Walkways of Wellington, New Zealand

This article was the very first I had published as a full-time freelance writer, and appeared in the Christchurch newspaper The Press in early 2004. As it never went online and is still relevant, here's a lightly rewritten version. The trip was taken at my own expense.

If you want to let yourself go and expose your inner tramp, you ought to head for Wellington. But it’s not what you think – 'tramping' is the Kiwis' term for hiking.

Walking is one of the great attractions of New Zealand: including treks through stunning landscape, sleeping in huts or tents, living rough in the company of nature.

But if you’re an urban kind of person and the great outdoors doesn’t appeal, you can still get in some walking and be at a restaurant or theatre by sunset, if you’re visiting Wellington. This hilly city has a series of walking tracks, or walkways, running through its green spaces.

Upon the founding of the city in 1839, extensive swathes of land were set aside for the recreation of the inhabitants. Although areas of this 'Town Belt' have been chipped away since then, it’s still an impressive amount of greenery.

The three major Town Belt trails are the City to Sea Walkway, the Northern Walkway and the Southern Walkway. All of them have their attractions, running variously past botanic gardens, historic sites and scenic highlights.

The Southern Walkway is the most varied and interesting. Starting at Island Bay, it meanders north through hilly green space above the city, then descends to the attractive harbourside beach at Oriental Bay.

Along the way, there are impressive views of both the city and the south coast. The walk is tranquil in parts like Mount Victoria, where several Lord of the Rings scenes were shot, then becomes wild along the coastline.

Since the walkway is so close to civilisation, it’s easy to break it down into smaller sections, using public transport to get there and back.

I set out on a good five kilometre tramp from Island Bay. The sea is stunning here, a stretch of pale blue-green dotted with islands. The most significant of these is Tapu Te Ranga, known in local Maori legends as a place of refuge.

Its name means 'Isle of Hallowed Ways', distinctly classier than the names given to it by European settlers: Goat Island, then Rat Island.

From here, the walkway hugs the coast to the treacherous waters of Houghton Bay. Along the way, I saw an unusual selection of houses hugging the hillside just back from the coast. Wellington is hilly almost everywhere, so local architects have been inventive. Triangular buildings, thin tall buildings, and steep steps slot into the landscape.

Then the walkway climbed through Sinclair Park. To my mind, 'park' means a stretch of lawn framed by cultivated plants. But this was bushland, thick with trees and often steep. The payback was the impressive set of views on the ascent, with Cook Strait stretching out below.

I eventually reached the top of Mt Albert, 178 metres above sea level. From here, the city stretches away in all directions. To the east is Wellington Airport, with its regular flow of aircraft, looking ridiculously small from this distance.

On either side are the waters of Wellington Harbour and Cook Strait, and northward lies the city centre, sprawled across the flat land known as Te Aro. On a clear day, the walker can see the mountains of the South Island from here.

From Mt Albert, the trail descends, eventually squeezing between the mountain and a solid-looking fence. I was surprised to see apes wandering about on the opposite side. Then I realised this was Wellington Zoo.

It’s also the halfway point of the Southern Walkway. Feeling that five kilometres of occasionally steep walking was enough, I called a halt and checked out the wildlife. The zoo houses some distinctive New Zealand creatures, including the tuatara, kiwi, mopoke and weta.

I'd had enough walking, and caught a bus back to the city centre.

Installed in one of Wellington’s many cool cafes, the tired tramper composed a postcard home, recounting the perils and ordeals of hiking in New Zealand. While enjoying that cafe latte I’d so richly earned.

Maps and other details of the Wellington Walkways are available at this link.

Capital! All the Capital Cities I've Visited

A model of the Houses of Parliament, London,
within the Mini-Europe theme park in Brussels, Belgium.

I was musing the other day about national capitals, those cities in which the government of a country is based.

Often they're the most prominent city of a nation, and thus the most popular destination for international tourists as well: think London, or Paris.

Other times they're not so prominent, though may still draw overseas visitors: Canberra perhaps, or Ottawa. Some capitals are barely known to tourists, who usually visit another part of the country entirely: Suva, Fiji springs to mind here.

