Travel Day…We’re off to Auckland for an overnight stay…A two hour drive…An early morning flight…

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The view from the kitchen in our holiday home in Kaiwaka, New Zealand.

By the time I glanced at the clock and saw it was edging toward 11:00 am, the house in Kaiwaka was back to how we found it: clean, organized, and uncluttered with our stuff. We’re totally packed except for the computer bag and a few odds and ends. The little car is loaded to the brim. Only the sense of anticipation remains.

This house…oh, how we’ll remember it.

It wasn’t only the structure itself, lovely as it was, perched in its peaceful pocket of rural New Zealand. It was Dave and Eing. From the moment we arrived, weary and road-worn, they wrapped us in kindness. There’s something profoundly comforting about landlords who feel more like friends, who show up with a bag of jasmine rice because they read you were running low, who insist on dinner and quietly outmaneuver you when the bill arrives.

For two months, we lived in a kind of gentle stillness.

Yes, the location was remote. There were times we had to plan carefully for groceries or errands. But what we gained in exchange was immeasurable. No traffic noise—no traffic at all, really. No crowds. No sirens. Instead, our days were punctuated by the bleating of sheep, the low murmurs of cattle, and the occasional triumphant crow of a rooster. The peacocks’ haunting, almost cry-like calls would drift through the air, and the magpies carried on their animated chatter as if narrating the countryside.

Silence, but never emptiness.

This morning, as Tom slid the last bags into the car, we realized we could leave one newer carry-on behind for Dave and Eing.  Doing so, may mean I won’t be wedged quite so tightly in the front seat during our two-hour drive to Auckland. Small victories matter in this nomadic life.

Yesterday, we found ourselves talking about Penguin, Tasmania, and what awaits us there. A town of just over 4,000 people, hardly a metropolis, but after Kaiwaka’s sweeping rural landscape, it will feel lively in the most delightful way. Easy access to shopping. Restaurants within minutes. The freedom to pop out for coffee without mapping a minor expedition.

And the beach.

Across the road from our new home, the shoreline stretches wide and welcoming. Parks nearby. The scent of salt air. And each evening, the fairy penguins will return from the sea, waddling ashore in the ritual that gave the town its name. I can hardly wait to see them with my own eyes. When we do, of course, we’ll share photos. Some moments are too special not to pass along.

It will be cooler there than Kaiwaka has been lately, and I’m looking forward to the temperate air. The heavy humidity we’ve felt here will give way to something fresher, something brisk enough to invite long seaside walks.

And then there are the celebrations ahead.

Valentine’s Day. My birthday, on February 20. Our 31st wedding anniversary, on March 7.

Three beautiful markers in just a few short weeks. We may go out to dinner. We may simply stay in, sip our adult beverages, make a special dinner, and treasure the view by the water with grateful hearts. After all these years, it’s less about grand gestures and more about shared glances, quiet laughter, and the steady comfort of knowing we’re still choosing this life, and each other, every single day.

There is so much to celebrate beyond the dates on the calendar. The quality of our lives. The freedom to follow the sun. The kindness of strangers who become friends. The health that allows us to pack up once again and head toward the next horizon.

We leave Kaiwaka with full hearts. And we arrive in Penguin carrying that gratitude with us.

Be well.

Photo from ten years ago today, February 11, 2016:

A photo re-post from 2014 on this date ten years ago. As our ship made its way to the port of Venice, our mouths were agape in surprise at the feast that lay before our eyes. A photo re-post from 2014 on this date ten years ago. As our ship made its way to the port of Venice, our mouths were agape in surprise at the feast that lay before our eyes.  Click here for one of two posts about Venice. Click here for the ten-year-old recap.

Packing once again…One day and counting…

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Note:  Until we change the design of our site, paragraph spacing may be an issue.

Today, we’ll finish our packing and weigh the bags.

At this point, 90% of my packing is done, which in our world always feels like a minor miracle. I always forget how satisfying it is to see the neat little piles dwindle, the suitcases standing at attention by the door as if they, too, are ready for the next chapter. Tom, as always, packs his clothes his way…button-down shirts carefully hanging on the same plastic hangers that have traveled with us for years. Those hangers have seen more countries than many passports.

Soon, we’ll clean the house. For me, the biggest hurdle is always the refrigerator. I dread it every single time we leave a holiday rental. It’s never as bad as I imagine—fifteen minutes at most—but somehow it looms large in my mind. Perhaps it’s symbolic. Cleaning out the fridge feels like erasing the evidence that we ever lived here. The condiments we bought, the carefully selected produce, the bits and pieces that sustained us during quiet dinners at “home.” Wiping those shelves clean is my silent goodbye.

The laundry is washed, dried, folded, and tucked away. I love knowing that when we arrive in Penguin, we’ll start fresh, with no lingering piles waiting for attention. We’ll only have what we wear for the drive tomorrow, our overnight stay in Auckland, and then the four-hour journey from Hobart Airport to Penguin. There’s something deeply comforting about beginning in a new place with every sock and shirt clean and ready.

If all goes according to plan, we should arrive in Penguin by dinnertime. I can already picture it: unloading our bags, taking a moment to exhale, and then heading out to dinner in one of the restaurants in town, just a five-minute drive from the house. Today, we’ll decide where to go, weighing menus online and considering what suits both our tastes and our way of eating. After travel days, we like something simple, satisfying, and welcoming. No fuss. Just good food and the pleasure of sitting across from each other in yet another new setting.

