Here are the available villas for rental in New Zealand.

Wet and wild in New Zealand

After touching down at Auckland Airport, it doesn't take visitors long to realise that this nation's most enduring love affair is with the sea.
Signs outside beckon you into the City of Sails and the airport's other sales are full of America's Cup memorabilia - the biggest show in town until February 2003.
With that in mind, it's impossible to visit the North Island without taking to the sea and there are many options.
Most visitors begin their travels in Auckland - New Zealand's biggest city and a great place to firm up your sea legs.
There are countless cruises from the harbour to islands in the Hauraki Gulf. Rangitoto and Waiheke are the most popular for short trips.
A 12-minute ferry ride to Devonport is a cheaper option and offers a great venue for an early morning coffee.
Once you've navigated Auckland, head for the beautiful Bay of Islands - a three-hour drive away in Northland.
Base yourself in Paihia or the more romantic Russell and tour the coves and beaches of its 150 beautiful islands.
Wonderful tall ships and sailing boats will glide across the turquoise waters as you keep one lazy eye open for dolphins. Day-trips cost about $80 (£26) including lunch.
If you need a bit more of an adrenaline rush, take a speedboat trip from Paihia out to the Hole In The Rock. You'll get a lifejacket for a noisy, wet ride, which combines New Zealand's top attractions - stunning scenery and hair-raising adventure. ... more

The Kiwis are flying

From the Mail on Sunday

Clement Freud once observed: 'I went to New Zealand, but it was shut.' He had a point. While the scenery was so beautiful you ran out of superlatives, things were a little on the quiet side - all dairies and meat pies with a bit of excitement from the annual welly-throwing competition in Tailiape.
Not any more. My late father was a New Zealander and I last visited the family there six years ago. Now was the right time to take my daughters there. Talk about a change: the Sleeping Beauty has woken up and is high on adrenaline. Queenstown, in Central Otago, South Island, is the white-knuckle capital and offers activities which make 'scary' an understatement.
You can hurl yourself off Coronet Peak on tandem hang-glide and admire spectacular views of the Southern Alps, arc between mountains at 106mph as you fly by wire, whitewater raft the Shotover and Kawarau Rivers, or river-surf, board or sledge. Essentially this is white-water rafting without the raft. That leaves jetboating at Number Two in the adrenaline chart and bungee-jumping at Number One.
We went jetboating with Shotover Jet, whose propellerless craft blast up and down the Shotover River Canyon at 50mph. It was exhilarating. We powered through ankle-deep water, inches away from the rock face, blinded by spray. When Carl, our driver, whizzed round in a tight 360-degree turn, I knew what my washing felt like on the spin cycle.
Queenstown is a year-round resort, idyllically set beside Lake Wakatipu with the Remarkable Mountains behind. There's a tremendous choice of accommodation to suit all budgets, although some of the lakeside hotels do not do justice to the surroundings. The restaurants are plentiful, varied and serve up imaginative food at slightly higher prices than elsewhere. We ate at Roaring Meg's, in an old gold-miner's cottage. She, together with Gentle Annie, serviced men's needs 100 years ago, but the place now does a very acceptable lamb in herb crust.
I was just congratulating myself on our safe delivery as we left Queenstown, when we passed the Kawarau Suspension Bridge. It's New Zealand's original bungee venue. We went to watch. A Japanese girl, looking vulnerable in a thin pink anorak, was about to jump. But she pulled back, then again. After an abortive fourth attempt she finally plunged off into the gorge below. The crowd cheered.
'Can I have a go?' asked my daughter Amy. 'I don't think so,' I replied. 'Why not?'
'Well, if you really want to, why not try a virtual bungee in the Wellington museum first?'
My cousin David met us when we arrived on North Island. I told him how much we were enjoying ourselves, the food, the scenery and, guess what, Amy had wanted to bungee! 'Oh, well done,' he said, 'She can, when we go to Lake Taupo.' He even got us a leaflet. Thank you so much. ... more

