Travel Blogger

Christchurch, New Zealand: Resolutely Resilient and Unexpectedly Artsy

| 2suitcasesfor2years

A fifty-minute flight from Wellington brought us along the coast of Pegasus Bay on New Zealand’s South Island as we prepared to land in Christchurch. The aquamarine waters below looked almost Caribbean, though their hue was milky from glacial flour, a fine-grained sediment washed down from the headwaters of the Rakahuri and Waimakariri rivers whose source is in the island’s Southern Alps, about 80km (50mi) west of Christchurch.

From the airport our route passed through checkerboard fields and well-manicured suburbs before reaching the city where the old Victoria Clock Tower, built in 1897 to celebrate the Queen’s Diamond Jubilee, stood at an intersection. A block further along three bright red lips screamed from a street mural. We soon came to realize this dichotomy defined Christchurch.

It was a Friday afternoon when we entered Christchurch. Beside how new everything appeared, we had not expected the number of young people on the streets. Groups of various sizes were all heading in the same direction, dressed as if they were going to party. This, the receptionist at our hotel later told us, was for the annual Electric Avenue Music Festival, the largest music event in Christchurch that draws over 90,000 music lovers to the concert grounds in Hagley Park for two days every February. 

Continuing on, the newness of the city continued to surprise us as we drove to the center of the town and passed the ChristChurch Cathedral, which was secured behind construction fencing. This detail reminded us that Christchurch suffered a catastrophic magnitude 7.1 earthquake in September 2010, which severely damaged the church and many other historic buildings in and around the city. Six months, later in February 2011, a shallower magnitude 6.3 aftershock centered near Christchurch struck the city as people were at work. The 138-year-old church’s spire and front wall with its famous Rose window shattered. Numerous buildings across the town collapsed, devastating roughly 80% of Christchurch’s central business district, and causing 185 deaths and over 6,000 injuries. Afterwards the center of the city, “the Red Zone,” stay closed for two years. But the city “didn’t feel back to normal until 2021, when much of the core commercial area along the Avon River was transformed and bustling with activity again.” The Anglican Church hired Pritzker Prize winning architect Shigeru Ban to design a temporary church, while the General Synod figured out what to do with the ruins of its iconic cathedral. Ban’s innovative design incorporated non-traditional materials, such as cardboard, and the building locally known as the “Cardboard Church,” has become a destination and symbol of the city’s resurgence since it opened in August of 2013. Reconstruction of the church is still underway, and the work is currently projected to be completed in the later months of 2030.

At the cross street in front of the cathedral, we turned and saw a faint portrait of a woman emerging from a rough brick wall. Diagonally across from the portrait was a tremendously large street mural of penguins swimming below an iceberg. It’s known as the Antarctica Mural and was painted to acknowledge the city’s important roll as a primary logistics, operational center for expeditions and scientific research heading farther south to the frozen continent.

Continuing on we followed the tracks of the city’s historic tramline to the Hotel 115, where the tracks passed through an arched tunnel next to the hotel’s reception area, before stopping in a large atrium surrounded by several shops called Cathedral Junction. When researching where to stay in the city we just thought the uniqueness of the hotel’s location merited a stay. Plus, it was in an excellent location, only a seven-minute walk to the center of Christchurch, and a two-minute stroll away from New Regent Street, the Isaac Theatre Royal and Court Theatres.

Famished, we headed to find a place for a late lunch along New Regent Street.  Luckily for us, we happened to be there when one of the trams was slowly moving down the colorful narrow street, as tourists moved aside to make way for its passing. In the 1930’s The New Regent Street was developed as a private street with high-end shops occupying the quasi “Spanish Mission” style storefronts. The street was the forerunner of the New Zealand’s strip malls. The tramline wasn’t brought down the street until 1995 when the city re-inaugurated a much smaller 3.9km (2.5mi) figure-eight loop through the city center as a tourist attraction.

The original service in Christchurch was launched in 1880s with horsedrawn and steam powered trams, which lasted until 1904 when electric trams replaced them. Interestingly, in 1886 a dedicated spur was constructed to the Linwood Cemetery, far outside the city, and even had a custom four coffin tram built specifically for the line. At the height of its service in the 1920s, the tramline carried around 80,000 passengers a day on 70 trams that crisscrossed 86 km (53 mi) of track that stretched east to the coastal suburbs of Brighton and Sumner, and west to Riccarton and Fendalton. Southern lines extended to the towns of Landsdowne, Cashmere and Hillmorton. The trams ran until 1954 when bus service replaced the lines.

New Regent Street had a nice mix of ethnic restaurants which are wildly popular across the city and New Zealand in general. Let’s face it, there is only so much mutton and lamb shank a person can eat in a lifetime. Enjoying the sunny afternoon, we sat at an umbrellaed table along the tracks at Bamboo Asian Express,  a budget friendly lunch spot, to watch people and trams pass by. Dessert was delicous ice-cream cones at Rollickin Gelato, a small artisanal ice cream shop with two locations in the city, that started in a modified horse trailer on Cathedral Square in the months after the 2011 earthquake. They have a wide variety of interesting flavors created with locally sourced milk and seasonal fruits.

Afterwards we circled the block in search of a street mural we saw on our map. Prim and proper Christchurch was once known as “the most English city outside of England.” Though that changed after the traumatic 2011 earthquake when the first colorful murals began to appear amidst the ruins of the city during its reconstruction as a way to unite the community with hope and heal the scarred urban landscape with vibrant color.

“The post-quake environment provided an opportunity for the city to refocus the lens – to embrace the indigenous histories and narratives of our city and also acknowledge the increasingly multicultural and diverse sort of folk that call Christchurch home.” Some of the street art is very political, like the Dawn Raids mural which remembers the Pacific Islander community that was targeted in the 1970s for overstaying visas – in terrifying midnight and early morning raids that dragged people from their homes while demanding proof of residency on the spot.

With over 50 giant murals in the downtown area and 200 more wonderfully creative works spread across the broader city, Christchurch has been recognized alongside Berlin, Lisbon and New York as a global capital of street art. “Fifteen years ago, you never would’ve imagined street art being part of Christchurch’s identity, but It’s become part of how the city presents itself to the world,” is sentiment often expressed by local artists. In 2022 Christchurch inaugurated the first FLARE Ōtautahi Street Art Festival, a nine-day event in early March, where prominent street and graffiti artists from around the world are invited to create murals on some of the multi-story building facades in the center of Christchurch that have been chosen for Street art.

We were happy using Google Maps to find some of the artworks and happened across many on our own during our wanderings. The blocks around New Regent Street had many vacant lots, some of which had been converted into temporary plazas surrounded with interesting murals, but if you need more guidance Street Art Cities has a great interactive map that is an excellent resource. As it turned out, Hotel 115 was an excellent location to discover the city’s street murals from.

Heading down Gloucester Street we passed Isaac Theatre Royal and Court Theatres where upcoming event placards showcased a variety of interesting performances. Their ticket prices seemed very reasonable compared to similar venues in the states. Unfortunately, on such short notice there were not any tickets available during our three-night stay in the city. If you are making plans to visit Christchurch, check out the theaters websites well in advance to make ticket reservations.

Farther along we came to a wavy futuristic façade covered with an iridescent reflective surface. This was the administrative entrance on the backside of the Te Pae Christchurch Convention Centre which opened in 2021 on a block where only one original structure, the Georgian Revival Isaac House from 1926, survived the earthquake. This engaging feature called the Moment of Movement was designed by New Zealand-born Korean multimedia artist Seung Yul Oh in association with John Troy Sullivan, with the concept that the sculpture would fluidly capture the reflections of folks walking along and the changing color and light of the city throughout the day to create a dynamically interactive the piece.

The front of the convention center, designed by the international architecture firm Woods Bagot in association with the New Zealand firm Warren and Mahoney, worked in collaboration with the Matapopore Charitable Trust to integrate Māori cultural narratives into anchor recovery building projects with the guiding principle of Kia atawhai ki te iwi (“Be kind to your people”) to ensure the architecture reflects care, warmth, and hospitality. The building’s flowing front facade reflects the importance of the region’s rivers and is made with nearly 43,000 variously toned tiles, with each tile individually numbered and placed in an ornate herringbone chevron pattern inspired by the weave of traditional Māori Aoraki panels. Unfortunately, when we were there the front of the building was in deep afternoon shade, so it was difficult to appreciate its gracefulness.

We crossed the tramline into Victoria Square and chuckled as we watched an electric scooter driver lead a line of traffic down the road. The park was quintessentially British, a classic red phone booth and monuments to Queen Victoria and Captain Cook. Though Cook’s statue was vandalized with a large red X across his medal-decorated chest. Remembered as a heroic explorer by many, he is also remembered as the catalyst that brought colonization, western diseases, and economic disenfranchisement to the Māori. Recent additions to the park include two towering Māori pou. A bridge at the far end of the park led to a beautiful fountain across the Avon/ Ōtākaro River.

It was beautiful afternoon as we followed the river back towards the city center. Weeping willows hung low over the river’s surface that reflected autumn colors as ducks left small wakes behind then as they paddled. The afternoon was warm enough for folks to enjoy picnicking along the riverbank. A plaza lined with busy restaurants paralleled the river, where it was standing room only at the bars to wait for table. We usually avoid making reservations, because we are never quite sure where we will be at dinner, so we continued on to the Riverside Market, a lively indoor market with shopkeepers selling locally sourced food, plus restaurants, a food court, and several bars. Everything looked so good, especially at the Great Pastry Shop and the Charing Cross Cheesery. I vowed to return the next morning for breakfast takeaway.

With so many different eateries to choose from, it was difficult to make a choice for dinner, but we eventually decided on El Quincho, an Argentine BBQ restaurant where we enjoyed a tender Tomahawk Steak with smoked cabbage and Beef Ribeye with a salad. They were probably the best steaks we have ever eaten.

Heading back to the hotel we walked along the tram tracks down Cashel Street, a lengthy two block pedestrian mall, before turning onto Colombo Street. This was the devastated center of the city where none of the distinctive historic buildings from the 1920s and 1930s  survived; they have been replaced by characterless concrete, steel and glass buildings.

The next morning on the way into town to get pastries, a flash of color down a side street caught my eye as I was walking along Cathedral Square, and being the curious guy that I am I went to investigate. Mid-block a fantastic fantasy-filled wall mural soared skyward across the back of a building. The stunning artwork named “Narcissa” was created by Jacob Yikes, a Christchurch painter/illustrator, in 2025 as feature presentation during the 2025 FLARE Ōtautahi Street Art Festival. Towering 55m (180ft), it is the tallest street mural in New Zealand.

Returning to Cathedral Square I admired The Chalice, a 18m (59ft) tall cone shaped tower, covered with representations of native flora, which was constructed from perforated stainless steel, allowing light, sky, and weather to pass through it. Installed in 2000, the Chalice was created to mark two important milestones: the new millennium, and the 150th anniversary of the founding of Christchurch and the region of Canterbury. The New Zealand artist Neil Dawson noted that his concept was inspired by the winds that lift leaves on Cathedral Square and swirl them into a vortexes. Undamaged after the 2011 earthquake, the sculpture became a symbol of resilience and recovery for the city.

As sunny as the day was, the morning was chilly, and the wind chill convinced me that my layers of clothing were insufficient for traveling farther south down the island where it was expected to be much colder. Fortunately, there were many outdoor clothing stores in the city, and I bought a down vest that was on sale at Kathmandu, on Colombo Street, as I returned to the hotel with our takeaway breakfast from the Riverside Market.

The weather in New Zealand changes quickly, and a morning squall delayed our departure from the hotel. Our destination for the afternoon was Lyttelton, a port town on Lyttelton Bay. It was about a twenty-minute drive from our hotel to the Christchurch Gondola Station, where we hoped to take the dramatic aerial ride over the Port Hills surrounding the bay down to the harbor. But strong winds had closed the ride for the day by the time we arrived.

Undeterred, we consulted our maps App and found a driving route around and up to the Gondola’s summit station on Mount Cavendish and set out. It was a short twenty-minute drive that took us along a stretch of the Avon Heathcote Estuary before we turned and started a serpentine ascent up the hillside through the coastal suburb of Mount Pleasant. The road opened to fabulous views looking out over the Southshore Spit and the long curve of New Brighton Beach along Pegasus Bay, which we would not have seen from the gondola.

Continuing uphill we followed signs along Summit Road to the Mount Pleasant Trig Station. Turning off the main road, a closed sheep gate stymied us, as we weren’t sure what the proper protocol was. A woman in a car behind us got out and opened the gate, motioning to us as she returned to her car that we have to close the gate behind us each time we pass through. The summit was named for its use as a triangulation station for the  survey mapping of Christchurch and the surrounding  Canterbury region in the 1850s. It also served as a signal station with a flagstaff and telescope to announce incoming ships entering Lyttelton Harbour. Long before the English arrived, it was the site of Māori pā (fortified village) for several hundred years. With an elevation of roughly 499m (1,637 ft) Mount Pleasant or Tauhinu Korokio is the highest peak in the eastern Port Hills, beating out the nearby Gondola Summit Station on Mount Cavendish, 44 m (1,460 ft) by a 177ft. There was open space for parking before the unmanned radio tower which now commands the site. Clouds almost low enough to touch raced across the sky, opening and closing to cast different batches of sunlight across the landscape.

Back on Summit Road we drove towards the gondola station, but the road was closed near the Lyttelton View Bench. This sounds very formal, but it is a simple park bench that a few enterprising folks carted down the hillside to a spot that has another incredible view over the harbor. The track is a little rough here and don’t be surprised if you find yourself amid a flock of sheep. We didn’t but their droppings were everywhere, so it’s an active pasture. If you enjoy hiking there is an extensive trail system along the mountainside, maps of which are available from the Mt Pleasant Shared Use Track (Christchurch City Council), and Mount Pleasant Track (AllTrails).

On our last full day, we walked back through the city and crossed the Bridge of Remembrance, a memorial arch to the men of Christchurch who died in World War I, as we headed to the punting boat sheds on the Avon River. Quintessentially English, the punters still guide their flat-bottomed boats along the gentle river dressed in Edwardian clothing. It’s been a memorable part-time job, over the decades, for some of the students at the University of Canterbury since its founding in Christchurch in 1873.

After watching the boats glide by for a while we rested with coffee on the outdoor terrace surrounded by an English garden at the Curators House Restaurant.  The picturesque restaurant is set in a restored 1920’s Tudor style house. Down the street the first neo-Gothic buildings of the University of Canterbury lined the street. This complex of twenty-three buildings was the home of the school until 1975 when it relocated the campus to the suburb of Ilam. The historic buildings now host the Arts Centre Te Matatiki Toi Ora, an events center with restaurants, galleries, shopping, and workshops.

Continuing on we entered the Christchurch Botanic Gardens, a large park bounded on three sides by Avon River. Aside from the Rose Garden, there are not any formal gardens here, instead it’s an oasis of open parkland enhanced with selective plantings of flowering trees, shrubs and flowers, with sculptures dotting the landscape.

Their plantings of dahlias were particularly impressive, as was David McCracken’s Diminish and Ascend, a fascinating welded aluminum sculpture that has graced a small pond with its reflections since 2016.

Visiting the park was the perfect way to end our stay in Christchurch. When planning our trip around the South Island we never realized what an amazing amount of fantastic public art the creative community in the city supported. Old and new; it’s a wonderful dichotomy that Christchurch graciously embraces. In hindsight we could have used an extra day in the city to explore several of its museums.

Till next time,

Craig & Donna

New Zealand: Rain or Shine, It’s “No Worries,” in Wellington

| 2suitcasesfor2years

“No worries,” it’s a common casual saying in New Zealand used to mean “you’re welcome,” or “don’t worry about it”, the latter being the perfect phrase when discussing the weather in “Windy Wellington,” New Zealand’s compact capital on Cook Strait, where the “Roaring Forties,” blow across the Tasman Sea before they are funneled into the natural wind tunnel that the narrow separation of the North and South Island create and get even stronger.

While some folks move away to escape the whipping winds and horizontal rain, others agree some days are the “pits,” but they embrace the “no worries”, “the weather keeps things interesting” philosophy. They relish the nice days that are glorious with an amazing clarity, and the colors of the earth, sky, and sea are brilliantly saturated. Nevertheless, it’s often the subject of conversations, to the point that one local resident created a tongue in cheek “A Realistic Wellington Calendar,” with six seasons of varying lengths, the worst being Shitzville, September to December, the southern hemisphere Spring.

Fortunately, we were visiting Wellington in February, and what little bad weather we experienced usually cleared by 11AM. The weather was noticeably colder in Wellington than Auckland when we first arrived and had us wishing at times that we had packed our thermal underwear to help against the windchill, something we did not anticipate.

After checking into the Quest Wellington, in Wellington’s CBD (Central Business District), we headed to the harbor for a walk along the waterfront, where the first heats of the Wellington Dragon Boat Festival were underway. This colorful annual event attracts teams from across New Zealand and the world to Wellington for three days of competitions and fun. For spectators this is an admission free event, just find a spot along the quay to watch the crews in the boats paddle furiously by.

Continuing on we came to the Solace in the Wind (The Naked Man) statue, the first public sculpture created by the British artist Max Patté, who moved to Wellington from the U.K. after a divorce. Patte has stated that the man leaning into the wind represents “his feelings about his time in New Zealand and thoughts about leaving Wellington.” The iconic cast iron statue was originally installed on loan to Wellington in 2008, but was later purchased by the city after it won the People’s Choice Award for favorite sculpture at the Wellington Civic Trust Awards that year.

Nearby was the Instagram-able sign of the times, WELL_NGTON, where the “I” is missing so that visitors can stand in the space and physically complete the word.

We spent the rest of the afternoon at the Museum of New Zealand Te Papa Tongarewa (Te Papa), which is point of pride across the country. Visiting the museum came up in several conversations with folks we met earlier in our travels around the North Island, and all agreed it’s a destination not to be missed.

Created in 1992, the merger of the National Museum and the National Gallery created the Museum of New Zealand Te Papa Tongarewa, with the goal of uniting the collections in an interdisciplinary way and representing and appealing to the country’s increasingly diverse society. The museum’s name translates from the Māori as “our container of treasured things and people that spring from mother earth here in New Zealand,” and perfectly summarizes its mission.

Highlights of the exhibitions include several full-size waka taua, war canoes; the largest colossal squid ever caught; Whai, a Māori string game; and Gallipoli: The Scale of Our War (separate fee), a defining event during World War I, that shaped New Zealand’s post-war national identity and character.

Maureen Lander’s glowing UV-light installation reimagines the traditional Māori string game which uses just a loop of string to create beautiful, intricate patterns. Originally, elders shaped stars, fish, or diamonds, and shared legends and oral histories as their fingers created magic.

Afterwards, near the museum, we walked along Cuba Street, a long five-block stretch with a pedestrian mall at one end that centers a bohemian arts, entertainment and interesting shopping area with a diverse restaurant and bar scene. We shopped, finding a nice blouse for my wife, and at one of the many outdoor supply stores that dot the city, a much-needed insulated vest to help fight the chilly winds that blow through the city. The coffee culture is securely entrenched in Wellington, with shops seemingly everywhere. And the city proudly boasts Wellington has more cafes, bars, and restaurants per capita than Manhattan, New York. We took note of several bakeries we passed; the Dough Bakery, Little Grump, and the French Baker were several spots I’d head out to early in the morning to return with scrumptious pastries for breakfast.

We enjoyed the various street murals, and what remains of the city’s older architecture after a November, 2016, magnitude 7.8 earthquake struck the city, which sits on several fault lines that cross the region, caused widespread infrastructure damage, and severe landslides. Major building damage across Wellington led to the temporary closure and demolition of several large central city structures. Subsequent changes to the building code, which brought in stricter earthquake-strengthening requirements, have rendered some damaged buildings legally un-uninsurable or financially unviable to fix, and they stand empty.

Later, as we walked back to our hotel along Lambton Quay we came across a narrow alley that rose between stores called the Plimmer Steps, where a statue of a tall slender man with a walking stick in a top hat accompanied by a happy dog caught our eye. The bronze sculpture, based on a historic photo, depicts John Plimmer (1812–1905) and his faithful companion Fritz. An English settler and entrepreneur, Plimmer arrived in Wellington when he was 29 years old. The “Father of Wellington” as he was affectionally called, was a vital civic leader, city councilor, and businessman who helped establish the local railway system and famously converted a stranded whaling ship into “Plimmer’s Ark,” a historic early commercial hub on the harbor. Interestingly, the distinctive curve of Lambton Quay reflects the harbor’s high-water mark along the coastline when the city was laid out in 1840. Later 19th-century and 20th-century land reclamation projects extended the usable area of city into the natural harbor, leaving Lambton Quay approximately 250m (820ft) inland from the city’s modern shoreline. Near our hotel were two modern sculptures which graced the sidewalk, set beneath the towering buildings of the CBD. The tall green spherical sculpture called the Protoplasm is the work of the New Zealand kinetic sculptor Phil Price. The stylized red dancer’s creator remains a mystery to me, as I haven’t been able to identify the artist. Wellington has quite a few public sculptures which complement its cityscape. We happened upon many in our wanderings across the city, but the Wellington Sculpture Trust does offer three art walks on its website.

