And we’re back. When we left off, I had just told you about the Auckland Maritime Museum. The following day, I had very little gas in the old tank, but I was thankfully able to motivate for one more museum: the Auckland Museum.

The Auckland Museum is located in what’s known as the Auckland Domain, an absolutely gigantic park that sits just east of where Adrienne and I were staying. Known for its war memorials, natural history exhibits and collection of artifacts from New Zealand history, it was a pretty extraordinary place to visit.

Before we began strollin’, however, Adrienne and I stopped into Domain & Ayr Cafe, a delightful little breakfast and lunch spot adjacent to the institution. It was here that we got our first taste of halloumi on the trip. For those who have never had it, halloumi is a scrumptious type of cheese that originated first in Cyprus. It has been imported into various countries the world over since then. It has also been imported into the respective hearts of Adrienne and I ever since she discovered it during our Denver days many years ago.

Once we had finished noshing on some cheese and other breakfast fare, we bid the fine folks of Domain farewell and made our way to the museum. Crossing over the Auckland Domain yet again, we spotted the majestic columns and neoclassical architecture of the museum rising heroically into the sky. Just like many other museums of this type, Auckland’s is located on a slight hill. This gives visitors like yours truly the chance to gain a full panoramic view of the city, harbor and sea and gape like a fish or David Schwimmer on Friends.

Once we got inside the museum the wonder and majesty didn’t end either. The museum’s interior soared upward for multiple stories and included two massive atriums. One thing that is pretty cool about Auckland is that each of the museums we went to is free for New Zealanders. That didn’t help us, of course, but it’s nice to know that there are some parts of the world where people can experience their country’s culture without paying through the nose.

Not being Kiwis, though, we had to fork over some cash. We bought two general admission tickets, in addition to a special Māori cultural presentation. Then we were off for a whirlwind tour of the museum. We took in exhibits ranging from the dynamics of Auckland’s volcanic geography to the history of the world’s first civilizations to New Zealand’s participation in both WWI and WWII.

There is no doubt though that the highlight of all of this was the Māori presentation, which served as the finale of our visit. Spanning about 30-40 minutes, the presentation gave us a really fascinating overview of select elements of Māori culture such as the “haka” war dance. It was unlike anything I had ever personally experienced, and I am really glad that Adrienne suggested we do it.

The next day, we had our first big excursion scheduled. My lady love had scoped out a trip that she wanted to do out to the coast from Auckland that included a visit to two famed beaches, including Crystal Cove, which was featured in one of the great films of our time: 2008’s Prince Caspian and the Voyage of the Dawn Treader.

It was a glorious day when we set out from Auckland. Our tour operator was a lovely, gregarious man who deftly shepherded us from the city to the coast. On the way there, he regaled us with informative antidotes about the landscape we were passing, as well as what we could expect from the beaches. He talked a big game, discussing their raw beauty and epic splendor. But as it turns out, it wasn’t big enough.

Each beach would definitely rank as one of the best I have ever been on. With their white sands; frothy waves; and lush, verdant hills, I quickly ascended into heaven. The first was called Hot Water Beach, which was quite extraordinary. It’s known for rubbing up against an underground hot spring. If you dig into the sand far enough, you can make yourself a nice hole full of warm water and then plop your cheeks into it. Our tour operator had brought along shovels, and so we gave it, as they say, the “ol’ college try.” Alas, we found nothing of note, but we did find some rather kindly Canadians to gab with for a bit.

Once I had finally tossed down my shovel in frustration and had a tantrum at Hot Water Beach, we reboarded the bus for Crystal Cove. The process for driving to the beach was a breeze, but getting down was anything but. To make your way to the beach, you are required to trapse down an arduous path that crisscrosses the hills and dips up and down some rough terrain.