Watching the flocks Kiwi-style

From the Daily Mail

On the last day of Christmas I got sunburned on my knees. It was a fitting end to Christmas with a twang.
The traditional songs had new lyrics: 'five sweaty shearers, four working dogs, three daggy sheep, two paradise ducks and (beefy chorus) a possum in a plum tree.' My chardonnay came in a mug with the legend 'how to make your calves look sexy' under a picture of Friesians wearing stilettos. Jo the stockman changed into a natty pair of floral shorts for the occasion, while one of my hosts, the formidable Granny Puff had taken off her shoes and we were all out on the verandah in the evening sun scoffing green-lipped mussels in wine.
And that's how Christmas ended on a New Zealand sheep station - at about the same time as the first creak of the floorboards in Britain suggested that Santa had landed.
This was Pohuenui Island, in the beautiful Marlborough Sounds, a 10-mile, 6,000-acre spangle of land that climbs steeply to 1,900ft then descends equally steeply down the other side. No Michael Barrymore or Only Fools And Horses Christmas specials here; just five residents, 3,000 sheep and heaven knows how many possums - and it's 25 nautical miles from a shop.
A seaplane had skidded us into the bay two days before with the mail and the last thing I expected to meet in the garden of ugli fruit, tangelos and lemons was a person from Balham. But never underestimate the ability of the Balhamese to get into the crannies of the world, for here was Georgina, also staying for Christmas. We could have arranged to have our chardonnay on Tooting Common, wrapped in a couple of blankets; the conversation would have been much the same.
Georgina and I were on the subject of gropers on the Northern Line when Granny Puff reminded us where we were: 'Ah,' she said, knocking back the whisky, 'you don't get fumbled on Pohuenui unless it is by the one of the possums'. ... more

The bare necessities

I was due to hike one of New Zealand's Great Walks but it wasn't the prospect of razor-thin mountain trails, bad weather or getting lost that worried me.

It was the idea of surviving without a shower for four days.
Finally, I consoled myself with the thought ditching civilisation for the great outdoors meant I'd be too busy sniffing in the fresh air to care about my own personal body odour.
Armed with a tiny rucksack carrying some bare essentials, my sister I set off on our 33km-long trek of the Routeburn Track on 's South Island.
With the noise of the traffic on Milford Road disappearing fast below us, we climbed through silver beech forest for an hour, before suddenly emerging into a clearing. The pair of us stood in awe as the jagged peaks of the Darran Mountains overlooking the Hollyford Valley stretched before us.
Leaving my sister to soak up the scenery, I took a side trail to a higher viewpoint offering tantalising glimpses of hanging valleys and glittering tarns. The solitude and tranquillity felt wonderful - and for the first time, I felt as if I had shrugged off my urban shackles..until we arrived at our bunkhouse.
The kitchen was sparse, with a gas stove that looked like it had been invented during the ice age.
Thankfully, it worked. We threw some freeze-dried noodles into a pan, added boiling water and ate. It was our daily ration on the trek.
With the washing done, minutes ticked by slowly. There was nothing to do. Getting back to nature was fine in principle, I thought, but a tad dull. Sleep was the only option.
The next morning, we awoke to a blanket of dense fog - and blind panic. Was it safe to go trekking? Ominous warnings about the perils of the trail in bad weather lurched into our minds.
Suddenly, a young warden appeared from the nearby staff quarters - the first person we'd seen since starting the trail. Applying her professional skills of observation, she pointed out that the fog was lifting. She was right.
Reassured, we ventured out, picking our way over a rough rainforest trail, with only birdsong and the crunch of branches beneath our feet breaking the silence.
Occasionally glaciers and mountains poked through the dense foliage but we paused only once at 80m-high Earland Falls, a breath-taking spot where the drizzling water sparkled like a curtain of beads.
Just after midday, we arrived at Lake Mackenzie Hut where we quickly dumped our rucksacks and scrambled over gnarled tree roots to reach an isolated glacial lake.
Without hesitation, we peeled off our clothes and plunged into the ice-cold water for an alfresco dip. I felt clean for the first time in two days.
Back at the lodge, a Dutch guy seated on a bench bathed in sweat and panting hard. Breathlessly, he told us he was running the entire track non-stop in one day, before he sprinted off into the the forest under our astonished gazes. Suddenly, our four day walk seemed very feeble. ... more

Breath-taking scenery

New Zealand is a very friendly country and you are always made to feel at home.
On both of my trips, I spent two-three weeks touring around both the north and south islands. The scenery is nothing short of breath-taking.
A wonderful destination for a relaxing break.