Unpacking will likely take a full day, and we’ll leave that for the following morning. I’ve learned not to rush that process. Unpacking is how we settle in. It’s how a rental house slowly begins to feel like ours. Afterward, we’ll make the 25-minute drive to Devonport for groceries. There is an IGA market in Penguin, but from what we remember ten years ago, the selection was limited. Of course, a decade changes many things. Perhaps we’ll be pleasantly surprised. Travel has taught us never to rely too heavily on old memories; places evolve, just as we do.

Tonight, we’ll say goodbye to Dave and Eing, our kind and thoughtful hosts who so quickly became friends. We’ll offer them our remaining food, a couple of steaks, an unopened one-kilogram block of Gouda, a few containers of sour cream, and a handful of odds and ends. We’ve done well to finish nearly everything else. Passing along what remains feels right, a small gesture of gratitude for their generosity.

Tomorrow, we plan to leave around noon, giving ourselves ample time to reach our hotel in Auckland. This morning, we paid the toll charge online in advance. There are no toll booths here, only cameras quietly recording license plates. Failure to pay results in hefty fines. The cost for our trip is NZ $3.60, US $1.57. It’s modest, but ignoring it would trigger penalties not only from the toll authority but also from the car rental company, which would charge our credit card on file. Each country has its own rules and systems for toll roads, and we’ve learned it’s always worth checking in advance to avoid unnecessary fees.

And so, another chapter gently closes while the next waits just beyond tomorrow’s drive. That’s it for today, dear readers.

Be well.

Photo from ten years ago today, February 10, 2016:

Is that a smile on the face of the “stuck” alpaca? Eventually, they managed to separate. For more photos, please click here.

Happy Super Bowl Sunday!…More new local photos…Two days and counting!!!

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Whangārei, NZ, features numerous stunning beaches, primarily within 30-45 minutes of the city center. Key spots include the popular, patrolled Ocean Beach at Whangārei Heads, the long white sands of Ruakākā Beach, and the scenic Matapōuri Bay or Sandy Bay on the Tūtūkākā Coast, all offering excellent swimming, surfing, and coastal scenery.

Today’s post will be short, and not because there isn’t plenty swirling through my mind. It is short for two very practical reasons. First, I have packing to do. In two days, we’ll be leaving Kaiwaka after nearly two months in this peaceful little corner of New Zealand. Tomorrow night, we’ll stay near the airport in Auckland, positioning ourselves for an early-morning flight to Tasmania. The process of moving on has become familiar to us over these many years, yet it always carries a mix of anticipation and quiet reflection. We’ve settled into the green pastures, the winding country roads, the gentle cadence of rural life. And now, once again, it’s time to follow the next bend in the road.

We drove to the surfing area, but there was no parking available and no way to get close enough to the beach without a long, steep walk.

At least this time, the two-hour drive to Auckland will be in daylight. When we arrived here on December 13, that drive felt endless. It was dark. We were exhausted. Both of us were sick, and I was struggling with a respiratory virus that made every breath feel tight and labored. I remember sitting cramped in the front seat of the tiny rental car, luggage wedged beneath my feet, trying to find a position that allowed me to breathe just a little easier. The highway lights blurred past while I silently counted miles and wished for a bed.

It is strange how certain travel days etch themselves into memory more vividly than the postcard-perfect ones.

Hopefully, this departure will feel lighter. We are well now. Stronger. Grateful. The suitcases may be just as full, but we are not weighed down in the same way.

The tide was out, revealing a lot of the sandy beach.

The second reason for today’s short post is far less dramatic and much more fun.

I intend to pack everything we won’t need over the next 48 hours so I can settle in and watch the Super Bowl with Tom. Living on the opposite side of the world means American traditions arrive at unusual times. Here in New Zealand, it’s already Monday, and the game kicks off at 12:30 in the afternoon.

Even after years of international travel, moments like this remind us that we carry pieces of home wherever we land. A big game. Familiar commercials. The comfort of a shared cultural event unfolding thousands of miles away. It keeps us connected, even as our address changes.

So today will be a blend of packing, setting aside what we’ll need for the next two days, mentally reviewing flight details, and carving out a few uninterrupted hours to enjoy the game. It feels balanced somehow. Responsibility first. Then a small celebration.

The inlet led to the open ocean through a channel in the upper right of this photo. As a result, several boats were moored here.

Tasmania awaits. Another island. Another chapter. Another set of experiences at Penguin we can remember from ten years ago, when we enjoyed ourselves so much. In Tasmania, we’ll be close to shopping and restaurants, with easy access to the quaint little ocean village with lots of penguin statues.

We’ll be back with more tomorrow, once the suitcases are zipped and the final details are tucked neatly into place.

Enjoy your day, wherever in the world you may be.

Be well.

Photo from ten years ago today, February 9, 2016:

Surfing and kayaking are popular in both New Zealand and Australia. For more photos, please click here.

Do you have favorite winter destinations?…Our perceptions are different…Three days and counting…

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This is Tom’s perception of snowy Minnesota winters. See mine below. Not our photo.

After living in Minnesota, often referred to as the “tundra,” with its fleeting summers and painfully long, snowy, and icy winters, we made a quiet promise to ourselves when we began traveling the world. If possible, we would follow the sun. We had scraped enough windshields, navigated enough black ice, and endured enough subzero mornings to last a lifetime.

