Robyn Yousef

With the little whorls of butter alongside the finely sliced bread, the no-fuss oilcloth tablecloths, the vinyl on the floor and the old fashioned artwork, the ambience seemed almost unchanged and the Bluff oysters were as plump, beautifully cooked and succulent as ever. I’ve been calling at Best Café in Dunedin since the early 70s and was delighted to see recently it’s as unpretentious and their meals are as consistently good as ever.

Janet Hart

All summer she wore her Liberty prints. But now her hanging baskets are down, Trafalgar Street’s dressed in orange and green and oak trees take pride of place on the footpaths.

But I like down the port. 

Janet Hart

Cook Islands families clambered around pigs, goats and a tractor, trying to find a living space, on the deck of the 400-tonne rust bucket Manuvai.

They were the lucky ones.

Inside we shared our cabin with an armada of cockroaches and our next door neighbours, the stinking toilet and across the passage, the engine room’s beast. It thumped, screamed and shot out smoke, as Rarotonga’s peaks slipped out of sight and the engine stopped...

Balance is the thing. Not optimism or pessimism but realism. Representing the world accurately. But unfortunately as individuals we seem divided between optimists who think it unseemly to mention unpleasant truths and pessimists who ignore all the positive activities that are going on. See media news for the latter view of the world, probably because it’s more exciting than feel-good news. Doom and gloom is the daily message: the world is going to hell, and quickly.

Strokestown House is a Palladian-style 18th-century mansion, with all its original furnishings.

It speaks of the landed gentry, and behind it is a fully restored 2.4ha walled garden which, in the right season, is a floriferous delight.

Read more...

http://www.elsewhere.co.nz/travelstories/4737/strokestown-park-republic-of-ireland-a-feast-for-the-historian/

Graham Reid

We are about 20 miles south of coastal Cooktown in the far north of Australia when we pull off the main highway onto a side road. I glance at my map and notice a place name further down this less traveled route: The Jump Up, just past Wajul Wajul.

I have to ask.

Dean laughs.

“You'll know why when we get there. Anywhere out here where the road goes up to another level really quickly is a jump up. This one has about a one-to-three gradient.”

I'm doing the picture in my head of what that might look like – scary is my first thought…

Janet Hart

Just minutes after a Makarora take-off, the pilot banks the Cessna into a narrow valley and noses down towards a landing strip in the grass. Welcome to Siberia Hut.

“We’re here as volunteer wardens this week for the Department of Conservation,” my husband Bob and I explain that evening to an exhilarated group of seven Americans and Europeans as  they prepare for their first night in the Mt Aspiring National Park hut...

Graham Reid

Although the famous cathedral is rightly considered the physical and emotional centre of Canterbury in England, the historic old town holds other delights and diversions, especially if you are there with children who might not see the point of dead people made of stone and really big stained glass windows.

And, after a few hours of peering at strange inscriptions about people we never knew, who could blame them?

Read more: http://www.elsewhere.co.nz/travelstories/5491/canterbury-england-some-different-tales-bear-with-me/

Deborah Rogers

I've never really liked the Mona Lisa. I've always found her to be a little shifty. Perhaps it's the wry curve of her mouth or penetrating gaze. Maybe it's simply the fact I've seen one too many horror movies. You know the ones – where she hangs in some dimly lit library and a villain spies on his guests through Mona’s cut-out eyes. So I'm a little surprised when I find myself hunting for her in China.