The next morning, we decided to hike up to the Mount Victoria Lookout, for its famous views over the city, harbor and Cook Strait. On the map it was an hour’s walk, covering a distance of 3km (1.9mi), if we walked straight there, with a steep altitude gain of 196m (643ft) from the waterfront. But we frequently stopped along the way to photograph the sights and detoured when something caught our fancy. The day was brilliantly sunny as we explored a different route which passed a large statue with figures bursting with energy. The sculpture, The Rugby World Cup Celebration, vividly commemorates New Zealand’s hosting and winning the 2011 Rugby World Cup. The work was created in Wellington’s iconic Weta Studios, which produces high-end art statues, but is more famously known for their special effects work used in Peter Jackson’s Lord of the Rings and the Hobbit trilogies. Farther along an abstract stone fountain called the albatross beautifully glowed in the morning light.

We reached the waterfront during the height of the morning rush hour, where an amazing amount of people were walking and cycling along the harbor on their way to work. The pavilion set up for the dragon boat crews was quiet at this hour, though groups of scullers were out on the calm waters of the bay for a rowing workout before continuing to their jobs.

Farther along, a small group of students had shed their school uniforms for swimsuits and were enjoying repeated jumps from a diving platform along the quay. Nearby was a stately bronze statue, that we had somehow not noticed the day before, recounting the legend of New Zealand’s discovery by the courageous Māori explorer and navigator Kupe Raiatea, his wife Aparangi and the tohunga (priest), Pekahourangi. The country’s Māori name comes from a legend: when Aparangi spotted a long white cloud on the horizon and realized that land was nearby she exclaimed with joy, Aotearoa! The original statue was created, in plaster and finished with bronze color paint, for the 1939–1940 New Zealand Centennial Exhibition. It was recast in bronze for the 2000 millennium celebration, with a plaque that dedicates the sculpture “as a tribute to all who have come to these shores.”

Beyond the Wellington sign, large yachts docked in a marina rocked on the harbor’s gentle swell. Past Te Papa in Waitangi Park we came across an alien looking, highly polished mirror-finished sphere, that on a closer look is shaped to look like an inverted tear, or map pin. The 2025 work was created by the the Korean-New Zealand artist Seung Yul Oh and is titled “KIMI / You Are Here.” In Māori, Kimi means “to seek” or “search,” “philosophically challenging viewers to broaden their search in order to gather diverse perspectives, comprehensive insights, and deeper wisdom.” At the far end of the park we rested on shaded benches that overlooked sailboats anchored safely behind a breakwater.

Along a wide stretch of sand called Freyberg Beach, a few hearty souls were enjoying a morning swim in the harbor’s chilly water that averages around 17°C (63°F) in February. Way too cold for us! On the horizon the Bluebridge Cook Strait Ferry was heading out of the harbor for its morning 3.5 hour crossing to Picton on the South Island.

Across from the beach the route to the lookout weaved through homes built on a steep hillside; the scene and architecture were reminiscent of the prime real estate in San Franscico. Along the way there were several rest areas that offered nice views toward the water. Later, walking up the steep stairs and path that zigzagged across the hillside, we were reminded of the old villages along the Amalfi Coast in Italy, when we came upon a crew of construction workers manually carrying timbers and wheel barreling bags of concrete downhill to a home being renovated.

Leaving the houses behind, the trail ascended through a mature, century-old radiata pine forest, where the tall trees formed a dense canopy and sheltered us from the mid-day sun. Several spots in the forest have been used as filming locations for the Shire woodland scenes in The Lord of the Rings movies. The filming locations in Wellington and other spots across the country can be found on NZ Film Map, an interactive map created by two fans of the movies.

Reaching the top was well worth our effort and we were rewarded with expansive panoramic views of the city. Unfortunately, we arrived at the summit the same time a bus tour pulled into the parking lot and disgorged its passengers. During our three days in Wellington this was the most packed site we had visited. Thankfully the group quickly departed. Walking back through the city, we had a late lunch at Smith the Grocer Café, located inside the Old Bank Arcade; it was an attractive setting within a gentrified bank building that is now a multiuse space.

The next day was our last full day in Wellington, and it was an unusually bleak morning with a heavy gray sky as we walked along Lambton Quay to the “Beehive,” New Zealand’s Parliament buildings, whose domed shape resembles a traditional wicker skep. While the iconic structure’s 1960s design looks a little dated now, it incorporated advanced seismic techniques into its design, such as “X” Shaped Steel diagonally reinforced coupling beams within the concrete columns that allows the steel to absorb the seismic load and bend safely, rather than letting the brittle concrete fracture and fail; Base Isolation – The Beehive balances on 417 huge, specialized bearings, constructed using alternating layers of rubber and steel shims. The elastic properties of the bearings allow the ground to shake violently underneath the structure while the building remains virtually stationary; and a “Seismic Moat” (Rattle Zone), that is four-stories deep. This independent, unobstructed gap around the building allows the building to shift freely side-to-side by up to several hundred millimeters without crashing into the surrounding streets. This successful seismic technology was also incorporated into the construction of the Te Papa museum and several other modern buildings in Wellington. Frequent minor tremors regularly occur in the Wellington region. Auckland was originally the capital of New Zealand, but after an influx of settlers to the South Island after gold was discovered there, many thought it was too far away and dangerous for the South Island’s representatives, traveling by ship, to adequately represent them. Tensions rose high enough that South Island leaders considered breaking away to form a separate colony. Moving the capital closer to the Cook Strait region was seen as vital to keeping the country united. In 1864, an independent panel of three Australian commissioners (chosen because members of the New Zealand parliament could not agree) evaluated several sites and officially selected Wellington for its favorable geography and harbor. They chose extremely well.

Walking back into town as the sky cleared, we stopped to admire the Woman of Words, an intriguing metal statue with quotes and story lines from the works of the renowned New Zealand writer Katherine Mansfield laser cut through the surface of the sculpture. Created by New Zealand sculptor Virginia King the stainless steel statue has been located in the small city park on Lambton Quay since its unveiling in 2013.

Our destination was the Wellington Cable Car for the quick trip uphill to the city’s botanic garden, where we wanted to see the Lady Norwood Rose Garden. At the top of the hill there was a small cable car museum which displayed one of the city’s first funiculars from when the line opened in 1902. The small lookout in front of the museum is the spot from which the classic photos of the funicular are taken.

Sadly, we had missed the prime rose flowering, though there were still enough flowers blooming to suggest how wonderful it must be at its peak season during the summer months. The greenhouse adjacent to the Rose garden was temporarily closed when we visited. Though the Picnic Cafe next to it was open, and we enjoyed lunch outside under their arbor, as the day had warmed considerably since we set out.

Returning to the harbor area later that afternoon we watched a heat of the Dragon Boat Races before heading into the Wellington Museum, a block from the waterfront. While the themes of the museum’s exhibits, history, and culture overlap with those of Te Papa, the content is strictly Wellington centric, with displays about the early days of maritime commerce in the city, and engaging presentations about pop culture and art in the city.

One display highlighted Fat Freddy’s Drop, an acclaimed seven-piece, hometown band that got together in Wellington in 1999. Known for improvisational performances, where they blend dub, reggae, soul, jazz, R&B, and techno, the band achieved chart-topping success with the release of their first album, Based On A True Story (2005), recorded in a basement home studio. The album reached number one on the New Zealand charts for 111 weeks and won multiple music awards. The band still plays in New Zealand and tours internationally. Here is a link to one of their most popular songs, Wandering Eye, from that first album.

We also enjoyed the selection of contemporary art by local artists. Especially the vibrant work of Xoa Hall whose work is a wonderful fusion of pop art, cosmic fantasy, and Māori mythology.

Wellington is often called the “coolest little capital in the world,” and we couldn’t agree more. Beautifully set along a natural harbor, the compact city contains great walkability, wonderful public art, and more cafés than any coffee lover could ask for. Welly has a unique mix of urban energy and natural serenity, which was a delight to explore.

Till next time,

Craig & Donna

Road Tripping Around New Zealand: Part 3: Hamilton to the Coromandel Peninsula – The Story of a Waka or other Wonderful, Weird, Whimsical and Wacky Things

| 2suitcasesfor2years

We enjoy gardening, though we are not particularly good at it, having more success growing an abundant crop of weeds rather than lush flowers. Our inspiration comes from the spectacular oases of greenery we’ve visited during our travels. Many have been attached to the great estates and castles of England which were the catalyst for the “English love of gardening,” regardless of the size of the plot, and “garden visiting,” both wonderful attributes that have followed its people around the world and which have also become part of New Zealand’s national psyche. Why visit Hamilton? The botanical garden, of course.

Hamilton, the country’s fourth most-populous city, about 122 km (76 mi) south of Auckland, appeared at first to be a sleeper of a destination, with its low skyline barely visible as we entered the city over a bridge across the Waikato River. A quick loop down Victoria Street, the city’s main avenue, didn’t dispel our initial assessment. Until we got a chance to walk to around, when we headed to dinner at the Iguana Street Bar & Restaurant, and enjoyed the slow-braised lamb shank, after checking in at the ibis Hamilton Tainui. We fully explored the town the next day.

Home to the University of Waikato, which hosts over 2,000 international students from more than 80 different countries, the city benefits from the school’s diversity and youthful vibe with a variety ethnic eateries, nightclubs and live music venues. Along with bookstores and shops all across several blocks of Victoria and Hood streets, housed in a blend of historic and contemporary buildings, offset with large street murals which define the city’s architecture and mood.

Along the street were bronze sculptures, of Dame Hilda Ross and Horace Moore-Jones. She was an admired advocate for family and social welfare and the city’s first female deputy mayor (1945), and a member of the New Zealand Parliament. He was a soldier, artist and teacher known for his WWI paintings of Anzac’s Gallipoli Campaign, who later died from burns sustained as he rescued folks from a fire that razed the Hamilton Hotel in 1922.

A block away on a plaza that leads to several paths along the Waikato River stood a contemporary statue celebrating Hamilton’s offbeat, honorable citizen/fictional character, Riff Raff, of The Rocky Horror Picture Show fame. Playwright Richard O’Brien grew up in Hamilton, and as a young adult worked as a barber in the foyer of the derelict Embassy Theatre on Victoria St. that showed late-night, B-grade horror and science fiction double features. After nights cutting hair, O’Brien would sit in the theater relishing the films’ absurdities. This experience became the inspiration for his 1973 stage musical and the 1975 musical comedy-horror film directed by Jim Sharman, in which the character of Riff Raff is played onscreen by O’Brien.  The wonderfully campy movie starring Barry Bostwick and Susan Sarandon was a box office flop, but it soon developed a cult following where late-night screenings drew fans dressed as the film’s characters, shouting lines of dialog, and throwing things at the screen. After a theatrical career based in England, O’Brien returned to Hamilton where he continued to be a prominent fixture in the local arts scene and was awarded the Hamilton Kirikiriroa Medal, one of the city’s highest civic honors.

We followed one leg of the path off the plaza along the Waikato to Victoria on the River, a large amphitheater-like park with views over the river. Mid-week during the off season we had the place to ourselves, except for the occasional jogger passing by. The river flowing 425 km (264 mi), from its headwaters originating in Lake Taupō to the western coast is believed by the Māori be the life force (mauri) and soul of the central North Island. Before modern dams, seasonal flooding enriched the soils of the river valley.

According to Māori oral history the north island was discovered around the year 1150 by the legendary Polynesian explorer, Kupe, who named it Aotearoa, the “land of the long white cloud.” Kupe’s navigational skills and knowledge of the Pacific Islands were used several hundred years later in several exoduses from Hawaiki, Hawaii, as small groups fled inter-tribal warfare on their homeland, that began around 1300. Stories of a new verdant land were a serious draw for the first Polynesian families who made the treacherous months- or years- long voyages, with stops at other islands along the way.  The journeys were accomplished in large, open to the elements, ocean-going Polynesian catamarans with two or three sails, or large canoes with outriggers, called wakas.

Around 1350, a group of Polynesian settlers (29 men and 11 women) sailed with Chief Hoturoa, a high priest, aboard a waka they named Tainui. No histories reveal how long their 6500 km (4000 mi) epic crossing took, but the crew eventually made their first landfall at Whangaparāoa near Cape Runaway in Te Moana-a-Toi (the Bay of Plenty) on the eastern side of the island. With settlers from earlier wakas already populating the area, Chief Hoturoa and crew sailed and rowed Tainui waka north along the coast around the Coromandel Peninsula to the narrow Tāmaki isthmus near Auckland, and portaged the great waka across the land. Following oral histories of Kupe, who had mapped the coastlines of Aotearoa in an earlier voyage and documented the safe channels, landmarks, and the existence of the western harbors, they sailed on in pursuit of vast unclaimed verdant lands that he had told of. They eventually pulled the Tainui waka ashore and buried it at Maketū marae in Kawhia, on the coast west of Hamilton. Here Hoturoa blessed two stone pillars called Puna and Han, and set them at the bow and the stern of the waka, exactly marking the length of the 13.5 m (44 ft) long vessel. This cemented the Waikato-Tainui region as Hoturoa clan’s heartland in their new world, before they expanded inland to a fertile area they called Kirikiriroa, Hamilton.

Roughly five hundred years later, colonial British troops invaded the fertile region in 1863 after the Māori chiefs refused to pledge an oath of allegiance to the English Crown. The nine-month long Waikato War – Te Riri ki Tainui – ended with the colonial government confiscating over 1.2 million acres of fertile tribal land, the displacement of Māori villages, and the founding of Hamilton, named after Captain John Fane Charles Hamilton, the commander of HMS Esk, who died during the war. Militia-settlers were recruited in Melbourne and Sydney, and by 1867 a road was built to Auckland, followed by a railway 10 years later to speed the new farmers’ produce and timber from the fertile valley to markets north in Auckland and by 1908 south in Wellington. The land grab was formally addressed decades later through the Waikato Raupatu Claims Settlement Act of 1995, which included financial compensation and a formal apology from the New Zealand government for Treaty of Waitangi breaches.

A more in depth telling of the Māori history in the region is covered in the informative exhibits at the Te Whare Taonga o Waikato Museum & Gallery, a few blocks farther down Victoria Street. At the top of the steps leading down to the building there is a vibrant modern water fountain, whimsically named the Tongue of the Dog. Designed by New Zealand artist Michael Parekowhai, the fountain is based on a Māori creation legend in which a faithful dog dug a pathway for healing waters to reach Lake Taupō, forming the Waikato River.

Though it is a small museum, we found it thoroughly engaging and spent more time there than we had originally planned, enjoying a contemporary ceramic exhibit, before heading to the botanical garden.

Having seen prior photographs of Hamilton Gardens, we knew it was going to be magnificent. Seeing the gardens in person was spectacular – even during New Zealand’s late summer in mid-February, the plantings were marvelously lush.

It’s a world class botanical garden that’s best described by the understated introduction on Hamilton Gardens webpage, which describe the oasis as “an open-air museum of garden design located on the banks of the Waikato River. Rather than functioning as a traditional botanical collection of plants, it maps the history of civilization and culture across 18 themed Enclosed Gardens and surrounding landscapes.”

Visiting the well-laid-out gardens was a fabulous afternoon. If you go, bring water and plan on spending hours wandering about. There is also a popular onsite restaurant, Gardens Café, where seating around lunchtime can be quite competitive.

We spent the rest of the day exploring the shops and street murals of Hamilton East, a neighborhood across the river from downtown with a relaxed vibe. A sampling of the homemade, small batch ice cream at Duck Island Ice Cream, named after local swimming hole in the Waikato River, was very enjoyable; they feature a rotating menu that uses ingredients that are seasonally available, and create flavors like Strawberry Coconut Lime Leaf, Boysenberry Cheesecake, White Chocolate Pomegranate Macadamia, and Pistachio Honey.

A few blocks down was Made Hamilton, a contemporary mixed-use space with over 40 restaurants, shops, and businesses in a renovated 1900s building, that opened in 2023. With something for everyone, it has become a popular gathering spot, and a premier destination for combining shopping and dining in Hamilton.

The next morning, we started a long transition day to Whitianga on the east coast of the Coromandel Peninsula, a distance of 201 km (125 mi), about a 3.5 hour drive, that took us most of the day with all the stops we made. Having traveled down to Hamilton from the tip of New Zealand on the hilly Aupōuri Peninsula, the flatlands of the Waikato Plain, quilted with corn, hay and pastures that flowed to the horizon was unexpected. We anticipated seeing huge flocks of sheep, but New Zealand’s historic ratio of 22 sheep for every person in the early 1980s, when the national sheep flock peaked at over 70 million, has recently dropped to roughly 4.4 sheep per person (an estimated 23 million sheep to 5.3 million humans). Over the decades dairy cattle replaced sheep and the region now has one-third of New Zealand’s total dairy herd. Always one for a good roadside attraction, we stopped along Rt26 to photograph “Mabel,” the giant cow in Morrinsville. Standing 6.5 m (21 ft) tall, the bovine has graced the street of the agricultural crossroads since 2017, as tribute to the dairy community and the “mootastic” culture that has grown up around the town through the decades. Continuing on, New Zealander’s pride of ownership and love of gardening was on full display in the small community of Te Aroha, where everything was prim and proper and barely a blade of grass or hedge was left unmanicured. The town sits at the base of the Kaimai Range, a short but jagged set of mountains that rise steeply from the flatlands and separate it from the Pacific coast, only 34.5 km (21 mi) away as the crow flies. This formidable ridge connecting to the mountains on the Coromandel Peninsula dissuaded Chief Hoturoa and the crew of the Tainui waka from exploring the area during their journey along the Pacific coastline.

Farther along in Paeroa we pulled over at the Giant Lemon & Paeroa (L&P) Bottle, a monument to the soft drink that was created around 1907, from tangy lemon juice and naturally carbonated mineral water from a spring in the town. It’s “World Famous in New Zealand” 90s marketing slogan playfully captures how beloved the drink is locally, but unknown almost everywhere else.  A food truck in the parking lot was selling mussel fritters. We’d never tasted one until we shared it as a pre-lunch snack, and it was surprisingly tasty.

A block off the main road, a large Paeroa’s Annual Car & Motorcycle Show and Swap Meet was underway on the town’s fairgrounds. It was large event with hundreds of perfectly waxed antique vehicles shining in the bright afternoon sun. Across the street, we had lunch in an old ivy-covered warehouse, that was now the home of The Refinery, a laid-back casual dining spot.

Rolling on, we passed several roadside placards for cheese, but didn’t have a chance to U-turn until we spotted the sign for The Cheese Barn at Matatoki, an award-winning fromager that makes a variety of small batch cheeses and yoghurt, as well as ice cream from unhomogenized organic milk sourced from a locally owned, certified organic dairy. With shady outside tables, it’s a pretty place that’s a favorite destination for lunch with folks who cycle along the Hauraki Rail Trail. The 164 km (102 mi) long trail follows a disused historic railway corridor that stretches from Kaiaua on the Firth of Thames, south through Paeroa and Te Aroha to Matamata. With multiple easy access points, the ride can be broken down into segments, or the complete length can usually be covered in three days.

The drive up the eastern shore of the Firth of Thames was not as interesting as we expected until we reached the town of Coromandel, about two thirds of the way up the peninsula. We had hoped to have time for an excursion on the Driving Creek Railway. A unique 3-mile-long narrow-gauge mountain railway, with 10 bridges, a viaduct, and 3 tunnels, it was built due to the vision of the potter, engineer, and conservationist Barry Brickell who, in 1973, purchased 55 acres of hilly farmland for its rich terracotta clay.  With the help of his friends and fellow potters he built a short 250 m (820 ft) long private rail to haul the clay dug from the hillside to his pottery studio and kilns. Amazingly, most of the railway and engines were designed by Bricknell and built from salvaged materials. Over time his vision grew to include the reforestation of the vacant farmland with 27, 000 native trees that he started as seedlings in a greenhouse down the hillside and planted with the help of volunteers. More land was purchased to zig zag the rail across the mountainside to a summit at the Eyefull Tower, which has panoramic views overs the peninsula. In 1988 Bricknell started advertising rides on the railway as a “Donation Only” tourist attraction to avoid government regulations until a passenger-carrying license was granted to Driving Creek after a structural inspection determined it met building and safety standards, and ticket sales were allowed. The site now also has a zipline through the mountain’s forest canopy. Seating on the railway is limited so it is suggested that folks reserve tickets online ahead of time. Running late, we decided to pass on an excursion, but this short YouTube video shows how amazing the train ride is.

