And Stewart Island. Stewart Island is off the bottom tip of the South Island. It's billed as the third biggest island in New Zealand at 650 square miles. You go over on the tiniest of prop plane airlines. As we were being weighed - yep us AND or luggage (come to think of it, I'm probably too fat now for a return trip!) - we spied a giant SAFETY sign that read "Our pilot has every intention of having dinner with his family tonight so you are in safe hands." Cracked us up.
At that time you could only get there by plane or private boat. And there was only a couple of small bed and breakfasts. Our bed and breakfast was charming. Our hosts were delightful. It was actually bed, breakfast and dinner and she made a perfectly amazing dinner. There was a starter that John and I both tried to recreate and/or find again and were never able to. My memory says it was one of the best things I've ever tasted. He took us around the island in this rickety old van.
For some reason that I do not remember, deep in the island jungle there is a non-functioning telephone hanging on a tree and a phone book.
A couple of years later an internet friend of mine and his wife were going to New Zealand and asked me for recommendations and I sent them to Stewart Island. When they got back, they sent me a photo of their group of four making a tree telephone call.
Here's today's other doll...