Some countries are so big, of course, that you can see quite a lot of them without reaching the capital. I've been to the USA eight times now, and still haven't visited Washington, DC. Nor have I got to Beijing while in China.

Does it matter? Not really, unless you're fascinated by attractions connected with government.

I am, as it goes, because my university degree was in history and politics. So it occurred to me to list in order all the national capitals I've visited, and in what year that visit happened.

Note that I didn't get to the capital of my own nation before visiting that of neighbouring Indonesia. I was living in Perth then, and from there Jakarta was more accessible by air than Canberra in those days!

National Capitals Visited:

1. Jakarta, Indonesia (1981)
2. Canberra, Australia (1989)
3. London, UK (1990)
4. Paris, France (1990)
5. Cairo, Egypt (1992)
6. Budapest, Hungary (1993)
7. Vienna, Austria (1993)
8. Prague, Czechia (1993)
9. Damascus, Syria (1994)
10. Amman, Jordan (1994)

11. Warsaw, Poland (1994)
12. Berlin, Germany (1994)
13. Bangkok, Thailand (1997)
14. Suva, Fiji (1999)
15. Rome, Italy (2001)
16. Vatican City (2001)
17. Wellington, New Zealand (2003)
18. Santiago, Chile (2005)
19. Vilnius, Lithuania (2008)
20. Bratislava, Slovakia (2008)

21. Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia (2009)
22. Ljubljana, Slovenia (2010)
23. Ottawa, Canada (2010)
24. Delhi, India (2011)
25. Dublin, Ireland (2011)
26. Stockholm, Sweden (2012)
27. Seoul, South Korea (2014)
28. Muscat, Oman (2014)
29. Brussels, Belgium (2014)
30. Singapore (2015)

31. Copenhagen, Denmark (2016)
32. Kiev, Ukraine (2016)
33. Pretoria, South Africa (2018)... though South Africa is more complicated, as its Parliament actually sits in Cape Town, and its judiciary in Bloemfontein.

And I'm hoping to be in Tokyo before the end of the year! Capital.

The Real Mai Tai of Honolulu, Hawaii

On this 2014 trip I travelled courtesy of Hawaii Tourism, the Oahu Visitors Bureau, and the Outrigger Waikiki.

The evening after I changed Honolulu hotels, moving into a room at the Outrigger Waikiki, I decided to go for a walk through the adjacent resorts.

As I was researching Honolulu bars for an article, I was aiming to enjoy an authentic Mai Tai at the aptly-named Mai Tai Bar at The Royal Hawaiian.

But by night it's easy to take a wrong turn and end up at somewhere quite different.

So when I finally found the bar I thought I was looking for, it turned out to be somewhere else altogether: the Rum Fire bar at the Sheraton Waikiki.

Oh well, that's a mistake anyone could make. And the Rum Fire was a fun place to hang out, with cool red and black decor and a lively crowd on that warm evening.

And though it was the wrong bar, I did get to enjoy an authentic Mai Tai; in fact, far more authentic than the sweet concoctions that usually go by that name.

Barman Joe, who was born in the Philippines and had lived in Hawaii from age 7, happily made up an off-menu version of the Mai Tai, which I jotted down thus in my notes:

1944 Mai Tai
Lime juice
Orgeat / Rock candy syrup
Triple sec
Meyers rum
Parrot Bay rum

Not sure about the amounts of each, but Joe said this was basically the original 1944 Trader Vic's Mai Tai. I liked it a lot - it seemed much less sweet than other versions I'd sampled, especially since the only juice in it was lime.

This Mai Tai tasted like a real cocktail, not sweet alcoholic fruit juice. What a revelation. I knew Trader Vic was tougher than that.

I had to ask for it - and it cost US$18 - but it was well worth it. Though it spoiled me permanently for any other Mai Tai. Thanks Joe.

Buried Village: Te Wairoa, New Zealand

I visited Te Wairoa in 2011 courtesy of Tourism New Zealand.

Just outside Rotorua in attractive green hilly countryside is the former village of Te Wairoa.

I say 'former' because it was buried in mud by the massive eruption of Mount Tarawera in 1886, just 3 years after Krakatoa famously blew its top off Java.

