We've boarded, checked in, and completed a quick tour of the ship.

After snagging a bite to eat, we headed back out into downtown, to see the views from the SkyTower and enjoy a few more hours of what Auckland has to offer.

Tonight -- off to Taraunga.

Intellectually, I knew the tempered glass was strong as concrete. Even so, the whole time I stood on it, a little voice in my lizard brain was screaming, "You'll fall! You'll fall!"

As people who eat out a lot, Clyde and I tend to favor neighborhood holes in the walls over anything expensive or pretentious. "Special occasion restaurants" are not normally my thing, as, in my experience, they tend to focus on fanfare over food. I'm not interested in paying big bucks to sit in a gorgeous room and be served exquisitely sculpted but mediocre meals by a snooty waitstaff -- especially not when solid, delicious dinners can be had from friendly, passionate people at a fraction of the price.

But last night, we elected to splurge on dinner at Clooney here in Auckland -- and I'm glad we did, because I had one of the best meals of my life.

And so you'll know: I don't toss around phrases like that lightly. I'm not the sort of guy who pushes back from a hamburger or a steak or a plate of pad thai or a pizza or a barbecue sandwich and says, "Whoo! Best meal of my life!" For me, meals and memories are closely intertwined; the food we eat along the way becomes an integral part of the fabric of our journey. So: when I say "I just had one of the best meals of my life," that means something really remarkable has happened.

And that's exactly what our dinner at Clooney was: remarkable, from start to finish. The magic begins when you walk in the door, encountering a cool, black, lofty space punctuated by low, round tables and crescent-shaped booths upholstered in soft leather. The dining room -- a converted warehouse -- could have too easily been rendered as harsh and chilly, but a clever designer carved the expanse into a series of half-glimpsed, intimate spaces by encircling each with floor-to-ceiling curtains of dangling black fibers.

These curtains serve two purposes. First, because they are semi-transparent, you're aware of other diners -- which is good, because you don't feel creepily alone. At the same time, they serve to make each table feel cozy and protected -- shielded from the prying eyes of others. Second, because the hanging fibers part easily, the waitstaff can pop in out out unobtrusively, filling glasses and delivering plates from any direction.

So: you're inside and seated. The next pleasant surprise? The staff. In the States, I'd expect a joint like Clooney to be staffed by distant, aloof, or pretentious folk: the sort of poeple who can say, "Would you like to see our selection of imported water choices?" without laughing. But here -- and maybe this is just that wonderful Kiwi magic at work -- the staff know the trick of being warm (without being cloying) and human (without pretending to be your new best friends).

Instead of rote inquiries like, "Do you have any questions about the menu?" they offered disarming insights right up front: "You know chefs -- they have a thousand words for potato. So: just wanted to let you know the 'frommage blanc' is actually a bit of cheesecake." Instead of slinging faux compliments about (like my least favorite waiter comment of all time -- "Excellent choice!"), they were able to chat in friendly and accessible ways about the wine choices and the side dishes. Instead of laboring to impress us, they seemed genuinely dedicated to making sure we had a great meal..

Clyde started his meal with salmon and scallops, which arrived nestled in a bed of delicate, savory foam. The salmon looked as though someone had carved it from a small block of orange-pink marble; the scallops were arranged around it like pearls. I'm not sure how these were prepared, exactly, but I do know this: every single bite melted away in your mouth, as delicate as a dream. To boost the delight factor, the entire plate was scented with orange peel and saffron, to boot.

I went straight for the venison -- an odd choice, given that I'm not much of one for, well, venison. My plate arrived laden with exquisite cubes of perfectly-cooked, tender meat, garnished with currant sauce, redfruit, and licorice-scented black barley. I paired this with a side of parmesean fries and tomato salad, and found myself literally swooning over every bite.

Desert? Oh, yes. I didn't go with the "frommage blanc," but I did order the Valrhona chocolate pavé, a decadent "cobblestone" (you know, like you'd "pavé" the streets with) of creamy chocolate mousse and delicate chocolate biscuits, surrounded by strawberries and scented with green cardamom. Clyde wasn't as wild about his buttermilk panacotta (studded with lychee), but friends Tony and Marlene seemed thrilled with their Roquefort Papilion: a collection of madelines saturated with honeycomb.