There have been a few notable exceptions. Our cruises to Alaska, Norway, and Antarctica stand out as breathtaking reminders that cold does not always equate to misery. In Alaska, we watched massive glaciers calve into the sea, their thunderous cracks echoing across icy waters. In Norway, we spotted glaciers and snowy caves. In Antarctica, we stood bundled in layers, speechless at the sight of penguins waddling across an endless white landscape that felt otherworldly and pure. Those experiences were not about enduring winter. They were about witnessing nature in its most dramatic and humbling form.

But recreational cold is very different from living in the cold.

Tom, especially, has earned his aversion to snow and bitter temperatures. After more than forty-two years working on the railroad, often in temperatures dipping to twenty below zero, he paid his dues. I can still picture him heading out the door before dawn, layered in heavy gear, bracing himself for another long shift in brutal conditions. For him, winter was not picturesque. It was relentless.

I have always felt a bit different. There is something magical about freshly fallen snow clinging to bare branches, transforming ordinary trees into sparkling sculptures. I loved those quiet winter mornings when the world seemed hushed and softened. There is a special comfort in being safely tucked indoors while snow falls steadily outside, a mug of coffee warming your hands, the furnace humming faithfully in the background. Winter, to me, held a certain coziness.

Still, when given the choice, sunshine wins.

As full-time travelers, we gravitate toward warm breezes, outdoor markets, ocean views, and the ease of stepping outside without multiple layers. We prefer flip flops to snow boots, light cotton dresses to thermal underwear. We have learned that chasing comfortable weather adds a gentle layer of joy to our nomadic lifestyle. It removes a barrier. It makes everyday living simpler.

And yet, we know we are in the minority for some travelers.

Many people, especially those who reside in tropical or consistently warm climates, dream of snow. They long for ski trips in the Alps, dog sledding adventures in Scandinavia, or cozy chalets tucked into the Canadian Rockies. For them, snow is exotic. It is exciting. It is an adventure waiting to unfold. There is undeniable beauty in watching skiers carve fresh tracks down a mountainside or families laughing together as they build snowmen.

What prompted this reflection was an article I stumbled upon in Travel + Leisure this morning. Five travel experts shared their favorite snowy destinations around the world, each describing places where winter becomes a playground rather than a hardship. Reading their perspectives reminded me how deeply personal our travel preferences are, shaped by where we have been and what we have experienced.

This is my perception of snowy Minnesota winters.

For us, the sun is more appealing than the snow. But I understand the allure. Perhaps that is the beauty of travel. There is no single perfect climate or ideal destination. There is only what feels right for you, in this season of your life.

And for now, we are happily following the warmth.

Here’s the article from Travel+ Leisure online magazine:

“We Asked 5 Travel Experts Their Favorite Winter Wonderland Destinations—and They All Said the Same Thing

From reindeer sleigh rides to the Northern Lights, this destination delivers the perfect winter escape. By Stacey Leasca

Sure, summer sun is great, but have you ever tried bundling up to play in freshly fallen snow? The season of hot cocoa, warm mittens, and snowball fights is nearly here, and it’s time to plot out your winter wonderland adventure. And, according to the travel experts we spoke to, there’s nowhere better to experience the true magic of winter than in Finland. 

“It just feels so serene, so peaceful, with a pristine blanket of snow covering thick forests for several months of the year,” Chris Brunning, the co-founder of Untold Story Travel, told Travel + Leisure about Finnish Lapland. “The seemingly perpetual sunsets and the magical winter nights—there’s nowhere quite like it. There’s also a rich indigenous heritage that often goes overlooked, wonderful local people with that famously dry Scandinavian sense of humor, and some of the cleanest air in Europe.”

There’s also plenty to see and do for every kind of traveler here in the winter, according to our pros.

“It is truly spectacular to see in winter, as it is located inside the Arctic Circle, making it possible to see the Northern Lights fairly easily from this location,” Michelle Jensen, editor at Travel HerStory, told T+L. “It is also a wonderful place to enjoy a variety of winter-based activities, such as reindeer sleigh rides, dog sledding, ice floating, snowshoeing, snowmobiling, and the world’s only snow sauna, located at the Arctic Snow Hotel.” 

As Jensen added, it’s great for families with small children (or really for kids at heart too) thanks to “Santa’s Village, where you can meet the big man himself, visit Santa’s post office, eat at a snow restaurant, snow tube, and do other activities.” 

Want to make that visit to Santa even more spectacular? Consider booking with Brunning. “Through our contacts with the man himself, we can arrange a private sleigh ride through an enchanted woodland at dusk,” he said. “Before long, you’ll happen upon some frantic elves lost in the forest. The light from a roaring fire glows in the distance, and together you enter a small log cabin, where none other than Santa Klaus himself is waiting to welcome you.”

And according to Jozef Verbruggen, the founder of Untamed Travelling, the entire region is a sensory treat. “[It’s a] place with a thick blanket of snow and deep frozen lakes,” he said. “Put on your snowshoes for a walk and only hear the snow crunching under your shoes.” 

With all that snow, you might expect it to be a place where things get cancelled and moved around due to the weather. Not so, said Riderly CEO Carlos Nasillo. “What makes Lapland special is the fact that winter isn’t just a season, it’s an entire way of life and an operandi in which the locals have learned to thrive in situations that would simply shut down most other destinations,” he told T+L. “The reality  of true winter survival culture is ages ahead of a manufactured winter resort.” 

