two more boats in New Zealand, I believe that training), University and then the inevitable Sky Tower. 328 meters high, near the top has a spectacular terrace. To get a lift is used outside, the glass is impressive, I assure the. Once there all'Upper Deck offers a beautiful view, 360 °, the city and the Hauraki Gulf, dotted with islands. You can also walk on a floor of glass, often 80 cm, which is under vacuum. Impressive too, but not how to see people who threw himself from the tower (on foot down, not as in bungee jumping) between the skyscrapers, and landed in the square below. Party from the idea of throwing myself, I withdrew immediately after seeing the faces of those who flew below.
Dropped by Tower, after a while 'shopping, opt for the Museum, which tells us beautiful but is a long weekend of feasting, and the area of the museum, a park, is home to an event: there are hundreds if not thousands of boys, and we fail even to approach. See all these people together allows us to understand how this cosmopolitan city, where people meet each type: whites, blacks, yellows, Polynesian. Frequent mixed couples, even among Anglo-Saxon and Maori, a rarity in the rest of the country. As the sun makes its appearance once again Coockle Bay: dinner and to bed early: the jet-leg is still feeling its effects.

8-9 FEBBRAIO: ROTORUA
Il sabato mattina salutiamo i padroni di casa e il loro fox-terrier Jessy (qui se si vuole dormire nei b&b bisogna amare gli animali, perché tutti ne hanno almeno uno) e partiamo verso la Coromandel Peninsula, che dista un centinaio di chilometri. C'è un bel sole e possiamo così farci la prima e unica giornata di mare: a Hot Water Beach faccio anche il bagno, il mio esordio nel Pacifico, ma la sabbia bianca, l'acqua celeste e il tunnel naturale roccioso di Cathedral Cove restano il ricordo più vivo di una giornata che segnala anche il nostro primo impatto con il terribile sole di questa zona. Non so se siano la rarefazione e la pulizia dell'aria, o se solo colpa del buco dell'ozono che ha qui sopra il suo epicentro, fatto sta che il sole è implacabile: nonostante le creme mi sono bruciato fronte, naso, mani, braccia e collo, e per una settimana ho perso pelle a brandelli (in faccia mi sono pelato fino alle guance). Ma anche Virna, di chiare origini marinare e abituata al sole, non è stata risparmiata.
Causa questo maledetto week-end di festa, per dormire troviamo posto solo in un bungalow sulla spiaggia che offre troppi servizi che non ci servono: cucina attrezzata, giardino per cenare fuori. Noi, invece, per mangiare qualcosa dobbiamo aspettare il secondo turno al ristorante: un'onesta pizza che arriva verso le 10 di sera.
Il mattino successivo macchina verso sud, in direzione ROTORUA, città simbolo della civiltà Maori (gli indigeni di origine polinesiana, primi abitatori di queste isole), dove arriviamo a mezzogiorno. Piove, ma per l'alloggio andiamo a botta sicura (fondamentale la guida «Charming», con indirizzi e foto di centinaia di b&b): il Deer Pine Lodge è pulito e carino, però troppo fuori città (15 km) e ci resteremo solo una notte. Il resto della giornata lo riserviamo alla visita ai bellissimi stabilimenti balneari d'inizio '900, i Governement Gardens, ora diventati un museo: questa infatti è una zona vulcanica attiva (il vapore esce persino dai tombini) e quindi termale, con ovunque piscine d'acqua calda e minerale.
All'interno del museo c'è pure un settore dedicato al 28° Battaglione Maori, che durante la 2ª guerra mondiale ha combattuto anche in Romagna: molte foto illustrano avvenimenti e protagonisti, comprese quelle dei soldati (ricordo un nome, Werewere Rakuraku) morti a Faenza. Il giorno dopo visitiamo il parco «Rainbow Spring» (flora e fauna locale) dove vediamo il nostro primo e ultimo kiwi, un uccello che vive unicamente in Nuova zelanda. Non vola, è grosso, lento e impacciato, e quando con l'immigrazione dall'Europa sono arrivati cani, gatti e altri predatori che qui non esistevano, è stata una strage. Per evitarne l'estinzione li stanno trasferendo nelle isole più piccole, alla larga dai loro carnefici. Nel primo pomeriggio andiamo a Hell's Gate, zona vulcanica per eccellenza, dove è tutto geyser, fanghi bollenti, piscine d'acqua calda, getti di vapore: proviamo un bagno rilassante nell'acqua calda (circa 40 gradi) e fangosa. Ma tra il sole che scotta e l'acqua che bolle, dopo 20 minuti andiamo a farci una doccia fresca.
