New Zealand Adventure

2009-12-10T14:51:00.006+13:00

December, 2009
Auckland, New Zealand

Happy Christmas to all our friends and family.

On Christmas Day, we will be celebrating our 4th anniversary of immigrating to New Zealand. And I have recently become aware that we must be well and truly settled into our life, based on the evidence that I no longer keep a journal.

Over the past thirty years of travelling – whether to Paris or to Chicago - I have always kept a journal of our experiences, our impressions, and our blunders. (Curt has a travel journal too, but his is usually full of sketches.) Moving to New Zealand in 2005 was like being a traveller every day and I kept a journal of every cultural realisation, each new pronunciation, and all the obscure sports jargon. We absorbed New Zealand’s history, its politics, its music and art. I thrive on that kind of stimulation and savoured every bit of knowledge, which I was motivated to document in a journal and on our blog. But now, after four years here, we know our way around this city of a million people as well as we know our way around Seattle or Portland. We can pronounce Ngaruawahia and we know where it is. I even say to-mah-to sometimes instead of to-may-to. And at some point during the year, I ceased writing a journal or making entries on the blog. I think this is a significant development; not that we have mastered all there is to know about this country, but rather an indication of our settling in. New Zealand is becoming home. We’ll always be known as The Americans, and we’ll always talk ‘funny’ with an American accent. But we’re quite comfortable here. Life is good.

Although our family is scattered throughout America, technology allows us to keep in touch with them via email, Facebook, and Skype. We can even play Scrabble with the boys online. We also travel to see them in person, and they fly here to visit us.

In July, we went to America to attend Nolan and Erica’s lovely outdoor wedding. Carlin performed the ceremony, and Austin and Boone were both groomsmen. During our visit, we also made a trip to San Juan Island with the boys, sat around a campfire, attended a baseball game, found long-lost relatives, and went to an American Idol concert (don’t ask).

After the wedding, Nolan (27) and Erica moved to Vermont where he is attending law school. They will be living there for the next three years, which is an excellent opportunity for us to visit New England in the near future. Carlin (26) and Kristen have settled into a nice life in Phoenix. They are buying a house and have 2 dogs now. Boone (24) and Emma live in Seattle where they are both in college. Boone is an engineering student at UW, and works as the youth leader for a church in Bellevue. Austin (29) and Jonna live in Bellingham and they both graduated from WWU this year. Austin’s major was political science, and he is applying to law schools for next year.

Just after Christmas, he and Jonna are coming to New Zealand to spend a month with us. We‘ll have a great time showing them our beautiful country, especially exploring the stunning vistas of the South Island with them.

When Austin and Jonna leave, my mom will arrive for a month-long visit, too. As you can tell, we like having company. It’s summertime here so the weather is outstanding and I don’t have to teach. My mom saw most of the important sights during her last two visits, so we’ll have more time to sit on the deck and enjoy the sunshine. No doubt, we will also spend countless hours appreciating Curt’s yard.

He and his green thumb have created a garden full of colourful, exotic tropical plants like freesia and ‘bird of paradise,’ along with citrus trees, an olive tree, and good ol’ sunflowers. Our garden is also a haven for New Zealand native birds whose songs greet us in the morning. I even like watching the cute little geckos scurry along the bricks.

Curt has also been painting prolifically this year¬, his most productive year ever. He has especially enjoyed painting more portraits lately.
I predict he will paint colourful autumn trees of Vermont next … or maybe snow covered mountains in the South Island. He never runs out of inspiration.

Besides travelling, painting, and gardening, we both enjoy our work – he as an engineer and me as a teacher. We value our church community and our neighbourhood driveway parties, and we (of course) sing in various choirs. This year, I’ve also become absorbed in family history, but found to my dismay that George W. Bush is Curt’s 11th cousin.

Contrary to this rosy account of our lives in New Zealand, life here is not perfect: We still have to get up when the alarm clock blares every morning, and our carpet still needs to be vacuumed. Most distressing, however, is that Christmas in the summertime is just not right, and it never will be … but I think we could get used to it.

6 months condensed into 4 paragraphs

2009-06-25T20:16:00.004+12:00

Good news: we are about to depart for the US, where we will attend our son's wedding. Being in Bellingham in July will be extra nice because it's summer there and it's the middle of winter here. My hands have been freezing every morning as I ride my scooter to work!

