Merry Christmas!…It’s Christmas Day, today in New Zealand!..

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Merry Christmas with much love to all of our family, friends, and readers throughout the world.

Merry Christmas from New Zealand. It feels both familiar and completely different to be writing those words from this side of the world, where Christmas has already arrived, while so many of the people we love are still moving through Christmas Eve. Over the past day or so, we’ve already had a chance to chat with family members and friends scattered across time zones, some in the US, where Christmas Day will dawn tomorrow, and others who, like us, are celebrating today. The conversations overlapped in a gentle blur of “Merry Christmas,” “It’s almost here,” and “Can you believe it already passed for you?” Time feels elastic when you live this way, stretching and compressing depending on who you’re talking to and where they happen to be in the world.

This morning, Dave stopped by, as he often does, with that easygoing Kiwi warmth that makes you feel instantly at home. He and his dear wife, Eing, invited us to dinner tonight, and we delightfully accepted without hesitation. There’s something especially touching about being welcomed into someone’s home on a holiday when you’re far from your own traditions, your own kitchen, and your own familiar table. Over the years, travel has gifted us many things, but the opportunity to connect with locals, really connect, beyond small talk, has been one of the greatest blessings. And here we are again, another Christmas spent not in a place we once called home, but in a place that feels welcoming in its own quiet, unassuming way.

As we’ve continued this lifestyle year after year, we’ve found ourselves celebrating holidays alongside people from all over the world. Each experience adds another layer to our understanding of how others live, gather, and mark special days. In New Zealand, Christmas falls in summer, and even that slight shift changes everything. The light lingers longer, the air feels different, and the pace of the day doesn’t quite match the snowy scenes so deeply ingrained in our memories. Yet the heart of it, the kindness, the togetherness, the sense of pausing, remains.

Tom’s birthday, which sits right next to Christmas, was a gentle reminder of how adaptable life has become. He had a lovely birthday, filled with messages that arrived throughout the day and night via WhatsApp, Facebook, texts, emails, and phone calls. Each message carried a small reminder of our old lives, a reminder that distance doesn’t erase connection. It’s always been an odd time of year to have a birthday, but Tom has long made the best of it, and this year was no different.

In our old lives, I made a point of keeping his birthday separate from Christmas. No presents wrapped in Christmas paper. No holiday-themed cakes or desserts sneaking their way into his celebration. It was important to me that the day belonged solely to him, uninterrupted by ornaments or carols. It was a tradition rooted in care, in making sure he felt celebrated for who he is, not as an add-on to a holiday.

Now, living this unique, nomadic life, things look different. We don’t make a fuss about Christmas in the traditional sense. There are no trees to decorate, no boxes of ornaments pulled from storage, no shopping lists filled with gifts. What remains is the spiritual meaning we carry quietly in our hearts. The commercialism has fallen away, no longer shaping how we experience the season. And honestly, I can’t imagine that changing anytime soon.

This simpler version of Christmas feels truer somehow, less about what we do and more about how we feel. Gratitude, connection, reflection, and an openness to wherever we happen to be. This year, that place is New Zealand, and we are thankful for the people we’ve met, the kindness they’ve shown us, and the gentle reminder that home isn’t always a place. Sometimes, it’s simply the moment you’re in, shared with others, wherever in the world you may be.

Merry Christmas and be well.

Photo from ten years ago today, December 25, 2015:

Yum, baby octopus. We went to a buffet lunch at the Pearl Resort in Pacific Harbour, Fiji, on Christmas Day. Those heads are a bit tricky to chew. I ate four of these, less one head. For more photos, please click here.

It’s Christmas Eve, here in the Southern Hemisphere…A laid back holiday for us…

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This cute little cow has a notched ear along with a speckled face.

Tom thanks our many friends/readers who reached out to him with happy birthday wishes; it was yesterday here on this side of the dateline, but it is today in the US with the 19-hour time difference.

Cows were watching us drive past.

Our trip to the New World Market in Whangārei was, on the surface, relatively uneventful, but in the quiet, practical way that feels deeply satisfying when you’re living far from familiar faces and surroundings while trying to settle into a leisurely pace. The shopping was rewarding in the simplest sense: I found every single item on my carefully prepared list. No substitutions. No settling. That alone felt like a small victory.