Continuing on we followed the twists and turns of Rt 25 for 44 km (27 mi) across the mountainous peninsula to Whitianga, stopping occasionally to photograph the expansive views out over the water and seascapes along the coastline as we entered the town. We chose Whitianga, on Mercury Bay, for our base for three-nights because the town offered a variety of things to do within walking distance of our lodging at the Oceanside Motel across from Buffalo Beach. The isolated seaside town was an important logging port from the early 1800s until the 1920’s when the hills around it were finally deforested, and dairy farming and fishing became the local livelihood. The first route over the mountains, Road 309, finally connected the settlement to the inland region in 1913.

The beach takes its name from the HMS Buffalo, a British navy supply ship anchored in the bay in 1840, which, after being loaded with a supply of wooden kauri spars from the dock in Whitianga, was blown onto the beach by a hurricane force storm. Two sailors drowned, as the crew struggled to make it safely ashore.  The shipwreck lies completely submerged in around 3 m (10 ft) of water about 50 m (165 ft) offshore at low tide, but due to a shifting sandbar it’s rarely visible.

The next morning we were up early to catch the Whitianga Ferry’s first harbor crossing of the day at 7:30 to the small hamlet of Ferry Landing. It’s a service that first started over 131 years ago with a rowboat. On that day we were the skipper’s first passengers for the quick scenic cruise (3 minutes) between some moored fishing trawlers. Docking on the other side, we asked him about the trail to the top of Whitianga Rock. “The going is very uneven and it’s a steep climb. At the top there are sheer drop-offs with no barriers.” An ancient Māori pa, a fortified village, once capped the rocky headland. Only the village’s post holes carved into the rocky headland to support the pa’s shelters and midden piles remain, mostly hidden under the overgrowth. It was a short and strenuous hike, but the views from the top of rock over Whitianga Harbor and the smaller Back Bay were worth the effort. The hike is not recommended on wet or windy days.

The Whitianga Rock trail also connected to the longer Maramaratotara Track, a more strenuous 1.2 m (.75 mi) trek that passes through a boggy section at the edge of the beach along Back Bay. Fortunately it was low tide when we walked through. The trail then climbed steeply through a forest of pōhutukawa bush, towering multi-trunked evergreen trees that grows in rocky coastal regions, before reaching the wood planked Mercury Bay Lookout for more spectacular views!

After a short rest we followed multiple sections of a sturdy wooden stairway down the hill, stopping at the Maramaratotara Bay Lookout to snap more pictures before continuing down the stairs to the trailhead on Purangi Road.

The sidewalk along the road here hugged Maramaratotara and Flaxmill Bays. Both had nice beaches to stroll along and beautiful seascapes to photograph. We didn’t stop, but if you need coffee and a meal on your walk the Eggsentric Cafe and Restaurant, a local favorite, is across the road from Flaxmill Bay, and it’s the only nearby option.

Our destination was the Shakespeare Cliff Lookout on the headland that also bears his name. The track to it passed through an old growth Kauri forest alive with bird calls and chattering insects, and an open meadow filled with Queen Anne’s lace. The headland is situated between Flaxmill and Cooks Bays and overlooks Lonely Beach. It was named by Captain Cook, who was allegedly reading Shakespeare’s works at the time he anchored in the bay during his circumnavigation of the North Island to make repairs to his ship the HMS Endeavour.  This anchorage and subsequent landing on the beach were timed to observe the solar transit of Mercury on November 9th, 1769, with the astronomer Charles Green, as it passed across the face of the sun. Their results when combined with other measurements taken by British astronomers around the world that day helped determine the earth’s exact distance from the sun and helped cartographers map the longitude of New Zealand in the Pacific Ocean. Unfortunately, overgrown trees obscured our view from the lookout, but we followed a descending trail along the clifftop for a better view of the beaches at Lonely and Mercury bays. Part of this trail was covered with a wooden stairway called the Democracy Steps to Lonely Bay, designed by Akio Hizume in 2005, whose “mathematically derived step pattern makes it easier for all to walk up or down.” Maybe, though our effort wasn’t noticeably minimized.

After walking along Cooks Beach for a way we looped back, along a path under tall tree ferns, to Purangi Road and followed it back to the ferry. The day was glorious, it was a good morning’s walk, and we were famished by the time we jumped off the ferry in Whitianga for a late lunch outside at The Harbour House Cafe. Later that afternoon we explored the quiet beach town that hosts a combination of full-time residents and vacationers, in older homes and newer Florida style lagoon side mini-mansions with private docks for expensive boats.  The town has about 6,500 full-time residents, which triples to around 18,000 folks during the summer months. Luckily, we were visiting just after kids headed back to school, so the vacation crowd was gone, and the town was very quiet, and only the wind singing through the rigging of the sailboats in the marina made any sound. Interestingly, the Mercury Bay Boating Club in Whitianga was the challenging club in New Zealand’s first America’s Cup challenge in 1987.

Later back at our lodging, as we sat on the patio, we made an online reservation for a boating excursion the next day with Ocean Leopard – Cathedral Cove Boat Tours whose 26 passenger open-sided boat we noticed shared the dock with the ferry. The windless day was perfect, and the water only had a shallow gently rolling swell as the boat cruised through the harbor’s no wake zone before throttling out to round the white cliffs of Whakapenui Point.

The distinctive white stone, ignimbrite, is an iconic feature of the coastline along Mercury and Cooks Bays. It is a volcanic rock composed of compacted pumice and ash, that was thrust to surface during catastrophic volcanic eruptions roughly 8 million years ago. Because ignimbrite is relatively soft, endless wave erosion has created the continuing changing dramatic coast with vertical headlands, sea caves and blowholes that the area is known for, according to our skipper and tour guide.

The cliffs were amazing, though we didn’t see the slightest resemblance to the bard when we reached Shakespeare Cliff before continuing along the coast through sea stacks, past Te Hoho Rock to Cathedral Cove, an enormous, natural stone archway, that separates two beaches. It’s the most popular destination along the coast, for swimming excursions. It’s also accessible via a trail, though parking at the trailhead is very limited.

Farther south along the coast our captain slowly navigated us into the dark chamber of the Orua Sea Cave, the largest cave along the coast, where our voices echoed. Continuing on we glided across the shimmering iridescent water into the enormous bowl of the collapsed Arched Rock, a sea cave that was fully intact when Cook sailed the waters of the bay in 1769.

Heading back the boat skimmed along the water’s surface, occasionally catching small waves just right to send a spray of water over the sides of the boat and passengers. With the cool ocean spray and windchill on the water, we were glad we layered up and wore our rain jackets for the trip. Later, we enjoyed our last dinner overlooking Mercury Bay from the patio at Stoked Public House. It was a great way to end our adventure in Whitianga.

We found both Hamilton and Whitianga, surrounded with natural beauty, to be engaging, laid back destinations during the beginning of New Zealand’s shoulder season in February.

The next morning, we were off before sunrise for the ride back to the airport in Auckland for a flight to Wellington, later that day. The adventure continues.

Till next time,

Craig & Donna

P.S. Unless you are set on riding the Driving Creek train in Coromandel, a shorter route to Whitianga follows RT 25A east to Tairua before turning north along the ocean. It provides an easy chance to stop at Hot Water Beach, which we did not have a chance to do, before reaching Whitianga.

Road Tripping Around New Zealand: Part 2 – Quintessential, Quaint & Quirky or North to Cape Reinga

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Auckland’s skyline soon vanished from our rearview mirror as we drove through the high-density suburbs that ringed the city, but the developments soon thinned and the landscape transitioned to gently rolling farmlands, still a lush pastoral green at the end of a southern hemisphere summer in February.

Our ultimate destination was the Cape Reinga Lighthouse on the very northern tip of the sparsely populated Aupōuri Peninsula, on Aotearoa (“land of the long white cloud”), the ancient Māori name for New Zealand’s north island before it came to describe the entire country.

It was a 423 km (263mi) 6 hour drive from Auckland’s airport, which we planned to break up with two nights in Whangarei along with two nights in Taipa, which would be our base for driving to Cape Reinga and exploring the northern region. The traffic was light and the scenery was pleasant, but we didn’t get our first taste of the epic landscapes we expected until reaching the Brynderwyns Scenic Lookout, about 90 minutes from Auckland. With rolling hills in the foreground receding to distant mountains above Bream Bay and Whangārei Harbour, the panoramic view was spectacular.

Getting off Rt1 we drove into Whangarei, a riverfront city that is the regional capital of New Zealand’s Northland area, where the decades old facades of the buildings gave the town an antique feeling, a backwater lost in time; we wondered if we should have planned differently. Fortunately, after checking into our hotel, the Quest Whangarei, and walking around the quaint downtown area, our opinion changed.

We were quickly enthralled with the frozen in time aspect of the architecture that spanned from the 1940’s to the 1980’s, which were reinvigorated with colorful, contemporary street murals, sporadically located around the historic downtown area that also gave it a youthful vibe. The artistic endeavor was started in 2019, when some of the world’s best street artists took part in the Street Prints Manaia, International Art Festival in Whangarei, and created 15 large scale art murals based on the theme “Tuia te muka Tāngata” “Weaving the Threads of Humanity.” The city even has a mapped walking tour to fifteen of these wonderful murals, several of which we saw from our hotel room that overlooks a small alley.

Long before Europeans arrived, the Whangārei Harbor and its surrounding coastline were heavily populated by various Māori tribes. During war councils, massive gatherings of their war wakas would fill the width of the Hatea River, the canoes close enough that warriors could run almost across them from one shoreline to another. Across the river atop Mount Parihaka, one of the Māori’s largest fortified villages (pā) had a commanding view of the Whangārei Harbour from which they spotted Captain James Cook’s ship and crew aboard the Endeavour, the first Europeans to sight the entrance to Whangārei Harbour on the 15th of November 1769. Cook’s crew were also the first Europeans that the Māori people of the region ever encountered.

The early 1800’s was a turbulent time in the region with the English and Māori elbowing each other for control of the land, and settlers fled, not returning to the region in significant numbers until the late-1850s, when the lucrative kauri timber and kauri gum trade, along with exporting coal, revitalized the local economy. During the late 19th and early 20th centuries, Whangārei evolved from a logging camp into a bustling, but isolated maritime port. Things improved tremendously when the North Auckland Railway, a year-round passenger and freight line, reached the town in 1925. Though poor seasonal roads into the area continued to hamper the town’s growth until an all-weather road was built in 1934, spurring three decades of growth that resulted in Whangārei being designated at city in 1964.

By the 1990s the economy had changed and the city was shifting its focus away from maritime industries to focus on tourism and culture. The old commercial port at the Town Basin was extensively gentrified into a picturesque waterfront dining, shopping, and marina precinct. This cultural evolution culminated with the opening of the iconic Hundertwasser Art Centre in 2022, which embraces the internationally acclaimed artist’s philosophy that “The straight line is godless and immoral. The geometric straight line is not a creative line, it is a duplicating line, an imitating line, not existing in nature.”

Happening upon this museum was serendipitous, as I first learned of Friedensreich Hundertwasser’s work in the 1970s, when the flamboyant artist was living on a canalboat in Venice and I owned an artbook of his paintings. He first arrived in New Zealand in 1973 for the opening of an exhibit of his work arranged by the Auckland City Art Gallery, and quickly fell in love with the country and found ideological kinship with the Māori culture, “sharing a deeply aligned worldview centered on interconnectedness, environmental guardianship, and the rejection of rigid human boundaries.” The Hundertwasser museum also houses the Wairau Māori Art Gallery, the first dedicated public Māori art gallery in Aotearoa.

We found Whangārei to be a laid-back, underrated hidden gem that was perfect for a two night day stay on our way to Reinga Peninsula.

The next morning as we left the city, we visited the Whangarei Falls, a short distance outside of town, and one of New Zealand’s most easily accessible waterfalls, with the parking area a short walk away. It’s a beautiful 26 m (85 ft) tall curtain waterfall, with an upper viewing platform and a pathway down through a thick forest to the base of the dramatic falls.

The parking lot was a moderate size with several Freedom Camping spots reserved for camper vans. “I wish we did this 30 years ago,” I said to Donna. With a smile and a gentle elbow to the ribs she replied, “more like fifty.” It’s a great program that allows folks doing extended grand tours around New Zealand the ability to budget travel. Restrictions vary from site to site and several apps, such as CamperMate, Rankers Camping NZ, and WikiCamps NZ offer maps and reviews of approved Freedom Camping areas.

Later that morning we u-turned to investigate a tall traditional Māori wood-carved pou we had just zipped by as we entered Te Tai Tokerau, the northlands region, near Maromako.  Pou (or pouwhenua), which are often compared to totem poles, are traditionally used as territorial boundary markers or to designate significant Māori sites. Carvings on the poles depict, “ancestral figures, lineages, and tribal histories, reflecting a profound relationship between the ancestors, the natural environment, and the tangata whenua (people of the land).” This pou, created by Arapeta Te Hauhau and Shane Whatarau, portrays the Māori tūpuna (ancestor) Kahukuri, who conquered the rohe, region, of Ngāti Hau, a vast area between Whangārei and Hokianga, farther north.

Continuing on we were urged to stop when we saw a huge midden pile of oyster shells next to a nondescript roadside shack that offered only oysters and chips. It was mostly a take-away shop with a few well-worn tables and chairs, but we immensely enjoyed our pre-lunch snack of fresh raw oysters. If you are an ostreophile, New Zealand is a great destination as the cold waters that surround the islands allow oysters to be harvested nearly year-round. We were now in the Bay of Islands area of the Northland Region and we could turn onto Rt 11 to travel along the coastlines of Waikare and Rawhiti Inlets to the Haruru Falls and the Waitangi Treaty Grounds, where the controversial first accord between the British Crown and the Māori people was signed in 1840. It was controversial because the Māori received an interpretation of the treaty in which they believed they were of equal standing to the Crown of England and not subjects as the English treaty stated. Māori disillusionment with the treaty quickly grew and was the catalyst for the Northern War in 1845. Though it only lasted ten months, it was the first of a number of major conflicts that continued sporadically to 1872, that arose after the signing of the treaty.

A site marker pointing the way to the Hundertwasser Public Toilets in Kawakawa caught our eyes and we couldn’t resist a quick detour. Yes, a quirky decision for an equally quirky destination. We do not do a lot of extensive research ahead of time beyond mapping out our routes to the major destinations and our hotels. Leaving the day’s drive a combination of sites picked the night or a day before and leaving plenty of time for spontaneous detours.

Surprisingly there was no train crossing gate when we entered Kawakawa,  as a slow-moving locomotive pulling a few passenger cars entered the road and caused traffic to momentarily stop. We followed behind the Bay of Islands Vintage Railway’s train as it slowly rolled down railroad tracks centered in the town’s wide main street until it verged into an old railyard.

Parking in town was very limited and I didn’t want to try my left-hand side of the road parallel parking skills just yet. So, we ended up parking outside the railyard, which conveniently had a highly praised restaurant, the Railway Station Cafe, with favorable reviews on Google maps. It’s a quaint place with tables outside on the train station’s old platform, just inches away from the rolling stock. We enjoyed a lunch of local mussels served with a cream based white wine and garlic sauce, along with a scrumptious homebaked chocolate muffin for dessert. A placard announced the train’s departure schedule and we realized we had time to explore the town a little, so we made a spontaneous decision to take the day’s last excursion at 3pm.

We didn’t realize when we toured the Hundertwasser museum that the artist spent much of the last three decades of his life living and working in Northland Region around the Bay of Islands, until his death in 2000. Living only 20 minutes from Kawakawa he visited often, and had some aesthetic influence on the town, which can be seen in certain murals, sidewalk benches, the town library, and the public toilet. In the 1990s Kawakawa was struggling as a bypassed “thoroughfare” town. Approaching Hundertwasser, local business owners hoped a unique, artist-designed landmark would turn the town into a tourist destination rather than just a quick stop on the way further north, and he was asked to redesign the old concrete block building.

He agreed and donated his services to the community as an “architectural doctor” to cure an ugly structure by merging it with nature (incorporating uneven floors, a living tree roof, local recycled bricks, glass bottles, and hand-made student tiles. He believed “community ownership” of the project would directly foster local pride and prevent vandalism and insisted that local craftsmen, students, and volunteers help build it. Honestly, it is a really quirky destination, and aesthetics have changed over the years. We expected something different, but elements of his philosophy can still be seen today in new earth homes being constructed across the globe. His former home on Waikare Inlet is now a museum called Living Hundertwasser, that we did not get the chance to see.

Boarding an open carriage on the Bay of Island’s train we stood with the other passengers as the train traveled back down through the center of Kawakawa. A minute outside of town we were transversing open fields and passing eccentric way markers like a totem of hanging old toilet bowls erected in someone’s backyard. As we traveled along, one of the volunteer conductors told the history of the line as we struggled to listen above the click-clack of the iron wheels. The oldest passenger line on the North Island was started in 1867 after coal was discovered in a gully outside Kawakawa and a horse tramway was built to pull passengers and carriages of the ore from the mine to Derricks Landing on the Kawakawa River, to be loaded onto shallow draft boats.

The coal mine became so important that in the early 1870s steel railroad tracks were laid through the center of town and a bridge across the river was built to extend the coal and passenger line to the deepwater port in Ōpua to access larger ships. The tracks eventually linked into the wider North Auckland Line and Kawakawa was a stop for the famous Ōpua Express which ran between Auckland and Ōpua from 1925 to 1956. Passenger service along the route stopped in the 1970’s as the roads in the northland improved and more folks bought cars. Freight service continued on the tracks into the mid1980s until modern containerized shipping forced its discontinuation.

During our pleasant two-hour journey across fields, marshlands and forests we got our first exposure to the Kiwi sense of humor, which is typically dry, self-effacing, and delivered with a straight face. When sharing one of the construction highlights of the “World Famous in New Zealand” railroad, the conductor mentioned “it has the longest curved wooden bridge in the Southern Hemisphere.” If you blinked you might have missed it.

Our halfway point ended at the Whangae Tunnel station, where a collapsed ceiling blocked the route. Here, folks with bikes who got on the train at the Taumārere Station to cross the marshlands, got off of to continue pedaling towards Ōpua, along one of the most popular routes mapped in the Twin Coast Cycle Trail guide.

It was very late in the afternoon when the train returned the station and we continued our journey west along Rt1 to Pakaraka, before turning onto Rt10 to our final leg of the drive to our lodging for the night and next day at the Taipa Beach Resort hotel. According to our apps map it was about 98km (58mi) away, about an hour and fifteen minutes if we zipped straight through. But we drove slowly instead to enjoy the beautiful landscapes of the Northland region and then seascapes along Pekapeka and Mangonui Harbour as we were driving, and stopped often to take photographs. There were also a couple of construction zones where flagmen narrowed the road to one lane and alternated the flow of traffic, which delayed us. Fortunately, the southern hemisphere’s summer sunset was about 8:15 in mid-February as we drove towards the tip of the North Island.

We arrived at the hotel, set across a narrow road from the beach on Doubtless Bay, just in time to enjoy the golden hour as the sun illuminated the waves and cast long shadows of folks walking their dogs across the sand. Silhouetted on the horizon, across Doubtless Bay were the hills of the Karikari Peninsula. The bay owes its unusual name to Captain James Cook, who, in December 1769, was prevented from sailing his ship, the Endeavour, closer to the coast. After observing it from afar, he wrote in his journal “that it was doubtless a bay.”

Only a few strides from the ocean, our beach-facing room was very spacious and comfortable. Relaxing on our patio with a glass of wine that evening, listening to the waves crash against the beach, provided a tranquil ending to our day. The other major draw for staying at Taipa Resort were the good reviews its restaurant received, which made life very easy at the end of two long days. The hotel was a great base for our day trip to Cape Reinga, 126 km (78mi) about two hours away, and Ninety Mile Beach on the Aupouri Peninsula the next day. It’s hard to choose whether the sunset or morning light on the beach was more beautiful, but we enjoyed both during our stay.

After a promising sunrise the weather turned finnicky after we stopped in Awanui to photograph the St Josephs Anglican Māori Church, consecrated in 1887.  It’s a pretty white church with a red roof, and a picturesque cemetery along the road.   Many of the gravestones showed beautiful portraits of the deceased, and shared information about their lives. One we found especially touching was erected for a drowning victim, by his twin brother, mourning his death on what would have been their 50th birthday. The Māori inscription at the end reads, may peace prevail.

The drive to the cape was an endless landscape of very hilly cattle and sheep pastures on both sides of the road that followed the spine of the terrain up the center of the peninsula. Storm clouds raced across the sky with occasional downpours dampening our hope for the day until the sky brightened and sunshine eventually won the day. Though February is typically one of the Northland’s driest months, the narrow Aupouri Peninsula gets buffeted with strong winds blowing in off the Pacific Ocean and Tasman Sea, and occasionally sees the tail end of subtropical storms.