Alle cinque del pomeriggio partiamo in pullman per la visita al villaggio maori di Tamaki: è tutto ricostruito ad uso e consumo dei turisti, ma bellissimo e suggestivo. Come bellissimo e suggestivo è tutto l'ambiente, che esprime una identità culturale molto forte, e lo spettacolo che ci propongono, che comprende anche l'Haka, danza di guerra resa famosa dagli All Blacks. La serata prosegue con la cena a base di Hangi, carne e verdura bolliti nelle sorgenti calde naturali del terreno.
Segue lo show degli autisti dei pullman, rigorosamente maori, che dopo averci insegnato qualche parola nella loro lingua originaria (ricordo solo «kia ora», buona fortuna), si esibiscono in una personale interpretazione dell'Haka.
Una splendida giornata si conclude in un b&b orrendo, che ha pure il letto sfondato: colpa nostra, che volevamo risparmiare e ci siamo accontentati di una camera da 35 euro in due.

FEBRUARY 10-11: ECCO IL LAKE TAUPO AND WELLINGTON
The next morning we go again to the south, around LAKE TAUPO. Are only 90 kilometers, during which we stop to see the rapids and waterfalls Aratiatia calls Huka Falls. Around noon we are in Taupo, we find a b & b at Acacia Bay (most beautiful, all dark wood) and then let's do a tour a couple of hours by boat on the lake. Nothing special if it were not for the Mine Bay, where there is an enormous sculpture Maori inferred from a rock that overhangs the water. Excellent dinner, about the giant green mussels that are found in these seas, then to bed. When it rains we get up, but it is not a problem, because today in the program there are only 400 kilometers separate us from WELLINGTON, the capital. We arrive in the early afternoon, without any intermediate step, and now we find the b & b: hosting Francesca (actually French), allegra 70enne which does not seem to be afraid of anything, so that always leaves the door open, but wide open, even when he goes. The first afternoon spent in WELLINGTON, beautiful little town, frankly, is a disaster to divert rain and struggling to get out of the car, the colony of penguins promise by the guide is a chimera (in his life did not ever even seen Francesca): Fortunately for the Fisherman's Wharf cooking good fish.
The next day there is the sun, and we can see the city with confidence: there is not much to see. The center is just lovely, and we spend all day in two museums: the Museum of WELLINGTON, which focuses on the history and development of the city, and the Te Papa, which takes away more than four hours. Developed over six floors, the first is primarily of local animals and plants, while the most interesting are those related to Maori culture and European colonization dell'800. Carini the final plans, reserved for contemporary artists kiwi (who always wants to say New Zealand). Dinner with fish of the "Tug boat, tug converted into a restaurant is simply fantastic.

13 FEBRUARY: THE THEN CLOSE ARTHUR, SUBSCRIBER FAR
Friday morning salute to the North Island, leaving the Toyota (after 1330 km and not without regret), and ferries to the island in the South passing the Strait of Cook. To cross the stretch of sea that separates the two main islands of New Zealand it takes approximately three hours. Before we are of one on the ground, and the employee of the A and B "we expect (the sign reads" Mr Baravelly ') leads to our car: a Nissan station Vagon seasoned and dented, emitting strange Cigoli. Cheap, not even 20 euro per day, and you understand why, but in hindsight we should admit that it was well-behaved. Loaded luggage starting to Nelson. I look forward in that city because I have a job to do: to bring the latest issue of 'seven night' Arthur Gladstone, our subscriber farther.
