“Kia Ora.” The flight attendant used this Maori greeting as we approached the islands of New Zealand. My vacation had begun, and I’d escaped to the “land of the long white cloud,” Aoteaora.
The rain cleared, and a spectacular specimen of that cloud formation stretched endlessly over the harbor in Wellington, the capital city at the bottom of the North Island. I took it as a welcome, and it turned out to be a harbinger of good weather for the trip.
I was traveling with a friend who shares my passion for swimming and with whom travel is not just easy, but enriched by similar tastes and unique perspectives.
Throughout the trip, we were impressed by the Maori presence -- not just in the people and place names but how this culture appears integral to the New Zealand identity. I watched Maori television and heard much enthusiasm for the Maori rugby teams.
I learned that Maori were traditionally strong swimmers and, in a country where you’re never far from the sea, there are heaps of opportunities. Even inland we found one -- Lake Taupo, formed by a volcano.
Most of the trip we hugged the east coast -- around the Coromandel peninsula, then further north to the Tutukaka Coast. Our favorite immersion spots were not the ones highlighted in travel guides but those we came upon by taking unpaved roads and walking tracks.
In our last few days we crossed the island west to Hokianga, the “returning place.” This is where Kupe, the founding Ancestor of Aoteaora, departed -- an auspicious close to our time in a country that recognizes and celebrates its indigenous roots.
I’m Paula Garrett, and that’s my perspective.
