Tag Archives: Holiday

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Echoes of Champagne

A friend is planning a trip to Epernay, in the heart of the champagne region, during the upcoming northern summer.

This brought back memories of the time Jean and I spent in Epernay in the summer of 2007. We thoroughly enjoyed the experience, the cuisine and, of course, the champagne.

Grapes from the champagne region are special. The region is located around 49˚ north of the equator which is as far north as grapes will ripen. And the grapes inherently have a high level of acidity – ideal for sparkling wines in general and champagne in particular. As a result the town is home to many famous champagne houses.

We stayed at a boutique hotel just outside Epernay called Royal Champagne. Located on a hill over looking a valley filled with vines and with Epernay in the distance, it was the perfect spot to drink in the region.

The hotel was originally a coach house on the main road running east from Paris. It has hosted, among others, the Emperor Napolean, hence the designation “Royal” Champagne which has stayed with the establishment ever since. It was a magical place with a superb restaurant and a bar where the Emperor himself could have enjoyed a drink.

No trip to Epernay is complete without a tour of the cellars of at least one major champagne house. We chose Moët & Chandon who have 28 kms of  cellars running under Epernay. And somewhere in that 28kms is their tasting room with a very fine selection of champagnes to savour.

Most importantly the issue of pronunciation of the name is dealt with. The correct pronunciation is not “mo-way” but “mo-wett” or “m-wet“, as Claude Moët’s name is Dutch, not French.

That’s worth a toast – a votre sante!

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Windy Art – where else but Wellington

One of the things I enjoy about Wellington is the amount of public art around the city. I’ve already blogged about the writers walk along the waterfront – the snippets of kiwi writers works carved in stone scattered here and there for people to discover. But there is so much more.

On the way to Wellington airport are a series of wind inspired works, each one making a unique statement about Wellington’s defining climatic condition and each animated by the wind in a unique way.

Here is the first in a series of shots of the various Meridian Wind Sculptures stretching between Evans Bay and the airport. Zephyrometer is a work by Phil Price erected in 2003. It is a giant “windometer” which often reaches close to horizontal in strong southerly winds. Something every Wellingtonian will have seen over the last 10 years.

The second sculpture is Andrew Drummond’s Tower of Light. The stronger the wind blows the faster the rotor on top revolves and the more neon tubes light up powered by a generator in the rotor. If you are driving into the city from the airport and see all the rings illuminated be prepared for a rough time.

The year that was

Everywhere I look the last 12 months are being reviewed – news, sports, politics – the best of, the worst of – clearly this is the time of year for reflection. Never being one to miss a trend, here’s our year in review.

It started in a cold UK and ended in a warm and sunny New Zealand. Along the way there has been travel, adventure, triumphs and sadness. Going back through the photo album, a few images leapt out.

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Home again

Poppie asleep on Minnie

After just over a week on the road we arrived home last Thursday. It had been a great break but we were all exhausted.

A huge thank you to the whole Pohara team who are now, once again, spread all around the globe.

Pohara panorama - 5 shots stitched together using Photoshop

Pohara panorama – 5 shots stitched together using Photoshop

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Here comes the sun …

The umbrella drys under blue sky

Making use of a Beatles song title seemed the most appropriate way to herald the arrival of the good weather at Pohara – and hopefully the start of a long hot summer break.

I got the chance to head out around the coast yesterday with a camera and accompanied by my photographic assistant to take a few shots. Although we’ve been to Pohara a couple of times in the past, this is the first time I’ve really had the chance to discover the coast. It really is worth seeing.

As I write this the rest of the team are at the beach swimming, jet skiing, building sand castles and soaking up the sun. Just like when we were kids – except for the jet skiing bit of course.

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Pohara welcomes us with tears

The view from our place to the sea – missing the sea because of the mist and rain

After weeks of glorious weather the day we arrive in Pohara the rain started. Well in truth, the rain started in Nelson and followed us over the Takaka Hill. The hill is a challenging drive in fine weather but with a mix of rain and mist it becomes doubly exciting – particularly as the traffic includes numerous camper vans and cars towing boats. It’s only the raw power of the mighty Falcon ute that means we can keep up a decent pace.

