Why New Zealand?

When I was eight years old, we lived in Australia.  Dad was an Attache with the U.S. Embassy and the Ambassadors private pilot.

My parents attended international cocktail parties often and my three younger brothers and I had the most fantastic babysitter.  Her name was Debbie.  She wore mini skirts with Dr. Scholl sandals. One afternoon Debbie took two of my brothers and me to the movies to see “Herbie, the Love Bug.”

Though my international travel has included Argentina, Canada, Costa Rica, England, Fiji, Finland, Iceland, Ireland, Italy, Greece, Mexico, Morocco, Portugal, Spain and Wales, New Zealand was never on my radar scope.

Last year when our Egyptian guided tour was cancel due to the outbreak of the war, that’s when New Zealand appeared on the fringes of my scope.  Yet, after I broke my finger, my surgeon nixed that idea too.

So, here we are in New Zealand!

Boy, do I wish I knew Debbie’s last name!

I’ll put it out to the universe…I would like to serendipitously meet Debbie.

Wouldn’t that be a hoot?