The village then lay hidden for decades, before being excavated. Now the partly reconstructed buildings sit within beautiful green grounds, accessed with the aid of onsite guides. There's also an excellent museum within the 1930s tea rooms, where visitors can have lunch.

It's a surprisingly interesting and engaging slice of a terror-filled moment in Rotorua's 19th century life.

It's also a glimpse into the early days of mass tourism. In its heyday, ladies and gentleman were rowed across a lake from the village to bathe in terraced thermal pools.

These were sadly destroyed in the eruption - after the alleged sighting of a ghostly Maori war canoe as an omen of doom.

I visited Te Wairoa in 2011. Here are some photos I took of its fascinating remains...

For more details about Te Wairoa, including opening hours and entry fees, visit its website.

Pacific Summer Series: Norfolk Island (Part 2)

This is the final January post of my previously published print articles about Pacific islands.

Last post, I was introduced to the unique culture of the Australian territory of Norfolk Island, which I visited in 2007 as a guest of Norfolk Island Tourism. The adventure continues...

Just when you’re getting used to Norfolk’s serene ambience, you’re shaken out of any creeping complacency by its spectacular scenery.

If this is a country town, it’s a country town with a view. Up on Mount Bates, one of Norfolk’s highest points at 320 metres above sea level, there’s a nearly complete view of the Pacific stretching around the horizon in a circle.

It’s a breathtaking vista which takes in the bulky offshore islands of Nepean and Phillip, the blue sea and sky, and scattered dwellings below the slopes.

And everywhere you look there are Norfolk Pines, native to the island but familiar to many Australians as the trees that lined the local footy oval in the town where you grew up.

And it’s not just from the obvious vantage points that the scenery impresses.

On my first night, as I walk home from a fundraising concert to my accommodation along the dimly-lit main road, there’s a brilliant full moon riding high in the sky.

It throws the pine trees’ silhouettes into sharp relief against the sky, and I can hear my footsteps falling in the silence. It’s so simple, that it’s beautiful.

Then a car pulls over and a voice calls out “Do you know where you’re going?”

It’s a local resident, concerned I might be lost and ready to give me a lift. It really is like the fabled friendly town of the golden age (whenever that was), and yes, for the record, Norfolk people do leave their doors unlocked.

By this point, I think I’m getting the hang of Norfolk Island. Quaint old-fashioned townsfolk, contrasting with magnificent Pacific scenery. Got it.

But then I visit Kingston.

As we drive down the hill from Burnt Pine the following day, the landscape opens up below us. What had seemed distant and indistinct from Mount Pitt comes into focus, and I can see a collection of large sandstone buildings scattered on the flat land beneath.

When we arrive, I’m astounded by the extensive ruins of the island’s first township and convict-era centre, in the years before the Bounty’s descendants arrived from Pitcairn Island.

I’m expecting a small cluster of old patched-up buildings, but what I get is a sprawling complex of solid sandstone walls, often without roofs and with grass growing through them as a neat lawn, but big and impressive.

Particularly striking are the remnant walls of the convict jail, whose warders were noted for their brutality towards their inmates.

It’s hard to imagine those times, standing here now.

The sun is shining, the green hills behind Kingston are almost glowing green with their lush grass and pines, and there’s a good-natured crowd gathering at Kingston Jetty, waiting for the Foundation Day reenactment of the island’s first settlement in 1788.

It’s an affair conducted in typical Norfolk relaxed style.

The costumed officers and convicts mill about, are loaded into a rowboat, then rowed out a little way to sea, so they can turn around and be rowed back for the reenactment.

We follow the motley crew as the convicts erect a tent, and the officers drink toasts to the King.

Leaving history behind, I wander off through the ruins toward the placid waters of Emily Bay, where the island’s only swimming beach lies protected by a reef from the turbulent ocean.

It’s a gorgeous setting, with clear blue waters within a gently curving sandy shore, protected by a sandy spit with a single withered pine tree holding on against the salty spray.

In the water, I feel like a Pacific Goldilocks – it’s not too hot, not too cold, but just right.