Of course, you could always make a winter visit to Lapland a double feature by pairing it with a nearby city escape, just as Claire Riley, a travel advisor with Duende Travels, recommends. “Pairing a few days in Finland’s capital of Helsinki with the rest of the week in the arctic part of the country is a perfect combination: great cuisine, culture, design, and nightlife in Helsinki, followed by a pure shot of nature in the north,” Riley explained.

She noted that there are plenty of great lodges up near Ivalo or Rovaniemi that offer the glass igloo accommodations everyone is after with a visit to the region, plus an array of outdoor activities. “On my visit to Ivalo, I learned to snowshoe, cross-country ski, and snowmobile, and that was all before the sun went down and Aurora activity started,” she said.”

For all these years, we’ve chased the sun as if it were an old and loyal friend, guiding us from one hemisphere to another, warming our days and lightening our spirits. There is comfort in endless summer. It suits our nomadic hearts. But, once again, there will be a small and welcome exception to our rule.

From May 10 to May 14, 2027, we will be returning to Alaska as part of a booked Azamara 65-night cruise itinerary. And truthfully, we won’t mind in the least.

Be well.

Photo from ten years ago today, February 8, 2016:

Yesterday, we posted a photo with eight baby alpacas. The next day, we took this photo with nine babies, although there appears to be eight. Can you find the ninth? For more photos, please click here.

A story from ten years ago today…Four days and counting…

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A simple life in the country…

on 
Sunset at the alpaca farm in New Plymouth, New Zealand.

Note: It’s ironic that we’re back in New Zealand ten years later. We thought it would be fun to share this story we posted on this date in 2016. See the ten-year-old post below:

“The house has a metal roof, and it’s a veritable hot box on hot days. We have no choice but to leave the sliding doors open. The flies and sand flies are bad. I wear repellent round the clock, re-applying it three times a day.

This alpaca, Amber Rose, who recently gave birth, often looks at me through the kitchen window while I’m preparing meals, at times pressing her nose to the glass.

Last night, a dragonfly was flying around the bedroom, making noise as it bumped into the walls, keeping me awake most of the night. With no screens on any of the doors or windows, we can’t open any of the bedroom windows at night to cool off the hot room.

The fan moves the hot air around but doesn’t seem to cool it down. We’ve only used the comforter on a few occasions.

The WiFi is metered, and we can’t download as many of our favorite shows as we’ve often been able to in other locations. We’re in a tough position, knowing we won’t have good enough WiFi in Bali to download shows. We’d hoped to download everything we’d need while we’re here to watch later in Bali. That may not happen.

Each sunny afternoon, the alpacas crowd to the side of the house to find shelter in the shade. See more below.

I love it here. Tom loves it here. Adaptation. It’s a simple life in the country.

There’s a lot to love; the alpacas; the many comforts in the house; the ever-changing exquisite scenery surrounding us; the sound of the flowing nearby river; the kind and helpful owners, Trish and Neil; the New Zealand people; the ideal shopping fulfilling all of our needs from the health food store to the grass-fed only meat market to the weekly farmers market with the best eggs in the South Pacific.

The number of alpacas in the shade from our house grows with the heat of the sun.

Yes, there is a lot to love. Yesterday, I filled a bowl with a special grass mix for the alpacas and hand-fed it to them as my feet dangled over the edge of the veranda.  I couldn’t take photos while my hands were otherwise busy. It didn’t seem to matter at the time. Sorry about that. Sometimes the experience supersedes all else.

Hanging the laundry on the clothesline is a pleasant experience in itself, as is each time I step outdoors in my bare feet to check to see if it’s dry. The feel of the soft, neatly trimmed grass under my feet sends my senses reeling, reminding me of the yet unproven philosophy of “earthing” or “grounding,” which may have some truth. See here for details.

The grouping of cria started with these four.  They love sitting in this dirt, rolling around, and getting dirty. See below after it grew in numbers.

The rental car sits in the driveway, used only three times a week for various local trips. We don’t want to leave more often. Everything we could possibly want is right here within a few hours’ drive.

In minutes, the group of cria grew to eight.

Yesterday, I walked alone when Tom didn’t feel like joining me. As I approached the cattle, my favorite pregnant female immediately spotted me heading to the fence. She literally danced, so happy to see me, lifting one leg at a time as she rocked in place, shaking her head back and forth, slobber flying from her mouth.

My favorite cow was separated from what may have been her last offspring.  We often find them close to one another, sneaking affection through the fence.

She moaned in frustration as I walked away. Had anyone seen this, they would have laughed at this crazy woman communicating with a cow. I’ve often wondered if I should have lived on a farm when I’ve always been drawn to barnyard animals, rolling dough, and baking bread (in my old life, when I could eat gluten).

Instead, for now, we live this simple life, spending a lot of time outdoors, cooking good meals, mingling with life in the country, and taking photos of precious moments, with the ongoing joy of sharing them daily with all of YOU, as we’ve shown today.

This mom and son, Mont Blanc, were separated by the fence when Mont Blanc crawled under it and escaped. Later, Trish and Neil picked him up and placed him over the fence, not an easy task. We often see them in close contact, perhaps because they remember being once separated. Although Mont Blanc, the only blue-eyed cria in the group of 12, loves playing with the other youngsters.

For those in the US, may you have a fun-filled Super Bowl Sunday, upcoming tomorrow. (We’ll be watching it here on Monday). And to our friends in New Zealand, enjoy the rest of Waitangi Weekend. For details of this holiday, please click here.

