Some places defy expectations. Providence is not one of them. It is, as you might think, a comfortable corner of the world replete with beautiful brick buildings, a pretty river and lots and lots of students… at least in the immediate vicinity of the Rhode Island School of Design and Brown, where Randi and I were very kindly hosted by Rachel last weekend. (And some of the students are, y’know, those kind of students. I walked past one woman explaining to her friend how she’d ‘problematised’ something, which is still my most hated academic tic of all time. Please, please stop problematising things.)
So it was that we had a relaxing Rhode Island weekend in ‘mostly sunny’ Providence: eating lots of things with lobster inside, taking a boat tour up and down the river (on which we made up 50% of the tour’s audience) and celebrating Rachel’s completed thesis with sangria. Congrats!
Providence, Rhode Island. Categorically not an island, but at least there’s a river.
My arty bridge shot
My arty ‘need a haircut’ shot
Students!
Somewhat smug police cars
Randi & Rachel (plus sangria)
Oh, and we also saw Zootopia, which was… astonishing. Forget the trailer I’d seen beforehand, which is ludicrously unrepresentative, and marvel that Disney have sneaked out a full-throated social commentary on bias and prejudice… all while being legitimately funny the whole way through. I don’t know how to describe it without making it sound po-faced and terrible, actually, so ignore me and just go see it yourself. If nothing else, as I watched the credits roll it became hilariously clear what a giant cultural gulf divides the country: Zootopia‘s ‘Mammal Inclusion Initiative’ on the one side, Donald Trump on the other.
(Exhibit #2: outside Planned Parenthood in Providence stands one lonely protestor, silently holding aloft his ABORTION KILLS placard. I wonder what he’d make of it all.)
I really did want to end this blog with lavish, heartfelt praise for poor unloved Amtrak, because my train from Boston to Providence really was fast, comfortable and cheap. Unfortunately, my train on the way back was delayed, so with a heavy heart I ended up bailing on my return journey and taking a $60 Uber to ensure I didn’t miss my flight. Which is sad, because it yanked me prematurely out of my Northeastern fantasy of a railway-loving America. Maybe Disney could do trains next.
Back in January, I was having lunch with Ellen at work and explained my Iceland dilemma: my family had snagged a package deal for a long Easter weekend trip, and I was deciding whether to join them. Her “you’re an idiot, why is this even a question?” face was telling, so I did. Great decision.
Welcome to Reykjavik
I arrived on Saturday morning, joining Randi in our AirBnB after she had already spent a couple of days touring, riding horses and befriending our host’s cat. (Once again, my heart beats for AirBnB and the quirky, joyful extra dimension it adds to travelling.) Notwithstanding my foolish lack of sleep on the overnight flight, we set off on a two hour walking tour of Reykjavik with a great guide who came armed with a fiercely dry sense of humour.
Now Reykjavik is not a big place, and strictly speaking, you don’t really need two hours to walk around it and take in the sights. Indeed, the recent tourism boom seems to have taken Iceland a little by surprise, and so to fill the void of major sightseeing spots our guide turned to such topics as the country’s school system, tax rates and parental leave policies. Don’t get me wrong, these things were right up my street, but given the wind I would have appreciated it just as much indoors.
After meeting up with my family, we headed to one of Reykjavik’s many outdoor public pools for an authentic Icelandic bathe. (Not to mention an authentic Icelandic forced naked shower beforehand: this is not the Anglo-American way.) I loved these baths, and wish very hard that some geothermal heating might hit Chicago in the near future.
Finally, that night we headed out on a coach trip hunting the Northern Lights, which were soon located! We soon discovered that fancy cameras are much better at capturing their colours than feeble human eyes: I saw mostly white shimmers across the sky, but will allow photographs to falsify my memory after the fact.
Northern Lights
Misbehaving on the coach
Sunday was our big Golden Circle excursion day, and our guide Siggi drove us around in a monster jeep which – as he cheerfully informed us – was the product of a Frankenstein melding of two smaller vehicles. But it proved more than capable of bouncing through the snow and ice while we visited the Gullfoss waterfall, exploding geysers, a field of super-friendly horses and the border between the American and Eurasian continental plates. But the absolute highlight of the trip was the snowmobiling session! After first letting Katie prove out the theory that you don’t actually need to know how to drive a car in order to master a snowmobile, Randi promoted me from passenger to driver on ours, and I’m pleased to report that no injuries were sustained.