Although it took some groaning and moaning, I must say the journey was unequivocally worth it. Consisting of two beaches connected by a grand tunnel cut out of the cliff face, the beach made me lose all control over the tendons and muscles in my jaw. Once again, I was full-on “Ross Gellering” once more. It was such an inspiring place to be that I even ditched my deeply rooted thalassophobia and pitched myself into the waves. I’m glad I did considering how cold it ended up being. When you’re facing the prospect of imminent watery pain like I was in this moment, it is always key to just pull the band-aid, run at full speed and hit the surf with your arms extended like Superman.

The next day, we finally pulled up stakes and departed from Auckland. The first stop was the airport to collect our rental car. All in all, this was a pretty seamless process. We worked with the company Ezi Car Rentals for our time on the North Island based on a handy tip from Adrienne’s friend Abby. And I couldn’t be more pleased with how they treated us. Thanks Abby!

Our trip out from Auckland to our next destination was largely uneventful., There is not much I can say about it aside from we listened to the soundtracks of Mamma Mia and Mamma Mia: Here We Go Again! for the 10,000th time. As per usual, this put old Adrienne and I in a rather joyous mood. Nothing makes us happier than hearing our lady Amanda Seyfried trill out a tune or my man Pierce Brosnan labor over the classic number “SOS.” It doesn’t matter how many times I listen to it, but my mind is always blown by the fact Brosnan occupies such a prominent part in Mamma Mia. He’s called on to belt out multiple solos despite having goose-egg in terms of vocal training. But amazingly, it all works. While I’d probably give him a “D” for his singing ability, he gets a stone-cold “A” for effort, and effort, my friends, is always what counts!

The next place where we were staying was the town of Rotorua. But on the way there, we had a very special place to stop off as they say: the Hobbiton movie set. Serving as the backdrop for The Shire in both The Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit movie series, Hobbiton was originally built in 1998 and torn down following the production of the original series. The set was rebuilt permanently about a decade later when Peter Jackson made his not so grand return to Middle Earth with The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey. And it has served as a major tourist attraction ever since.

Now I know what you are thinking. More like a major tourist TRAP, am I right? The answer is a definite yes. But you know what, it was also a definite no. Like the series in which it was featured (LOTR NOT The Hobbit), there is an undeniable sincerity to the attraction that can’t be marred, no matter how many selfie sticks and slack jaws are weaving through its fields and hills.

It was basically a perfect day outside when we arrived at the set. A bit hot perhaps. A bit sunny definitely. But largely perfect. Before our tour kicked off, Adrienne and I wandered around in the welcome area, which consisted of your requisite gift shop full of kitsch nicknacks, as well as concession areas. Before long, we were on the bus heading across the road and entering the Hobbiton site.

The attraction is spread out across 14 acres and situated on land owned by a real family of farmers known as the Alexander Family. While on the bus, we passed stunning landscapes of rolling hills and gnarled trees, dotted with white, fluffy sheep. I was feeling fairly lucid throughout the ride, that is, until the first notes of Howard Shore’s Oscar-winning score floated out from the bus’s speaker system. There is something so warm and emotional about the series’ music, and before I knew what was happening, I was on the verge of tears.

The emotion and heart of the experience continued as we disembarked the bus and began exploring the site. Our guide was a very engaging and very talented young guy who lived in the adjacent town of Matamata. He was very good at what he did, regaling us with stories from this set and even inviting us to act out our favorite scenes set in the Shire from either of the trilogies. Nobody took him up on this of course, but it was a very sweet thing to offer. It was, as Adrienne pointed out later, basically permission for visitors to let their freak flags fly, something far too uncommon in this sad, broken world of ours.

Lots of care had been put into the various exhibits that we saw on the tour. From prime picture spots to a prop fishing pole left out at a pond to a newspaper describing Shire news, people had gone to great lengths to make this place feel like a real location where people could conceivably live.

Our guide’s anecdotes deepened the impact as it went along. One that was particularly meaningful concerned an artificial tree on set that towered above on a hilltop adjacent to “Bag End.” After the completion of LOTR, Jackson’s team redid the tree for The Hobbit to make it look 60-years younger and align with the timeline of when that book takes place in relation to LOTR. It signified the amazing attention to detail that was synonymous with each of those productions, and which seems largely absent from big budget filmmaking today.