The Northland area is widely celebrated as New Zealand’s only region with a subtropical climate, earning it the nickname “The Winterless North”. Due to its northerly latitude, low elevation, and surrounding ocean waters, the region enjoys warm, humid summers from December–February averaging between 22°C and 26°C (72°F to 79°F), with mild frost-free winters hovering between 14°C and 17°C (57°F to 63°F). This mild year-round weather is the perfect climate for growing a variety of fruit and berries, and we passed a number of kiwifruit, citrus, and avocado orchards, as well as an olive orchard. Self-serve honesty boxes, “Avo” stands, were ubiquitous along the road. Loving avocados, we bought some at a stand. Disappointingly though, a week later they were still as hard as a cannonball. There were even orchards and farm stands selling corn and watermelons along the way.

The day was brilliant as we neared the cape and we stopped to photograph the graceful curve of the Cape Maria Van Diemen Beach. It was named by the Dutch explorer Abel Tasman upon its discovery in 1643 for Maria van Diemen, the wife of Anthony van Diemen, the Governor-General of Batavia (now Jakarta) in the Dutch East Indies. It is one of only two geographic features in New Zealand that still retain the original names given by Tasman, alongside the Three Kings Islands, which the Māori call Manawatāwhi.

We thought we had the road to ourselves that mid-week morning and were surprised to find the parking area for the lighthouse packed when we arrived. Fortunately, we only had to wait a few minutes for a spot to open. The views are spectacular, and well worth the twenty-minute windy and winding walk to the Cape Reinga Lighthouse, the north island’s most northern point, and one of New Zealand’s most iconic landmarks, since its construction in 1941. Just as interesting though is the headland, where the turbulent waters of the Pacific Ocean and Tasman Sea collide just offshore; in Māori tradition it is their most spiritually significant place in New Zealand. The cape takes its name from the Māori phrase Te Rerenga Wairua, which means “the leaping place of the spirits.”

“It is here that after death, all Māori spirits travel up the coast and over the wind-swept vista to an ancient pohutukawa tree clinging to a rock on the headland of Te Rerenga Wairua. They descend into the underworld (reinga) by sliding down the tree’s root into the sea below. The spirits then travel underwater to Manawatāwhi, the Three Kings Islands, where they climb out onto Ohaua, the highest point of the islands and bid their last farewell before returning to the land of their ancestors, Hawaiiki-A-Nui.”

Heading back down Rt1 towards Ninety Mile Beach we stopped at the Giant Sand Dunes in the Te Paki Recreation Reserve. It’s a mammoth stretch of sand that is about two miles long and a mile wide. We followed a narrow trail to a shallow tributary that separated the scrub forest from the dunes, some of which are very steep and 150 m (500 ft) high. We didn’t have time to go any farther, but we did watch several groups with small sleds, which can be rented in the parking area, cross the stream to sandboard down the dunes.

Later we pulled over at Honey Bee Takeaways, a small roadside storefront in a converted shipping container, with shaded picnic tables under a corrugated tin roof. We shared a table with a French couple, and chatted about their three-month long slow-travel Freedom Camping trip around New Zealand. Lunch was delicious with two beef pies of steak and oyster, and mince and cheese, along with fish & chips, coffee and our first taste of “World Famous in New Zealand,” Lemon & Paeroa, widely known as L&P, a refreshing lightly carbonated drink. And yes, they do sell honey.

South of the town of Pukenui we followed the sign for Ninety Mile Beach and turned onto Whalers Road, then Hukatere Road, both lined with tightly spaced tall, trimmed Monterey Cypress, planted as boundary markers and windbreaks to protect crops from soil erosion and animals from the strong gale winds that frequently blow across the peninsula. The road eventually turned to rough gravel as it passed through pine plantations, and our going slowed as the car kicked up stones and dust before we reached the low sand dunes that separated the parking area from the beach. There is a gap between the dunes where folks with 4×4 vehicles can drive onto the beach, as it is officially classified as a public highway, and travel the full length of Ninety Mile Beach, which is actually 88 km (55 mi) long. An inaccurate measurement derived from early settlers on horseback, when it took them three days to ride the length of the beach. They knew a horse could easily cover 30 miles in a day, but they didn’t take into account the horse’s slower pace on the soft sand. The mistake was not realized until the peninsula was surveyed many years later, but the name had stuck.

It’s a beautiful wild windswept beach that is spectacular vastness of sand, sky and sea. If you want to consider staying over, the Hukatere Lodge – Camping Ground, is within walking distance of the beach.

It’s always a balance with trips, whether to do single nights along a route or plan some long transition days so you can have more time in particular spots. The next morning we started the longest transition drive of our eight day road trip around the northern half of the island. Driving 440km (273 mi) south from Taipa to Hamilton, a trip that would take us all day, after one major stop to see the Rainbow Warrior Memorial.

About an hour into our trip we turned off Rt10 near Orotere and followed the road to the Matauri Bay Holiday Park, a stunningly beautiful campground on the bay, where we registered and paid a small parking fee so we were in closer walking distance to the memorial which is located atop a very steep headland, with gorgeous views over the bay.

The site commemorates the sinking of the environmental group Greenpeace’s ship, the Rainbow Warrior, which was bombed by French secret service agents in 1985.  The attack on the ship, which resulted in one death, was designed to thwart the group’s campaign to end nuclear bomb testing in the Pacific. The group’s flagship vessel was intended to lead a flotilla of private yachts to Moruroa Atoll, in an attempt to disrupt French military nuclear experiments. The attack rallied environmental organizations around the world and the planned flotilla sailed to the atoll and succeeded in halting nuclear testing for 10 years in the region. France’s final test occurred in January 1996, after which the country signed the protocols of the Treaty of Rarotonga (South Pacific Nuclear Free Zone Treaty) and dismantled its testing facilities.

Deemed unseaworthy, the Rainbow warrior was scuttled in 1987 offshore near Motukawanui Island to create an artificial reef in Matauri Bay, and its now a popular spot for fishing and diving. The memorial created with local stone and pieces of the ship by the New Zealand artist, Chris Booth, serves as a memory to the disastrous event that became a defining moment in the New Zealand’s modern history, which fostered a stronger, more independent national voice and self-reliance in foreign policy. One of the things we admire about New Zealanders is their tremendous respect for the environment. It can be seen in so many ways, but most noticeably in the towns and countryside, which were litter free.

Leaving the campground, we stopped at Te Tou O Taki church, which was built in 1896 to commemorate the beach landing in 1814 of a group of Anglican missionaries led by Reverend Marsden to establish New Zealand’s first mission station. The reverend later that year held the island’s first Christmas service on a beach in the Bay of Islands, that was attended by settler families and roughly 300 to 400 Māori, with a local chief translating the service for them. The interior of the church is supposed to contain beautiful Māori carvings representing Māori legends and whale tails which represent the Māori relationship with the sea. Unfortunately, it was not open when we stopped, though there were some interesting headstones in the cemetery.

We didn’t realize it at the time, but just minutes off RT10 near Waipapa was Waianiwaniwa, Rainbow Falls, a spectactular 27 meters (89 feet) tall cascade, that I wish we had stopped at. On the way to or from Cape Reinga, the climb to the Rainbow Warrior Memorial or the short hike to Rainbow Falls would be great additions to an itinerary.

On to Hamilton.

Till next time,

Craig & Donna

Road Tripping Around the Wild Atlantic Way: Part 1 – Northern Ireland – Ballycastle to Londonderry or Dark Hedges, Seascapes, Whiskey and Stepping Stones

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We had hemmed and hawed for years about the best time to visit Ireland. The summer for sure, but the price of tickets to Dublin always seemed too steep in the high season. The Irish weather in April can be cool and wet, so we were thrilled when a good price on airfare popped onto our screen for a May departure and we planned a 16-day road trip around the northern part of the Wild Atlantic Way. It’s an epic journey along Ireland’s Atlantic coast that starts in the town of Kinsale in County Cork and runs along the island’s scenic coast for about 2,500 km (1,553 mi), passing through nine historic counties, before ending in Muff on the Inishowen Peninsula, a short distance away from Londonderry, Northern Ireland, which is part of the United Kingdom, and the city from which we chose to start our journey along the western edge of Europe.

But for us, for practical purposes, our version of the Wild Atlantic Way started 77 km (48 mi) east in Ballycastle, Northern Ireland, since we wanted to include a beautiful stretch of Northern Island’s Causeway Coast in our route south to Westport in County Mayo, Ireland.

The runway was still wet from a clearing morning storm as we landed in Dublin, and we took it as a promising sign for our days ahead. Within minutes of leaving the airport in our rental car, we were on a secondary road, way too narrow for the oversized trucks that straddled the yellow line, and were our oncoming traffic, as we cut through the countryside to the M2/N2. Following the highway north we crossed the River Blackwater and the border into Northern Ireland at Aughnacloy, where the town’s Wednesday market lined both sides of the main street. Since the United Kingdom with Brexit left the European Union in 2020 it has not been part of the Schengen Zone, and even though United Kingdom/Northern Ireland share an open border with Ireland, foreign visitors are required to apply for an UK ETA – electronic travel authorization, that is valid for two years, before entry into the country, and which they have to be able to show.

The countryside along the way was lush with the fresh greens of Spring, and flocks of sheep with newborn lambs playfully dancing about dotted the pasturelands. Near the Ulster American Folk Park on the A5 the landscape was particularly beautiful where the Strule River curved close to the road. Along the way we noticed some of the road signs to Londonderry had the London part spray painted obliterated. Historically the town was first known as Derry, but later renamed Londonderry after the town’s walls were rebuilt with the help of London merchant guilds after a clan rebellion burnt the city on 1608.

Entering the city, we were still on the east side of the River Foyle and headed to Ebrington Square to see the Peace Bridge. The plaza was the former site of a 19th century star shaped stone fortress, and HMS Ferret, an important World War II Royal Navy base during the Battle of the North Atlantic. Centuries earlier it was the location from which Jacobite Forces loyal to the recently deposed Roman Catholic convert James II, King of England, Ireland and Scotland, bombarded the city during the Siege of Londonderry in 1689. Since the 1530s when King Henry VIII broke ties the Vatican, practicing Roman Catholicism became illegal, and Catholic worship was suppressed as England and Scotland pursued a Protestant doctrine during the English Reformation. As a result, King James II was ousted from power by the Parliament of England, and the English throne was offered to his Protestant daughter Mary and her husband William III of England. After a short exile in France, James landed in Kinsale with 6,000 French soldiers. He conquered Dublin and marched north with an newly recruited army of Irish and Catholics and the French force across the northern province of Ulster. The situation was different in Ireland where most of the population was Catholic and hoped that James would re-grant their lands, which had been confiscated from them by the English Crown after the Cromwellian conquest of Ireland (1649–53) and given to Protestant settlers from Scotland and England.

But fearing persecution, Protestant settlers fled to the safety in the walled city of Londonderry before James’ Jacobite army arrived and demanded their surrender. Cries of “no surrender,” bellowed from the walls and James’ troops stretched a blockade chain across the river to prevent provisions from reaching the city by sea. The siege of the city ended when a convoy of supply ships broke the chain across the River Foyle. It had lasted 105 days and saw the death, mostly through starvation and disease, of over 5,000 of the city’s inhabitants and refugees who sought shelter in the city. Eleven months later the English army of King William III decisively defeated James II’s Jacobite and French force at the Battle of the Boyne, after which James fled to France and never returned.  But it was the continuation of a series of conflicts in Ireland that have spanned over 400 years.

After the Irish War of Independence, 1919-1921, the Anglo-Irish Treaty provided independence for 26 counties, mostly Catholic, which constituted the Irish Free State. While six counties, mostly Protestant, chose to remain a part of the United Kingdom and formed Northern Ireland. “Since the 1689 siege, an influx of migrants, especially during and after the great famine of the 1840s, had created a Catholic majority in Londonderry, and it was situated right on the border with County Donegal which was in the new Irish Free State. The town was now in the unenviable position of being a city with a Catholic majority on the border with a Catholic country but ruled by a unionist Protestant government,” that used ward gerrymandering to ensure that they maintained control of the local municipal elections and police force. This lack of Catholic political representation led to severe discrimination against the Catholic population all across Northern Ireland in housing, jobs, and voting rights.

Discontent with the system boiled to a head in 1972 when “Catholic nationalists in Derry organized a march to protest the British internment policy, but the military was called in with armored vehicles to shut it down. When protestors didn’t disperse, the troops opened fire with rubber bullets and then live rounds. Thirteen protestors were killed and 17 wounded in a tragedy known as “Bloody Sunday.” “The Troubles came to an end, at least officially, with the signing of the Good Friday Agreement in 1998, which created a framework for political power-sharing and an end to decades of violence.” For a travel blog this is a complex issue to address, but we feel that if we are going to visit a country or city we have a responsibility to know some of its history regardless of how difficult the issue might be.

The legal name of the city has been Londonderry since King James I granted it a royal charter in 1613. In 1984 the nationalist-controlled city council chose the shorter, traditional Irish name “Derry” to reflect the historic culture of the town before the British colonized the area. Derry/Londonderry the name depends on your “nationalist” or “unionist” views while others call it “The Slash” or “Stroke City” to avoid taking a political side. The city is also nicknamed the “Maiden City” by virtue of the fact that its walls were never breached during the Siege of Derry.

Today the only reminder of Ebrington Square’s past military use are a few walls from the old stone fort’s, along with a naval cannon, and a bronze sculpture of a young, uniformed sailor carrying a duffel kit bag, called The International Sailor, which honors the Allied service members and civilian merchant mariners who fought and lost their lives during the Battle of the Atlantic in World War II.

Overlooking the graceful curve of the Peace Bridge and Stroke City across the river, the city takes full advantage of the beautiful site to host a series of festivals and concerts throughout the year. The pedestrian-only bridge with its two sloping suspension pillars and fluid curving walkway opened in 2011. The design of its pillars is meant to symbolize a reconciliatory handshake between two distinct communities and the winding walkway to be interpreted as the path to peace: never completely straight, involving twists, turns, and adjustments along the way. Over the years the folks of the city have embraced it as “a symbol of a new beginning here in Derry,” and “catalyst for change in the city.” A long list of dignitaries from around the world, including former United States President Bill Clinton and the Dalai Lama who have walked across the span to promote peace.

Heading back to the parking lot, we stopped at the Peace Pledge Tree in front of The Bakery Erbington across from a colorful street mural. The sculptural tree was the initiative of Co-operation Ireland and has over 400 pledges from schools, churches and organizations promising to support equal rights and a peaceful future.

The bakery was geared for takeaway food and only had a few stools along their window seating, but it did have a nice array of baked goods and a deli section for sandwiches and hot food options, so we perched along the window seat for a quick and tasty lunch.

Continuing on into the city I had to circle the block around our hotel several times and got our first introduction into the city’s various political and artistic street murals. There were plenty of spaces available but being a newbie to driving on the left, I was looking for a space big enough for me to pull into without having to try to parallel park.

The Holiday Inn Express Derry – Londonderry was our base for four nights to explore Derry and the Northern Ireland seascapes. We had tried to find a hotel in the historic center of the old walled city, but prices were high and parking was an issue. The Holiday Inn had secure discounted parking available across the street next to a Tesco Superstore, making stocking up on snacks very easy.  And it was only a 10-minute walk from The Diamond, the historic heart of Londonderry, and the central square around which the original fortified city was planned in the early 17th century. Amazingly, Derry is the only walled city in Ireland with its ancient walls still fully intact.

Keeping an eye on the weather forecast, we headed out early the next day to the Dark Hedges, an hour’s drive away. It’s a tunnel-like avenue of tall twisting beech trees, planted in the 1700s, that is very atmospheric, and a popular spot to walk through. It’s free, but parking along the street is prohibited and restricted to a cash only paid parking lot. Even though it was mid-week in Spring shoulder season, twenty minutes after we arrived at 9:00 AM it was noticeably busier. Our best advice is to arrive early or late to avoid crowds.

Continuing on we drove down Castle Street in Ballycastle, but missed an opportunity to capture a picture of the Holy Trinity Church at the bottom of the street. It is a small stone church built in the mid-1700s as a private chapel, that was perfectly framed by the colorful buildings along the descending road. We were intent on finding the Ballynaglogh Standing Stones in the graveyard at the Church of Ireland in Culfeightrin parish. We’ve had a fascination with the ancient megaliths since visiting the Calanais Standing Stones on Lewis and Harris Island in Scotland, several years prior. We thought it was unusual for a church to be built next to a standing stone, but in Ireland early Christian churches were often built next to standing stones to “Christianize pre-existing pagan sacred spaces and ease the transition for local populations.”

Heading back to Ballycastle Donna noticed the silhouette of the abandoned Bonamargy Friary and we stopped to explore the site. It was an interesting ruin, surrounded by ancient headstones, all tilting in different directions from slowly settling into the earth.  The friary was founded by the MacQuillan clan in 1485 and thrived for a century before it was destroyed in 1584 during inter-clan warfare with the expanding MacDonnell clan, who eventually seized control of the area in the late 1500s. Amongst the ruins a small group of teenage boys, still in their pinstriped school uniforms, amused themselves and us as they  attempted to climb the chimney of an abandoned outbuilding.

The “Black Nun” is an interesting legend associated with the site and tells the tale of Julia MacQuillan, a 17th century noblewoman and religious recluse who lived in isolation among the ruins. “Known locally as the “Black Nun” for her dark attire and solitary piety, she became famous for her local prophecies. According to tradition, she asked to be buried at the church entrance so visitors would walk over her grave, marked today by a distinctive round-headed stone cross.

Arriving at Ballycastle’s harbor we walked along the promenade that overlooked Fair Head and a wide beach called the Strand. Offshore a kitesurfer was enjoying the blustery winds that enabled him to become airborne as he crested the rolling waves.

Next to the walkway was a graceful sculpture of four flying swans called the Children of Lir. And of course, being Ireland, it relates to the old Celtic mythical tale of “King Lir who had four children—Aodh, Fionnula, Fiachra, and Conn—with his beloved wife before she died. The King remarried and the children’s jealous stepmother used magic to transform the four children into swans and condemned them to spend 900 years under the spell. According to the lore, the children found sanctuary just offshore on Rathlin Island, where they eventually returned to human form at the end of their lives.”

Across from the harbor buses were lined up and we feared the restaurants would be full of tour groups, but we found a small authentic local establishment called the Promenade Café, where we enjoyed a very good Fish n’ Chips lunch and an Aero Mint cheesecake that was so good. For the uninitiated, Aero is a local brand of chocolate bar that is unavailable in the US, and we have become quite fond of the mint version, and brought home a half dozen bars or so.

After lunch we followed the B15 along the coast west toward Londonderry and stopped just a few minutes outside of Ballycastle at the Portaneevy Viewpoint. Getting out of the car I was totally unprepared for the gale force wind that sent my hat scurrying across the grass. Yellow Gorse covered parts of the cliff face and occasionally we’d catch their scent of coconut in the air. In the distance was the Carrick-a-Rede Rope Bridge, a 20 meter (66 ft) long Tibetan style bridge that hangs 30 meters (98 ft) above the sea and treacherous rocks below. It was first erected by salmon fishermen in 1755. The name, from the Gaelic ‘Carraig-a-Rade’, means ‘The Rock in the Road’, an obstacle for the migrating salmon as they search for the river in which they were born. It’s a very popular National Trust destination and online prebooking is essential if you want to walk across the bridge.

Our ultimate destination for the afternoon was the Giant’s Causeway, only fifteen minutes farther west if we drove straight there. This stretch of coastline from Ballycastle to the Giant’s Causeway is known as the Causeway Coast of County Antrim and was amazing for the number of beautiful seascapes only minutes apart from each other and we stopped at every opportunity.

We were hoping to get a cup of coffee at Roark’s Kitchen along the quay at Ballintoy Harbour, but found it still closed in mid-May. There is limited parking around the harbor which is a popular spot for fans of the Game of Thrones TV show to walk along the shoreline at low tide to Dragonstone Beach.

The viewpoint above Whitepark Bay Beach had a spectacular view of rolling lines of waves crashing into the beach with the small fishing hamlet of Portbradden Harbour tucked under limestone cliffs and a receding coastline in the background.

We reached the parking lot at the Giant’s Causeway Visitor Center a few minutes after it had closed and watched the last shuttle bus of the day depart. The National Trust attendant assured us not to worry, less expensive paid parking was available at the The Causeway Hotel next door to the Causeway’s Visitor Center, and that the price of parking could be put towards drinks. It was a good deal that we enjoyed later in the historic lodge.

As it is a natural public coastal area the site is accessible 24 hours a day and in mid-May sunset was around 9:30 in the evening, which left us plenty of time to walk the 1.3 miles to the steppingstones. Going downhill was easy, but the long uphill climb afterwards was slower.

The estimated 40,000 distinctive hexagonal (six-sided) pillar-like columns which make up the causeway were formed approximately 50 to 60 million years ago by intense volcanic activity and the slow cooling of molten lava which created stress cracks in the rock to create their unique shape. It’s a remarkable seascape that left us in awe of the power of Mother Nature.