Casual family gathering
Can’t drive a car; can totally drive a snowmobile
Remember the SkiFree monster? Here it is.
We decided to wait downstream of the exploding geyser
Katie summons the horses
After a French farewell dinner with the family on Sunday night, Randi and I tried out another public pool on Monday morning and took a final walk by the ocean before heading home. There’s a definite atmosphere of quiet, Nordic utilitarianism to the city, and walking around made me think sympathetically on Hillary Clinton’s famous “we’re not Denmark” line. Not that we don’t have much to learn from Denmark, or Iceland, but you can’t just transplant a culture from an island of 320,000 people and hope that it sticks.
Still, this was definitely an Easter weekend to remember, and served up some unforgettable landscapes. Come join the Icelandic tourist boom now before they get fed up of us all invading their country!
The Sun Voyager
We need to talk about St. Louis. It’s one of the oddest cities I’ve ever visited. It’s quite possible to completely fill a weekend, as I just did with Jason and Randi, with some really good food and decent tourist spots – including one place, the City Museum, which is truly phenomenal and must surely be world-leading. At the same time, it’s impossible to ignore how empty St. Louis feels. A city which, at its height, was home to over 850,000 people is now below 320,000. The urban landscape sprawls over big blocks and wide roads because that’s just how car-mad American cities were built, but barely any traffic passes through. There isn’t really any skyline to speak of, apart from the arch. Everyone we met was friendly, though, and it wasn’t uncomfortable to walk around… just odd. You really notice what the clouds do.
Suburbanisation is not like shifting tectonic plates or the weathering of sea cliffs – not some natural process which inexorably changes the land. It’s a human decision. If you want great cities, you need to live in them.
Anyhow, after a long evening journey through Illinois – which included hash browns at Waffle House! – we checked into The Cheshire. (Everyone pronounces this chesh-ire, to rhyme with fire, but obviously my readers know better.) I’d booked this the weekend before by scrolling through the few remaining places in St. Louis on my phone and picking the one which looked ‘nice’ without much further thought. It quickly transpired that the signals my brain processes as ‘nice’ are that of a full-on British-themed hotel, complete with Queen’s Guard figurines outside and rooms named after British authors and poets. (Disappointingly, we stayed in James Hilton.) In my defence, it was also very close to Forest Park, so a good base for a wander through this giant and lovely mix of woods and lawns.
Waffle House: another American icon checked off my list
In Forest Park, which is “larger than Central Park” (as you will be frequently told)
One unexpectedly awesome thing in St. Louis is the World Chess Hall of Fame, which had a special exhibition about women in chess (Ladies’ Knight – yes, very clever) and included lots of cool chess-themed artwork. And I don’t even play chess. I don’t really drink Budweiser, either, but St. Louis is the headquarters of brewer Anheuser-Busch and they do offer free tours with free samples, so we also did that.
One of my favourite artworks from the World Chess Hall of Fame
On the Budweiser tour. Extensive Budweiser packaging left intact.
Stroking a Clydesdale
But the absolute best thing about St. Louis is the misleadingly-named City Museum. It’s not a museum, not really, but in fact a giant playground – indoor and outdoor – for adults and children alike. And it’s amazing. Made mostly from reused architectural and industrial products, an entrance fee of $12 buys unlimited exploration around a dense network of tunnels, caves, slides, trains, wire frames, ball pits, fish tanks, castles and even two small planes suspended in the sky. And along the way you might stumble across a café, sweetshop or a bar too. If anyone reading this remembers Kidstop, then it’s sorta like that, only if Kidstop were designed by benevolent crazy artists and played jazz music in the background.
The most wonderful thing about City Museum is the way adults and children interact. It’s a shared, peaceful coexistence: the adults aren’t just there as parents, it’s also crazy fun for them too. But for once, it’s a world built on children’s terms – they have genuinely more competence and skill, being able to run up, climb over and crawl under any obstacle quicker and more nimbly than a big person can. It’s hard to crawl on your knees or squeeze through holes in the floor if you’re old and lame and 26. One little boy even offered up directions when we looked helpless and lost. If I ever have children, I’m taking them to St. Louis so they can feel a smug joy at being children.
Up inside the City Museum’s outdoor section
Impossible to capture in photos, but here’s one attempt
I fly planes now
I feel compelled to offer at least one photo of the arch, so here’s a photo of the arch
I’ve wanted to visit New Zealand for a long time, but it always seemed so far away. (I mean, strictly speaking, it was so far away.) But it was going to be considerably closer to me from Sydney, and so in the same way that Americans travel to ‘Europe’ in a single trip – because why not? – I decided to spend my second week travelling around this country.