One thing that really surprised me about the tour is that it also included two fully dressed hobbit hole interiors. Like the exterior sets, these were laid out immaculately. Although many of the items were obviously artificial, they were still rendered beautifully, conveying a type of cottage-core coziness that had this guy so happy I felt a bit dizzy. Needless to say, I took a few snaps for future decorating ideas for my own hole… I mean, uh, home.

We concluded our journey with a stop at “The Green Dragon” Inn, the fictional watering hole that had also been recreated permanently on site next to the charming “Old Mill” that is also referenced in Tolkien’s text. Our tour included one cup of very fine beer that the proprietors of the attraction brew on-site. As we sat in the cool interior enjoying our brew, we marveled at the inn, noting how it could serve as a full-fledged bar and restaurant despite maintaining its quasi-medieval and fantasy-oriented feel. We also reflected on everything we’d seen and done during the day, and I must admit, it got me feeling quite poignant.

In this moment, one thing I kept saying to Adrienne repeatedly is that “I can’t believe I am here.” And I really meant it. For the longest time, I heard about Hobbiton, and if I am honest, it was probably top of mind when we first booked our long journey to New Zealand. But on a deeper level, I think I was saying how meaningful it was for me to be on the site where they filmed The Lord of the Rings.

I am no big Tolkien-head. I’ve read the books a grand total of twice in my life. While I enjoyed them, I would not rank them amongst my favorites. Let’s just say there is a lot of walking in them. Due to this ambivalence, I have yet to take a deep dive into Tolkien’s legendarium and am probably a few years removed from even considering picking up the door stopper that is The Silmarillion.

The Jackson films on the other hand have always held a special place in my heart, particularly the first installment: The Fellowship of the Ring. When I first saw them as a lad, my mind was blown by their epic sweep and raw imagination. Even as a young boy, I could also feel the complex dynamics between the main characters, which conveyed, perhaps for the first time, how films could be not just entertaining experiences but also deeply emotional ones.

Throughout my life, The Fellowship of the Ring has always come back to me in times that I have needed it. It certainly did in the build-up to this trip. As my now late dog Buffy entered her final days during this period, I repeatedly listened to the film’s score to mollify my encroaching dread, sadness and terror, especially the song “In Dreams,” a musical leitmotif written by Shore and Fran Walsh. The song is sweet, short and simple, containing just a few lyrics. Yet at the same time, it sums up everything that makes that film so special.

The lyrics go as follows:

When the cold of Winter comes
Starless nights will cover day
In the veiling of the sun
We will walk in bitter rain

But in dreams
I can hear your name
And in dreams
We will meet again

When the seas and mountains fall
And we come, to end of days
In the dark I hear a call
Calling me there
I will go there
And back again

“In Dreams” perfectly reflects the dynamic we see amongst the members of the fellowship, nine companions who embark on a last-ditch quest to save a dying world that is, quite likely, doomed to failure. What sustains them through the “veiling of the sun” and when the “seas and mountains fall,” I suppose, is a sense of loyalty and purpose to one another, a calling that keeps them connected to one another even in death.

The song gave me courage to face Buffy’s impending death and reminded me to always maintain my focus on what was best for her despite not wanting the end to arrive. You see, Buffy gave me a similar sense of purpose. And now that she is gone, it’s pretty hard not to feel like I no longer have a purpose. Of course, there are people in my life that disprove that, people who I am responsible to and whose friendship, care and love I don’t take lightly. Yet none of that changes the fact that Buffy was someone who really needed me, and now nobody needs me, at least not in the same way. The task after this trip is to find that again, and to maintain hope that I will see Buffy once more, even if it’s just “In dreams.”

And we will leave it there. Join us next time as I regale you with stories from our time in Rotorua and Wellington, where we ziplined amongst the trees and learned about the horror and beauty woven throughout New Zealand’s fascinating history.

Christine Nonbo, please take us home.