Which, on reflection, is how I feel about Norfolk Island on the whole. After my swim I head back to the airport with sand still on my feet.

After check-in, it’s possible to slip over road for a beer at the local brewery before take-off. This is how air travel should be.

It’s been a short visit, well less than the usual week visitors stay here, but I'm heading off with a whirl of intriguing images in my mind. Is the island Sleepy Hollow or Pacific Paradise?

Perhaps it's not such a hard question to answer. Maybe, reflecting its inhabitants’ own diverse ancestry, it's a successful blend of both.

Pacific Summer Series: Norfolk Island (Part 1)

For the remainder of January, I'm running a series of my previously published print articles about Pacific islands. 

This week, we're off to the Australian territory of Norfolk Island, which I visited in 2007 as a guest of Norfolk Island Tourism...

"We got everything Tahiti got, we only no got the coconut."

I’m part of a group being serenaded by these immortal words, as the local Rotary Club fires up the barbecue and peels back the clingwrap from plates lining trestle tables at a popular picnic spot.

These Rotarians are an active bunch, bustling between the food and the dining tables set out on the grass, while keeping our glasses topped up.

At first glance, it could be a public gathering in any country town in Australia.

But it’s not.

Beyond the picnic lawns, dotted with pine trees, is a sheer drop down to the ocean, which is a gorgeous deep blue.

Off to the west, the sun is setting spectacularly beyond the line where the Pacific meets the sky, creating a spectacular light show with the scattered clouds and throwing the pines into striking silhouette.

The singer is also interesting. Wearing a bright tropical shirt, and interjecting friendly banter between the lyrics, he keeps up a flow of songs celebrating the history and culture of his home.

His name is Trent Christian, and that surname may have just tipped you off to the fact that I’m on Norfolk Island, where the descendants of Bounty mutineer Fletcher Christian and his followers settled in the 1850s.

The dinner location is Puppy's Point, a gorgeous picnic spot wedded to a sheer cliff. It’s a magnificent showcase of the Pacific Ocean, and the ideal place to catch the sunset. These catered outings are held regularly by local tour companies, or you can just stock up a hire car and do it yourself.

Our “fish fry” is a popular activity on Norfolk, and the local fish on the barbie are accompanied by dishes that veer from the everyday to the unusual.

As Christian’s 18th century English sailors married Tahitians, elements of Tahitian cuisine still survive to this day.

In the local pidgin English tongue, for example, yorlye means “all of you”.

On the trestles tables tonight, we find items like pilihi, a moist cake made from plun (banana). And just along the table is a lemon pie just like my mother used to make in the 1970s.

It’s curious and fascinating, this contrast of the exotic and the unexpectedly old-fashioned, but I’m starting to understand that that’s what Norfolk Island’s like: difficult to pin down.

One minute you think it's charmingly old-fashioned, even daggy, the next you're gobsmacked by some amazing sight, or intrigued by unexpected evidence of a different culture.

Take the township of Burnt Pine. No one would accuse this place of being too fast (except, perhaps, the islanders themselves).

Walk along its main street and you’re transported back to an Australian country town of the 1970s, via its old-fashioned shopfronts with their quirky names (“Pete’s Place”, “The House of Scruples”), its minimal traffic, and its RSL clubs advertising cheap meals.

Conversely, there are a number of modern cafes on the strip, including the Norfolk Island Coffee House, a pleasant timber venue which is as cutting-edge as it gets here, supplying all mod cons including home-grown espresso coffee and wireless Internet access.

There’s also the cattle grid surrounding Burnt Pine, which stops cows from wandering into the built-up area.

Cows are an unofficial symbol of the island as they range free around the landscape, grazing as they have done since the early days of the colony.

A piece of trivia that every visitor inevitably learns is that the current fine for killing a cow by collision with your car is at least $300. These wandering bovines are not holy, but they're also not cheap.

The dominant type of accommodation on the island is low-rise cottages or apartments; even the five-star lodgings tend to follow this model, though with enhanced facilities and the island’s best views.

I stay at a place with the kind of rating I’ve been accustomed to over the years, the 3.5 star Channers Corner, a set of self-catering apartments within a lush subtropical garden.