Cows are inquisitive.

We spent US $406.92, or NZ $696.90, which still makes me pause when I say it out loud, but the cart was full in a way that promised comfort and ease for the coming weeks. With any luck, this haul will carry us through close to two weeks, saving us another long drive sooner than necessary. Groceries in New Zealand are undeniably expensive, yet the quality is extraordinary. This country knows its food.

The beef, chicken, lamb, pork, and seafood were pristine, beautifully displayed, and clearly treated with care. The produce looked as though it had been picked that morning, vibrant and alive, and the dairy, well, New Zealand dairy truly deserves its reputation. What surprised me most was how many organic and non-GMO options were simply part of the everyday selection, not tucked away on a specialty shelf or priced like a luxury item.

I tried taking photos of the scenery, but the narrow, winding two-lane road made it hard to capture anything without stopping. Thus, more cows.

Despite everything, I actually enjoyed the shopping. There’s something grounding about wandering wide aisles, considering options, imagining meals, and slowly rebuilding a sense of normalcy. The staff were friendly and genuinely helpful, the kind of warmth that doesn’t feel forced or scripted. While I shopped, Tom was only a short distance away, finally getting a much-needed haircut. Or so we thought. As it turned out, his haircut took far longer than my shopping expedition. He texted me about the delay, stuck waiting for his turn at the barbershop, while I continued filling the cart.

About halfway through, my body reminded me, rather firmly, that it’s still recovering. The lingering effects of the virus, combined with my usual walking issues, hit all at once. My legs suddenly felt like jelly, unreliable and weak, and even leaning heavily on the cart didn’t help much. By the time I reached the checkout, I knew I needed to sit down immediately. I made my way to the customer service desk and asked if there was somewhere, anywhere, I could sit down.

These wild purple/blue flowers often line the roads in New Zealand. They are agapanthus.

The woman behind the counter didn’t hesitate. She was kindness itself, immediately escorting me to a sitting area near the exit door. She even offered to check out my groceries and bag them for me. I was tempted, but I knew Tom would be arriving soon with the stash of reusable bags our landlord, Dave, had left for us, including several insulated ones. With the long drive back to Kaiwaka, we felt better knowing our perishables would stay cold.

On the drive to the market, I took a few photos when I could, but the long, winding, narrow roads made stopping difficult, with other vehicles close behind us. It seemed everyone was out shopping for the holidays, and I noticed countless missed photo opportunities along the way. I’m hoping that once the holiday rush passes, we’ll be able to stop more freely and capture the beauty I glimpsed through the window.

Popular coffee shop with quaint decor.

Before long, Tom appeared, freshly coiffed and looking very pleased with himself. He directed me to the car to rest while he took care of the groceries. About an hour later, we were back at the house, unpacking and tucking everything neatly away. That night, we kept dinner simple with chicken leftovers, grateful for an easy evening. Yesterday, I finished making Tom’s birthday pizza, and he enjoyed it immensely.

We are content. We are grateful. And with each passing day, we’re feeling just a little better. This Christmas Eve and Christmas Day will be quiet, spent resting and appreciating the calm of our lovely home in Kaiwaka, New Zealand, and that feels like exactly what we need.

Merry Christmas and be well.

Photo from ten years ago today, December 24, 2015:

We’ve often seen these boats heading to scuba diving and snorkeling on the reefs in Pacific Harbour, Fiji. For more photos, please click here.

Happy birthday, to my dear husband, travel companion and friend…

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Tom, in 2020, while we were on an excursion from the Maharajas Express train.

December 23rd is Tom’s 73rd birthday. Happy birthday, my darling husband. Depending on where you’re standing on the globe, it’s almost his birthday. Back in the US, with the significant time difference, his birthday won’t technically arrive until tomorrow. Here in New Zealand, though, the day has already unfolded, quietly, gently, without fanfare, and that feels oddly fitting this year.

With both of us still recovering from this awful flu, there were never going to be balloons, dinners out, or ambitious plans. No reservations, no cake, no clinking glasses in a crowded restaurant. Instead, the day has been marked in the small, meaningful ways that seem to define this moment of our lives, slow movements, simple comforts, and doing the best we can with the energy we have.