Have a happy day in the country, city, desert, mountains or plains or, wherever you may be…”

Be well.

Photo from ten years ago today, February 7, 2016:

Last year’s young bulls, in New Plymouth, New Zealand. For more, please click here.

Last evening’s dinner out with Dave and Eing…Five days and counting…

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The view from the Mangawhei Tavern as we settled in for dinner.    

Last evening unfolded in one of those quiet, meaningful ways that travel sometimes gifts you when you least expect it. Our thoughtful landlords and new friends, Dave and Eing, insisted on taking us out to dinner, and from the moment we set off, it felt less like an evening out and more like a continuation of the kindness they have shown us since the day we arrived. Early on, we decided we’d pick up the bill.

There was plenty of indoor and outdoor seating. We dined outdoors.

They picked us up as we headed to the town of Mangawhai, where they took a short detour to show us the popular beach. Tomorrow, we’ll share those photos. By 6:15, we entered the Mangawhai Tavern, a familiar local spot that hums with easy conversation and the comfortable pace of a community that knows one another well. There were singles, couples, and families, many with their dogs in tow. I always enjoy visiting restaurants where dogs are allowed outdoors.

Dave and Eing had made a reservation, and our table was ready for us.

The light was already beginning to soften as evening settled in, and there was that relaxed, end-of-day feeling that makes conversation flow a little more freely. We slid into our seats at a large outdoor picnic table, where staff warmly greeted us as we ordered our beverages. Tom ordered beer, and I ordered a glass of Malbec, one of my favorites. In moments, we had our menus in hand, and I perused the menu to see what would work for my eating style. My dish, as shown in the photo, was gluten-free and mostly complied with my way of eating. Tom decided on the delicious fish and chips, as did Dave and Eing.

Tom, ever discreet, quietly made his plan known to the waiter. He asked that the bill for the evening’s drinks and dinner be brought to him when the time came. It was a small gesture, but an important one. After all, Dave and Eing had already done so much for us, and it felt right to return even a fraction of that generosity. Tom gave me a glance and a subtle nod, the universal sign of “it’s handled,” and we settled back into the evening, unaware that events were already moving in a different direction.

Dogs allowed!

Unbeknownst to us, Dave had his own plan in motion. Somehow, between conversation and laughter, he managed to get to the waiter after Tom had talked to him, well before the rest of us had any idea what was happening. By the time plates were cleared and the easy, satisfied pause that follows a good meal arrived, the bill had already been paid in full. There was no discussion, no opportunity to protest. Dave had quietly and decisively taken care of everything.

When we realized what had happened, we were genuinely touched. It wasn’t just the meal itself, though that alone would have been generous. It was the intention behind it, the effortless way they gave without making it feel transactional or performative. Just kindness, offered simply and sincerely.

My meal consisted of a rolled piece of beef in a gluten-free au jus with grilled carrots and greens, all atop a bed of mashed eggplant. On the side was a little cup of pomegranate seeds, which I couldn’t resist. Each bite was delicious!

This dinner was only one more example of the warmth Dave and Eing have shown us throughout our entire stay. Not long after we arrived, Dave read one of my posts where I mentioned, almost in passing, that we had run out of rice. The very next day, he arrived with a fresh bag of jasmine rice, placed it on the counter, and brushed it off as though it were nothing. Those are the moments that linger, the ones that remind you how deeply people can listen and how thoughtfully they can respond.

They invited us to two parties during our time here, welcoming us into their circle and introducing us to friends who immediately made us feel included. Christmas Day dinner was another highlight, one of those dinners that carries a sense of belonging far beyond the holiday itself. We were guests, yes, but never made to feel like outsiders. Conversations flowed easily, stories were shared, and laughter filled the room in that unmistakable way that only happens when people are truly comfortable together.

They all enjoyed the fish and chips.

What we appreciated just as much as their generosity was their company. Dave and Eing have a way of making time slow down, of being fully present in conversation. The friends we met at the parties carried that same easy warmth, and by the end of each gathering, it felt less like meeting new people and more like reconnecting with familiar ones.

Travel often introduces us to beautiful and memorable places, landscapes, and experiences. But every so often, it introduces us to people who leave an even deeper impression. Dave and Eing are firmly in that category. Their thoughtfulness, their generosity, and their genuine interest in making us feel welcome have shaped our time here in ways we will carry with us long after we’ve moved on.

Last evening at the Mangawhai Tavern was about far more than dinner. It was about generosity given freely, friendships formed unexpectedly, and the quiet reminder that sometimes, the best parts of travel have nothing to do with distance at all.

Be well.

Photo from ten years ago today, February 6, 2016:

Continuation of the historic Plas Mawr home we presented yesterday…This clever seating nook and appropriate narrow table brought visions of “tea time” to mind. For more photos, please click here.

Historic properties worldwide…Out to dinner with our lovely property owners/new friends….

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A historic house we visited in New Plymouth, New Zealand. See the 2016 post here.

Visiting historic properties has become one of the quiet anchors of our travels, the steady thread that stitches together countries, climates, and cultures as we move through the world. No matter where we find ourselves, there is something grounding about stepping into a place that has already lived many lives before we arrive. These buildings, estates, ruins, and preserved homes remind us that while our journey feels expansive and modern, it is layered on top of countless human stories that came long before us.