Like everything on Norfolk, it has a historical footnote attached.

It was once owned by a Commander Arthur Channer, whose wife was a former World war I nurse and suffragette who helped found the island’s nursing service.

My accommodation is yet another flashback to a previous decade, as the plentiful pine panelling hints at a bygone style. But it’s simple, neat and well-stocked with cooking utensils for a prolonged stay.

There’s a separate shared lounge with books and games, and a laundry and barbecue as well.

And at night it’s very very quiet. I can’t stress just how quiet it is, for a hardened inner-city resident like me. It takes a bit of getting used to... but it’s good.

But just when you’re getting used to Norfolk’s serene ambience, you’re shaken out of any creeping complacency by the spectacular scenery...

[Next: Mountains, trees, spectacular convict ruins, and an afternoon at the beach...]

Pacific Summer Series: Easter Island (Part 2)

Through January, I'm running a series of my previously published print articles about Pacific islands.  

Last post, I described my first day on Easter Island in 2005. Now the adventure continues...

Now we reach the jackpot: the moai quarry at Rano Raraku, a volcanic crater from whose sides the statues were cut by hand.

This is the sight of the day.

Rano Raraku’s steep slopes are peppered with gigantic stone figures, many buried up to their noses or heads beneath the soil.

There are also unfinished moai, partly carved but never freed entirely from the rock; and a curious early statue with a more realistic head and a kneeling posture, which looks a lot like a statue of Buddha.

Though they’re much younger, the statues remind me strongly of archaeological remains I've seen in Egypt.

There are hundreds of moai here, and hundreds more across the island, carved by hand without the aid of metal tools. Nothing is roped off, and we wander everywhere, astonished at the sheer quantity of abandoned work.

Standing in front of a selection of massive late-period moai, with their curiously distended heads, pointy noses and pouting lips, it's easy to see how theories of alien visitation began.

By now I’m feeling like one does about cathedrals in Europe or obelisks in Egypt: I've had enough for the day. It’s also seven hours since we've eaten. But at our final stop, Anakena Beach, the kiosks have run out of their skewers of barbecued chicken or fish.

It's a beautiful place, however. The one extensive beach on Rapa Nui is a deep swathe of sand bordered by a broad sweep of grass dotted with palms.

Above it are more moai on a sand-swept ahu, marking the spot where the legendary first king of Rapa Nui, Hotu Matua, arrived with his band of Polynesian emigrants.

The moai here had been well-preserved after being immersed in sand, so their faces and the decorative details on heir backs (thought to represent tattoos) stand out clearly.

There are more tours to take, but there’s more to Easter Island than moai. Hanga Roa is a surprisingly pleasant town, though it’s never going to win awards for sheer energy and excitement.

Instead, it’s a great place to chill out, with its quiet streets, slow-moving traffic and laidback restaurants with their outdoor terraces.

As we look out on the Pacific from an eatery near the fishing harbour, a Polynesian horseman comes riding by, shirt off, long hair flying, backpack slung over his shoulders. Then he’s followed by a compact 4WD, a striking contrast of old and new.

With many everyday items being imported from mainland Chile, most restaurants have a similar range of dishes. The standout ingredient is tuna, we realise, as it’s locally caught.

With this in mind, for our late lunch we share a large carpaccio of fresh raw tuna in lemon juice and oil, with a parmesan-like cheese and capers. Exquisito!

The empanada is also a popular local choice. Chilean fast food, it’s a pastry envelope filled with ingredients like beef, tuna, cheese or vegetables, then fried or baked, and served hot.

There are more mysteries to be discovered within Easter Island’s half-forgotten heritage, and more spectacular sights to see.

They include the beautiful freshwater lake in the volcanic crater of Rano Kau; the sacred cave and islands of the Birdman Cult; a wall of misplaced Peruvian-style stonework; the curious symbols of the Rongo-Rongo tablets; and the excellent Anthropological Museum that pieces it all together.

There’s even nightlife, though it’s mostly of the disco and pool table variety.

On our last day, I feel sad to be leaving. The locals are friendly, cars are left unlocked, and tourism’s employment opportunities have removed any need for crime.