Last night, while seated at the dining table, I chopped and diced mushrooms, olives, and onions for Tom’s favorite dinner: homemade keto pizza. The feel of my big knife against the cutting board felt oddly soothing. Outside, the evening was quiet, the kind of quiet that settles into rural places after dark, when even the birds seem to call it a night early. I worked slowly, pausing often, still not quite back to normal, but determined. This was something I could do for him, even if everything else felt a bit out of reach.

This morning, the kitchen filled with that unmistakable smell of baking cheese as the crusts went into the oven. The cheesy sausages followed soon after, sizzling away, requiring very little attention, mercifully easy on a day when standing too long still feels like a commitment. Soon I’ll slice them and assemble the pizzas, layering the toppings just the way Tom likes them. It’s not fancy, but it’s his favorite, and that feels far more important than any elaborate celebration ever could.

I probably won’t eat pizza myself. It’s simply too fattening for me, and honestly, I don’t mind making something different. There’s a quiet satisfaction in knowing that by skipping it, I’m leaving Tom with more pizza to enjoy, not just tonight, but over Christmas as well. Leftover birthday pizza feels like its own kind of gift, one that keeps on giving long after the actual day.

Yesterday, despite still feeling far from 100%, we made the long drive to the fantastic New World supermarket in Mangawhai. It was one of those necessary outings you brace yourself for when you’re not feeling well, knowing you’ll be glad you did it once it’s over. I did the shopping while Tom took the opportunity to get a much-needed haircut. It felt good to divide and conquer, each of us accomplishing something small but essential.

I took several photos on the drive to the market. The countryside was lush and green, the kind of green that feels almost unreal if you’ve spent enough time in drier places. But on the return drive, the rain came down hard, thick sheets of it, blurring the landscape and limiting my ability to capture much more. Still, the images I did get feel like enough, little visual reminders of a day that was more about practicality than beauty, yet somehow managed to be both.

Tomorrow, we’ll share more details and photos from our trip to Mangawhai. For now, though, today belongs to Tom, 73 years, quietly celebrated, with pizza in the oven, rain on the roof, and the comfort of being exactly where we are, even if we’re still not quite ourselves.

Be well.

Photo from ten years ago today, December 23, 2015:

Tom was in front of the tall Christmas tree at the Pearl Resort in Pacific Harbour, Fiji, on the evening of his 63rd birthday. For more photos, please click here.

Map with our location in New Zealand…Why did we choose the North Island for our second visit in almost ten years?…

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We are located in the top orange section in Northland on this map. A ferry is required to get from the North to the South Island.

When people hear that we’re spending time in New Zealand, the reaction is almost always the same. Their eyes light up, and they say, “Oh, the South Island!” as if there is no other possible answer. In many minds, New Zealand is synonymous with snowcapped mountains, turquoise lakes, dramatic fjords, and cinematic landscapes made famous by films and travel brochures. And yes, the South Island is undeniably beautiful. But beauty, we’ve learned over years of long-term travel, is only one piece of the puzzle. Livability is another. And for us, at this stage of our lives, that quieter consideration matters more than ticking off iconic views.

New Zealand’s two main islands are strikingly different, not only in landscape but in temperament. The South Island feels grand, wild, and often untamed. Distances are long, towns are small and far apart, and much of the land feels designed for short-term awe rather than daily living. It is a place that invites road trips, hiking boots, and a sense of adventure that thrives on motion. The North Island, by contrast, feels softer and more lived-in. It rolls rather than towers. It hums rather than roars. Life here feels less like a spectacle and more like a manageable pace.

The climate alone makes a noticeable difference. The North Island is warmer, more temperate, and generally more forgiving year-round. Winters are milder, especially in coastal and northern regions, and daily life doesn’t grind to a halt with snow or icy roads. The South Island’s colder winters, particularly in inland and southern areas, can be beautiful. Still, they also come with real challenges such as heating costs, damp homes, and limited services in rural regions during the off-season.

Cost of living played an equally important role in our decision. While New Zealand is not overly inexpensive anywhere, the South Island, particularly popular areas like Queenstown, Wanaka, and parts of Christchurch, can be surprisingly costly. Housing prices and short-term rental rates are often inflated by tourism, and many services are priced accordingly. Groceries can be more expensive due to longer supply chains, and dining out often feels like a luxury rather than a casual pleasure. The North Island, especially outside of Auckland, offers more flexibility. There are more towns, more options, more competition, and that translates into slightly lower costs and better availability of everyday essentials.