Legend credits the creation of the causeway to the Irish giant Fionn mac Cumhaill (Finn McCool), you have to love his name, who ripped up chunks of the Antrim coast and tossed them into the water to create a bridge to reach Scotland, where he planned to fight the massive Scottish giant Benandonner, who had been bellowing insults at him from across the waves.

The following day we explored Derry/Londonderry, walking first to Harbour Square, near the old Guildhall, one of Derry’s iconic landmarks. There stands a large bronze sculpture of three spools of thread that honors the thousands of women who made Derry’s historic shirt-making industry a global leader in textile production during the 19th and 20th centuries. It is a very pretty setting along the riverfront with the neo-gothic style Guildhall, that dates from 1887. The building also features a 144-foot-tall clock tower modelled after London’s Big Ben, and an organ with 3,132 pipes installed in 1914.

Across from the Guildhall are the ancient ramparts of the old walled city, which originally had four gates to the citadel with roads that intersected at the center of the town at The Diamond. But we entered the town through the Magazine Gate, added to the walls in 1865 to access stairs which lead to the cannon deck atop the ramparts and overlooked the Guildhall and Erbington Square across the river.

The 1.6 km (1.0 mi) long walkway atop the defensive wall was pleasantly wide and was a great vantage point from which to view the various parts of the city as we followed it completely around the old town.

One section of the wall overlooked Rossville Street in the Bogside neighborhood, where the tragedy of Bloody Sunday unfolded in 1972.

We stopped often to take photographs and detoured down various flights of stairs when our map showed other points of interest nearby.

Father around the city’s contemporary history was celebrated with a mural of the “Derry Girls,” a hit British-coming-of-age sitcom that aired from 2018-2022. The plot follows “four teenage girls and their friends as they navigate the universal awkwardness of being sixteen while attending a fictional Catholic secondary school against the heavy backdrop of military checkpoints and political conflict during the final years of the Troubles.”

Later the sunny morning seemed to symbolically turn grey as we walked through the area and viewed the thought-provoking street murals that memorialize community members lost during the Troubles, and are a somber reminder of the violence that hatred breeds.

“Derry features the Troubles on its official tourism platforms to frame its history as an educational journey from conflict to peace and reconciliation. Not to glorify the violence, but to showcase the local community’s resilience and showcase how the city has moved past decades of sectarian division to support “Peace Tourism,” which recognizes the Troubles era as an integral part of the city’s identity with a forgive but never forget philosophy while celebrating modern coexistence.”

Out again early the next morning we set off to see the Mussenden Temple and Downhill Demesne, on the western end of the Causeway Coast. It is a massive, grand 18th-century clifftop estate built by the eccentric Frederick Hervey, the 4th Earl of Bristol and Bishop of Derry. The palatial Italian style villa, with 27 bedrooms, was built by the Bishop in 1774 , with inherited funds, on 160-hectares (400 acres) of land atop cliffs that abut the North Atlantic Ocean.

A walkway leading to the cliffs was flanked with two buildings that displayed his extensive collection of Renaissance art. The outside walls of this structure facing the ocean resembled castellated fortress walls with buttresses; this was an illusion to deter the French from invading Londonderry from along this coat, that the Bishop was apprehensive about. Interestingly the mansion also featured the first patented flush toilets, a considerable innovation at the time of the installation at Downhill.

A major fire destroyed most of the house in 1851, which led to a smaller redesign and rebuilding in the1870s. The Bishop’s heirs continued to live at the estate until the Irish War of Independence started in 1919 when they packed up everything and never returned. During World War II the mansion was requisitioned to billet Royal Air Force (RAF) servicemen and women, after which it fell into heavy disrepair until the National Trust stabilized the ruins in the 1980s when it acquired the site.

Along the 37 meter (120 ft) high cliff the Bishop built the Mussenden Temple, an iconic circular building modeled after the Temple of Vesta in Italy, that was used as a library and a retreat for the Bishop’s niece, Frideswide Mussenden, to enjoy the expansive view of the coast. It’s the only original structure of the estate still standing. Originally when it was built, the temple was about 10 meters (33ft) from the cliff edge, but coastal erosion now threatens its collapse and continual efforts are underway to stabilize the cliff face.

Heading east along the coast the views were as exhilarating as the day before and we stopped whenever there was a wide enough shoulder along the road before reaching The Wishing Arch. It was a well-developed site with a dramatic cantilevered viewing platform extending over the cliff and had a great view west of the sea arch and the coast looking back towards White Rocks Beach and Portrush.

Local lore believes that if you gaze through the natural stone arch with a pure wish in your heart, the crashing waves will carry your hope out to sea until the time is right for it to become a reality. Looking east, the ruins of a castle were barely visible.

Dunluce Castle was only a few minutes further along. Dramatically set on a rocky outcrop, only reachable across a drawbridge, the castle has a long history which starts in the 1200s when it was first built by Richard de Burgh, the 2nd Earl of Ulster. By the early 1500s the MacQuillan clan held the castle but lost it in battle to the MacDonnells, who established a small village next to it on the mainland. Though it was a relatively secure haven from attack, the castle was under constant siege by fierce North Atlantic storms which eventually caused part of the fortress to collapse into the sea in 1639. The small village was razed during the Catholic rebellion in 1641, but the fortress and the Scottish settlers who defended it remained unscathed. On the wrong side against England, the clan was evicted from their lands and the castle was left to ruin. Local Folklore tells that the kitchen of the castle “suddenly plunged into the churning sea, with a loud crack of the rock, as the preparations for a lavish feast were underway. All the cooks and servants were swept away in the crashing waves except for one young kitchen boy, who survived because he was sitting on a bench in the only corner of the room that remained anchored to the solid rock.”

Afterwards we headed for a late lunch in the small village of Bushmills, before continuing on to a whiskey tasting at Old Bushmills Distillery, the world’s oldest licensed whiskey distillery since 1608. We did not go on the popular tour of the distillery. If you plan to do so,  Bushmills highly recommends making an online booking ahead of time to secure your spot. Since we were driving we contended ourselves with a slow three whiskey sampler that included: Bushmills Black Bush – described as “A rich blend with a high proportion of malt whiskey aged predominantly in Oloroso sherry casks, offering deep dried-fruit and spice flavors: Bushmills 10-Year-Old Single Malt – aged in bourbon and sherry barrels, providing notes of ripe fruit, chocolate, and nutty malt, along with: Bushmills 12-Year-Old Distillery Reserve – matured predominantly in Spanish Oloroso sherry casks, with ex-bourbon barrels playing a minor, supporting role; it has notes of dark dried fruits like raisins, figs, plums, and sugared apricots, along with a distinct nuttiness resembling roasted hazelnuts, almonds, and sweet marzipan.”

I’ve never been one to wax poetic about wines or spirits, so it’s simply the aroma, taste and smoothness for me, and with that criteria the Bushmills 10-Year-Old Single Malt was definitely the preferred whiskey.

Taking a longer route back into Derry we crossed the Craigavon Bridge to see the Hands Across the Divide statue created by the local sculptor Maurice Harron. It was erected in 1992, twenty years after the tragic events of Bloody Sunday and depicts two men reaching out toward one another just about to shake hands “Reflecting the difficult, ongoing journey toward total peace, leaving room for future unity.”

It was a Saturday night, and we followed a youthful crowd up Waterloo Street, passing colorful facades and numerous traditional Irish bars with music drifting into the street, which have contributed to the lane’s designation as the hub for the city’s vibrant nightlife. The bars were packed with jubilant patrons, with the overflow gathering in small groups on the cobblestones. We eventually found the vibrant red façade of O’Loughlin’s Irish House bedecked with neon beer medallions advertising the drafts that they can pull. Surely, it was more touristy than any self-respecting local would dare step into, but it had live music and a warm, spacious interior that appealed to us. We didn’t order dinner right away, preferring to toast with our Gunnesses, and enjoy the music.

Till next time,

Craig & Donna

Road Tripping Around New Zealand: Part 1 – Waiheke Island: Oysters, Wine and Seascapes or Learning How to Drive on the Left

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Why do we go where we go? It’s a dilemma for many of us. As nice as the many different regions of Europe are, it was time for something different. We had been avoiding the South Pacific for a long time, but a good deal on airfare to New Zealand that started in our home airport in Georgia was too good to pass up so we packed the neck pillows and booked that excruciatingly long 22-hour flight. In economy, no less – yikes!

Our early morning landing timed perfectly with a beautiful sunrise. We weren’t particularly keen on seeing Auckland, but we needed a low-key destination to recover from the jetlag and learn how to drive on the left-hand side of the road again, without immediately being thrust into city traffic. Somewhere along the line Waiheke Island popped onto our radar, and after a little research we determined that it would be a perfect and interesting spot for us to recoup, before returning to Auckland and starting our nine-day road trip around the North Island.

The Auckland Airport was easily manageable and after a good cup of coffee in the main terminal we proceeded to the Ride Share area which was only a short walk away, to meet our driver we booked through Uber New Zealand for the 30-minute trip from the airport to the ferry terminal. Didi Rider is also a popular rideshare option. If you have a larger group and a little more time there is the Super Shuttle which offers low, fixed rates to points across Auckland.

Landing on a Friday in mid-February, it was still the summer season down under. We weren’t sure how busy the afternoon ferry would be, ahead of the weekend. Fortunately, before leaving the states, we booked the 1:00PM Fullers360 Ferry departing from the Auckland Downtown Ferry Terminal on Quay Street; no last-minute walk-ons were allowed to board, as the time slot was fully booked. Island Direct also offers a ferry service from Pier 13 at the downtown terminal. The 21.5 km (13.4 mi) crossing takes about 40-minutes to reach the Matiatia Wharf landing on Waiheke Island. Folks wanting to take a vehicle to the island need to use the SeaLink car ferry, which departs from Half Moon Bay in East Auckland or the Hamer Street Ferry Terminal in downtown Auckland and docks at Kennedy Point on Waiheke.

The view of Auckland’s skyline was stunning as we headed across the harbor and Hauraki Gulf. Thousands of sailboat masts dotted the seascape and rocked with the waves. Sailing is a popular activity in Auckland and about 18,000 sailboats call the “City of Sails,” their home port. The Hauraki Gulf is a huge body of water with over 50 islands, of which Waiheke is the second largest with a land mass of 9200 very hilly hectares (22,734 acres). Surprisingly, Waiheke is the most populated of the island chain with nearly 9400 permanent residents, some of whom commute daily to Auckland for work, and about an additional 3,400 folks have holiday homes on it. It’s said to be more densely populated than the North and South Islands, but from our experience it felt almost uninhabited, as most of the homes across the island were well hidden in the island’s forested hillsides. And local tourism had pretty much stopped with the reopening of the schools at the end of the summer break several weeks earlier.

Boats anchored in Matiatia Bay bobbed up and down with the small waves that a strong wind had kicked up. Fair weather clouds scurried across the sky. The small harbor was reminiscent of coastal Maine with a red fisherman’s shack along the waterfront. On the wharf we picked up the key to a compact older car from Waiheke Car Rental, a subsidiary of Mint Car Rental, through which we also reserved a vehicle at Auckland Airport for the later part of our trip around the North Island.

Outside the ferry terminal was a Māori influenced sculpture by island artist Chris Bailey called Te Werowero. The statue is intended to act as a guardian of the island and challenges visitors to respect the environment and local way of life, wāhi tapu. It was a bit of a trek through a dusty parking lot to find the car: the air-conditioning worked so we were good to go, but I have to admit that I did open the wrong side of the car and was surprised there was no steering wheel in front of me, and that I’d be manually shifting with my left hand. With our mantra, “stay left!” and a “you’ve got this,” pep talk we set out. Luckily, there was hardly any traffic, and our lodging was only a short, five-minute drive away. We followed Ocean View Road, the main street which passes through Oneroa, Waiheke’s largest village, that has a small cluster of restaurants and shops along the street.

Our base for three nights was the laid back Punga Lodge where we enjoyed the sumptuous breakfasts and afternoon tea prepared by Diane and Rob, on the deck overlooking an old growth grove of native punga ferns filled with lovely song birds. Our hosts are a delightful couple whose company and conversations we enjoyed, and contributed greatly to our wonderful experiences on the island.

After settling in we headed to Big Oneroa Beach for a walk along the fish hook shaped coastline, before strolling through the village to have dinner at Obee’s, which has a nice view of the bay from its terrace. The local Waiheke mussels we ordered were delicious.

Decades ago, Waiheke Island was a counterculture haven with over 100 artists calling the island home. Gentrification soon followed but growth was limited due to the island’s lack of a public water utility infrastructure, which necessitates most of the households, restaurants, and hotels on the island to sustain themselves with roof collected rainwater funneled into large water cisterns. Some of the larger estate homes and farms on the island have chosen to drill expensive wells. During droughts folks can buy water from local tanker trucks that pump water from the island’s deep aquifer, and the local council operates emergency drinking stations where residents can fill 20-litre containers.

Wines from the first vineyard on the island in the early 1980’s were a success and more winemakers followed, drawn to the island’s Mediterranean microclimates and hilly volcanic landscape which affords an array of terroirs. The island is perfect for growing the red grapes for Syrah, Merlot, Cabernet Sauvignon, and Malbec. Along with plantings of the white grapes for Chardonnay, Pinot Gris, Viognier & Sauvignon Blanc.

Today there are over thirty boutique wineries of various sizes with slightly more than 250 hectares (618 acres) of vineyards across the island. Over the years many of the vineyards have produced award winning vintages which have put Waiheke Island on the map as a destination for wine connoisseurs, much like Sonoma Valley in California or the Bordeaux region in France. And on the island, there is small infrastructure in place to support the popular tours of the vineyards for folks visiting the island from the Auckland mainland just for the day that starts and ends at the Matiatia Wharf ferry terminal. For a formal tour with a guide try the Waiheke Island Wine Tour  or for a self-directed tour try Western Explorer: Waiheke Island Hop-on Hop-off Bus Tour. The Waiheke Bus Company also offers a local service with five routes that starts from the ferry landing and covers the most populated western side of the island, passing some of the wineries along the way. The Waiheke Wine Growers Association also has a nice interactive map that shows the location of all the wineries across the island.

There are not really any centrally developed shopping areas on the island, aside from the short strip of stores along the road in Oneroa, where multiple restaurants, a small grocer and a liquor store can be found. While the only supermarket is a Woolworths in Ostend, centrally located village on the island. Instead, small cafes and art galleries can be found unexpectedly at random crossroads anywhere across the island.

The next morning, we crossed the causeway over Putaki Bay and stopped to photograph some boats which were beached along the shoreline for repairs as we headed to the Waiheke Ostend Market. It’s the island’s year-round Saturday only farmers market, that is open from 8AM-1PM. Part social club and marketplace it is a spot where folks catch up with friends and island news while relaxing on bean bag cushions as they listen to a local band. It was not a particularly large event, but there were several stalls for coffee, breads, pastries and crepes, along with vendors selling books, ceramics, clothing, jewelry, and antiques. A downpour sent us into Take a Bite, Café & Pastries across the street for another cup of coffee as we waited out the rain. Everything in their display case looked delicious.

Afterwards we set out to explore some of the island’s northern beaches. The island is only 19.3 km (12.0 mi) long and varies in width from a narrow .64km (.4mi) at Oneroa near the western end the island to 9.65 km (6 mi) wide on eastern side of the island or “The Far End,” as islanders like to call it. An aerial view of the island reveals a squiggly 134 km (83 mi) coastline with multiple coves and 25 miles of sandy beaches.

Though it’s a slight exaggeration, there’s not a straight road anywhere on the hilly island, so it took a while to get between points on the serpentine roads. Sudden rain squalls occasionally interrupted our wandering, on an otherwise mostly sunny day. The views of the countryside were beautiful, but often the roads were too narrow to stop safely to take photographs. Wild fig trees full with ripe figs grew along the roadsides.

Our first destination was Sandy Bay Beach, a small swatch of sand surrounded by volcanic rocks, a with boat ramp. Continuing along the Great Barrier Road, we stopped at the top of a steep driveway that afforded a good view of Palm Beach and the north coast receding in the distance. Reaching the beach, we watched two sailors launch their dinghy from the shore and row across the calm water to their anchored yacht. A block back from the beach was the restaurant Arcadia, where we enjoyed a very nice mid-afternoon lunch.

By the time we reached Onetangi Beach later that afternoon the weather had committed itself to be brilliantly sunny. Stretching for about 2 km (1.25 mi) along the coast it’s the island’s longest and widest beach, with shell free sand that is perfect for the annual sandcastle building contest. It’s also a popular beach to arrange a guided horseback ride with the local stable Waiheke Waiheke HorseWorx.

A narrow road with limited parking paralleled the shady shoreline. Across the road from the water were several restaurants with outdoor terraces that were very busy with customers. On a hill high above the beach is the restaurant Casita Miro; it’s a festive place with great tapas style cuisine and nice panoramic views, that was highly recommended. Alas, it was a missed opportunity, which we unfortunately didn’t get a chance to dine at.

Later, back in Oneroa we celebrated Valentine’s Day with a seafood platter and local white wine on the veranda at  The Oyster Inn, which is co-owned by the New Zealand celebrity chef Josh Emett and his wife. Emett notably trained with Gordon Ramsay and was a judge on Master Chef New Zealand. As the restaurant’s name suggests, local Te Matuku oysters raised in the pristine waters of the Te Matuku Marine Reserve at the southeast corner of Waiheke Island in the Hauraki Gulf are a prime feature on the menu. While we dined, we could hear the guitar of a valiant busker performing across the road, keeping his old hippie days alive.

The next morning, after another one of Diane’s fabulous breakfasts we headed out to explore the eastern part of the island, with two wineries – the Jasper Ridge Estate and Man O’ War Vineyards. The later was a recommendation by a friend of ours from the states who had recently returned to the South Island to care for her aging mother, and enjoys vacationing on Waiheke.

It was a gorgeous ride through rolling grasslands dotted with sheep, stream crossings over narrow one lane bridges, tunnels of tall mamaku fern trees, and our first kiwi crossing caution sign, warning of the nocturnal flightless birds that were reintroduced to the island in 2025. We never spotted one. Turning off Orapiu Road onto Cowes Bay Road we were suddenly on a gravel tract.

The island has a total road network of approximately 100, mostly paved miles, however a high percentage of them are compacted gravel, especially on the way to the Stony Batter Historic Reserve on the rugged north-eastern tip of the island. As the road rose the view transformed into a majestic panorama of land, sky and sea. To the east the Coromandel Peninsula, 55 km (34 mi) away, was a barely visible stroke of grey on the horizon.

At the entrance to the Jasper Ridge Winery the views of the seascape were extraordinary. Owned and operated by David Bishop and Derek Ireland, Jasper Ridge is one of Waiheke’s smallest wineries, with 4000 Syrah vines planted on one hectare (2.5 acres), where they craft very small, limited-edition wines. But they have earned a lot of prestige, having won awards with their first vintage in 2023 for their Single Vineyard Syrah, and 2025 for their Rosé and Pinot Gris. A rain shower forced us to take shelter briefly under the umbrellaed picnic tables overlooking the rows of grapevines covered with netting to keep the birds away from the grapes almost ready to be picked later that week.

Continuing on the road, we passed through a forest of tall Kauri trees, then dipped into a dry wash strewn with boulders and timbers carried down the steep hillside in a recent flashflood. Reaching the Man O’ War Vineyards, the road leveled out and the view opened to the beach along  Man O’ War Bay with folks swimming, and boaters motoring small dinghies ashore to visit the winery. The winery really is a destination venue, offering wine tours, fine and casual dining, and a kid’s playground. It even has a small white chapel for weddings as well as an adventure sports center that offers ziplining through the forested hillside above the winery, and into the forever happily after for the newlyweds. It’s a big, popular fun spot to visit, and the setting on the bay was quite pretty.

The tall straight Kauri trees, which can live for thousands of years, were noted for the strength of their wood in colony’s early shipping journals, and by the early 1800s Waiheke’s hillsides were being deforested and the wood exported to England to be used as masts for the Royal Navy’s “Man O’ War” warships, which is how the name Man O’ War was bestowed upon the bay. A favorite legend suggests that the masts of Lord Nelson’s flagship, HMS Victory, were made from kauri trees taken from hills of Waiheke Island.

Continuing on we headed to the Stony Batter Historic Reserve. It was once a World War II coastal defense installation to protect Auckland from potential Japanese naval attacks, and features three massive concrete gun emplacements. There was also an interesting boulder field we hoped to walk through. But we didn’t realize before hand that the parking was pretty far away as the access road to the site was gated, and required a longer walk and more time than we wanted to commit to. But there was one hillside next to the road that gave a feeling for what the larger site would have looked like.