In many ways, Easter Island epitomises the romantic view of the island hideaway, where you can shed your troubles and remove yourself from the outside world. On top of this is its intriguing Polynesian culture and its fascinating archaeological sites.

Will time and tourism change all that? It's another mystery to add to all the others.

Pacific Summer Series: Easter Island (Part 1)

Over the rest of January, I'll be running a series of my previously published print articles about Pacific islands.  

This article was first published in 2006, so some details may have changed, though the destination retains its allure. For first up is mysterious Easter Island...

"There are 3,500 people on this island, and 3,500 stories."

Mystery is the essence of Easter Island's attractions: for centuries, its hundreds of massive hand-carved statues (moai) have puzzled and fascinated visitors.

How did people living on such an isolated, food-poor location manage to create these great monuments, then transport them across the landscape to their final destinations?

And what exactly did the statues represent?

But for the moment, there’s a more pressing question right in front of our eyes, as we leave the humble terminal building at the Pacific island’s Mataveri Airport.

Namely, why does the bloke with our names on a board, waiting to transport us to our hotel, have an Aussie accent a mile wide?

It turns out that Bill Howe, the co-owner of the Taura’a Hotel, once worked in the film industry, and came to Easter Island for a job on Kevin Costner’s epic movie Rapa Nui.

He came, he saw, and he ended up marrying a local woman. Now he and Edith run the Taura’a, surfing the increasing tide of tourism washing up on their shores.

Bill may seem an improbable fixture on this remote Polynesian island run by Chile, but then everything seems improbable on Rapa Nui (its Polynesian name).

The triangular island, the product of ancient volcanic eruptions, is only twenty by ten kilometres at its extremes.

Around it stretches nothing but deep blue water, with the nearest inhabited island a whopping 2000 kilometres away. Mainland Chile itself is some 3700 km to the east. 

Just the fact that Polynesian migrants found this speck of land some 1500 years ago, sailing from the diverse archipelagos to the west, seems amazing. But once the new arrivals had adapted to the cooler climate of Rapa Nui, what they achieved is truly staggering.

For this limited population, with finite food sources and no metal tools, created hundreds of giant statues out of the volcanic rock and stood them on ceremonial platforms across the island.

And the moai are, of course, what visitors come to see.

Tantalised by decades-old theories of extraterrestrial intervention and UFOs, or by the more down-to-earth theories of researchers, tourists arrive with alternative theories whirling through their heads, and a burning curiosity.

There are plenty of ways to explore the archaeological sites. Various tours run daily, with full-day and half-day options, in small or large groups.

For a more flexible approach, 4WDs, motorbikes, bikes, taxis and even horses can be hired. Though the island is small, there’s a lot to see, so it’s best to break down the sightseeing over a few days.

We decide to go on one of Bill’s tours; he has a minibus that only takes half a dozen passengers, so we’re guaranteed not to be swamped. I asked him if there'll be any commentary on the tour, and he laughs.

"I give you loads of information," he says, and he’s right – he’s full of speculation, useful information and practical tips.

His personal theories on archaeological and cultural mysteries add colour to the tour; though he's upfront in telling you if his ideas are not shared by the experts. Like he says, there are 3,500 stories on the island, so a few more won’t hurt.

As we leave the island’s only town, Hanga Roa, my first impression is how un-Polynesian the landscape looks. There's little of the lush green vegetation you expect in the South Pacific.

Instead, we see rolling fields covered with short grass, occasional stands of eucalypts, and low stone walls. It could be farming country somewhere in Australia or even Europe, but for the distinctive grey volcanic stone which pokes up everywhere through the eroded soil.

Our first stop is Ahu Vaihu. This ahu (ceremonial platform) has eight toppled moai, lying flat on their faces.

Around the time that European navigators first visited the island, a civil war broke out between Rapa Nui’s tribes, partly prompted by the increasing environmental degradation of the island.

The result was the toppling of all the moai, presumably by raids on the villages they overlooked as ancestral guardians. Many have since been re-stood.

We also stop by a moai face down in the middle of a field, abandoned in the middle of its trip from the quarry to the coast. And the transport methods involved are still the greatest and most hotly-debated mystery.

