As we sit in the Auckland airport, having just arrived back here after a month’s holiday, I’m pondering three of my favorite little things about New Zealand: things I’ll surely miss when I’m gone. I’ve been meaning to write about them in earlier blog entries, but never seem to have gotten around to it. I mentioned these to Don one day when we were out walking, and I didn’t have a piece of paper or a pen with me so I asked him to help me remember them with the mantra: ROUNDING MARSHMALLOW TOILETS. ROUNDING MARSHMALLOW TOILETS. ROUNDING MARSHMALLOW TOILETS. "What??!!" he said, understandably mystified. "Rounding Marshmallow Toilets" I repeated, as if it were perfectly clear what I was referring to. Let me explain.

ROUNDING. Well, you know in the United States how, when we go to the store and buy something, it never turns out to cost $25 dollars or $7 dollars. It always ends up being 24
dollars and 97 cents. Or 6 dollars and 96 cents. So we give the clerk $25 or $7 and we get back 3 cents or 4 cents. Then we go to the next store and buy something for $5.91, and then $14.82 and get back pennies and more pennies. We collect so many of them that we have to go get a big pickle jar, clean it up and then start putting all our pennies in there with the expectation that one day we’ll collect enough of those little brown suckers to buy a new game for our Nintendo DS. Meanwhile this ever-multiplying mass of coins grows into a weight so hefty that we begin to use the jar as a doorstop.
Well, not in New Zealand. No siree! There are no cents on this island unless they’ve been snuck in by some foreigner. Here in New Zealand, they have long ago gotten rid of those pesky pennies and even nickels so that when the clerk at the grocery store rings up a total of 24 dollars and 97 cents, she automatically rounds it up to $25. When the cash register says you owe four dollars and 3 cents, it just as quickly changes the tape to read $4 even. Voila! No pennies to mess around with. No scrambling in your pockets for loose pennies. WHAT a good deal! Marvelous, eh? Now if only some Kiwi could come up with a solution for all those plastic shopping bags.

MARSHMALLOWS. Now I’m sure this is a big secret, but Don loves his coffee. He likes it with a hint of flavoring. He likes it with some foam on top. And, especially, he likes it extra hot. So, quite often (he might say not often enough), you’ll find us at one of Wellington’s many wonderful and varied coffee shops. There’s our almost-every-Sunday-after-meeting visit to Mojo’s where the Japanese barista names Nobu serves us each a cuppa joe while we devour the Dominion Post News. Then there’s Deluxe, the funky, loud hangout for a variety of locals who come for the connections as much as for the brew. There are lots of cafes to choose from: Espressaholic, Caffe L’Farre, One Red Dog, Cubita Café, even Starbucks for those who really must have a taste of home. The list goes on and on in this city that has more coffee shops per capita than New York City.
If the truth be known, I don’t really care for coffee that much. It’s alright, but it doesn’t make me drool. I don’t care to walk long distances to find just the right cup. BUT I usually go with Don on his coffee shop outings for two reasons (besides being with my honey of course!). Two reasons. Marshmallows. Count ‘em. Two. Marshmallows. That’s what you get in New Zealand when you order a cup of coffee, lying there, saucily perched alongside the teaspoon, waiting to be plopped in your mouth, and dissolved into a sweet gooey goodness. The New Zealand marshmallow is a different breed than an American one—much flatter and firmer, but a marshmallow nonetheless. Actually I’m not sure I like marshmallows that much either, but the fact is they remind me of being a kid and finding two plump marshmallows floating on the top of a hot cup of cocoa. Now that’s something to go the distance for!

TOILETS. As we’ve been traveling the world these past 3 years, we’ve managed to experience personally quite a large number of public toilets. (See our previously written blog entry concerning the many fascinating and mystifying aspects of international toilets.) We’ve seen everything from the hole-in-the-floor variety in the men’s bathroom of the Milan train station (The biggest in Europe. The station, not the hole) to the plush, richly-appointed and personally-attended one in Harrods’ Department Store in London. Unlike in the United States, where it’s not unheard of to stop into a McDonald’s just to use the "facilities", that kind of activity is at least frowned upon, if not directly forbidden, in most parts of the world. What IS common in the several countries we’ve visited however is the ubiquitous, and feared, PUBLIC TOILET. Usually hard to find, never without some cost, and almost without exception not to be used by the squeamish or anyone who’s been known to pass out while changing a baby’s diaper, these public potties make even the most enthusiastic travelers reminisce about the lovely clean toilets at their favorite Speedway.
This was true (I swear!) everywhere we went until we came to Wellington. It’s an amazing fact that in this city there are public toilets that are both clean AND free. I don’t know how they do it. Are people here just more thoughtful and courteous to the next one in line? Are they cleaner? Or do little kiwi gremlins come out in between each user and quickly clean up the splatters? Not only that, but these toilets are often pieces of art, with bright, colorful murals or sculptures adorning the outside walls. AND they never seem to be out of toilet paper! Now explain that!!!
Well, as you can see, I’m glad to be back here for six more months. There are many advantages to living in New Zealand and they can be summed up in 3 simple words: ROUNDING MARSHMALLOW TOILETS.