Wellington
It’s Jen!
My first stop was Wellington to stay with Jen. It was so exciting to see her again: we first met back at Abbi’s drunken Christmas party in 2008 and have only seen each other episodically since, but it always feels like we’ve spent a lot more time together than we actually have. She was a wonderful, wonderful host, and from the first boardgame-playing night with her boyfriend, John, I was obviously going to have a great time here. (We played ‘Tiny Epic Galaxies’, for the record. This set a great tone for the nerdiness to follow.)
Wellington is filled with these slightly odd, slightly arty sights
On Saturday I took a (free!) tour around New Zealand’s Parliament, which is pleasingly Westminster-like although with some fascinating differences (especially in its voting system) which are, of course, only fascinating if you are the type of person to tour a parliament in the first place. Later I rode the cable car up to the city’s botanical gardens and visited the national Te Papa museum, of which the most interesting part was the historical background on the Treaty of Waitangi between the British and the Māori. It’s the kind of treaty which was unhelpfully translated rather differently in English and Māori, and as such remains an active issue in New Zealand politics today.
Outside the Weta Workshop
The next day Jen drove me around on a loosely-themed Lord of the Rings day out, kicking off with the summit of Mount Victoria before moving on to the famous Weta Workshop. Their workshop tour was superb, and was delivered by an actual employee of the (surprisingly small) company who was obviously passionate about what they do and excellent at demonstrating the huge amount of work which goes into prop-making for TV and film. It’s sorta mind boggling. Plus they have trolls outside.
We also went to The Roxy Cinema, Peter Jackson’s beautiful art deco building which is filled with models in the lobby and I’m pretty confident would be beloved by Todd if he ever visited. I was particularly a fan of their gooey lemon cake, which would make it worthwhile to go see even a bad film. Afterwards, we walked by the sea at the Taputeranga scenic reserve, talked about blogging enough to distract me from getting sunburnt, and admired the seals chilling on the rocks.
There’s just LOTR stuff everywhere here
That evening, Jen took me to the finals of the rugby sevens. My last interaction with rugby was refusing to play it at school, so I was pleasantly surprised to discover that sevens is designed for people like me: everyone’s in fancy dress, nobody’s taking it too seriously, and – best of all – a game is made up of two seven-minute halves. If only all sports could follow this lead! And unlike American football, it was fast and fluid to watch. England satisfied my default expectations by losing horribly to Fiji, and then we watched New Zealand turn it around at the last moment to triumph over South Africa in the final. Which was the right moment to be in a New Zealand rugby crowd, obviously.
Special props to the guys who all came dressed as Donald Trump, with photos on their labels and ‘Make America Great Again’ scrawled amateurishly on the back of their baseball caps. (It’s worth noting that almost everyone I met on my trip volunteered the subject of Donald Trump as soon as they learnt that I lived in the US.)
At the rugby. Nobody begrudged me ketchup here.
Christchurch
I then flew to Christchurch, which is on the east coast of the South Island. It’s a city which is still very obviously devastated by the earthquakes of 2010 and 2011: everywhere you look there are buildings in ruins, in the process of demolition, or under construction. 185 Chairs is a moving memorial to the victims, and I also went to the Quake City exhibition which goes into the earthquakes in more detail.
Moving memorial to the earthquake victims
And for a single moment, I was Nolan Finn
Feeling earthquaked-out, I spent the afternoon down by Hagley Park and the river which has a distinctly Oxbridge feel. Not only are there punts meandering up and down, but at one point ‘Oxford Terrace’ faces off against ‘Cambridge Terrace’ on the other side. After discovering that a hour’s kayak hire was a mere $12 (and that’s New Zealand dollars!) I opted for that, doubly delighted that they didn’t ask for any ID, deposit or liability waivers. It was almost as if I had discovered a country chilled-out enough to just… trust people.
After kayaking, I stared nervously at the bike hire for a long time. I haven’t ridden in years, but my stated reason is always fear of cars, and here I was next to a large, bicycle-friendly park with no one I knew to watch me fall off. So I did it, and though I wasn’t the most confident cyclist on the planet, I hope it keeps my abilities fresh enough until the next time this urge arises.