Perfect atmosphere. Perfect wine. Perfect beer. Perfect service. Perfect food. And with Tony and Marlene in tow, perfect company. (Had J&J and J&R been along, we would have been even happier. We miss you guys! You would have loved this place.) We laughed and shared stories and made plans far into the night.

At about $100 US per head, Clooney won't ever be your "every Monday night place," but for an adventure we'll always remember ... it was a bargain. If you're in Auckland, just go.

Afterward, Marlene drove us up to the top of Mt. Eden, where we stood in the cool night air, staring out at the 360-degree view of the twinkling lights of Auckland. Here were are, on the other side of the planet, under strange stars ... at yet, even in this isolated place, we felt right at home.

Auckland's food scene is still evolving. As a friend here recently said, "There are still a lot of guys in Auckland who think a nice meal out is a sausage, some chips, and a cheap beer."

But as the foodie scene -- and foodie tourism in particular -- encroach on the "shaky isles," New Zealanders are embracing more adventurous cuisine. And wherever a foodie scene begins to blossom, so do foodie tours, like the one we took today with Zest Food Tours of Auckland.

Like similar tours we've taken all over the planet (in Seattle, in Lisbon, in Brussels, in Barcelona), this Kiwi version of the tour combines ambulatory sight-seeing with gustatory thrill-seeking. It works like this: your tour guide leads you from eatery to eatery, explaining what makes each stop unique. In addition to giving you an opportunity to sample the eats, the tour gives you the opportunity to meet and interact with the people who are doing the cooking or running the restaurant. As a result, you tend to meet people who are very passionate about the wares they're selling.

While we liked today's tour, we'd have to say that this was the first foodie tour we've taken that involved more walking than eating. So much so, in fact, that I'd advise Zest to amend their advertising: instead of a "walking and eating tour," this one really should be described as a WALKING! (and tasting) tour. In the end, we had more than enough walking ... and not quite enough food. (Not that I'm in danger of starving. Last night's dinner with Tony and Marlene involved more great food than most folks eat in a week. But that said: you should leave a foodie tour feeling peckish, and today, when I got home, I felt compelled to eat half a bag of Tim Tams. Not a good sign.)

We started off at a local coffee shop, downing flat white coffees and remarkably good date and orange scones. I'm not big into scones; in the states, they tend to be dry and tasteless. But at the Shaky Isles coffee shop near Fort Street on Princes Wharf, the scones were moist and crumbly, and the bits of dates and orange made for an appealing combination. The berry muffin, though, was bland as could be: a little dry, and not sweet enough. After only a pinch or two, we left it on the plate.

From there, we tried Devonport chocolates -- handmade truffles, filled candies, and bars infused with local flavors. We were given half a truffle each (!) along with a large chocolate caramel and a plastic shot glass of creamy hot chocolate. The samples were delicious, and the chocolates were fresh. Still, given that our truffle had been sawed in half and the caramels were actually out for public tasting today, we left feeling the folks at the chocolate shop were a bit stingy with us.

Next, we walked for about twenty-five days before coming to the Fish Market. There's lots to see here: from cases of live, freshly-prepared, and frozen fish to aisles and aisles of local products. Our guide, a chef by training, was knowledgable about them all, and that was satisfying ... but, once again, the samples were not. We were, after all, at a seafood market. Would you expect the samples served to be crackers, cheeses, kiwi fruit, anzac biscuits, and spreads? (Okay, okay -- there was a bit of smoked fish on the platter ... but not much.) Again, the food was good, but the portions were very small ... and it seemed odd to spend so much time talking about how delightful and rare New Zealand green-lipped mussels are ... and then be served a bit of brie.

From there, we walked about four hundred and thirty days to our lunch date -- Euro, a swanky waterfront joint owned and operated by a New Zealand Iron Chef. Given the option of a caesar or a calamari salad, we took Option Two, and were rewarded with a surprisng and beautiful combination of greens, fresh seafood, and dates. Following our little salad course, we jumped right to dessert: a modest little blueberry crumble, served in a cocktail glass and topped with a bit of handmade vanilla ice cream.

All in all: nice. Just ... nice. If you're shopping around for a foodie tour of Auckland, I would say the one operated by Zest is ... nice. Our guide was nice. She introduced us to nice people. We had some nice samples. We had a nice chat. And our tour gave us a nice overview of the Quay Street area. (Lots of it, in fact. We covered a lot of ground. A. Lot. Of. Ground.) But still -- we left hungry, and that, I think, is a bit unpardonable when one is on a foodie tour, yes?