Healthcare access was another deciding factor, one we no longer take lightly. The North Island has a higher concentration of hospitals, clinics, and specialists. For those living with ongoing health considerations, proximity matters. In the South Island, particularly in remote or scenic regions, medical care can mean long drives or limited availability. While that may be manageable for short stays, it’s less appealing for long-term living, where predictability and access bring peace of mind.

There’s also the matter of community. The North Island feels more populated, more diverse, and more connected. It has a balance of rural charm and urban convenience that suits a slower, steadier lifestyle. Markets, small cafés, local events, and everyday interactions feel woven into daily life rather than existing solely to serve visitors. The South Island often feels oriented toward those passing through, hikers, skiers, and photographers, rather than those settling in for a while, like us.

That doesn’t mean we don’t admire the South Island. We do. Deeply. It’s a place we would happily visit again, explore, and photograph. But living somewhere is different from admiring it. We’ve learned, sometimes the hard way, that the places that look most spectacular in photos are not always the easiest places to live well. Beauty can be demanding. It can require effort, endurance, and constant movement. Right now, we value ease. We value warmth, access, and the ability to settle into ordinary days without friction.

Choosing the North Island wasn’t about settling for less. It was about deciding what fits us best. After years of travel, we’ve become less interested in what’s “most desired” and more attuned to what’s most supportive. The North Island offers us a gentler pace, manageable costs, better access to what we need, and a sense of everyday livability that aligns with where we are now. And in the end, that quiet alignment feels far more luxurious than any even more dramatic view.

We are soon off for Whangarai to the supermarket. We’re both still under the weather and weak from days of much-needed rest, but we will do our best to get everything we need for the next few weeks.

Be well.

Photo from ten years ago today, December 22, 2015:

When we played bingo at the Princeville Senior Center last March, while living in Kauai, Tom always had a great time. For more photos, please click here.

Trying to prepare for Tom’s birthday and Christmas…

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It’s been cloudy and rained for several days, with the sun peeking through from time to time.

Since we’re both still sick with this stubborn virus, even the simplest decisions feel heavier than usual. Lately, just thinking about meals for the upcoming week requires more energy than I seem to have. And this isn’t an ordinary week. It includes Tom’s birthday on the 23rd, followed by Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, three occasions I usually mark with intention, care, and a sense of quiet celebration, even when we’re far from those we love. I always try to make something special, something that says this moment matters, no matter where we are in the world. Right now, though, I’m struggling.

The reality is simple and inconvenient: the only way to make those meals happen is to drive to the supermarket, a 36-minute drive from here. Under normal circumstances, that would be mildly annoying. In our current state, still coughing, still weak, still foggy, it feels monumental. This morning, hoping to avoid that drive altogether, I tried another route. I attempted to order takeaway meals that might carry us through Christmas, or at least ease the pressure. Fifteen minutes later, I was still on the phone, unsuccessfully trying to explain our order to the only person working at the restaurant. She didn’t speak English, couldn’t understand what we wanted, and didn’t grasp the importance of delivery. The conversation went in circles, growing more frustrating by the minute. Eventually, I gave up. There was no solution there.

That moment made the truth unavoidable. If we want to eat over the next several days, and especially if we’re going to acknowledge the holidays in any meaningful way, we have to make the drive. Tomorrow, we’ll need to get ready, hop in the car, and drive to the larger supermarket in Mangawhai. I had genuinely thought we’d purchased enough food during our last shop, but as it turns out, we went through it faster than expected. Shopping the morning after we arrived, while exhausted and feeling unwell, wasn’t ideal. In that foggy state, I missed things. Essentials. Items that would have carried us further. The small local market is fine for basics, but it simply doesn’t have what we need right now.

Sheep at a distance.

This, I suppose, is the only real drawback of this location. We’re far from full-sized supermarkets and far from restaurants. Once you’re here, you’re committed. It’s home-cooking from here on out, whether I feel up to it or not. In all our years of traveling, this is the farthest we’ve ever been from a proper supermarket. That fact still surprises me. We’ve stayed in remote places before, bush locations, and tiny villages, but somehow this feels different, perhaps because illness narrows one’s tolerance for inconvenience.