Come to his house around 3:30 pm when it is open, of course suspicious, the monster with a copy of the newspaper, and the ice is broken. Invites us to enter, and remain there for a couple of hours to chat in Italian. Two beautiful hours in the company of a person available and kind: he wants to know everything about Faenza, Romagna about his friends, on Giuliano Bettolo and family. When mention faentina his wife, Antoinette Dalmonte (which was known during the war) died last year, his voice breaks for the emotion, and then later try to avoid the topic. Around five arrives Timothy, one of ten children of Arthur: Only three of these live in the area of Nelson, while others are scattered throughout New Zealand and three in Australia. Un po 'di chat with him, not the least understand Italian, then after photos of ritual take away the trouble and let Arthur to read "seven nights' when we arrived he had in hand a copy dated January 31, this time the postman, I must admit with a certain emotion, he delivered a more "cool."

FEBRUARY 14-17: WEST COAST
Our original direction is south, but we give a brief digression into the Abel Tasman Park, famous for its golden beaches. It has rained all night, but when we arrive there is the sun and the landscape, between the gold of the sand, the blue sky and the heavenly water, is breathtaking. We give an hour of sunshine and then we start. Direction West Coast, the most cold and depopulated of New Zealand. We can go about 400 kilometers of roads and streets deserted, often dug into the rock of the New Zealand Alps, which practically ends in the sea. Curious and dangerous bridges: always a lane even if the directions of two, often three. In fact, there are the rails, because there can be as the train ...
Noon starts to rain, the two is a flood, which in practice prevents us to see the Pancake Rocks, a famous reef. To get there on foot after a short walk but is so strong that down in five minutes we are wet, while the visibility is zero. Fortunately, an hour after we arrive at Greymouth, where we expect a b & b warm welcome and above all, because we turned on the electric heater. We are approaching all'Antartide (only the Patagonia has a lower latitude) and the temperature has dropped a lot. E 'on Saturday evening of the death of Pantani, ie Valentine's Day, but in our restaurant, rather a snack, not care less about it to anyone.
The morning after the West Coast shows his gentle side: there is the sun and the temperature is good, time for 520 km we face to get to Wanaka, the gateway to Fiordland, the southernmost natural park of a southern African species of Norway.
The way we see the first mining town of Shantytown, then the 3700 meters of Mount Cook, Fox glacier Franz Josef Glacier, the Haast Pass, the highest waterfalls Thunder Creek Falls and Lake Hawe, blue as the sky. Arrive in Wanaka to six, tired and hungry. Dinner is good, the beautiful b & b, and the owners perfectly embody what seems to be the kiwi spirit. Relaxed, quiet, live a less stressful life of ours. Not seem particularly interested in making money, after having received at home, despite the fact that other book, placing the sign 'no vacancy', they remain two nights, and did not caveranno more. We ask of, us, our occupations. When I say that we live close to Bologna's wife confesses to not knowing any Italian city: only when I try with "and Rome?" Her eyes light up for a moment.
The next morning wake up early because we expect the tour of Milford Sound, one of the most beautiful fjords and visit. Go with a small plane (six seats) in one hour flight, then boat trip (two hours) in the fjord and back again in the air. Departure at 9. But do not take off: they have wrong with the reservation, of course, but the employee if the weather takes over. That there is and is not to blame because the two in the afternoon, the new departure time, it's definitely ugly, but it must be the same. To reach the fjord must cross the mountains rather high: our small plane can not fly, so we pass in the middle. Only that it rains, there is fog and clouds, then we see little or nothing. The pilot says it is normal that there time is always the case. But we do not believe anyone: after twenty minutes the cheerful brigade (us two and three Austrian) was transformed into a group that musone look forward to fall.
Somehow estimated, and the smiles of the pilot, we arrive at your destination. But even there it's raining, and despite the quiet side we announced that the boat trip we will forget we concede a walk of 20 minutes, then returned home. So we just have time to shoot some photos, see the Milford Peak, a mountain of 1,600 meters and rises from the sea just at the entrance to the fjord, and to understand that Milford Sound is not a place for humans. Here we are men, flying over or through (there is also a tortuosissima road 120 km) a forest so dense and moist as to appear black, the visit, admire him, then leave. There is nothing, only the runway for the landing, pier for boats and a small Lodge for those who for some reason are forced to spend the night. The rest are mountains, rivers, dozens of waterfalls, forests of ferns (the plant symbol of New Zealand). The triumph of nature, simply.