Nevertheless, the views of vineyards and sheep-covered hills surrounding us were beautiful as we coursed back towards Oneroa with a plume of dust trailing behind us as we drove down Man O’ War Bay Road. Cresting a hill, we stopped at a lone bench along the road, seemingly in the middle of nowhere. But it did have a distant view of Cactus Bay Beach, a remote curve of sand only accessible by boat or kayak, that many “Waihekeans consider the perfect beach and, with nearby Garden Cove, a romantic place for picnicking.” Unfortunately, its land access has been blocked off by a private landowner. All the more to make it a special place, that requires more effort, to visit.

Our scenic drive that day reconfirmed our expectations of what lay ahead for the next part of our journey – that we were truly in an exceptionally beautiful part of the world. The next morning, we headed back to Auckland Airport for a different rental car to start our nine-day road trip to Cape Reinga Lighthouse, the farthest point north on the mainland, Hamilton, and the Coromandel Peninsula before flying south to Wellington.

Though we only drove 110 km (68mi) over the weekend, Waiheke Island was the most gorgeous place to learn how to drive on the left.

Stay left!

Till next time,

Craig and Donna

Samarkand, Uzbekistan: The Ancient Crossroad of Central Asia’s Renaissance or They Have the Best Bread!

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Upon your arrival to Samarkand, one of the first things you will notice is the huge number of informal roadside vendors, especially the folks selling loaves of bread from the trunks of their cars along the side of the road, or from wheelbarrows at every historic site. There is something akin to a great soccer rivalry here, not in which team you are rooting for, but in something far more essential to daily life in Uzbekistan. Whose bread do you prefer? While Tashkent, Bukhara, and Khiva all traditionally bake obi-non, a flat round loaf that’s decorated with intricate stamped patterns, in Samarkand folks favor their local variety of non, that looks similar to a bagel on steroids or a small tractor tire.

The dense loaves are beautifully glazed and baked to a golden color and typically weigh about 1.5 kilograms (3.3lbs) and taste delicious. I mean after being one of oldest continuously inhabited cities in Central Asia for over 3000 years, folks should certainly have a winning bread recipe! When we observed the amount of business being conducted along the roadsides we could only imagine that “Va nonni unutmang,” – don’t forget bread, is a common catch phrase in Uzbekistan when folks know you are visiting Samarkand, with the hope that you will return bearing loaves of the bread. The loaves are traditionally never cut with a knife but torn apart by hand and shared at the beginning of each meal.

The Afrasiyab Museum on the outskirts of Samarkand was our first stop. It’s a small museum but thoroughly engaging with exhibits displaying an array of artifacts uncovered in Afrasiyab / Maracanda.

Folks have lived in the Zerafshan River Valley region since around 1500 BC, eventually establishing Afrosiab, as Samarkand was originally known, on a large hill. Over the centuries it grew into an important trading and cultural hub ruled by a succession of Persian and Turkic rulers. By the time Alexander the Great captured the city in 329 BC it was called Maracanda. In 712 AD, Arab forces swept through the region and captured the city, cementing Samarkand as a premier center of Islamic culture that continued to gain riches due to its location on the Silk Road. This wealthy walled city survived until it was pillaged and totally destroyed by Genghis Khan’s army in 1220. It must have been a beautiful city as Genghis Khan spared the lives of skilled craftsmen and sent them as prisoners to Karakorum, in Mongolia, to build his capitol. Other prisoners were used by his army as human shields in their conquests against Tashkent, Bukhara, and Khiva.

The old city was permanently abandoned and today all that remain are its ruins which can be wandered through at the Afrasiyab Archeological Park which were uncovered by a succession of Russian archeologists through various digs from 1894 – 1970s; wall murals dated to the 7th century in the city’s old royal palace were discovered, along with the remains of an 8th century mosque.

Nearby was The Holy Spring of the “Three Religions,” an enclosed well at the base of the stairway to the Mausoleum of St. Khoja Daniel which overlooks the Siab River. The spring is uniquely cherished by Muslims, Christians, and Jews who visit to drink and collect its healing water.

Muslims call him the Khoja Daniyar, the Jews call him Dānīyyēʾl, and in Christianity he is known as Daniel, the Hebrew prophet who served the 6thcentury Persian King Darius who ruled an empire that stretched from Susa in what is now modern-day Iran to Egypt and beyond. Daniel is also the Daniel of the Old Testament, most notable for the biblical story of Daniel in the Lion’s Den. He faced death with three friends for not worshipping King Darius; they were placed overnight in a lion’s den but were saved by Daniel’s unfaltering faith in God. Witnessing this miracle, King Darius allowed the revered prophet to be buried after his death in a royal mausoleum in Susa. How the relics of St. Khoja Daniel actually arrived in Samarkand is a mystery, as some think the remains were brought to the city by early Christians, while others think it was by the decree of Samarkand’s famous medieval ruler Amir Timur, Tamerlane. One popular legend reinforces this theory – believing that after failing to conquer Susa, Timur was told the city was protected by the relics of St. Daniel. “Upon hearing this Timur decided to change tactics and negotiate with the townspeople about reconciliation, but on condition that he would take away part of the sacred relics to Samarkand. When the caravan carrying the sacred relics reached the outskirts of Samarkand near the Siab River, the camel carrying the relics suddenly dropped to its knees on the ground and refused to move until a miraculous spring with healing waters burst from the earth.”

The tomb for the saint’s relics is amazingly 18m (59ft) long to accommodate a relic that some believe grows larger every year, while others say it was Timur’s idea to hide the exact spot of the relics with the extraordinary length of the tomb to deter grave robbers from easily finding them.  It’s a tranquil place of pilgrimage for many travelers. Our next stop was the Observatory of Mirzo Ulugbek.

One hundred and fifty years after the Mongols destroyed Afrasiyab, Amir Timur oversaw the ancient city’s revival, growing like a phoenix from its ashes in the desert, and in 1370 called it Samarkand, and declared it the capitol of his Timurid Empire. It was under his tutelage during the14th century, later to be known as the Timurid Renaissance, that Samarkand became a center for Islamic studies, and the sciences that rivaled Bagdad’s past influence in the Islamic world. He indorsed a new style of architecture, where geometry and art intersected, and which would eventually bear his name, that featured Colossal Pishtaqs – towering arched entrance portals; vibrant blue domes – that featured cobalt and turquoise colored lapis lazuli glazed tile; intricate tilework – that featured geometric, floral, and calligraphic patterns; and a blending of cultures that drew upon Persian, Mongol, and Central Asian influences, all of which were connected through the Samarkand Silk Road crossroads.

Timur’s visionary influence continued for several centuries after his death, most notably in the scientific achievements of his grandson Mirzo Ulugbek, an accomplished astronomer.  He ruled Samarkand from 1409 – 1447 as a regent for his father Shah Rukh, before becoming the supreme ruler of the Timurid Empire. His reign only lasted two years before political infighting led to a coup and his assassination in 1449. It was during his time as the regent that he oversaw the construction of his observatory, a massive three-story structure featuring a 40m (131ft) radius marble sextant/quadrant, built into the ground to avoid vibrations, that he used to make highly accurate naked-eye observations to map 1,018 stars and record highly accurate orbital movements of the Sun, Moon, and the five known planets of his era, two centuries before the invention of the telescope. Ulugbek also calculated the length of the stellar year with unprecedented accuracy – 365 days, 6 hours, 10 minutes, 8 seconds, an error of less than a minute.

After his death the book of his work, the Zij-i Sultani, was smuggled out of Samarkand to Istanbul by his assistant who feared its destruction by religious conservatives. By the mid-1600s his work was translated by scholars at Oxford University and validated by telescope-using astronomers. He also established the first madrassa on Samarkand’s Registan Square which had a curriculum that prioritized mathematics, geometry, and astronomy alongside theological studies.


“Religion is scattering like fog, kingdoms are being destroyed,

but the works of scientists remain forever”

(Mirzo Ulugbek)

His admonition to trust science still rings true 577 years later. Sadly, only the inground portion of the sextant survived the building’s destruction immediately after his death, as it was buried in the demolition. Stones from the building were removed from the site, and used for other buildings, until it was totally levelled. The exact site was lost to history for nearly 500 years until Russian archaeologists used 17thcentury land deeds to rediscover the buried sextant in 1908. Across from the remains of the sextant is a small museum with exhibits explaining Ulugbek’s achievements and models of his observatory.

The historic sites in Samarkand were surprisingly very far apart and required transportation to reach, unless you are willing to devote hours to walking between places. This is the result of successive empires over the millennia rebuilding destroyed settlements nearby rather than on top of old ruins. This is very different from the feel of Bukhara and Khiva where the historic sites are surrounded by ancient mahallas, neighborhoods, only a few steps away.

Registan Square, with its three iconic madrassas famously facing each other, was our last historic stop for the day. The scale of the buildings was awe inspiring and considering the fact that every inch of them is covered in tilework is amazing.  The first madrassa on the site was built by and named after Mirzo Ulugbek in 1420 where several Silk Road caravan tracks converged in the center of the ancient city.  

It was a dusty lively spot, a “place covered with sand,” as is the meaning of “Registan,” with a domed traders’ and merchants’ bazaar, surrounded by awning-covered stalls of tradesman and farmers selling their crops. Of course, bakers were selling Samarkand bread, an essential food for caravaneers’ long journeys. With the construction of his grand madrassa Ulugbek gradually transformed the crossroads into a ceremonial and educational center, where folks gathered to hear royal declarations, news, and witness Islamic justice.

It stood alone on the plaza for two hundred years until 1636 when emir Yalangtush Bakhodur, who served the khans of the Bukhara Khanate, opened the Sher-Dor Madrasa directly across from it. With its name meaning “adorned with tigers,” the entrance is embellished with two lions with Mongolian-faced Zoroastrian-inspired suns rising from their backs to symbolize the enlightened mind, chasing white gazelles. This is very unusual for Islamic art as it normally prohibits using depictions of animals or human figures and reflects a short-lived regional relaxation of the rules in the 17thcentury when the Khanate of Bukhara ruled Samarkand. Twenty years later in 1656 the Tillya-Kori Madrasa was the final grand addition that centered the grouping.

Various shops now occupy the old classrooms. In one room an 11th generation tile artisan gave our group a demonstration of how the ornate tiles are cut and pieced together. Many of the intricate geometric designs have over twenty different design elements comprised of polygons, triangles, squares, rhombuses, and various multi-sided geometric stars, while others featured floral or biomorphic motifs or calligraphic scripts.

On average it took twelve years to complete each madrassa and required a massive workforce of thousands of skilled artisans and unskilled slave labor to convert raw material into the astonishingly beautiful buildings that define Samarkand. (Samarkand and Bukhara had notorious slave markets that operated for centuries. Successive Empires sold into captivity those captured along the frontiers of Persia and Russia by nomadic raiders or military conquests, to buyers across the Arab world, Central Asia, and India. While popular history focuses on exotic goods like silk, spices, and jade, slaves were also part of the Silk Road’s cargo and transported over thousands of miles along its trade routes).

With the discovery of a maritime route to India, Southeast Asia and China in the beginning in the early 1500s the importance of the cross-continent Silk Road caravans to Istanbul steadily declined. By the mid-1600s Samarkand entered a long period of reduced global significance and slow long economic decline. With reduced revenue from Silk Road caravan trade rulers could no longer finance their endowments of the madrassas and the financial aid they gave to support the students, which caused enrollment to dwindle.

Over time the buildings slowly fell into a state of disrepair from lack of maintenance. By the time the Russian Empire invaded the region the Silk Road Khanates were lacking the funds to buy the modern military weapons needed to defend themselves with any chance of defeating the Russians. The resulting defeats allowed the Russian Empire to force the Khanates to become protectorates, with the khans only symbolically ruling their domains. With the Soviet Union’s takeover of Uzbekistan in the 1920s and subsequently outlawing traditional Islamic education, the madrassas were closed. Rooms in the schools were used as offices, warehouses, and an ammunition depot, while the square was reserved for political rallies that promoted communist propaganda, mass veil burnings and trials of counterrevolutionaries. But the Soviets also began the restoration of the crumbling buildings.

The madrassas on Registan Square were the last grand structures built during Samarkand’s golden era. The historic and cultural achievements of this 250-year era is a time that Uzbekistan is most proud of and promotes as the most significant part of the country’s history which it has been seeking to reestablish after a combined 150 years of Russian Empire and Soviet Union domination.

We wrapped up the late afternoon with an unexpected wine tasting in an underground cellar featuring local wines made by Samarkand’s famous Bagizagan Winery. It was a generous tasting that offered six types of wine, brandies/cognac, and chacha, Uzbek grappa, paired with local cheeses, nuts, crackers, and seasonal fruit. The tradition of winemaking around Samarkand goes back over 2,500 years in the fertile Zerafshan Valley. A family of winemakers for over 150 years, their property was collectivized during Uzbekistan’s communist years but returned to them after Uzbekistan’s independence in 1991. We thoroughly enjoyed the experience, and the wines were very good.

The next morning, we were up early to walk to some sites that we passed while on our bus that were relatively close to the Hotel Royal Samarkand where we were staying, but not on our itinerary. Our destinations were the Amir Temur Monument and the Memorial of Samarkand’s Tigers, both of which were located along Registan Street. The morning sun was just cresting the adjacent buildings as we entered Bul’var Park, a long skinny stretch of land bounded on each side by University Boulevard. The walkway down its center was dotted with sculptures and fountains. Bird calls filled the air.

At the far end of the park was a statue of Amir Temur staring thoughtfully to the east. Farther along was a sculpture of Samarkand’s two guardian tigers. The Turanian or Caspian tigers historically symbolized royal power, but it also commemorates the tigers that lived along Central Asia’s river thickets until population growth in the region contributed to their extinction in the 1950s. Returning to our hotel, as we walked along Orzi Makhmudov St. we stopped to watch a restauranteur stack freshly baked somsalar into an outdoor display case. We met a young schoolgirl who was so curious about seeing foreign visitors on her street that she stopped to say hello. It was a charming moment of connection that warmed our hearts.

Joining our tour group after breakfast we headed to Gur-e Amir, ” the Tomb of the King.” Built in the early 1400s, it is the royal mausoleum of Amir Temur and his sons Shah Rukh and Miran Shah along with his grandsons Ulugh Beg and Muhammad Sultan. Also honored with a place in the tomb is Timur’s teacher Sayyid Baraka.

The courtyard’s grand entrance portal leading to a large ornate blue dome flanked by flat topped minarets became the master blueprint for an architectural style that was embraced across the Islamic world as Timur’s descendants continued to expand the Timurid Empire.

When Soviet archeologists decided to open Timur’s tomb in 1941 rumors went around Samarkand that disturbing the tomb would curse those who opened it, as the tomb is inscribed with a prophecy that reads “When I rise from the dead, the world shall tremble.” Local leaders attempted to warn the Soviets, but the excavation team persisted. Opening the tomb allegedly revealed another inscription declaring “Whosoever disturbs my tomb will unleash an invader more terrible than I.” Two days later Nazi Germany invaded the Soviet Union. Apparently, Stalin believed the curse and quickly ordered Timur to be reburied with full Islamic burial rites.

Continuing on we traveled to Shah-i-Zinda, Samarkand’s famous necropolis that features a narrow avenue lined with eleven ancient, spectacularly ornate blue tile covered mausoleums, smaller tombs, several small mosques and several historical buildings. “Its name means “The Living King,” referring to a legend that one of the figures buried here, Qusam ibn Abbas, a cousin of the Prophet Muhammad was not truly dead but “living” underground.”  

According to legend Qusam came to Samarkand in the 7th century during early Arab incursions to preach and establish Islam. Attacked by raiding Zoroastrians he was beheaded while performing his prayers. “Rather than dying, Qusam picked up his own severed head, tucked it under his arm, and descended into a deep underground opening linked to paradise, where legend states he continues to live to this day.

This legend encourages pilgrims from all across the Muslim world to visit the site. His original shrine on the site dated from the 11th century but was destroyed during the Mongol invasion of Samarkand. It was later rebuilt during Timur’s reign and later as his female family members, wives, and nobles chose the site as their final resting place during the 14th and 15th centuries, turning Shah-i-Zinda into one of the most important burial sites in Central Asia.

Late morning when we arrived was similar to trying to enter the New York City subway system at 5PM, packed with folks queueing for the best spots to take photos. The necropolis is stunning, but it was nearly impossible to take any photos without other people in the picture unless we had our cameras pointed at the beautiful ceilings. In hindsight our suggestion would be to plan a visit at 7:00AM when it opens or visit later in the day when the tour groups have headed for dinner.

After dropping us off our bus driver had to park farther away, near the local hillside cemetery. As simple as it was it had its own elegance. Greeting us, our driver broke some Samarkand bread with us and provided some local cheese for lunch in the shade of the bus before we headed to our final destination in Samarkand.

It was a very hot afternoon in late April as we slowly walked up the hill past the Makhsum Baba Mausoleum. Built in the 1800s the mausoleum of the revered local awliya (saint) features a much simpler, less ornate Persian style architecture, and because of this it is often looked by folks.

Continuing on we took a brief respite in the shade of the market pavilions at Siyob Bozori. It has functioned as Samarkand’s largest and oldest bazaar since the construction of the Registan displaced the merchants that once kept shops there. It was filled with beautiful ceramics, breads, honey, nuts and spices, as well as textiles. Vendors eagerly offered samples, hoping to encourage a sale.

Next to the bazaar was the Bibi-Khanym Mosque, the façade of which was very similar to those of the madrassas on Registan Square. Our only critique of Tumeric architecture is that, while the facades are embellished with different mosaic designs, there is not a very distinguishable visible difference between the shape of the madrassas and the mosques. Though intriguing, visiting too many of them tends to be visually repetitious.

Its towering entranceway opened to a treed courtyard, at the center of which stood a very large glass exhibit case that held a giant marble pedestal carved in the shape of a book stand during the Timurid era. It was used to hold the legendary, oversized 7th-century Osman Quran that Timur brought back to Samarkand following his military campaigns through Iraq, as a prized war trophy and token of religious prestige for his royal library. It was a huge book that weighed 80 kilos (176 lbs) and required multiple assistants just to physically turn the massive leather pages for the Imans during religious services on major Islamic holidays when it was removed from the library.  The Quran was seized by the Russian imperial army in 1868 and taken to St. Petersburg. Upon repeated petitions it was returned to Tashkent in 1924 and is now displayed in the newly opened Islamic Civilization Center there. The ancient pedestal is also the subject of a local fertility legend that believes “a childless woman will miraculously conceive and bear children if she crawls underneath the giant marble book stand located in the middle of the courtyard.” Evidently this was done frequently enough to raise concern that the monument might be toppled, and the decision was made to protect it within a glass enclosure.

Built between 1399 and 1405, the mosque was a huge structure that suffered from numerous engineering deficiencies which resulted in it beginning to crumble as soon as it was completed. A major earthquake in the 19th century caused large sections of masonry to collapse; that along with a Russian artillery strike in 1868 hastened the already dilapidated complex’s demise. Though for a short period of time, in its heyday, it must have been spectacular.

We had a wonderful time in Samarkand. In hindsight we wished our tour had chosen a hotel closer to Registan Square, which would have facilitated exploring some of the sites we missed in our free time.

Tashkent, Khiva, Bukhara and Samarkand were all remarkedly different. We had a great time in Uzbekistan.

Go for wonderful architecture of the Timurid Dynasty, but don’t forget the bread.

Till next time,

Craig & Donna

Bukhara, Uzbekistan: A City of Culture and Style on the Ancient Silk Road, or Time Traveling in the Desert

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In mid-April 2026 we flew from Tashkent to Urgench on our way to Khiva. We were a month too early to take advantage of the newly operating “Jaloliddin Manguberdi,” a high-speed electric train that whisks passengers 1,020km (630 mi) across the country from Tashkent to Khiva in 7.5 hours with stops in Samarkand, Bukhara, Urgench, and Khiva.

We are not fans of bus trips, preferring to rent a car, and organize our own road trips so we can stop frequently, but the distances between the cities in Uzbekistan were just too great, and we opted for a group tour instead. Consequently, a couple of long bus journeys were part of the itinerary, such as the six-hour trip to Bukhara. While some folks used this time to catch up on their emails and texts, or read, I preferred to look out the window, level the horizon, and try to compose a few photos as the bus bounced along. Leveling the horizon was nearly impossible.

In this part of western Uzbekistan there is not a modern highway system. While the roads were decent, the “highways” were also local roads when they passed through towns, and the sights could be unusual: like the local butcher who had a freshly slaughtered cow’s head hanging in front of his shop; kids in their school uniforms walking to school in a culvert along the edge of a field as a cow grazed nearby; numerous new mosques under construction. In places, large ancient cemeteries lined the road. There were also many examples of Uzbekistan’s informal economy underway when we entered or exited a town, with folks selling the in-season fruits and vegetables, or honey, eggs, and homemade cheeses from their cars parked along the roadside. 

At rest areas, tandoors cast forth the wonderful aroma of freshly baked samsas. Passing through the town of Hazorasp, a large silver sculpture of a winged horse flashed by too quickly to grab a photo. This was the Tulpar, the legendary ultra-swift horse in Uzbek mythology. The town’s name “Hazorasp,” literally translates to “a thousand horses.” It’s taken from a folkloric legend where a herd of winged horses descended to the Amu Darya river delta.