As travelers, we have learned that historic properties are rarely just about architecture. They are about people, routines, conflicts, triumphs, and ordinary days that somehow survived long enough to leave an imprint. Walking through an old manor, a centuries-old farmhouse, or a once grand city residence, we find ourselves slowing down almost instinctively. The pace changes.

The entrance to the sunroom.

One of the most fascinating aspects of visiting historic properties is how universal yet deeply local they are. A stone cottage or a house such as this, which we visited in New Plymouth, New Zealand in 2016, are storytellers. They speak of who had power, who labored behind the scenes, how families gathered, and how survival shaped daily life. We often leave these places with a deeper understanding of the country we are visiting, not from dates and timelines, but from kitchens, bedrooms, gardens, and worn staircases.

Traveling long term has given us the luxury of comparison, something short visits rarely allow. We notice how climate influenced design, such as thick stone walls, as we experienced in Boveglio, Italy, in the Tuscany region. We notice how resources dictated beauty, ornate woodwork where timber was abundant, and simple lines where materials were scarce. Even the smallest details, a hand-carved doorframe or uneven floorboards, hint at the skills and limitations of another era. These are things you cannot fully grasp from books or photos. They need to be experienced in person, quietly, and without rushing.

There is also an emotional element that sneaks up on us when visiting historic properties. Some places feel warm and lived in, almost welcoming, while others carry a heaviness that lingers long after we leave, such as the ruins we visited in Ireland in 2017. Former prisons such as The Tench, which we visited in Hobart, Tasmania, battle sites, such as Normandy, France, in 2014, or homes tied to painful histories often stay with us the longest. They remind us that travel is not always about beauty and escape. Sometimes it is about witnessing, acknowledging, and learning to sit with discomfort as part of understanding the world more honestly.

Seeing these cute flowers was a first for us.

We have found that historic properties often reveal the everyday lives that history books overlook. Grand events are important, but it is the small details that tend to resonate most. A narrow servant staircase tucked out of sight. A child’s bedroom, no larger than a closet. A kitchen hearth worn smooth by generations of hands. These details humanize the past and make it easier to imagine ourselves there, dealing with the same fears, hopes, and routines, just under very different circumstances.

As nomads, these places also provide a strange sense of continuity. When you are constantly moving, it can be easy to feel untethered. Historic properties remind us that movement, change, and adaptation are not new concepts. People have always migrated, rebuilt, expanded, and endured. Standing in a home that has survived wars, economic collapse, or natural disasters puts our own temporary inconveniences into perspective. It is humbling and oddly comforting.

June apologized for the dandelions and the sparse lawn, citing a lack of rain at the time. We could easily imagine a lush green lawn in a more rainy climate.

Some of our favorite moments happen after we leave the property itself. We sit with a coffee nearby, looking back at the structure from a distance, imagining how many others have stood in that same spot with entirely different lives and futures ahead of them. In those moments, travel feels less like ticking destinations off a list and more like participating in an ongoing human story.

Visiting historic properties has taught us to travel with curiosity rather than urgency. These places reward patience and attention. They invite reflection. As we continue to move through the world, they remain some of the most meaningful stops on our journey, quiet reminders that, as we pass through, the stories we encounter are enduring, layered, and deeply worth listening to.

This evening, we’re heading out to dinner with our lovely landlords and new friends, Dave and Eing. They have been incredibly kind to us. Most recently, after Dave read our post about being out of rice, he showed up at the door the next day with a new bag of jasmine rice. Such a small gesture, yet so thoughtful. Tomorrow, we’ll share photos and details from our evening out.

Be well.

Photo from ten years ago today, February 5, 2016:

Our host, June, whom we met at the supermarket, invited us to see her historic home in New Plymouth, New Zealand. Plas Mawr is a historic custom home built in 1913 by the renowned New Zealand architect James Chapman-Taylor, with a stunning garden as shown here. For more photos, please click here.

Valentine’s Day is on the horizon…Travel gifts as an alternative to candy and flowers…

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It was romantic to experience a dinner cruise on the Seine in Paris in 2014. See the post here.

With Valentine’s Day on the horizon on February 14, my thoughts drift, as they often do, to places rather than presents. Romance, for us, has always been deeply tied to location. Certain cities seem to carry love in the air, woven into their streets, their food, their light at dusk. These are places where time slows just enough to notice small gestures, lingering glances, shared silences. Whether you arrive hand in hand or fall in love with the place itself, some cities simply understand romance better than others.

We were nearing the end of the cruise when I took this outdoor photo of Tom.

Planning a special romantic Valentine’s Day vacation for your loved one is less about ticking boxes and more about tuning into the quiet nature of who you are together. It begins long before flights are booked or bags are packed. It starts with observation. The way they linger over morning coffee. The places they mention in passing, usually prefaced with “someday.” The small comforts they crave when life feels too loud. Romance lives in those details, not in grand gestures alone. However, a special romantic trip presented to your loved one on Valentine’s Day can create memories you will cherish forever.

Talk about romantic! There we were, sitting on a Zodiac boat in Pleneau Bay, sipping on French champagne. Was that ever fun! See the post here.

When I think about planning a Valentine’s escape, I imagine stepping briefly outside the rush of everyday responsibilities and creating a pocket of time that belongs only to us. A pause. A soft reset. The destination matters, of course, but it is the intention that shapes the experience. Whether it is a familiar place revisited or somewhere entirely new, the goal is the same: to reconnect without distractions and remember why you chose each other in the first place.