Still, as we always do, we’ll adapt. We always do. Tomorrow we’ll make the drive, and do our best to gather what we need not just to get by, but to mark the days ahead in some small, meaningful way. Even if the meals are simpler than usual, even if my energy runs out halfway through cooking, there will be intention behind them. That matters to me.

And honestly, the drive itself may offer a quiet reward. The scenery along the way is beautiful, rolling and expansive, and I know there will be photo opportunities worth sharing here. New Zealand has a way of offering beauty even when you’re tired, even when you’re sick. For tonight, at least, we’re fine. We have enough for dinner, enough to rest and regroup. But with Christmas approaching quickly, tomorrow is the best and really the only day to go. So we’ll do it, one careful step at a time, and trust that this, too, will become just another chapter in our ongoing lesson in adaptability.

Nonetheless, we are grateful to be getting a little better each day and to be in the beautiful country of New Zealand during the holiday season.

Be well.

Photo from ten years ago today, December 21, 2015:

In Pacific Harbour, Fiji, there were no poinsettias or Christmas cactus in the stores; only colorful flowers bloom year-round. For more photos, please click here.

An update…

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This morning’s rainy view from our holiday home.

We arrived in New Zealand a week ago today, though it feels both longer and shorter than that, depending on the moment. The night we left Auckland for the long drive north, I couldn’t stop coughing the entire way. Mile after mile of riding in the dark, I was hacking, hoping the hum of the road might somehow shake whatever had taken hold of me. By the time we reached our holiday home in Kaiwaka, exhaustion had settled deep into my bones, the kind that doesn’t disappear with sleep.

By Sunday evening, there was a glimmer of improvement. We attended a small neighborhood get-together at our landlords’ home, Dave and Eing, who live just down the road. It was low-key and welcoming, the kind of gathering that reminds us why we have such fond memories of spending time in New Zealand in 2016. Earlier that day, we’d even managed a grocery run, which at the time felt like a small victory. I remember thinking, maybe this thing is passing. Perhaps we’ve turned a corner.

But Monday morning quickly erased that optimism. We woke with the unmistakable feeling of an entirely new virus taking over, uncontrolled coughing, crushing malaise, and a weakness that made even standing feel like an accomplishment. Over the next few days, it worsened for both of us. Ordinary tasks became monumental. Laundry was an athletic event. Making the bed required rest breaks. Preparing meals felt like running a marathon. For me, the most challenging part was the brain fog. I couldn’t think clearly enough to write, let alone take photos or shape words into something coherent. Silence filled the days where stories usually live.

This morning, Saturday, was the first day we awoke feeling a little better. It’s not much, but it’s something, and right now, something feels like everything. In the past few days, Tom read a Facebook post about a survey asking cruise passengers whether they’d gotten sick during the cruise, near the end of the voyage, or shortly after disembarking. Thirty-four percent responded yes. One passenger had even been hospitalized with Legionnaires’ disease, a terrifying and potentially deadly illness. Reading that stopped us both cold.

We have another cruise coming up, fully paid, 25 nights, beginning April 14. Before that, once we reach Tasmania, we plan to get prescriptions for Tamiflu to take for the entire length of the cruise. This experience has made me seriously rethink cruising in the future, unless it’s on much smaller ships, where the risk of getting sick is lower. The romance of it all fades quickly when illness lingers this long.

For now, our only real goal is getting better. Sightseeing can wait. Photos can wait. Even grocery shopping and dining out feel like distant ideas rather than plans. We are deeply grateful to the many readers who’ve written with kind words and well wishes; it means more than we can say.

Despite everything, we’re happy to be in New Zealand, surrounded by sweeping views, wildlife, and genuinely friendly people. When our bodies finally catch up with our hearts, we know this place will be worth the wait.

Be well.

Photo from ten years ago today, December 20, 2015:

In Pacific Harbour, Fiji, a private drive to an upscale home in our neighborhood. For more photos, please click here.