We reached the Hazorasp Tumani bridge over the Amu Darya River, a narrow, two-lane steel and concrete bridge that closes to all vehicle traffic when a train crosses the bridge on railroad tracks that straddle the yellow center line. This event caused such a long wait, that our driver and guide made us hot tea and coffee in the shade of the bus as we waited in the queue, with other folks who were leaving their vehicles to stretch their legs, killing time before the train passed.

Our route paralleled Uzbekistan’s border with Turkmenistan and at a viewpoint overlooking the Amu Darya River our guide pointed out how much the width of the river had shrunk since his childhood during Uzbekistan’s Soviet era, when the river’s water was overdrawn to irrigate cotton fields, and that during the communist years there were an incredible 17 security checkpoints between Khiva and Bukhara, that everyone was required to stop at. Farther on the scrubland of the Kyzylkum Desert extended in every direction to the horizon.

One unusual thing that we noticed at the many gas stations we passed along our 443km (275mi) route to Bukhara were the concrete walls between the filling islands. The stations didn’t provide gasoline. Instead, they sold highly compressed natural gas for cars and trucks that had been retrofitted to take advantage of Uzbekistan’s substantial natural gas reserves. Occasionally, explosions during the refueling process happens, and the concrete blast walls are to contain the damage. Drivers using these facilities are also required to wait in certain no danger zones, a safe distance away from their vehicles. The stations are all connected via pipelines and frequently there are problems with their pressurization which results in temporary station closures and long lines at other facilities. If you are renting a car there isn’t any need to worry, as all rental cars in Uzbekistan run on gasoline.

Wide multi-lane boulevards greeted us as we entered the outskirts of Bukhara, a city of about 305,000 people. The roads were lined with newer three to five story buildings with a vast array of shops and services on the ground level and apartments above. And there was a good amount of western style advertising with billboards and digital displays marketing athletic wear, soda and banking services. There had been a large 12km (7.5mi) defensive wall around this Silk Road trading hub for over two millenniums, only succumbing to destruction when the Soviet Red Army bombed and shelled the city in 1920 before they forced Bukhara into the Soviet Union. Prior to this, the Emirate of Bukhara existed as an absolute, conservative Islamic monarchy, while being a Russian Empire protectorate, a result of Russia attacking the city in the late 1860s to end its and Khiva’s notorious slave markets that sold around 100,000 Persian and Russian slaves every year to other Islamic khanates in Central Asia, India and the Middle East.

Just shy of the pedestrian only historic center of Bukhara, we disembarked from our bus, across from the Labi Hovuz, an ancient public square, dating from the 1620s, that’s centered with a large reservoir surrounded by a shallow set of stairs that lead down to the water’s edge.  Surrounded by centuries old mulberry trees, it was a popular spot for merchants from the caravanserais, and students from the nearby madrassas to relax in the cool of the evening. The pool was also a vital source of drinking water for the surrounding homes for several hundred years. There used to be many of these hovuz, pools, across Bukhara’s mahallas, neighborhoods, but they were also the breeding grounds for waterborne diseases like guinea worm and cholera, and they were filled in for health reasons during the Soviet years.

Dragging our suitcases behind us, we passed the Magoki Attori Mosque, dating from the 9thcentury; it was built above the ruins of an early Buddhist monastery and later Zoroastrian temple. Interestingly, before the first synagogue was built in the city, Muslims and Jews shared the temple but worshipped at different times. It is the oldest mosque in Bukhara, having survived Genghis Khan’s sack of the town in 1220, and a millennium of Bukhara’s evolving growth, which has left its entrance 4.5m (15ft) below the surrounding city level.                                                                                                                                                                                                                   

We entered the inner part of the historic center of Bukhara through the Toqi Telpakfurushon, a long gate-like, multi-domed tim built in 1570, that was first used as the booksellers’ bazaar. Its narrow lane was lined with a variety of colorful stalls and workshops, and it is expected that tourists will bargain with the merchants for their best price. We passed through the Toqi Telpakfurushon many times during our two full days in Bukhara, but appreciated the beauty of the building most in the early morning hours as the city was awakening.

Just outside the far end of the bazaar was the Bozori Kord Hammam, dating from the 14th century. It is one of the oldest continually operating bathhouses in the world, where a restorative 30-minute massage can be enjoyed.

Our hotel, The Shahriston, was a few doors down. It’s a newer hotel built in 2018, that wonderfully retains the authentic character of the surrounding medina, and was conveniently, centrally located on Khakikat St, and within easy walking distance of Bukhara’s many historic sites. It also had a nice rooftop terrace for views over the medina’s Toqi trading domes and workshops.

After getting settled in our room, we headed to the Poi Kalon Complex, as the golden hour was approaching, and quickly decided that the rooftop restaurant at Kazan, directly opposite the plaza, would be the perfect spot for dinner and photos later. We made reservations.

The plaza is considered to be the religious center of Bukhara and is bordered with three buildings built between the 12th-16th centuries: Kalan Minaret (1127) replaced an earlier design that collapsed during construction; The Kalan Mosque was completed in 1514, ( it replaced an older 12th century mosque destroyed by Genghis Khan’s army in 1220); and the Miri Arab Madrassah, which dates from 1535.

The square was lively with vacationers, tour groups, and vendors offering balloons, photo services, and souvenirs. The architectural brickwork design of the 48m (157ft) tall Kalan Minaret is amazing. The minaret so impressed Genghis Khan that he ordered his troops to spare it as they totally destroyed the rest of the city when the Mongol army sacked Bukhara. It was also known as the “Tower of Death,” where criminals, political rivals, and unfaithful spouses were marched up the 105-step spiral staircase to the open rotunda at the summit and cast to their deaths. Though there is the legend of a Khan’s wife who on the eve of her execution was granted her last wish – to wear all her dresses. “People stood breathless as the woman jumped, but then a miracle happened as her wide skirts billowed out like a parachute and she landed softly.”

Purposefully designed to rival the size of Bibi-Khanym Mosque in Samarkand, the monumental entrance arch of the Kalan Mosque opens to a grand courtyard that can hold over 10,000 worshippers and is surrounded by 208 pillar-domed galleries. At far end of the courtyard is an octagonal brick pavilion that is the tomb of a revered imam, just before the iwan, an open front vaulted room, where the minbar stood. Sadly, in 1924 the Soviet regime in Uzbekistan closed the mosque to religious use and repurposed it as a warehouse. During those years the mosque fell into neglect and wasn’t partially restored and used as a mosque again until 1991 when Uzbekistan declared its independence.

Directly across from the entrance to the Kalan Mosque were the blue domes and façade of the Miri Arab Madrassah covered with fascinating intricate tile mosaics featuring geometric, vegetative, and calligraphic patterns. Some historians suggest that the madrassa was built to commemorate Bukhara’s decisive victory over Persian troops at the Battle of Gijduvan in 1512, and that the ornate craftsmanship throughout the building was financed by khanate when it sold 3000 captured Iranians into slavery.  The school was closed for 25 years after the Soviet Union took control of Uzbekistan, but was reopened in 1945 when the USSR government granted permission to the Miri Arab Madrassah to be the one official Islamic educational institution for Muslims within Soviet Union, hosting students from different regions across Central Asia, the Caucasus, and Russia. Today about 56 new students a year are accepted into a 4-year course of study to become an imam.

Dinner later on the rooftop terrace at Kazan was a charming and unhurried experience and we lingered, watching the color of the golden hour across the plaza transition to twilight, as the size of the crowd on the plaza ebbed and flowed. The food was excellent. Unfortunately, as a functioning school, the restaurant does not permit tourists inside, but occasionally folks are allowed to step into the entrance portal and view the entry hall. However, during our research we found this interesting video tour of the Miri Arab Madrassah’s interior.

The next morning our group headed to Samonids Park, a large lush green park with a Ferris wheel and other amusement park rides, as well as shaded walkways through a nicely manicured landscape, on the outskirts of the historic area. We followed our guide down one of these lanes to the Mausoleum of Ismail Samani, the founder of Bukhara’s Samanids dynasty, (875-999).

The mausoleum is a highly decorated beautiful small structure, with all of its exterior and interior walls covered with intricate symbols and geometric relief patterns that resemble the design of woven textiles and basketry. It’s an effect that gives the building a highly textural feeling. The mausoleum is considered a masterpiece of early Islamic architecture. Through fate or luck, it is the oldest surviving Islamic structure in Bukhara, having been entombed in silt from repeated river flooding or, as legend believes purposely buried in sand to prevent Genghis Khan’s Mongol army from destroying it in 1220. Amazingly it stayed buried until Soviet Union archeologists rediscovered it in the late-1920s and found it in surprisingly good condition, due to the fact that it was entirely constructed with kiln-baked bricks, that resisted the erosive effect of repeated flooding.

Our tour continued through the park to the adjacent Markaziy bazaar, Bukhara’s central market. It’s a substantial complex with several halls and numerous vendors displaying their foodstuffs and offering samples. It is best described as a gauntlet of temptations.

Continuing on we came to the Bolo Hauz Mosque, built in 1712 across from the Ark of Bukhara. It was the official mosque of the emirs of Bukhara until the Soviet Union took over Uzbekistan. With the addition of an ornate 20-pillar wooden portico called an iwan in 1917, the mosque has a unique non-traditional façade. We had seen iwans earlier during our stops at the royal palaces in Khiva, where they were in the private courtyards, not on the front of a mosque. But it’s the perfect addition to accommodate worshippers in the hot summers.

The Ark of Bukhara was a heavily fortified citadel and palace within the extensive defensive wall that ringed the city. It enclosed the royal courts, living quarters and throne rooms of the Emirs. Along with housing for around 3,000 people, it also had mosques, a mint, a treasury, and a prison.

The unique shape of its curved towers and ramparts has been meticulously preserved and today the inner rooms of the palace are a museum detailing the city’s history. The view from the defensive wall back towards the Poyi Kalon Complex was also striking.

Twenty minutes from central Bukhara our group visited The Memorial Complex of Bakhouddin Naqshbandi, the 14th century Islamic theologian who founded the widely followed Naqshbandi Sufi order and was renown as the spiritual mentor to Amir Temur (Tamerlane), the ruler responsible for Uzbekistan’s Timurid Renaissance.

Over the centuries his once simple garden tomb at his home grew into a vast site that includes the dynastic necropolises of the Sheibanid, Ashtarkhanid, and Mangit rulers. Later additions included a mosque, minaret and madrassa. After Uzbekistan declared its independence, with the help of international donors, the country totally renovated the site which had fallen into disrepair during the Soviet era, in time for the 675th anniversary of Naqshband’s birth in 1993.

This was one of the first major opportunities the new Uzbekistan government took to reclaim its Islamic and Central Asian heritage after living under 70 years of communist atheism. Newer additions include a Sufi museum and theological research center, where translations of ancient Islamic texts are undertaken. Through the centuries it has become a revered pilgrimage site for folks from all across Central Asia and beyond.

Everyone was so friendly and eager to take photographs of us, and have their photos taken too, it was a very heart-warming experience. Our guide shared that for many people living in remote villages this was their first trip away from home. He spoke of a Central Asia folk belief which claims that three trips to the shrine equal a Hajj to Mecca, which underscored how dangerous the trek across the desert to Arabia was.

Afterwards our group headed to “the palace that resembles the stars and the moon,” Sitora-i-Moh-i Khosa, the summer palace of Sayyid Mir Muhammad Alim Khan, the last emir of Bukhara. The palace is poetically named for the emir’s wife, whose beauty he often compared to the heavens. Built between 1912 and 1918 by Bukhara craftsmen, the emir had sent to St. Petersburg to study western techniques.

While the exterior facades are traditional, the interior of the palace is a visually and texturally rich artistic expression that wonderfully overwhelms the senses. We mused that the flamboyant Las Vegas entertainer Liberace would have been right at home in its over-the-top décor. That speculation surely dates us as kids of the 60s.

The day we toured the site there were numerous crafts vendors, with fairly priced merchandise, set up along the garden paths and peacocks roaming freely about the park-like settings.

The emir only had a few years to enjoy his creation before fleeing the country after the Bukharan emirate fell to the Soviet Red Army in 1920. Fortunately, the communists appreciated the artistic merit of the site and preserved it as a decorative arts museum.

That evening under a clear night sky we enjoyed live piano music on the plaza around the corner from the hotel, at The Terrace Bukhara ECO Café.

On our last full day in Bukhara we had the morning for ourselves to wander around and explore. There are so many ancient madrassas in Bukhara, many of the smaller ones throughout the town have been or are in the process of being renovated into boutique hotels. And there are others in a state of semi-ruin, that have been stabilized enough to be safe for vendors to set up craft stalls in but remain architecturally interesting. The Abdulaziz Khan Madrassa (1652), located directly across from the Ulugbek Madrassa (1417), was an amazing example of this. Its monumental pishtaq, entrance way, had one of the best examples of a muqarnas, the intricate honeycomb-shape vaulted ceiling, found on madrassas in Bukhara.

Even though the domed ceilings above the vendors in its main hall were not restored, they were also stunning. In the courtyard large sections of tilework were noticeably missing.

Continuing on we walked through the medina to the Chor Minor Monument, a unique structure with four blue capped towers, which represent the cardinal points of a compass and the Samanids, Shaybanids, Karakhanids, and Manghits dynasties. Atop one tower is a sculpture of nesting storks.

They used to be a common sight nesting on the domes all across the city.  Their presence was enjoyed, with folks believing the birds brought good luck, peace, and domestic happiness.  Across from the monument was an antique shop that features all sorts of Soviet memorabilia.

Afterwards we headed to the Labi Hovuz plaza where we were scheduled to reunite with our group at the bronze statue of Khodja Nasreddin, a legendary folkloric figure who used his “sharp wit, humor, and feigned ignorance to outsmart the greedy, hypocritical, and powerful,” in front of the Nodir Devonbegi Madrassa for a dance and fashion show.

Nodir Devonbegi was originally built in 1622 to be a caravanserai but was repurposed when during its opening ceremony the khan inadvertently praised it as a madrassa. So be it. The front of the building is unusually adorned with an elaborate tile mosaic featuring a pair of stylized birds, mythical Simurghs, clutching deer and flying toward a human-faced radiant sun. This is very unusual for Islamic art as it normally prohibited using depictions of animals or human figures and reflects a short-lived regional relaxation of the rules in the 17thcentury.

Inside we were enthralled by a lively performance of traditional Uzbekistan dances in between the wardrobe changes of a surprisingly interesting fashion show by the internationally acclaimed designer Umida Kabilova, who gives a bold modern interpretation to ikat, a dyed patterned silk fabric for which Bukhara is known.

Afterwards we made a quick stop at the Khammam Sarrofon, a hammam built in the early 1530s. It is a cavernous space that had a heated floor, and was used almost continuously for over four centuries until the Soviets damaged it during their 1920 attack on the city. It was restored and served the community until the 1970s. 

Down from the hammam was the studio and gallery of the Ustoz Shogird Miniature Workshop, founded by Davlat Toshev, an internationally recognized artist who is known for his work on restoring ancient manuscripts. He was clandestinely taught the art of Persian miniature painting by his father during the Soviet era, when Uzbekistan’s cultural identity was being suppressed. In a desire to keep this ancient tradition alive he started mentoring students, many with learning handicaps, in the 1990s, eventually opening a school in 2018. It’s a beautiful space, and the demonstration of how to color silk paper by two of his students, with a member of our group participating, was charming. The artwork on the walls was beautiful. We couldn’t resist purchasing one for a souvenir. It was a really great experience that we highly recommend if you like art.

Toshev enjoys sharing Uzbekistan’s culture, so much so that his family offers a culinary workshop on how to make plov, the country’s national rice pilaf dish, in their home. It was our group’s last dinner in Bukhara, a festive occasion, and a great way to end our time in this intriguing ancient city on Silk Road.

Till next time,

Craig & Donna

Tashkent, Uzbekistan: Historic and Cosmopolitan or Surprisingly Fascinating & Wonderful

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Uzbekistan is having its moment after years of slowly simmering interest; it’s exploding into a full-fledged tourist boom. It is exponentially growing from 1 million tourists in 2016 to almost 13 million in 2026, and with a modern infrastructure that includes the newly operating “Jaloliddin Manguberdi,” a high-speed electric train that will whisk passengers 1,020km (630 mi) across the country from Tashkent to Khiva in 7.5 hours with stops in Samarkand, Bukhara, and Urgench. The country is quickly becoming Central Asia’s most intriguing Silk Road destination, and with the recent opening of the state-of-the-art Islamic Civilization Center, Islom Sivilizatsiyasi Markazi, in March 2026, Tashkent will be of particular interest for tourists from the Middle East and Southeast Asia.

The ATMs at TAS, Tashkent’s International Airport, were conveniently located next to the baggage carousels in the arrivals area, as were signs for YandexGo, the most popular ride-share service in Uzbekistan. Walking away from the ATM with about 2,400,000 Uzbekistani Som, roughly $200.00 at the rate of 1 USD = 12,000 UZS, we felt like newly minted millionaires. We were not able to link a credit card to the YandexGo App, but soon realized a twenty-minute ride across Tashkent to the Hotel Uzbekistanwould only cost 21,000 UZS. Outside the terminal we navigated our way through a gauntlet of taxi hawkers to a sea of ubiquitous white cars. In and of itself, white cars are not unusual in any region where you can cook an egg on a rock during the summer, but the fact that they were mostly American branded Chevrolets, not the ever so popular Japanese cars, was very remarkable. They are the result of a thirty-year-old joint venture between GMC and the Uzbekistan government-owned UzAuto Motors, and steep import tariffs on foreign cars, which has led to Chevrolet producing  95% of the country’s new vehicles.

The Hotel Uzbekistan opened in 1974 when Uzbekistan was still part of the Soviet Union, eight years after a April 1966 earthquake destroyed many of Tashkent’s centuries old historic neighborhoods where the one and two-story homes were made of adobe brick. The catastrophic event left 300,000 people homeless.

The Soviet Union used this crisis to transform Tashkent into a “model Soviet city” with wonderfully wide boulevards, open plazas, and earthquake-resistant buildings, deploying architects and laborers from across its republics to build a “showcase of socialist modernism and multicultural “people’s friendship.” The revival of the city mushroomed after Uzbekistan’s independence in 1991, and continues with a building boom that peppers the city’s modern skyline with construction cranes.

The style of the city’s new buildings constructed right after the earthquake is often referred to as Soviet Brutalist, an architectural style which features the love of concrete, and functionality over grace. And Hotel Uzbekistan was designed to be the centerpiece of the Soviet Union’s vision. For many years the building, with an open book profile designed to resist seismic activity, stood as the country’s tallest building, and was the premier hotel for international delegations to stay and hold conferences.

At the time its seventeenth-floor restaurant overlooked Lenin Square until the colossal statue of the Soviet leader was sent to the scrap yard in 1991 when Uzbekistan regained its independence, and replaced him with an equestrian statue of Amir Temur, an enlightened ruler who united the independent kingdoms of Samarkand, Bukhara, and Urgench during Uzbekistan’s 14th century renaissance, as the country seeks to reclaim its cultural history.

A thumping bass reverberated through the hotel, preventing any attempt of catching an early shuteye. Dressed again, we never intended to be Uzbeki party crashers, but we got caught up in the spirit of a couple’s anniversary celebration and enjoyed watching the band perform for a while. The hotel would be our base for three days to explore Tashkent before joining a group tour to Khiva, Bukhara and Samarkand.

By 1970 Uzbekistan’s capital city was mostly rebuilt, and construction of Central Asia’s first subway system, a series of beautiful stations that were also designed to be utilized as bomb shelters in case of emergencies during the Cold War era, was underway.  The next morning, we set out after an early breakfast and worked our way against the morning crush of young professional ascending from the depths of the Amir Temur Hiyoboni station, just a block from our hotel.

The underground tunnel leading to the turnstile offered perfect acoustics for a young Uzbeki busker who played for the commuters. The Tashkent Metro now has four lines, and 50 stations along 70km (44 mi) of track. Rides at the time of our visit cost 1,700 Uzbeki Som (about $0.14 USD), and were easily payable at the turnstile with a tap of our credit cards.

We spent a good part of the morning riding between the stations that encircle central Tashkent, hopping on and off to photograph some stations that were noteworthy for their striking architectural beauty, that often resembled a formal waiting chamber in an elegant palace, before transferring to another line.

We eventually worked our way to the Kosmonavtlar Station, where the walls are beautifully embellished with tile portraits of early Soviet astronauts. Surprisingly, because of their dual use as bomb shelters, photography in the subway stations was banned until 2018.