After our twenty minutes of air start: dark faces off, and the first quarter of an hour. Then suddenly the clouds rose: it rains a little ', but we can cross the mountains in fluency and our driver, now ascended to the role of hero, it also gives some numbers, like 360 degree turns to make us see better the view. Once we returned to Wanaka repay the money the cruise skipped.
Towards evening, check out the sun, and we also find the following day, when we leave the West Coast to point towards the east coast. Salute the Alps, cut in two of the island through the Ida Valley (location of the Lord of the Rings, in particular the village of Rohan) and arrive nell'Otago Peninsula. We stop to see Dunedin, a beautiful city whose buildings do not hide the origin of the founders of Scotland, then enter the peninsula, a natural paradise, where we see, among others, the yellow-eyed penguins. In the evening, after a stop at Moeraki Beach (there are perfectly round huge boulders lying on the sand a few million years old) sleep at Oamaru, atypical cities with beautiful palaces of white sandstone. The dinner, however, because a sauce unworthy, is stomachevole.

FEBRUARY 14-17: WEST COAST
Our original direction is south, but we give a brief digression into the Abel Tasman Park, famous for its golden beaches. It has rained all night, but when we arrive there is the sun and the landscape, between the gold of the sand, the blue sky and the heavenly water, is breathtaking. We give an hour of sunshine and then we start. Direction West Coast, the most cold and depopulated of New Zealand. We can go about 400 kilometers of roads and streets deserted, often dug into the rock of the New Zealand Alps, which practically ends in the sea. Curious and dangerous bridges: always a lane even if the directions of two, often three. In fact, there are the rails, because there can be as the train ...
Noon starts to rain, the two is a flood, which in practice prevents us to see the Pancake Rocks, a famous reef. To get there on foot after a short walk but is so strong that down in five minutes we are wet, while the visibility is zero. Fortunately, an hour after we arrive at Greymouth, where we expect a b & b warm welcome and above all, because we turned on the electric heater. We are approaching all'Antartide (only the Patagonia has a lower latitude) and the temperature has dropped a lot. E 'on Saturday evening of the death of Pantani, ie Valentine's Day, but in our restaurant, rather a snack, not care less about it to anyone.
The morning after the West Coast shows his gentle side: there is the sun and the temperature is good, time for 520 km we face to get to Wanaka, the gateway to Fiordland, the southernmost natural park of a southern African species of Norway.
The way we see the first mining town of Shantytown, then the 3700 meters of Mount Cook, Fox glacier Franz Josef Glacier, the Haast Pass, the highest waterfalls Thunder Creek Falls and Lake Hawe, blue as the sky. Arrive in Wanaka to six, tired and hungry. Dinner is good, the beautiful b & b, and the owners perfectly embody what appears to be the spirit kiwi. Relaxed, quiet, live a less stressful life of ours. Not seem particularly interested in making money, after having received at home, despite the fact that other book, placing the sign 'no vacancy', they remain two nights, and did not caveranno more. We ask of, us, our occupations. When I say that we live close to Bologna's wife confesses to not knowing any Italian city: only when I try with "and Rome?" Her eyes light up for a moment.
The next morning wake up early because we expect the tour of Milford Sound, one of the most beautiful fjords and visit. Go with a small plane (six seats) in one hour flight, then boat trip (two hours) in the fjord and back again in the air. Departure at 9. But do not take off: they have wrong with the reservation, of course, but the employee if the weather takes over. That there is and is not to blame because the two in the afternoon, the new departure time, it's definitely ugly, but it must be the same. To reach the fjord must cross the mountains rather high: our small plane can not fly, so we pass in the middle. Only that it rains, there is fog and clouds, then we see little or nothing. The pilot says it is normal that there time is always the case. But we do not believe anyone: after twenty minutes the cheerful brigade (us two and three Austrian) was transformed into a group that musone look forward to fall.