There are several theories of how it was done; but the traditional belief was that the figures became infused with mana (magic) and walked to their ahu. It's quite a mental image.

Then we reach the jackpot...

[Next: The moai quarry, Anakena Beach, tuna carpaccio, and many more stone heads...]

Tiki in Honolulu

I recently rewrote an article about Tiki culture in Honolulu, but the extended version of the article ended up unused, in favour of the original shorter piece.

So I've adapted it into a blog post about the Tiki phenomenon and where to encounter it in the Hawaiian capital. Enjoy...

Grimacing masks! Flaming torches! Replica volcanoes!

If you saw these items around your restaurant table in the 1950s or 1960s, as a waiter arrived with a tray of Mai Tai cocktails, you were deeply immersed in the cultural craze known as Tiki.

When American soldiers returned from World War II, they brought with them an experience of Polynesian culture, encountered when they'd shipped through Hawaii and other islands on the way to the Pacific war.

Curiosity about the region had also been fuelled by San Francisco's World's Fair of 1939, which featured Pacific nations.

The time was ripe for Tiki, a style which took inspiration from Polynesian culture but turned it up to 11.

First Donn Beach opened his Don the Beachcomber restaurant in Hollywood in the mid-1930s, followed by Victor Bergeron's Trader Vic chain which spread throughout California and beyond.

Tiki's visual aspects were its most memorable, not least its leering statues and masks, including giant Easter Island heads. But there was always more to it than that.

Tiki culture also spawned a line of cocktails - the most famous of which being the Mai Tai.

Less well remembered is Exotica, a music genre which was part of the Tiki trend. It's a form kept alive by bands such as The Waitiki 7, based in Honolulu.

“Tiki is going through its third revival,” says Waitiki 7 bass player Randy Wong.

“Tiki was essential from 1954 to 1968, then got so big it became a cliché. There was a revival in the mid-90s, starting with the group Combustible Edison in Boston.

“It died down again, then around 2003 Tiki festivals started picking up steam.

“Now we have the Internet so everyone’s like ‘Oh my god, there are other people interested in this, not just me.’ It’s commercial, it’s tribalism.

“People take it different ways,” he adds. “Tiki can be playful, but there’s room for Tiki to be taken seriously.

“Personally, I’m more interested in the old-fashioned Exotica.

“You see the fellows who are more into the darker side, the voodoo side of Tiki. There’s a crowd who are into rockabilly, tattoos and biking. There’s the burlesque side. There’s room for all of those interests within Tiki.”

---

Places to experience Tiki design and drinks in Honolulu:

• La Mariana Sailing Club (50 Sand Island Access Rd, lamarianasailingclub.com)
• Tiki’s Bar and Grill (2570 Kalakaua Ave, tikisgrill.com)
• Arnold’s Beach Bar (339 Saratoga Rd, arnoldswaikiki.com)

Disclosure: On this trip I travelled courtesy of Hawaii Tourism and the Oahu Visitors Bureau.

Wildlife of Ballarat

I've been to Ballarat, a regional city 100km west of Melbourne, many times.

I'm a history graduate who focused on Australian history, so it's not surprising that Ballarat would appeal to me. As the site of the massive 1850s gold rush which led to the Eureka Stockade rebellion of 1854, when miners resisted the corruption and authoritarian rule of the goldfields authorities, the city has a prominent place in history books.

As a result, I've always focused on the historic and cutural attractions of the place: the Ballarat Art Gallery, the historical village at Sovereign Hill, and the Museum of Australian Democracy (MADE) at the Eureka site.

Not far down the road from MADE, however, is the Ballarat Wildlife Park. Basically nestled in the Ballarat suburbs, it's an open zoo featuring Australian native animals.