(And before you say it: no, I'm not one of those horrible Americans who eats at Cheesecake Factory and thinks every meal should be a buffet. On this and other tours, I've been quite happy with tiny servings of really good food. The problem with the Zest tour, I think, is that the ratio of walking and talking to tasting and savoring is not quite right. My verdict: you could pretty easily put this walk together for yourself, and, in the process, get a bit more to eat while spending less.

Today, our adventures took us to Coyle Park, where we stumbled on the local gay pride festival: The Big Gay Out.

We live in Piedmont, Ground Zero for Atlanta's festivities. The Pride Parade prances past our living room windows, and the outdoor market is in our very own backyard. So we were eager for the opportunity to compare the Kiwi version to the celebrations back home.

First things first: the entire affair is set in Coyle Park, an intimate, green, serene patch of open land right on the edge of the water. A little after one o'clock, we joined a host of locals streaming toward that space, and, while the crowd was perhaps a bit more light in the loafers than your average Sunday afternoon in the park crowd, we were both intrigued by how diverse the attendees really were: gays, straights, lesbians, geriatrics, young couples, teens, kids, toddlers. With one or two notable exceptions, you could have dropped this crew off at any art festival or farmer's market, and no one would have been the wiser.

The event itself felt less like Atlanta's hyper-commercialized day in the park and more like a friendly small town fair. At the entrance, we strolled past the classic auto show -- a collection of fifteen or twenty lovingly-restored cars, polished like jewels and glittering in the afternoon sun. Beyond this, the path opened onto a broad green space where most of the crowd sprawled on the grass, watching two rainbow-hued drag queens give away tickets to upcoming concerts and interview Mr. Gay Canada and Mr. Gay New Zealand. (They weren't a couple.)

Over the ridge past the playground, the food stalls and Tilt-a-Whirl ride reinforced the carnival atmosphere. We took our time picking out lunch. Wood-fired pizzas, perhaps, cooked in an oven in the back of a young man's pickup truck? Spicy, bright orange noodles or curried chicken from the Malaysian booth? American-style hotdogs and thick, meaty "chips" (french fries, we'd say) doused with a dollop of mayo?

In the end, Clyde wound up at the Seafood Fritters booth, carrying away a steaming basket of golden-fried fish, scallops, and mussels. I saved myself, though, for the Banger Boys -- one of the six best food trucks in Auckland, according to the locals. The slogan on their vehicle promises "You'll feel better with a sausage inside you," and, having downed one of their beef sausages with caramelized onions, tomato sauce, and mustard, I have to agree. My sausage on a bun was huge, spicy, and satisfying -- and at $7.50 NZ, seemed to me a better value all around than Clyde's $12 NZ seafood platter.

So: we weren't hungry at the Big Gay Out ... but we were, we confess, a bit puzzled by the mildness of it all. As our hosts noted, the website for the event seemed to promise a great deal of debauchery. (They worried, in fact, that the whole affair might be too "in your face" for two mild-mannered, domestic partners.) In fact, though, this afternoon in the park was so mild that it could have been enjoyed by people and kids of any age -- and, in fact, it was.

What it lacked in oddities, though, it more than made up for in friendliness. My expectations for interaction with the crowds at these kinds of things are set by my experiences in Atlanta, where the crowd tends to be pretty, but chilly. Here, though, the famous Kiwi hospitality left us feeling more like locals than walk-ins. A woman from a local choir heard my voice, invited me to sing bass with her group, and kept up the friendly conversation long after she discovered the long commute involved would make my participation unlikely. A young man talked with us earnestly about the work his team has been doing to fight HIV infection in the area, getting a kick out of our accents and asking lots of questions about life in Atlanta. Even the folks at the food stalls seemed more relaxed and open than their American counterparts, bantering and pausing to chit-chat between frying, baking, or slathering their wares with mayonnaise.

So: all in all, a nice way to spend a summer's day. From there, we hopped a $2 shuttle to Ponsonby, where we shopped in the little stores, hit the ATM, and gobbled down a generous serving of highly rated ice cream from Casa del Gelato. I've eaten a lot of gelato, and this joint had flavors I've never seen anywhere else. Mars Bar? Coca-Cola? (Special note to our friend J, back home: yes, they had Nutella. What sort of proper gelateria wouldn't?)