The revealing reason why….Photo of our new location…

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

I don’t like sharing this news, but because we’ve always promised transparency in our stories, today I had no choice but to let our readers know what’s really been going on. It’s embarrassing for me, which is precisely why I’ve hesitated to share it sooner. As someone who was once intensely active, committed to health and fitness, and proud of a strong, capable body, admitting vulnerability does not come easily. In fact, it feels like swallowing a truth I’ve been avoiding for weeks.

For the last 42 days of our 47-night cruise, I said nothing. I kept thinking I would get better, that this would pass, and there would be no need to explain why we were doing so little, why I often disappeared early, or why I skipped excursions I would usually jump at. Instead of improving, though, I slowly got worse. And that’s still the case right now.

Since my open-heart surgery in 2019, my immune system has never fully bounced back. It feels fragile, easily overwhelmed. If I’m exposed to someone who’s sick, I almost inevitably get sick within a few days. While we were in Marloth Park, I had far fewer issues, most likely because of the low population and limited close contact with others. When I knew someone was sick, I asked for their understanding and avoided them until they recovered. It worked surprisingly well.

A cruise ship, however, is an entirely different environment. There is no avoiding coughing, sneezing, or close quarters—especially when so many people are curious about our unusual lifestyle and stop to chat. Add to that the fact that about five days into the cruise, I tripped over my own feet and injured my right knee badly enough that I could barely walk. I knew it wasn’t broken, so there was no need to see the ship’s doctor. I did exactly what they would have told me anyway: iced it, rested it, and stayed off it as much as possible. By the final week of the cruise, the swelling had gone down significantly, and I could walk better again.

As I mentioned in an earlier post, at the first sign of a virus, I started taking Tamiflu. Thankfully, it worked incredibly well. What could have been awful turned into a relatively mild case of coughing and sneezing. We stayed in the cabin for a few days and nights, and not long after, I was around people again. Still, I didn’t feel well enough to go on excursions, especially those involving a lot of walking.

When we saw Louise and Danie early on in Cape Town, and later Rita and Gerhard in Bali, I genuinely thought I was improving—even though I continued coughing a lot at night. During all of this, Tom was coughing and sneezing too, though thankfully, he’s doing better now.

Then, during the last few days of the cruise, I started feeling worse again. The worst moment came the night we drove from Auckland to Kaiwaka, a drive that should have taken 90 minutes but turned into three hours after a wrong turn. I was coughing so hard I could barely breathe, and I honestly don’t know how I got through that long drive.

Once we arrived at the house and got settled, I thought I was on the upswing again. We even attended a several-hour party at Dave and Eine’s home, our landlords, and I managed pretty well. But yesterday, everything flared up again, worse than when it first started. Why does it come and go like this? Today, I feel like I could spend the entire day in bed. I took a two-hour nap yesterday, something that is very unusual for me.

Thankfully, our grocery shopping is done, and we have enough food to last a few weeks. Hopefully, by the time we need to shop again, I’ll be on the mend. So there it is, friends. This is why we did so little on the cruise and why I don’t feel well enough to go anywhere right now. I need to get better so we can truly enjoy our time here in New Zealand, in this lovely, albeit remote, location.

And if you’re wondering why we keep traveling, it’s because we’re not done yet. We trust this is a season, not an ending, and we’re holding onto the hope that it will pass, allowing us to continue forward with joy.

Be well.

Photo from ten years ago today, December 16, 2015:

Breathtaking shades of pink bleeding hearts at Suva, Fiji, farmer’s market. For more photos, please click here.

We’re baaaaack!…WiFi issues resolved…Kaiwaka, New Zealand…Our new home for the next two months…

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Sheep, at a neighboring farm.

Getting here after we disembarked the cruise wasn’t easy, and that’s putting it gently. After weeks of floating predictably from port to port, we were abruptly returned to the realities of schedules, logistics, and fatigue. Two hours of flight delays set the tone almost immediately, including a long wait before we even lifted off from Brisbane Airport. By the time we landed in Auckland, we assumed the worst was behind us, only to find ourselves sitting on the tarmac for another forty-five minutes while the plane waited for a “parking gate.” It was one of those moments where you’re too tired to be annoyed and too resigned to feel anything at all. You stare out the window and wait.