We arrived at “our place” for the next few days with light rain falling. Somewhere in the recesses of my brain I recall that, according to Maori mythology, rain is seen as tears of the gods which is good luck.

Hopefully good luck that brings fewer tears and more sun over the next few days.

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Attention to all Ford Falcon fans

On Christmas Day we flew from Wellington to Nelson to spend time with Jean’s family as part of our Christmas break. Mike, our brother-in-law, kindly lent us his spare car to get around.

But this wasn’t your usual “spare car”, it was a 2005 Ford Falcon FPV 320 Boss ute. Now I’m not an expert on Australian muscle cars and all I know is that it goes like stink and the best way to drive is with the window down listening to the V8 in action.

I’m sure at least one of my lovely readers can provide more information about the car – you know who you are.

Ford Falcon Boss 320 Ute

Ford Falcon Boss 320 Ute

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On the road again

Pohara at sunset

For the next week or so we are on the road – heading south for a traditional kiwi Christmas break. A few days with relatives in Nelson and then on to Pohara, a small seaside village  nestled at the base of Golden Bay, at the top of the South Island.

There is a whole mix of friends and relatives descending on Pohara – by my rough count 5 rellies, 12 friends, Jean, me and Poppie. That’s 14 adults, 5 children and one dog. Nothing more to do than relax, eat and drink. It should be a great few days.

A Kiwi Christmas

As a kiwi, Christmas is all about summer, barbecues at the beach, Christmas decorations that make no sense and Turkey roasts eaten on a steamy hot summer’s day. It’s what we know and love.

Last year was the first time I have ever spent Christmas in a cold place and suddenly it all made sense. A quick flick through the photos from last year brought back memories of Sorrento – where every year at the start of December, as winter arrives, the Christmas lights are turned on.

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A year ago today

Last year we spent November and part of December in the small coastal village of Positano on Italy’s Amalfi Coast. Through November the village is winding down. The tourist season has ended and hotels and restaurants are closing up, taking a break until the next spring.

Eden Roc Hotel was our second home. The Casola family who own the hotel also own Villa Greta – our place, and extended the hospitality of the hotel to us. On hot days we could lie by the pool and evenings out often started or ended with a drink in the hotel bar looked after by the lovely Carlo.

Eden Roc hotel closed at the end of November so on the 30th it only seemed right for us and the dogs to wander the 500 metres along the road and say farewell to what had become our “mother ship”.

Everyone at the hotel seemed relaxed and the wine was flowing a little freer than usual. The family patriarch (who had been quite ill but seemed to be on the mend) was in the hotel and insisted on buying us a drink or two or three. It ended up being a big night.

Which explains the photo – taken about 3pm the next day – when all the Mowday girls were sound asleep on the bed, one of them nursing a sizeable hangover.

It’s Hobbit premiere time

Today Wellington will come to a standstill for the world premiere of Peter Jackson’s movie The Hobbit. There will be stars, screaming fans, air kisses and autograph signings by the thousand.

This morning I had a meeting in that part of town, just across the road from the Embassy Theatre, and afterwards I had the chance to wander around and take some photos of the preparations. The amount of equipment being set up was amazing and it seemed like every Outside Broadcast van in the country was parked in and around the theatre.

Already security was in place and great swathes of the street was cordoned off with the impressive red carpet running right to the door of the theatre.

And even 6 hours before the start of the event spectators were waiting. By late afternoon the streets will be packed.

They say that the best camera you own is the one you have with you – and these shots were taken on my pocket Sony T500 camera. It did a great job.

Wellington’s wonderful waterfront

One afternoon last week I took a walk along Wellington’s waterfront. It was a glorious day and it seemed like most of Wellington was out to enjoy it.

When I say I walked along the waterfront, in actual fact, I only walked a short stretch from the Lagoon at the southern end of Frank Kitts Park to Max Patte’s striking sculpture “Solace” near Te Papa.

I walked past some of the Catherine Griffiths sculptures that make up the Wellington Writers Walk, spent time at the sculpture of Kupe, watched children jumping off the wharf by the lagoon entrance and had the chance to observe Wellingtonians doing what Wellingtonians do on a sunny day.