A bus ride brought us back to the Eden Park B&B, where we chatted the rest of the afternoon away with friends Tony and Marlene over icy drinks. And then, of course, Marlene magically produced a stunning dinner out of thin air: chili mussels, spicy shrimp, and local cheeses for appetizers, a hearty serving of perfectly-cooked lamb with mint sauce, a caesar salad garnished with huge curls of local cheese, and a bowl of roasted broccoli, potatoes, peppers, tomatoes from Marlene's backyard garden, and beets (Yes, I ate them. Yes, they were delicious.) tossed in nothing but a bit of salt.

Jude -- a long time friend and neighbor -- and her partner, Graham, joined us, telling tales of their trip to Africa (Botswana is now on my list!) and sharing a homemade tarte-a-tan: pears and gingered honey over a flaky crust, topped with (what else?) hokey-pokey ice cream (rich honey-flavored ice cream dotted with toffee chunks) and Marlene's whipped-right-there-at-the-table whipped cream.

These Kiwis. They know how to live. And we're really happy to be here, the lucky recipients of their warmth and hopsitality.

Today: after another of Marlene's astounding breakfasts, we're off on a foodie tour ... and tonight, we're treating Tony and Marlene to an evening at Clooney's -- a local restaurant Jude says will delight us all. (There's a bit of mystery about the place, and Graham stopped her from "spoiling our fun" by shushing her when she started describing it. Intriguing!)

We started our day with a leisurely breakfast, getting caught up with hosts Tony and Marlene.

The Eden Park B&B has a reputation for the friendliness of its hosts ... its perky mascot, Mr. Darcy ... and Marlene's astounding breakfasts. After tucking into French press coffees and a fruit cocktail (complete with watermelon, nasi pears, and fresh apricots), we amused ourselves with blueberry madelines until Marlene brought us a heaping plate of pillow-soft eggs atop crusty toast. The strips of hearty bacon were a nice addition ... but the fact that the whole plate is garnished with fresh avocado -- that's fresh, as in "freshly picked out of the tree just outside the bedroom window" -- really put the whole breakfast over the top.

So: which was better ... the breakfast or the company? Well, they were both excellent, of course. What made breakfast even better? Phoning up J & J (who were in Georgia, watching snow flurries) to brag about our first summer morning in NZ.

We're safely in Auckland, NZ, and holed up at our favorite B&B on the planet, the Eden Park Bed and Breakfast.

Though we've been here once before with friends J&J, this is our first time to meet the new resident canine: Mr. Darcy. Darcy's a spoodle -- a cross between a cocker spaniel and a poodle. He's bouncy, cuddly, always on the lookout for a friendly lap to sit in, and quite the ambassador for the place.

He's taken a shine to me, and I like that just fine.

Dashing through Sydney Airport, we had few options (I never eat airport sushi, for example).

Wound up doing what I say I never do: standing in line at Mickey D's. I tried to go local by ordering the McOz. Alas, its distinguishing feature is just a pickled beet.

(Photo Credit: Mark McElroy. Auckland Skyline. 2010)

Hey, kids! Uncle Mark and Mr. Clyde are headed off to Auckland, NZ, for a few days of R&R before heading out on the MS Volendam for a cruise around New Zealand and Australia!

We're starting the journey with two days and nights at our favorite B&B on the planet: the Eden Park, run by our friends Tony and Marlene. We fell in love with them -- and their friends and neighbors -- during our last trip to Auckland, so seeing them again will be like visiting family.

On Feb. 14th, we start our Valentine's Day cruise, hitting a series of ports, including Tauranga (Rotorua), Napier, Wellington, Picton, Christchurch, Dunedin, the Fiordland Park, Burnie (Australia), Melbourne (Australia), and Sydney.

We'll be posting updates, tweets, and photos along the way -- so consider this your invite to join in on our virtual vacation.

Clyde snagged us first class airfare to Sydney and back using some of our vast supply of stored-up frequent flyer miles … so now it's time to head to the airport, lie back in those Jetsons-era egg-shaped pods they have up in the front of the plane, take a sleeping pill … and wake up on a sunny New Zealand summer day.

More soon!