Choosing the destination becomes an act of love. Maybe it is a quiet coastal town where mornings begin with mist rising off the water and evenings end wrapped in blankets, listening to waves collapse onto the shore. Or perhaps it is a historic city where cobblestone streets encourage slow wandering, hand in hand, stopping whenever curiosity nudges you to look closer. For some couples, romance lives in nature. For others, it is found in art, food, or shared adventure. The right place is the one that mirrors your shared temperament, not someone else’s idea of romance.

Accommodation sets the emotional tone. A small guesthouse or boutique hotel often feels more intimate than a sprawling, anonymous hotel. Somewhere with windows that open, allowing fresh air and unfamiliar sounds to drift in. A place where breakfast feels unhurried and evenings invite conversation rather than screens. It is worth choosing comfort over luxury if comfort means space to breathe and be yourselves.

The real magic, though, is in how the days unfold. We like to leave room for unplanned moments. Over-scheduling can turn a romantic getaway into another checklist. Instead, we think in gentle outlines. A long walk after breakfast. A midday break that invites a nap or quiet reading. One thoughtful activity per day, chosen not for Instagram appeal but for shared enjoyment. Maybe it is a cooking class, learning something new side by side. Maybe it is a scenic drive with no destination beyond curiosity. These are the moments that linger long after the trip ends.

How romantic, New Year’s Eve in 2017 in Buenos Aires! See the post here.

Food plays an emotional role in travel and even more so on Valentine’s Day. Planning one special meal can anchor the entire experience. Not necessarily the most expensive restaurant, but one that feels intentional. Candlelight, unhurried courses, and a sense that time has slowed just for you. We also love the simplicity of shared food rituals. Picking up local cheeses. Sitting somewhere beautiful, saying little, letting the setting do the talking. These small acts often feel more intimate than anything elaborate.

Thoughtful surprises add depth without overwhelming the experience. A handwritten note tucked into a suitcase. A playlist curated for the journey, filled with songs that trace your history together. Perhaps a small gift tied to the place you are visiting, something meaningful rather than ornamental. These gestures say, “You mean the world to me,” which is the most romantic message of all.

Valentine’s Day itself does not need fireworks. Sometimes it is enough to wake up somewhere unfamiliar, reach for your partner’s hand, and feel grateful. A slow morning. A shared laugh over something trivial. An evening walk under unfamiliar stars. Romance often reveals itself when expectations are gentle, and presence is complete.

In the end, planning a Valentine’s Day vacation is an act of care. It is about creating space for closeness, reflection, and shared memory. Long after the bags are unpacked and daily life resumes, what remains is the feeling you carried home with you. The quiet certainty that, wherever you are in the world, choosing each other still feels like the best journey of a lifetime.

We will share more photos of romantic experiences over the years on Valentine’s Day!

Be well.

Photo from ten years ago today, February 4, 2016:

Tom, standing outside Taylor Dental Practice in New Plymouth, New Zealand. He had an abscessed tooth, which resulted in an extraction. For the story and more photos, please click here.

For those who haven’t checked in lately…Those annoying ads on our website are gone!…

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Agapanthus flowers in New Zealand are classified as weeds and considered invasive, although they are beautiful, as they grow along roads and highways.

After a grueling month spent untangling maintenance issues on our website, I finally feel comfortable placing this chapter gently behind me, at least for a little while. It has been one of those stretches where the work is invisible to everyone else but consumes an extraordinary amount of mental space. The kind of work that follows you into your sleep and reappears first thing in the morning with a new question or concern.

With Hostinger, our excellent hosting company, and its network of technicians worldwide, most major issues have now been resolved. These technicians step in when needed for a reasonable fee, and their expertise has been invaluable. At this point, only a few minor issues remain, nothing urgent enough to demand immediate attention or disrupt our daily posts. For now, the site is running more efficiently than it has in quite some time. However, we are experiencing paragraph spacing issues, which we reported today to our new tech guy. This should be resolved within a day or two.

That said, technology never stands still. Given the current style and design of our site, along with ongoing WordPress changes, I know a redesign will eventually be necessary to ensure compatibility and stability. Rather than rushing into that process while we are constantly on the move, I have decided to postpone the redesign until we reach Marloth Park. There, we will be staying on and off for nine months, providing the stability and focus that such a project truly requires.

When that time comes, I will be sure to notify our readers in advance. There may be a brief period when the site is inaccessible, but it should be no more than a few days. If we do not take this step at some point, the risk is that the site could eventually crash altogether. While I am hopeful it will hold until then, I also want to be transparent. Even if the site were to crash unexpectedly before our planned redesign, we would not be down for long. We monitor things closely and will immediately launch the new version.

In practical terms, the most you would experience is a brief pause in access to our daily posts. There will be nothing for you to do and nothing you need to fix or adjust on your end. We will handle it and keep you informed every step of the way.

I truly appreciate the patience you have shown during this recent maintenance period. It means more than you might realize. I am also relieved and genuinely happy to say that we are now up and running more smoothly in the interim. For those who haven’t checked in lately, you will notice a very welcome change. All of those annoying ads are gone.

We deliberately chose to forgo any potential revenue from that intrusive advertising style. Instead, we chose to focus only on the advertisers displayed on the right side of the page when viewed on a computer and at the bottom of the page when reading on a smartphone. This felt more respectful of your experience and more aligned with the spirit of why we started this site in the first place.