Collecting the rental car took even longer, and when we finally found it, we both laughed. Tiny doesn’t quite cover it. Tom, however, turned out to be a magician, somehow coaxing an impressive number of bags into a space that looked barely capable of holding groceries. Despite his best efforts, two carry-on bags had to stay in the front seat with us. One was wedged under my feet, making comfort an ambitious goal rather than a realistic one, but at that point, practicality trumped everything else.

The drive from Auckland to Kaiwaka usually takes just under two hours, but we stretched it to three. A wrong turn onto a toll road, with no exits and no possibility of turning around, cost us a whole extra hour. It was late, dark, and the kind of mistake you only make when you’re exhausted and overconfident all at once. By the time we finally pulled up to the house at 1:00 a.m., we were running on fumes.

Taking photos in the rain was tricky this morning. More photos will follow when it clears.

Dave, our landlord, incredibly kind and patient, waited outside to guide us to the house and help Tom unload the bags. That small act of generosity felt enormous at that hour. Even in the dark, we could tell the house was just as lovely as we’d hoped, and despite our exhaustion, there was a quiet thrill in knowing we had arrived. We didn’t unpack that night. We took out what we needed and collapsed, grateful to finally rest.

Morning, however, brought an entirely different kind of magic. In daylight, the location revealed itself in full glory, rolling green hills, sweeping ocean views, and, to our absolute delight, sheep and cows everywhere. There’s something deeply grounding about waking up to that kind of landscape, especially after weeks at sea and a long, trying journey. It felt like we had landed somewhere both new and oddly familiar, a place that invited us to exhale.

We took this photo on the way to the market on Sunday.

Sunday was devoted mainly to unpacking, though “unpacking” might be an optimistic word. With limited drawer space (but plenty of closet space and hangers, I left many of my clothes in my suitcase. Over the next few days, we’ll wash them, hang them to dry, and I’ll repack everything neatly back into the bag. Since we’re only here for a short time, I don’t mind living partially out of a suitcase. It makes repacking easier when it’s time to leave on February 12, and there’s something freeing about not fully settling in.

Yesterday, grocery shopping topped the agenda. By noon, we were out the door, heading toward the closer of the two markets. The larger supermarket, with better prices and a wider selection, was another twenty minutes beyond the small, minimally stocked (and noticeably more expensive) shop near the mini-mall. Convenience won this round.

We filled the cart carefully, doing the quiet mental math that seems to follow us everywhere these days, and walked out, having spent NZ$ 584 (about US$338.35). It felt like a lot, and it was, but the bags held enough food to last us close to two weeks comfortably. There’s a certain relief in opening a well-stocked fridge and pantry after weeks of ship meals, a feeling of being temporarily anchored.

The rolling hills will look better on a clear day.

When those shelves start to thin out, we’ll make the longer drive to the distant supermarket everyone swears by, the one with better prices and more variety. For now, though, we’re settled and grateful for small but meaningful victories as we ease into daily life here.

As if the day hadn’t already offered enough warmth and welcome, Dave and his dear wife, Eing, who live a short distance down the road, had planned a get-together with local friends and invited us to attend. After such a long and complicated arrival, that invitation felt like a gentle affirmation that we’re exactly where we’re meant to be, for now.

The friends/neighbors were delightful, and we fit right in. The conversation flowed easily, interspersed with laughter, much of it prompted by Tom’s natural gift for entertaining those around him. It was a fun time with more such gatherings to come in the future.

We’d planned to do laundry today, but it’s raining. Tomorrow’s another day.

Be well.

Photo from ten years ago today, December 15, 2015:

In Pacific Harbour, Fiji, colorful trees were blooming in the neighborhood. For more photos, please click here.

One day and counting…Tomorrow’s the big day!…

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Royal Caribbean Voyager of the Seas.

No words can express how thrilled we are to be boarding our 47-night cruise tomorrow morning. Our local friend Carlos will arrive at 10:30 am to help Tom take our luggage down the three levels and load the taxi when it arrives. Some taxi drivers don’t help much with bags.

It’s a 20-minute ride to the cruise terminal, and when we arrive, baggage handlers will tag our bags and take them to our cabin later in the day. They guarantee we’ll have our bags by no later than 7:00 pm, so we will keep everything we may need with us until then.

