Haloranch

In anticipation of our upcoming trip to New Zealand, I'm booking our accommodations. We are extremely lucky that we have five (count 'em, 5!) Rotary hosts, 4 of whom invited us to stay with them for a few nights each. We are so lucky. This was a major highlight of our recent trip to Scotland, where we were hosted by two wonderful Rotary couples and invited to participate in several Rotary events during our trip. But I digress. This is about Airmiles. For the nights that we are on our own, I decided to book us into Best Westerns as they are scatterefd all over New Zealand and I can convert Airmiles into Best Western gift cards. It takes an awfully long time to book any kind of travel with Airmiles. I've learned they have 350-400 agents on duty at any time but still, it's a ridiculously long wait on the phone. Last year Hans and I took turns sitting with the phone glued to our ear for over an hour. So we bought a speaker phone. Since we bought it,

The Fog. Oh my. This isn't the romantic fog you read about in novels, where delicate wisps curl tantalizingly around trees offering a now-you-see-it, now-you-don't peek. No. This is a thick, heavy fog that squats sluggishly on the streets obliterating everything before and behind you. It muffles the sound of oncoming traffic. Headlights offer only a feeble glow. I'm lucky that Hans washed my dirty headlights last night after we returned from a presentation Elvine was giving at the Lodge. My headlights were already dim, covered as they were by days of road spray. It's generally light when I leave and come back so I hadn't noticed it. But last night in the dark… well, it was still dark. I can't wait for the clear, sunny skies of New Zealand!

It is October 2003 and Hans and I just exited a tour bus at the base of the Great Wall. We're lucky, because it's only a few months after the SARS scare and foreign tourists in China are down an incredible 90%. Yet here, amidst the throngs of people, it's hard to imagine the numbers are down. I cannot fathom what this place must have looked liked a few short months - and an additinoal 90% - earlier. The tour guide offered us an two options: we could be deposited on top of The Wall via a gondola system or, we could hoof up the traditional way. However, we had to be unanimous in our decision as the two entrances were far apart and the bus could only park in one place. I knew the group would opt for walking and I was secretly concerned. Not only is The Wall high, but the buses had to park so far down the hill that they became mere specks in the distance. From the top of The Wall, the panorama was exquisite. As far as we could see, shrubs and grasses were ablaze

The trouble with winters here is that they can be incredibly brutal. This is especially true when your driveway is 400' long, oriented east-west, and invitingly open to the howling north wind. Last night the afore-mentioned wind was an unwelcome escort on my drive home late in the evening. All the way home I contemplated whether or not I should risk driving my car down the driveway and into the garage, where it might get trapped overnight. I decided not to risk it. From the head of the driveway I phoned Hans to say I was leaving the car on the road, loaded up my stuff, wound my scarf around my head to ward off the wind, and opened the door. Like a spinnaker, it caught the wind and creaked alarmingly before I wrestled it closed again. I proceeded more cautiously. The driveway was already starting to bulk up with mogul-like drifts and Hans had opened the gate for me – a precaution when drifts in the drive are a possibility. After a soak in the hot tub to fight the chill,