The development of the waterfront area has transformed what was a working wharf 30 years ago into a real asset for the city. It is accessible, well laid out and, with the number of people that use it on a daily basis, incredibly successful.

And it’s still a work in progress. If you get the chance to visit Wellington, or if you’re a Wellingtonian who hasn’t spent any time there recently, check it out. You won’t be disappointed.

A year ago today – triumph and tragedy
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A year ago today – triumph and tragedy

It began as a day like all others as the sun climbed over the Crete hills to the east – except that we were up early enough to enjoy the sunrise and completely confuse our girls when we gave them each a pat on the head and departed for Siena. We were cutting it fine and the mood in the car was sombre. There was none of the usual banter as we headed along the SR2 into Siena.

Thankfully we didn’t get stuck behind any of the local autobuses on the way and as we drove through the Porta Tufi and into the old city to park we had 10 minutes left for the walk to the Campo.

It was Rugby World Cup final day. Half a world away two teams were about to go head to head to determine who were world champions – our might All Blacks or the unpredictable and dynamic French.

We arrived at the bar in time to find a seat amongst the small but growing number of New Zealand fans and the far more numerous French fans. We ordered our usual RWC colazione (breakfast) – cappuccino and tea, followed by white wine and birra. The discipline required to start drinking at 8am was something we had mastered over the preceding 6 weeks as we had watched the pool games, the quarter finals and the semi finals. In fact we were well known in the bar and our order arrived at the table the same time we did.

The game was engrossing. What everyone expected to be an easy All Black victory became an arm wrestle with the French doing what they do best – being unpredictable and playing ten times better than they did in the early rounds of the tournament – and with 15 minutes to go the score was 8-7 to the All Blacks. The remained of the match was agonising with neither team able to get in the killing blow.

The tension in that little bar in Siena was palpable. The Kiwis had gone quiet while the French supporters were vocal as the underdogs refused to roll over.

Victory for the All Blacks, when it came, was more relief than triumph.

After congratulations all round we left the bar and stepped out into the sunlight of the Campo. We headed to our usual bar – Al Mangia – to celebrate with a glass or two of Prosecco.

At Al Mangia the talk was not of rugby but of motorcycling. Motorcycle ace and local hero Marco Simoncelli had died after falling off his bike in the Malaysian MotoGP earlier that morning and the bar patrons were noticeably affected. Simoncelli was just 24 years old.

It was, it turned out, a day of triumph overshadowed by tragedy.

In defence of photo albums
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In defence of photo albums

An early casualty of the digital photo revolution was the traditional photo album. During our stay in the UK and Italy last year I took 4,626 photos. Of that vast number exactly none have been printed out.

They are all stored on my iMac, and on two back up drives that sit humming away next to it. If we want to show people the photos we gather around  the television and run a slide show with commentary provided by Jean and I as our guest’s eyes slowly glaze over.

We have lost the tactile fun that is a photo album – and we were reminded of this when my brother and his wife visited last weekend. They had just returned from a trip to Texas and the East Coast of the USA. Upon returning, brother Geoff had taken the memory card from his camera to the local photo printing place and returned with 6×4 glossies. All of which are now in photo albums.

Going through them was a pleasure. All of us huddled around the albums as they were passed around. Fingers pointing at certain shots and describing the situation that went before or after. Turning pages to connect one shot with another. We spent an hour going through them and didn’t realise where the time went.

So here’s the thing. If you’ve got all your photographs sitting on hard drives or CDs of DVDs, go non-digital and print off an album or two. I intend to.

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Tui on a wire

Five years ago we had never seen a Tui in our back yard. We thought of them as birds of the bush or forest, certainly not visitors to our suburban home.

These New Zealand native birds have a distinctive white ruffle under their chin and a call which is a mix of ringing bells, clicks, whirrs and buzzes – with the sound of someone gargling mixed in for good measure.

About 3 years ago Tui just started to appear around the house and now their annual arrival is a mark of spring and the arrival of the warmer weather.

Their resurgence in numbers has been quite significant and is due, in no small part, to a successful breeding programme at our local wildlife reserve.

Nice.