Kayaking down the river
TranzAlpine
The real reason I had come to Chirstchurch was for the TranzAlpine scenic train, which travels across the middle of the South Island to Greymouth on the west coast. It’s very much a tourist thing – there’s an audio commentary and a viewing car where you can take photos in the open air – but it’s still magical, and I don’t think any further explanation is required.
You wouldn’t complain if this was your commute, would you?
View from the train
Another view from the train. I could go on.
Hokitika
Not far south of the railway terminal in Greymouth is Hokitika, a “cool little town” (their words) by the beach. I swam a few times on this trip, but this was the place with the best waves. Other highlights of Hokitika include a beach-based sculpture competition, a chance to watch a beautiful sunset while worrying about being stood on an exposed strip of sand surrounded on either side by the sea, a night-time glow worm dell (pleasingly impossible to take good photos of, not that people were put off from trying) and what I consider to be an enchanted tree. (If you look closely below, you’ll see little magical people running up the left-hand side.)
Sunset in Hokitika
At night I found what is clearly a magical, enchanted tree
Auckland
For the final leg of my trip, I flew up to Auckland, where a third of New Zealanders actually live. Now I don’t want to be mean about this, but unlike the rest of the country, Auckland is… well, it’s a disaster. Everything about the city is set up to be nice: it has wonderful parks, good weather, cool things to do etc. And then somebody decided to plant motorway after motorway right through it, on top of which – and I can only assume malicious intent here – it takes forever to cross any road because the green light for pedestrians lasts only a few seconds. Plus they frequently fail to put in a crossing where you need one, so you have to make three crossings around an intersection just to get to the other side of the road. It’s exhausting, and sucks away the joy from what should be a lovely city to walk around. I realise that nobody reading this expects me to like cars, but I can’t remember a city this bad for road layout. It may even be worse than LA.
Tiritiri Matangi Island
Thankfully, I spent almost none of my time in Auckland actually in Auckland. My first excursion was to Tiritiri Matangi Island – as recommend by Maria – a wildlife sanctuary which is only accessible via a daily ferry. (You have to take your own lunch, but they do offer free tea and coffee.) Despite the offer of guided tours to see the birds, I quickly decided I would rather get as far away from all other human beings as possible, and opted for the trek around the whole island. At some points I felt very much like a character in the closing stages of Agatha Christie’s And Then There Were None (it helps to have just watched the latest BBC adaptation).
The island was not quite as secluded as one young couple were hoping for, however, and it took all the powers of British reserve to stare determinedly in the other direction as I walked past them in an advanced state of undress. I was awkwardly close when they finally saw me and scrambled off the path. It was very funny, and I wish I could have telepathically reassured them that I wasn’t scandalised.
On my final day in New Zealand, I succumbed to the inevitable and went on the tour of the Shire. And even though I spent most of the day on a coach to get there and get back, and even though they herd bus loads of tourists around like sheep, and even though everybody is obviously posing for the same photos, it was still magical. It’s large and hilly enough that you don’t really notice the other groups most of the time, and everything is beautifully decorated, and at the end you’re led into the Green Dragon pub for a surprisingly decent free drink. Hobbits are so great.
The Shire!
Inside my Hobbit hole, wearing my Hobbit t-shirt
So there you go, my whistlestop tour of New Zealand. It’s a long way away, for sure, but it’s perversely easier to fly for a whole day – with a decent opportunity for sleep – rather than a shorter but more bodyclock-destroying journey. So if you ever feel a deep urge to commune with JRR Tolkien, this is the place to be.
I’m back in the Northern Hemisphere (where did all the light go?) after spending two weeks with its brighter, warmer southern twin. To avoid blogging overload I’m going to split this trip into two and talk about Australia first!
With Jeff, Carolyn and Maria
More cousins!
The impetus for this trip was Claire and Mitesh’s wedding in Sydney, which I rashly promised to attend back in the feel-good cousin vibes of Jamie’s San Francisco wedding of 2014. To have a family scattered across the world is a wonderful thing, but to have a global family where everybody actually likes each other is even better. Deborah and Rob, Claire’s parents, were incredibly generous and hosted two evenings of family reunions – including a Sydney harbour cruise – before the main event. (I didn’t take photos of the wedding itself, so until the official ones emerge, you will have to believe me that I dragged a new suit around in my backpack for two weeks. But I did!)