Somehow estimated, and the smiles of the pilot, we arrive at your destination. But even there it's raining, and despite the quiet side we announced that the boat trip we will forget we concede a walk of 20 minutes, then returned home. So we just have time to shoot some photos, see the Milford Peak, a mountain of 1,600 meters and rises from the sea just at the entrance to the fjord, and to understand that Milford Sound is not a place for humans. Here we are men, flying over or through (there is also a tortuosissima road 120 km) a forest so dense and moist as to appear black, the visit, admire him, then leave. There is nothing, only the runway for the landing, pier for boats and a small Lodge for those who for some reason are forced to spend the night. The rest are mountains, rivers, dozens of waterfalls, forests of ferns (the plant symbol of New Zealand). The triumph of nature, simply.
After our twenty minutes of air start: dark faces off, and the first quarter of an hour. Then suddenly the clouds rose: it rains a little ', but we can cross the mountains in fluency and our driver, now ascended to the role of hero, it also gives some numbers, like 360 degree turns to make us see better the view. Once we returned to Wanaka repay the money the cruise skipped.
Towards evening, check out the sun, and we also find the following day, when we leave the West Coast to point towards the east coast. Salute the Alps, cut in two of the island through the Ida Valley (location of the Lord of the Rings, in particular the village of Rohan) and arrive nell'Otago Peninsula. We stop to see Dunedin, a beautiful city whose buildings do not hide the origin of the founders of Scotland, then enter the peninsula, a natural paradise, where we see, among others, the yellow-eyed penguins. In the evening, after a stop at Moeraki Beach (there are perfectly round huge boulders lying on the sand a few million years old) sleep at Oamaru, atypical cities with beautiful palaces of white sandstone. The dinner, however, because a sauce unworthy, is stomachevole.

FEBRUARY 18-19: THE LAST OF THE WHALE KAIKOURA
Wednesday, 18 we expect the last movement: 440 kilometers up to KAIKOURA, where we hope to see the whales. We have not succeeded in South Africa, but Thursday 19, at about three in the afternoon, it was our turn. We are aboard a boat equipped with sonar After several minutes of waiting around and some empty, a whale shows and showing. The following, about 50 meters away, for half an hour. Photographs raining as if from all the tourists, especially when showing plunges his gigantic tail. During the day they will see another, but just found it sank. Between a whale and the other sighted a real albatross, a bird which has a wingspan of about three meters, and above all a pack of dolphins' dusky '. For more coloring similar to killer whales (they are white and gray-blacks), when we see around the boat and it seems to be finished at the circus: jumps, spanciate, diving Carpati, ran a zigzag passes under the boat. There are about 400 copies, we are told, and the show is really exciting, unforgettable.
After a hangover of the kind we should return to port: a success across the board, including the keeping of our stomachs, despite the sea, not just pot.

FEBRUARY 20-21: THE LAST DAY TO CHRISTCHURCH
We are almost there to finish: we leave Friday morning to CHRISTCHURCH, where Saturday we flew to Italy, and we arrive in the morning, after about 200 kilometers. Spend a few hours in the center for a quick tour of the city, clearly, this Anglo-Saxon, then after dinner (bruschetta, fish soup and cherry) try a motel. It is a somewhat 'burglary, but it is close to the airport and the rental company where we will have to return the machine (this after 2400 kilometers). The owner of the motel seems to be the bad witch, all dressed in black and with gray hair stopposi ranging from all parties except in the right one. But it is very nice, and we also book a taxi the next morning at 6, leads us to the airport. We expect a further four aircraft (stopovers in AUCKLAND, Singapore, Frankfurt and Bologna) for a total of 26 hours. During the interminable and sleepless journey home, while New Zealand is already taking on the traits of a great memory, I feel the sadness surface: a dream is a dream realized finished, gone, lost forever, and in my drawer now is wider. But while flying over the Australian desert I find myself thinking, citing one that I know well that the wheel turns quickly, and we with her. Tomorrow, I am sure, will have time to dream something else.