I was surprised by just how open it was. Firstly, as I was walking toward the koala enclosure, I met this kangaroo dozing on the walkway:

Then I found I could get quite close to the koalas as they slept in their open-air zone (sharing it with some quokkas who wandered around at ground level):

By chance I'd arrived at the koala enclosure at 2pm, when one of the staff feeds the creatures milk supplements and answers questions from visitors:

While I was standing there, the kangaroo I'd passed earlier came up and sniffed around my pockets. He could smell the animal food I'd obtained at reception, a mix of grains. So I fed him some, as he stood up and hung onto my hand for balance. This was definitely a highlight of the visit:

Further on, I passed through a big open grassy area with gum trees, which sloped down to a lake. There were dozens of kangaroos here, with no barriers at all between them and the human passers-by:

There were a couple more memorable Aussie animals of the visit. First, Tasmanian Devils, well named as they have demonic teeth and an eerie growl...

... and finally, the wombat. You can't go past a wombat for solid good-natured cuteness. And it's related to the koala, one of the staff told me. I can see the resemblance.

Disclosure: I was a guest of Ballarat Regional Tourism and V/Line.

Street Art of Honolulu, Hawaii, USA

After a media tour in and around Honolulu in February 2014, I spent a few extra days doing my own research in the Hawaiian capital.

One of the places I wanted to see more of was Kaka'ako, an industrial suburb near Waikiki which is gradually being transformed into a residential district.

In the process it's gained a reputation for interesting bars and restaurants, and street art. Much of the latter is produced as part of the annual Pow Wow Hawaii festival, and stays on the walls of Kaka'ako for at least a year.

I loved the street art I'd glimpsed to that point, so I returned to Kaka'ako on Wednesday 19 February and spent half a day walking around the area centred on Auahi and Cooke Streets, taking in the works.

Here's a selection of what I saw that day - the good, the odd, and the downright weird:

 

Disclosure time... On this trip I travelled courtesy of Hawaii Tourism and the Oahu Visitors Bureau. I was also hosted by the Outrigger Waikiki and Outrigger Reef resorts.

Lost in Hawaii

Last Monday, I joined a group of journalists for a movie locations tour of Oahu.

With us in the bus was Randy Spangler, veteran location scout who started in the business with the original Hawaii Five-O TV series. As you can imagine, he had plenty of stories about the TV shows and movies he'd worked for over the years.

As we headed up the east coast of the island, Randy pointed out various places that had been used for location shoots.

The most significant place was the Kualoa Ranch, a working farm which doubles as a popular tourist attraction with tours, and activities such as horseriding.

Numerous TV programs and films have been shot there, including such big guns as Jurassic Park, Godzilla and Lost. Some of the memorable locations have been marked for the benefit of visitors, such as this tree trunk behind which characters hid from velociraptors:

Driving on, we had lunch at the beachside restaurant at Turtle Bay Resort, on an attractive stretch of coastline near the northernmost tip of the island. And it was here we had a minor mishap.

The group was escorted on a couple of golf buggies into the furthermost reaches of the property, a jungle-like expanse where scenes from Lost and the recent Hunger Games sequel had been filmed.

However, a few days of rain had created unusually muddy ground, and as a result one buggy became stuck. You can see me carefully escaping through the mud in this pic taken by a colleague:

It turned out though, that our muddy halt had a silver lining. Taking charge, Randy led us on a trek to escape the jungle, via a nearby less muddy route.

This was fun. Here we were, lost in the area where they filmed Lost. Would we escape? Could this be turned into the basis of a hit reality TV series?

Actually, it was an easy walk. The first thing we saw was this beach, which Randy said had been used as a location in Hunger Games 2:

A Chinese colleague on the trip, Kylie, was equal to the task, getting into the Hunger Games spirit:

Turning inland, we encountered this amazing huge banyan tree, which had been used as a location in both Lost and Pirates of the Caribbean, among other productions:

Finally we reached in a gap in the fence and headed out to the highway, where the bus would pick us up:

And there we found this, a local fruit market which looked as if it had been plucked from the roadside of some Southeast Asian country:

It's a tribute to Hawaii's multicultural nature that I often found myself remarking on its striking diversity of peoples and influences as I travelled around; and how elements of Oahu would suddenly remind me of other places.

I guess it's a diversity which lends itself well to film and TV.

And, to tell the truth, it felt good to be Lost. Just for a bit.

Disclosure time... On this trip I travelled courtesy of Hawaii Tourism and the Oahu Visitors Bureau.