From the London branch, Carolyn and Maria turned up with a bundle of Cadbury chocolate to tide me over until my next UK visit: it looked like we were smuggling drugs. Many many thanks also to David and Ginger, who took me out for dinner on the first night even though I was probably frazzled and incoherent from all the flying. I also got to meet a wide selection of new cousins (at least, new to me!) which continues to expand my network of people to beg sofa space from in the future. And, of course, thanks and congratulations to Claire and Mitesh for making the whole thing happen. Never have I heard wedding vows quite like theirs.
The world doesn’t really need another shot of Sydney Opera House, but I’m giving it one anyway
On the Bondi to Coogee beach walk
Cool birds in the Botanical Gardens
More of the Botanical Gardens
After the family jamboree was over, I hung out in Sydney for the rest of the week and was really impressed by the city. It’s a delicate balance to be an obviously ‘working’ city and yet have so much going on for tourists, and Sydney is helped in doing this by a network of ferries and beaches. I checked out Manly and Watson’s Bay, but my favourite was easily the Bondi to Coogee beach walk, pictured above, which I did on Australia Day and so was surrounded by families picnicking and young people drinking and/or not-drinking on the beaches (there was some divergence between the flashing prohibition signs and actual behaviour). This stunning walk was also one of Emilie’s top recommendations, and her suggestions formed an excellent guidebook while I was there.
In the spirit of serendipity, I also want to put in a word for Sydney’s Justice & Police Museum, which I ducked into at random and fully embraces the “yes, we were originally a convict colony” history of European emigration to Australia. It’s one of those museums where you can wander around and interact with an old police station, cells and courthouse, force random strangers to take photos of you looking judgement in the judge’s seat, and admire the history of the Australian TARDIS police box. I realise people don’t go to Sydney for the museums, but if you happen to be walking past, you should check it out.
At the falls, making incorrect assumptions about how much of the hike I had completed
Without a doubt, however, my favourite Sydney excursion was to the Blue Mountains, a mountain range which – despite being a two hour train journey out from the city centre – is ludicrously cheap and easy to get to. After tapping out my ‘Opal’ card at the other end, I really did feel ashamed of the comparative cost on Britain’s railways. My Airbnb host, Mark, had recommended the trip and directed me to Wentworth Falls as the best place to go. (Tangent: I really, really love Airbnb. Especially if you’re travelling alone. This was one of the highlights of my whole trip and I only did it because I had a real resident to chat to.)
Although I knew I would get a waterfall – obviously – I was deliberately ignorant of what exactly I was going to see. This led to a lovely moment where I thought I’d got to ‘the’ waterfall, took a bunch of photos, and then realised that the path continued to a much, much larger drop overlooking a beautiful wooded valley. I was absolutely not wearing sensible shoes and had no idea how far away food would be (later a kindly hiker brought me up to speed) but I still decided that it would be silly to come all this way and then not do the ‘hard’ hike with signs like ‘Valley of Waters Slacks Stairs’ and ‘descend ladders facing inwards’. So I did, and I descended the ladders facing inwards, and it was an immensely satisfying and scenic trail with some fun challenging sections (i.e. “now get through this river somehow”) which concluded, mercifully, with a café serving restorative lunches for hungry walkers.
Looking out at Wentworth Falls, Blue Mountains
Beyond these trees, the universe ended
After lunch, my day at the Blue Mountains descended into farce as I moved on to the Three Sisters rock formation – getting mightily drenched in the process – only to discover that mist now rendered them completely invisible. And I mean, literally, to stare out from the ‘viewing station’ was to gaze into a pure white void, which still didn’t stop tourists looking and taking photos and (most confusingly of all) taking selfies against nature’s blank canvas. It was hilarious, and felt like a postmodern art project, and was probably more fun than actually seeing the designated sight to begin with.
On my last day in town, I also went to see Groupon people who usually exist solely on video conference calls. Cassie took me to lunch to try some of the laksa which Nolan had insisted I try in Sydney, and later I went for beers with the famous Bobby, a fellow ex-UK colleague Dan, and others from the Australian office.
With Bobby Mulligan
To round off, I would like to praise Australia most sincerely for its predominance of pies. After living in a desert of pies for so long, this was a joyous reversal, and to the extent that even the café on the ferry – where I’d expected crisps, drinks, maybe sandwiches – offered a selection of hot meat pies and sausage rolls to eat. If you live there, I guess you take this for granted, but it really is the most marvellous achievement and made me very happy while.
In my next post, I will ‘cross the ditch’ to New Zealand and continue my adventuring…
Beth E . Dubowe-Lawrence on China, Part 3: Chongqing & Chengdu: “Again an awesome adventure to share this with you” Apr 21, 19:13