We also visited the plaza above the station where we viewed another interesting monument to the Soviet Union’s space program, before we made a short excursion to Tashkent’s Museum of Applied Arts, only a few blocks away. Founded in 1937, the museum is housed in the former mansion of an Emperial Russia diplomat and has a rotating collection of over 4,000 Uzbeki decorative handicrafts, with examples of traditional wood carving called O‘ymakorlik, ceramics, embroidery, gold weaving, jewelry and musical instruments. In the museum’s traditional courtyard was a very atmospheric café where we enjoyed coffee.

Before descending back underground we detoured slightly to see a modern interpretation of Islamic architecture represented in the 1970s era facade of the Central Exhibition Hall of the Academy of Arts.

The 1930s built Alisher Navoi Grand Theatre, survivor of the earthquake, features a blend of classic European architecture with traditional Uzbek ornamental styles. Along our route we walked through many of the parks and green spaces that give the city a wonderful ambiance.

Back on the subway we continued on to the Chorsu Station, only a short walk away from the Chorsu Bazaar, Tashkent’s historical central market, whose history goes back 2000 plus years to the founding of Tashkent. The main hall’s futuristic dome, where meats, poultry and dairy products are for sale, dates from the reconstruction of the city after the 1966 earthquake.

After wandering through the rows of clothing merchants, where nothing has a price tag so bargaining is expected, we were enticed by the aroma of slowly grilling kebabs over an outside fire at Especialidad Pinchos. A smile goes a long way when you don’t understand the language and we were quickly seated outside and served a delightful lemon tea. The restaurant was the perfect place to relax and people watch. It felt as if we were in the audience of an old TV sit-com where good-natured chiding was going on, from the quips flying across the open-air restaurant. We mentally supplied the dialog: “Yasmina we are so busy, can you clear the tables faster?” “Now Zarina you might be the golden one and Bobur’s squeeze, but don’t you go telling me how to take care of my side of the cafe!” And so it went, their familiar back and forth continuing the whole time we were there as the women busily tended the day’s lunch crowd.

Wheel barrel vendors selling round, flat disk-shaped non coursed through the shoppers. These loaves of dough are traditionally decorated with a stamping tool called a chekich, before baking. We’ve read many rave reviews about Uzbekistan’s non but have found it’s best enjoyed when fresh out of an oven, as in our opinion it becomes a disappointing “eh” later. It’s definitely worth spending the time to find the central bakers in the market to watch them form the dough and then lean into the tall brick ovens to throw it against the side walls to bake. The result is heavenly.

Stairs rose from the market’s lower level to the gastronomical equivalent of Aladdin’s “Cave of Wonders.” Literally it was like a culinary temple, with vendors freely offering samples, it had us wishing we had rented an apartment with a full kitchen. The quality, variety, and abundance of the foodstuffs were amazing. It was difficult for the cooks in us to resist the temptation to buy a cart full of groceries, but we did and only purchased some dried fruit and pomegranate juice for a snack later.

After leaving the market we crossed the street into the Hastimom Mahalla neighborhood, in the Almazar District and walked along Zarkaynar Street. The lane was recently renovated as part of an effort to revitalize the maze of narrow lanes in the ancient quarter that lies between the Chorsu market and the magnificent new Islamic Civilization Center.

The street was pristine with new historical murals and buildings shining with their new facelifts, but it lost much of its authenticity in the process and felt a little too touristy.  Young boys were enthusiastically kicking a soccer ball back and forth down the lane until a neighborhood buvi, grandmother, put a stop to their raucous play.

Fortunately, as we walked deeper in the mahalla, smaller alleys led to traditional homes still made of adobe brick that share a communal courtyard called a sheriklikli hovli. It was down one off these lanes that we hoped to find Tandyr Samsa V Dome, a small family run bakery in a hovli that is acclaimed for their samsas, a savory pastry filled with meat, chicken or potato, and then baked in a traditional wood-fired clay oven called a tandir. We had a very difficult time finding it. In this labyrinth our mapping app got us close, but eventually we just had to try different lanes until we discovered the right one. Unfortunately, by the time we found the right hovli, baking for the day was over and the family encouraged us to come back earlier on another day. It was very late in the afternoon when we stopped at a small nondescript restaurant, with a plastic pullback sheet as a door, and one low table and cushions on the floor. The owner was delighted we stopped and shared his experience about working the United States for a short time, while serving his many neighborhood customers who came in to get their takeaway orders. Our meal was very simple, just kebabs and non, but it was delicious and memorable.

Afterwards we headed to the Hazrati Imam Complex, an ensemble of buildings around a large plaza that include the16th  century madrasah Barak-Khan, that is now a crafts center, the 19th century Muyi Muborak Madrasah, which now exhibits a collection of ancient Islamic manuscripts, and the Hazrati Imam Mosque completed in 2007.

They were built around the Mausoleum of Hazrat Imam, which had become a pilgrimage site. Hazrati was a brilliant 10th-century polyglot and local locksmith who went by the name of Kaffal al-Shashi before pursuing his religious studies in Baghdad, Mecca and Medina. Upon returning to Tashkent he became one of the town’s first local imams and received the title Hazrat Imam. Beloved, he came to be regarded as the chief spiritual protector and patron of Tashkent.

The complex is one of the few large open spaces in the Almazar District, and it’s a popular spot for local families to bring their children to learn how to ride bikes and fly kites.

Next to the Hazrati Imam Complex is the Islamic Civilization Center, a newly opened museum, “conceived under the vision and leadership of Uzbekistan’s President Shavkat Mirziyoyev in 2017. The Islamic Civilization Center was envisioned to be more than just a museum, but function as an international hub for science, culture and learning, combining the richest treasures of pre‑Islamic and Islamic heritage of Uzbekistan with modern digital technologies and academic research.” The center’s striking design took inspiration from the architectural masterpieces constructed by the Timurid Empire in the 15th and 16th centuries.

The ICC was not on our radar when we planned our trip to Uzbekistan, but we were delighted to find that the center stays open until 10pm every day, and seeing that the queue for entrance into the museum was very short we spontaneously purchased tickets. Upon entering the building folks were divided into small tour groups determined by the language they spoke and then led through the exhibits with a bilingual guide.

It’s a huge building with over 2,000 historical items, manuscripts, and cultural artifacts on display, 743 of which have been repatriated from international collections, and a 45,000-book research library. It was a fascinating tour that lasted about two hours and ended in the Quran Hall with a dramatic multimedia event where sacred verses of the Quran were projected onto a digitally created night sky in the 65m (213ft) tall dome, directly over the treasured 7th-century Uthman Quran, and a holographic beam of light descends from the heavens to spotlight the manuscript, representing divine revelation.

Though the constitution of Uzbekistan defines the country as a secular state, there are some concerns about how heavily religious freedoms and activities are restricted and monitored by the government in Uzbekistan. The Islamic Civilization Center is part of Uzbekistan’s efforts to reclaim its history and Islamic heritage for the next generation, information which was repressed during the 67 years the country was under the Soviets Union’s control.

Exiting the building just before sunset, we had the opportunity to take some night photos of the dramatically illuminated building before enjoying dinner several blocks away at the Khan Ahmat, an upscale eatery.

The next day we set out to see the landmarks next to our hotel before exploring farther afield – the Palace of International Forums Uzbekistan, is a modern conference hall opened in 2009, marking the 2,200th anniversary of Tashkent, and the 18th anniversary of the country’s independence; the circular shaped State Museum of the Temurids, which houses a collection of artifacts relating to the 14th century ruler Tamerlane; the Yuridik Instituti (the Tashkent State University of Law) housed in a late 19thcentury building. It is one of the few examples in Tashkent of Tzarist Russia Emperial architecture to survive the 1966 earthquake.

Turning the corner past the school we entered Sailgokh Street, a wide, treelined 1km (6/10mi) long, pedestrian-only boulevard that links Amir Timur and Independence Squares, that’s locally known as Broadway. Sunlight reflected through party lights strung across the street that was lined with food stalls and outdoor seating. Behind them students from the university were challenging their professors to games of ping-pong at numerous tables along the sidewalk. Caricature artists whiled away the time waiting for customers to sit in front of their easels as parents watched their young children scoot about in electric toy cars. It’s a popular destination to grab an inexpensive meal or dine at one of the fancier restaurants along the walkway.

Surprisingly on this street in 1928 Tashkent was on the cutting edge of technology, when a crowd had gathered to watch the first-ever telecast showing a moving tram, made with a device called a Telephot, created and patented by Boris Grabovsky, a student at Tashkent University, and the son of the famous Ukrainian poet, Viktor Popov. Unfortunately, by 1930 he was forced by Soviet officials to stop working on television technology.

Farther along was a very attractive small royal palace built in the late-19th century and early Art Nouveau style in 1891.  It was the home of Grand Duke Nicholas Constantinovich who was permanently exiled to Tashkent by the Russian royal family for stealing valuable diamonds from an icon belonging to his mother, so he could lavish extravagant gifts upon his American mistress! Let’s talk about the punishment fitting the crime here. The entrances are flanked by bronze sculptures of deer and hunting dogs, a reflection of the Grand Duke’s passion for hunting. He was by no means a pauper during his punishment, and received a gracious royal stipend which he invested in cotton mills, a soap factory, and the city’s first cinema. To furnish his prison palace he was allowed to bring his collection of Russian and European artworks from St. Petersburg with him into exile. Using profits from his local business ventures he continued to acquire new pieces of European art, rare books, and priceless artifacts. Before his death in 1918, he graciously bequeathed his art collection and palace to the city of Tashkent, to become the foundation for the State Museum of Arts of Uzbekistan collection. During the early Soviet era the palace was used as a museum to display his collection but later was transitioned into an after-school activity center for young Soviet Pioneers. Sadly, the palace was closed for renovation when we visited.

Crossing under Sharaf Rashidov Avenue we reached the large reflecting pool of the Mustakillik Fountain in front of the building housing the offices of the President of the Republic of Uzbekistan. Unfortunately, all the fountains we passed in Tashkent in mid-April were off. We can only speculate how stunning they must be when they are shooting water skyward.

A short walk away was Independence Square where more dry waterworks paralleled the Arch of Ezgulik, a 150m (492ft) long archway held aloft by 16 white marble columns and crowned with a beautiful sculpture of three giant storks circling a globe as they soar skyward. Storks are a prominent theme on the top of many important buildings in Uzbekistan, and in Uzbek folklore they symbolize humanism, peace and prosperity.

Beyond the arch, down a narrow evergreen-lined walkway, was the Monument of Independence, a tall obelisk with a globe atop it, the map of Uzbekistan chiseled into its center. At the base of the monument is a statue of an Uzbek woman cradling a baby, called the Happy Mother that “symbolizes the Motherland, national rebirth, and hope for a prosperous future for the next generation.”

Continuing on we entered Memorial Square where an elegant, long, open-sided wooden building stood, surrounded by traditional Navoi-style carved wooden pillars, called the Memory Corridor. It holds Memory Books which contain the names, inscribed in gold lettering, of over 400,000 Uzbek soldiers who died during World War II.

Across from it was a large statue called the Grieving Mother that overlooked an eternal flame. It was a very somber memorial and hardly a whisper could be heard from the observers.

Progressing along Sharaf Rashidov Avenue toward the Monument to “Courage,” we passed the Turkistan Concert Hall, where a stylized statue of a majestic stork is perched on top of a tall column.

Along the way we noticed that everywhere we walked there was a definite sense of “pride in ownership.” The city was immaculately clean. Street sweepers with traditional brooms called supurgi, made with bundles of twigs tied to a wooden handle, were always out and about, as were the city’s landscapers who seemed to be everywhere planting decorative flower beds and pruning. When they were done in one area, they packed up their tools and brooms and hopped onto a city bus to go to the next location needing tending.

The Monument to “Courage” is a gigantic statue of a family, erected in 1976 on the tenth anniversary of the April 1966 earthquake that commemorates the victims, as well as collective efforts of Tashkent’s survivors and the thousands of workers who arrived from across the Soviet Union to rebuild the city from the rubble. At the foot of the sculpture is a recreated fissure in the earth’s crust that is believed to be directly above the epicenter of the 5.2 magnitude earthquake that rattled the earth for 11 seconds and had nearly 1,000 aftershocks. Behind the statue is a wall of 14 stelae with stylized bronze bas-relief sculptures depicting the reconstruction efforts of the workers and volunteers who rebuilt Tashkent, from literally the ground up. 

A sidewalk next to the stelae leads to Museum of Olympic Glory and crosses over a bridge above the scenic Anchor Canal as it weaves through a quiet woodland before the museum.

Walking from Independence Square along Sharaf Rashidov Avenue to the Monument of Courage, and then following Navoi Avenue, and Mustaqillik Ave back to our hotel, the new design of this “model Soviet city” was particularly apparent with the wide treelined streets, and tall apartment buildings well-spaced apart.

On our last full day in Tashkent we took advantage of multiple inexpensive YandexGo rides and zipped across the city to various destinations. Our first stop, which we had passed earlier in the week, was Magic City Park, an open-air shopping and entertainment complex, that as the name suggests borrows heavily from the mouse kingdom, and seemed very out-of-place in downtown Tashkent. Mid-morning, we had the place almost entirely to ourselves, except for a girl’s dance group practicing their routine in traditional dress.

It was a quiet morning, and we enjoyed walking down a colorful painted and umbrella- covered street, making folks smile as we hammed it up in the mouth of Jaws!

Behind Magic City is Milliy Bog, a large open area national park with statues of important Uzbeks along lanes that lead to the Tashkent Museum of State History; the 19th century Abul-kasim Sheikh Madrasah, which once held a sacred relic of the Prophet Muhammad; the Legislative Chamber of the Oliy Majlis; the Friendship of the Nations concert hall; and the Shomakhmudovs Monument, erected in 1982, as a symbol of wartime generosity and unity.

The monument commemorates a local blacksmith, Shaakhmed Shamakhmudov, and his wife, Bahri Akramova, who during World War II adopted 15 orphaned children of various ethnicities. They were only a small portion of the over one million refugees evacuated from the Soviet Union to Uzbekistan to receive food and shelter, an event that caused many to call it “the city of bread.”

From there we traveled far across Tashkent to a beautiful park across from the Tashkent Television Tower that hosts the Museum of Victims of Political Repression. Along our route we passed many examples of older apartment buildings designed with that harsh “Soviet Brutalism” ethos, and only softened by Uzbek tile murals at both ends.

Life in Uzbekistan during Russian times was not easy and the museum documents the hardships and atrocities committed against the Uzbek people, starting with Imperial Russia’s colonization of the country, where the best farmland was given to Russian settlers, through the communist Soviet Union era. Many exhibits draw on information culled from the former KGB archives.

The blue domes of the museum purposely resemble an ancient mausoleum as the building is constructed over the site where the Soviets executed “enemies of the people” during the 1930s. Across the country over 100,000 people were arrested, and over 13,000 of them were shot. Trees in the park symbolically come from the gulags around the country where folks were imprisoned. During World War II ethnic groups that allegedly collaborated with the Soviet Union’s enemies were deported en mass to Siberia.

Outside, the man-made river that runs through the park is symbolically shaped like a Greek meander, to symbolize the eternal flow of life. Under the park’s tall rotunda is a nephrite tomb with the inscription in Arabic, English and Uzbek: “The memory of those who died for their country will live forever.”

Across the busy road was the Tashkent Television Tower, the tallest freestanding tower with a height of 375m (1,230ft) in Central Asia since its opening in 1985. To get to the elevators that take you up to an observation deck and revolving panoramic restaurant at 104m (341ft) above the ground we had to walk along a long corridor lined with models of other significantly tall television towers around the world, a display of archaic boom boxes, an abstract tile mosaic mural and the wax museum likeness of Michael Jackson and maybe the doubleganger of Melania Trump? The restaurant was enjoyable, though expensive for cake and coffee.

However, the views from the observation deck out over metropolitan Tashkent were fantastic, especially where we would see the shadow of the tower cast across the landscape.

We ended our evening and last day in Tashkent with a short walk to Besh Qozon, a tremendously popular, large, fun restaurant that is known for its Plov, Uzbekistan’s celebrated rice dish. The dish is traditionally prepared by men, and at Besh Qozon visitors are allowed to walk through open kitchen and watch the cooking of several different variations of the recipe being stirred in huge caldrons, and the continuous baking of fresh non.

The first known settlers in Uzbekistan were Persian nomads who settled around the oases in the vast Kyzylkum Desert during the in the 8th–6th centuries BC. The desert covers most of central Uzbekistan, stretching from Khiva in the western part of the country to Samarkand in the east. Many of these oases became crucial caravanserais, fortified waystations, to protect the camel caravans along the Silk Road. Others like Samarkand, Bukhara, and Khiva grew into rich influential regional seats of power called khanates.

 In 329 BC Alexander the Great spent two years marching across Uzbekistan in an exhausting campaign to defeat a Persian rebellion, and only left after what legend claims was a love at first sight romance with a local princess named Roxane led to a strategic alliance with her father. The legend of Roxane remains alive in Uzbekistan, with many distinguished families in the region still claiming their lineage from the marriage of Alexander to Roxane, before he set off to conquer India.

In the west we often associate the history of the Silk Road, a 6,400km (4,000mi) camel tract, with the travels of Marco Pollo across central Asia to China in the 13th century. But its history started much earlier in the 2nd century BC, when a Chinese emperor of the Han dynasty sent imperial envoys across Central Asia to establish formal trade routes and military alliances against the Huns. These agreements of safe passage resulted in silk and porcelain from China reaching the eastern-most regions of the Roman empire by 25 BC. On their return journey caravans took glassware, linen, wool and cotton to the Far East.

The Huns never invaded China, but did conquer much of Central Asia, and established a stronghold in southern Uzbekistan during the 4th and 5th centuries. Trade along the Silk Road ebbed and flowed through invasions and peace. Arab conquests swept through Central Asia, bringing the Arabic language and Islamic religion to oasis cities like Bukhara and Samarkand in the 7th–8th Century AD. The Mongol armies of Genghis Khan brought massive destruction to the region in the early 1200s.

By the late 14th century, the region was the central hub of trade and ideas at the crossroads of the known world at the time, and experiencing a renaissance of art, science, and Islamic architecture under the enlightened rule of Emir Timur. By the 16th century the successive invasions of Turkic and Mongol nomadic tribes had ended. The invaders from 92 tribes, as legend believes, had settled and intermingled with the local folk and established what eventually would be recognized as the Uzbek identity.

By the 16th century Spanish and Portuguese Navigators were mapping maritime trade routes across the Indian Ocean to India, Southeast Asia, the East Indies, and China. These nautical routes from Asia to Europe were significantly faster and safer than transporting goods via the Silk Road and trade on the overland route slowly diminished. Regional caravans still plied the deserts of Central Asia, taking supplies to isolated settlements well into the 1930s, but stopped when a growing road network ended the camel caravan era.

Without this international trade flowing both ways through Uzbekistan the armies of the Tashkent, Bukhara, and Khiva Khanates fell in succession from 1865 to 1873 to the technologically superior firepower amassed against them by Czarist Russian Empire in a drive to secure the region’s natural resources, mostly cotton, for the Russian economy. The Khanates retained figurehead monarchs, but all political and economic decisions were controlled by Moscow, which developed Tashkent as its administrative center. Czarist rule quickly forced all viable agricultural lands to be planted with cotton. This valuable crop, often called “white gold,” was then exported from Uzbekistan to the mills of the Russian homeland on the newly built Trans-Caspian Railway that connected Tashkent to the eastern shores of the Caspian Sea. Train ferries then shuttled the freight cars across the water to Baku, Azerbaijan for the last leg of journey. Trains returned to Uzbekistan with colonizers from Ukraine, Belarus, and regions around St. Petersburg and Moscow, who displaced Uzbeks and were given the best agricultural lands. Until this cotton monoculture was forced upon the farmers in Uzbekistan the country was agriculturally self-sufficient but soon relied on imported grains from other regions in the Russian Empire.

After Russia’s communist revolution ended in 1922, Uzbekistan was incorporated into the USSR, the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics, as the Uzbek Soviet Socialist Republic. Communist authoritative rule expanded the cotton monoculture with extensive irrigation systems using water diverted from the Amu Darya and Syr Darya rivers, the source waters of the inland Aral Sea. This environmental mismanagement caused the sea, once an important fisheries resource, to lose over 90% of its volume and transformed the vital waterbody into the new Aralkum Desert within five decades.

Life in Uzbekistan during the Soviet communist era was harsh. While basic housing, medical and education needs were met, there was rampant underemployment, widespread poverty, lack of foodstuffs in the markets, and political and religious repression. During the yearly cotton harvests Uzbeks, including children, were forced to spend 15 – 60 days in the fields picking the “white gold.” Schools and universities across the country were closed, and even teachers, doctors and nurses were not exempt from participating. Refusal could result in the loss of your job or expulsion from higher education.

Over one-hundred years of combined Russian Empire and Soviet rule ended in 1991 when Uzbekistan proudly declared its independence as the Soviet Union was dissolving.

Till next time,

Craig & Donna