Hello
everyone,
“Horse
Poop, $1.50”, read the sign by the side of the road.
 |
| A Sign That Says It All |
Lorraine and I had
just arrived in Kerikeri, in the heart of one of New
Zealand’s principal tourist areas, the beautiful Bay of Islands,
near the northern tip of the North
Island, but this was a
sign that could hardly escape our notice. We were to stay for five days in Kerikeri, at
the Linton B&B. Tourism is
unquestionably a very important industry in New Zealand, the second most
important, I am sure. In 1960 only
36,000 tourists came to New
Zealand. Last year, New Zealand, about one-fourth the
size of British Columbia but with equivalent population at just under four
million persons, played host to over two million tourists.
But
if one has any doubts as to what is their most important industry, that sign
says it all. New Zealand is one big farm. Everywhere I have been since I arrived three
weeks ago, it has been one continuous vista of farms, some with sheep, or
cattle, or horses, sometimes deer, ostriches, or alpacas; others have hay or
corn fields, while others are orchards or vineyards. Some of the farms are on rolling hills, others
are more open range, but always they are pictures of pastoral beauty,
unblighted by industrial plants anywhere, belching smoke or otherwise. Our hosts at the Linton B&B were Lynn and
Tony, a retired ‘dry stock farmer’. (We
would call a ‘dry stock’ farmer a rancher, whereas a ‘wet stock’ farm we call a
dairy.)