The clothes we’ll be wearing when we arrive will be the same we’ll wear through dinner and the evening, so we won’t have to worry about unpacking everything when the bags arrive. Most likely, as always, we’ll unpack what we need and finish unpacking after breakfast.

Typically, we don’t unpack everything; we only unpack the items we’ll use on the cruise. Being organized is crucial in the small cabin with minimal storage space.

Today for dinner, we have enough chicken salad left for me, but not enough for both of us. This morning, I ordered Tom one last meal of lasagne from Uber Eats. We’ll scramble the remaining eggs to supplement the small portions of our main dishes.

This morning, Tom packed his clothes. We have one more load of laundry for later today and then we’re done, done, done. Tonight, will be relaxing while we finish a few shows we’ve been streaming since it’s doubtful we’ll stream anything while aboard the cruise.

On most evenings, while cruising, we stay out of the cabin until we’re ready for bed, only returning during the day to change for dinner and, if Tom needs a nap, possibly returning in the early afternoon. He never seems to sleep enough at night, so he gets up very early; a short 20-minute nap may be on the agenda.

That’s it for today, folks.

Be well.

Photo from ten years ago today, October 26, 2015:

Rasnesh, our driver, took this photo of us in front of the Vuadomo Waterfall in Fiji, on the chief’s property. We were hot and sweaty, but the long trek was worth it! For more photos, please click here.

Two days and counting…Applying or renewing a passport during the government shutdown?…

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Applying for a US passport.

From Travel+Leisure online magazine:

“What to Know About Applying or Renewing a Passport During the Government Shutdown

The government shutdown, which started on Oct. 1, continues to drag on. Here’s how it’s impacting passport applications and renewals. By Lauren David  Published on October 24, 2025

Applying for or renewing a passport can be stressful, especially when preparing for an international trip. The government shutdown, which began on Oct. 1, 2025, has impacted many federal services, but for those traveling abroad, there shouldn’t be cause for concern, as passport processing hasn’t been affected. Passport processing is part of Consular Affairs, which is considered an essential service. “During the lapse in government funding, consular operations domestically and abroad will remain operational. This includes: passports, visas, and assisting American citizens abroad,” according to the Department of State website.

Congressional appropriations don’t fund passport processing; rather, processing is primarily funded by passport applications, so the government shutdown doesn’t directly impact this service. “Passports are funded through the U.S. Department of State and are primarily fee-funded, meaning passport issuance isn’t dependent on government funding,” says Sarah Silbert, managing editor for Points Path.

Processing times haven’t changed since the government shutdown. Routine processing time is 4 to 6 weeks, and expedited service is 2 to 3 weeks, according to the Department of State website. Mailing times are not included in these estimates; it can take up to an additional month for them to receive the application and then mail out the completed passport.

Traveling internationally in two weeks or less? Request an appointment through a passport agency or center. “Those needing urgent travel documents should book an in-person appointment at a regional passport agency and bring proof of imminent travel within 14 days,” says  Reza Motalebpour, founder and CEO of INGWE Immigration.

Dr. John Rose, chief risk advisor for Altour, renewed his passport and book this October, with the whole process taking 13 days. “That shows the system is working efficiently right now, but travelers should not assume that will remain the case if the shutdown drags on.”

It’s advised to plan ahead and allow for possible delays in processing if you’re currently applying for or renewing a passport. “There could be delays if passport-processing staff are impacted by furloughs or shutdown of other government agencies,” says Silbert. Reduced agency staff and staffing disruptions within the government could cause processing to take longer than normal. Motalebpour adds, “In the 2018-2019 shutdown, for example, passport operations continued at most locations, although delays of one to two weeks were common due to reduced staffing and slower security clearances.”

Fortunately, we renewed our passports last year for the second time since we began traveling in 2012. Currently, we have nine years remaining on each of our passports. At one point, we also had four-year passports as an adjunct to our ten-year passports, which enabled us to apply for visas that, at that time, may have required us to send in our passports with the applications. But processes have modernized and changed in most countries where applications are submitted online.

Packing continues today with only two days until we board the ship.

Be well.

Photo from ten years ago today, October 25, 2015:

Typically, in rainforests, we’ve observed insects and birds to be more colorful than in less-dense areas of vegetation. Tima spotted this caterpillar we’d easily have missed. For more photos, please click here.