If you are able, please help support us by using those links when they are relevant to you. The small amount of revenue they generate helps offset some of the costs of maintaining this free site. The prices and services are exactly the same as if you visited those websites directly through your browser.

Thank you, as always, for your patience, understanding, and continued presence here with us.
On another note, yesterday turned out to be the hottest day we have experienced since arriving in Kaiwaka in mid December. On paper, it hardly sounded dramatic at all, just 80F or 27C. In reality, the humidity told a very different story. At 95 percent, the air felt thick and unrelenting, with a dew point of 78 degrees creating an oppressive, nearly saturated atmosphere. Everything felt sticky and heavy, even indoors. For the first time, in the late afternoon, we switched on the air conditioner in the lounge room and let it run until bedtime. Thankfully, today feels calm, cooler, and wonderfully comfortable again.

Be well.

Photo from ten years ago today, February 3, 2016:

A horse, shown in New Plymouth, New Zealand, wore a blanket to regulate body temperature and protect it from the elements. For more photos, please click here.

Ten years ago…Have we changed much in ten years?…

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The main thoroughfare, Eliot St., in downtown New Plymouth heads out to the ocean.

The following is a slightly revised (I corrected numerous errors) copy of a post from ten years ago, found here.

“When we arrived in New Plymouth 15 days ago, we expected WiFi to be available. This wasn’t the case, and we had no choice but to head to a local phone store, buy a device, and load up on expensive data.

To date, we’ve spent NZ 593 and US $388 on Internet access fees, an expense we hadn’t anticipated. Don’t get me wrong… the owners are very kind and caring people, and we’ve greatly appreciated their efforts and attention to detail.

They had no idea it would take so long to get service, assuming only a day or two. They’d tried to arrange it over the holidays but couldn’t pin down a date. We have no doubt they tried. But, as in many parts of the world, not everything happens according to a schedule one would prefer.

Ornate house on a corner.

Actually, we feel bad about how much pressure we’ve placed on them as the WiFi bill continues to rack up expenses day after day. Yesterday, I paid the bill after Spark set up an account for us to be paid monthly, without requiring a 12-month contract.

Yesterday, Trish stopped by with an extra fan (without our asking) since we’ve been hauling the one fan we had up and down the stairs every day. Although the air is relatively cool here in summer, the metal roof makes the house very hot on sunny days.

St. Andrews Presbyterian Church in downtown New Plymouth is another historic building.

We’ve decided to keep the doors open, welcoming the cool breezes most days, and deal with the flies. They aren’t biting flies and seem fairly easy to swat with the flyswatter we purchased. They are considerably less prevalent on cooler, windy days. By dinner time, we close the doors, kill the flies, and have dinner, preferring that no flies buzz over our food. This plan seems to be working.

After handing me the fan, Trish explained she’d heard from Vodafone, who are to arrive today. We had an appointment with June for today and had planned to grocery shop after we were done. We immediately contacted June, apologizing and kindly asking that we change the date. She was happy to make a change.

Contemporary houses overlooking the ocean.

In the process, we decided to postpone the grocery shopping until Thursday, after Tom’s 10:15 dentist appointment. We have enough food on hand for Wednesday’s meals. Goodness, we haven’t had “appointments” to speak of other than our medical exams while in Australia.

We’ve loved having a simple life, avoiding planning and instead waiting until we “feel like” doing something. Now, we have three dinner reservations looming: for Valentine’s Day, my birthday, and our anniversary; Tom’s dental appointments; and the meeting with June.

Has our free-spirited lifestyle taken a break while we’re here in convenient New Zealand with everything we could need or want at our fingertips? There’s even a movie theatre here showing current US movies at NZ 10, US $6.55 for seniors. Perhaps, we’ll give it a try on a rainy day.

Modern-style houses and apartments.

The last time Tom and I attended a movie together was in the theatres on cruise ships or watching on the huge screen out by the beach, but attending an actual movie theatre?

The last time I attended a movie, Interstellar, was with my son Greg in December 2014 in Hawaii, when the family visited us on the Big Island. Both my sons and I always enjoyed attending movies together, especially back in my days of eating popcorn, long since passed.

Seldom do we have access to an English-speaking movie theatre. Seldom do we make appointments, locking ourselves into specific dates and times for events, except on travel days.

As much as parts of our lives may require extensive planning and preparation for the next leg of the journey, the next year, and, oftentimes, two years out, our daily lives are simple and uncomplicated. Somehow, it all works.

When all is said and done, we’re blissfully happy. Having accomplished that single feat in life is more than either of us ever expected during these “golden years” of our lives.

On Valentine’s night, we have a dinner reservation at Table Restaurant, as shown on the right of this photo.

Isn’t that our ultimate desire… happiness, seemingly elusive, yet once a decision is made to become happy? We often find the opportunities to do so right at our fingertips. We’re truly blessed and grateful to have found it, and we’ll continue to hang on tight for as long as we can.

May your day bring you happiness.”

After reading this ten-year-old post, I don’t see that we’ve changed that much. We may have become more tolerant, resilient, and perhaps even more resourceful after a plethora of unexpected experiences. We are still the same individuals and the same couple who thrive on life on the road and being together. Who knows what the future holds, or whether we’ll still be traveling in years to come? We live one day at a time, grateful for every opportunity, for every moment, of precious life on the move in this vast world.

Be well.

Photo from ten years ago today, February 2, 2016:

Colorful apartment building in New Plymouth, New Zealand. For more photos, please click here.