Bad news: we have had to switch churches because our (old) church rejected having a gay pastor, which went against our ultra-liberal beliefs. This was not a decision that we took lightly. We were crushed to leave the friends we had made there, and we were especially sad to leave the choir. Fortunately, we found a liberal church nearer to our house and have enjoyed the intellectual stimulation that their service provides. And we've joined the choir.

Really good news: Curt has been painting like mad. He's completed 4 paintings in the last 6 weeks. He's even started doing portraits for the first time. We can't post any photos yet because the paintings are gifts. Top Secret. Shhh.

New news: I have been so obsessed with FaceBook lately that I have ignored my blog for months.

Joan's visit

2009-01-25T10:34:00.008+13:00

My mom, Joan, is here in New Zealand to visit us again for about a month. She arrived on Dec 31 and will leave on Feb 3. In fact, she went to Hawaii to visit my brother and his family for 2 weeks before she arrived in NZ, and will go there again for 2 weeks afterwards. All together, she will spend 9 weeks on islands in the Pacific, while back home in Bellingham everybody is shivering in record snowfalls. It's a pretty sweet deal. She did the same thing last year, too, but the two visits to New Zealand couldn't be more different.

Last year, it was her first time to this country, so I had a schedule of tourist sights to do every day: museum, aquarium, Piha beach, zoo, One Tree Hill, Devonport, Waiheke Island, Sheepworld, kauri trees, Hamilton, Coromandel, kiwifruit farm, etc. She finally told me to relax; that she only wanted to do tourist things half the time. But whenever we didn't go anywhere, I would inevitably be antsy and bored silly.

Compare that to her current visit: No daily schedule. No tourist sights. We did go to Sydney for 4 days, but we haven't been to many tourist attractions around here. Instead, we go to the local beach at St Heliers for running/walking, then we sit at home and admire the garden the rest of the day. We went to the quilt store once. And Plant Barn more than once (to buy more admirable plants for the garden). Admittedly, we did one traditional tourist activity when we took a ferry to Rangitoto and rode the train to the near-summit. But really, we spend 95% of our time at home doing nothing. And it is glorious.

We sit on the deck in our comfy recliners. Curt drinks coffee. We read the paper. We watch the resident butterfly flit about. Joan has read at least 10 books so far. I'm usually keeping busy with something on the computer. Besides all the gardening, Curt had already made two(!) paintings while she's been here. Sometimes in the evenings, we have driveway parties and socialise with the neighbours.

Alas, Curt had to go back to work last week, and I have to go back to work next week. Then Joan leaves the week after that. So our summer vacation is coming to it end. But it feels like we truly had a vacation this time. A glorious vacation of doing nothing and loving it.

Christmas Letter for 2008

2008-12-22T16:46:00.037+13:00

2008
A year of momentous celebrations.
… and a few disappointing ordeals:
January -
• in which Megan’s mother Joan was here to visit
• in which we learned these momentous revelations about dear old Mum: she named Megan after a character in the book Apple Tree by Galsworthy; she is afraid of heights (has never been up Seattle’s Space Needle); and she went to a strip club on her 18th birthday (courtesy of the corrupting influence of her older sister)
February -
• in which we sang back-up (along with 700 others) for opera diva Dame Kiri Te Kanawa at an outdoor concert in the park
• in which we had a driveway party with our neighbours to wish Joan a bon voyage
• in which the school year began and Megan was back in a classroom teaching Social Studies and English, in addition to a little librarian work on the side
March -
• in which Austin (28) embarked on a Political Science degree
April -
• in which Megan tried a very British sport called bowls, which is similar to bowling only there are no pins to knock down, it’s played outdoors on perfect grass, and everyone wears white and keeps a stiff upper lip
May -
• in which Megan celebrated another birthday and disappointingly got another year older
• in which the newlyweds (Carlin and Kristen) living in Phoenix, got a new dog
June -
• in which we began a series of ascents of Auckland’s 50 volcanic cones – called mountains, but actually just hills a few hundred metres high
• in which we went to see the musical Priscilla, Queen of the Desert - good fun with outrageous costumes, plenty of ‘70s disco retrospective, and therapy for any latent homophobia
July -
• in which Megan bought a scooter and achieved notoriety among the students as the teacher on the red scooter riding around Auckland. Her coolness factor increased substantially
• in which Megan wanted to sing with a select group to welcome Condoleezza Rice’s visit to New Zealand, but was disappointingly rejected because they were recruiting young singers, despite being the only one who already knew the words to the American national anthem AND being able to sing in a fluent American accent
August -
• in which Nolan (26) announced he would be going to law school next year
• in which Boone (23) came to visit and to summit 8 mountains/volcanic cones/hills while here
• in which Boone played Scrabble against Curt 18 times during his 4 week visit – Boone won 12 times but that’s only because Curt disappointingly had “crap for letters”
• in which we had another driveway party to celebrate Boone’s visit, and then another
September -
• in which we went to our first rugby game, a truly Kiwi experience
• in which we stopped in Bellingham, WA on the way to England, and Curt delivered 3 original paintings as gifts to the boys:

• in which we spent 3 weeks in England to celebrate our 30th anniversary
• in which Megan was hit by a taxi in London while walking across the street. She survived with minor bruises; her beloved muffin was smashed in the ordeal
• in which we went to Bellingham, England and learned it’s pronounced Bell-in-jum there. Really.
October -
• in which we stopped in Portland, OR on our way home from England and saw Curt’s family, our old church family, and Megan’s old school (plus a special stop for Mrs. Fields cookies)
• in which we came home to learn that our church had failed miserably during our brief absence – first approving and then rejecting the appointment of a new pastor because she was gay. We were incensed, frustrated, and sorely disappointed over the ordeal
November -
• in which we gathered with our (Kiwi) neighbours to celebrate and offer a toast for the American election results
• in which we gathered with our Kiwi neighbours again 4 days later for the New Zealand election results
• in which Megan got hit by a car while riding on her scooter. She survived with a few cracked ribs and some minor scrapes and bruises; her beloved scooter got smashed in the ordeal
• in which Nolan and Erica announced their engagement and upcoming summer wedding
• in which Megan bought another scooter
• in which Curt finished 2 more paintings:

December -
• in which we write our clever Christmas letter

Megan is OK; the scooter is not

2008-11-21T13:21:00.006+13:00

Megan asked me to write this because she is too busy marking papers at this moment getting ready for the end of the school year reports.

Here's what happened: On Tuesday morning on the way to work, Megan turned right toward school. It was typical morning rush hour traffic, and it's always a challenge making a right hand turn onto that street. Megan says she checked right and then checked left before crossing, but she forgot to check right again because when she got half way across the street she was hit in what the policeman called "a full side impact." Megan doesn't remember all the details but the next thing she knew she was lying in the middle of the road, turned around facing the direction she came from, her motor scooter was further down the road, and her shoes were on the other side of the scooter.

The whole neighbourhood mobilised to help. One of Megan's students lives right across the street from the accident and came to help. The driver of the car that hit her called 111 for an ambulance. A tow truck arrived almost immediately to pick up the pieces of the scooter. Our neighbour, Margaret, also a teacher at Dio, stopped to help and to take the news to school. Some street repair construction workers placed orange traffic cones around Megan and re-directed traffic a safe distance away. A gardener from the cemetery brought a blanket for Megan. The medics came in an ambulance to check her over but by then she was already sitting on the kerb and the scooter had been pulled to the side of the road on the verge. The police came and interviewed everybody. Then our neighbour Brendon stopped to help with the tow truck which took the scooter to an insurance assessment yard. Then Brendon brought Megan home where she called me at work. She was a little bruised and sore but mostly shook up from the trauma. I hopped on my bicycle and came home to be the primary care giver.

Megan spent the rest of the day recovering, napping, and checking for new bruises and abrasions. Thursday she went to the doctor to have her wrist xrayed because it was sore and blue. The wrist is OK - just sprained a little - but the doctor thinks she may have cracked a rib because she feels pain when she coughs. He said it would be a waste to xray for the rib because they can't treat it anyway. He said if the rib had fractured and punctured her lung, then they could treat it but I guess that didn't happen.

The worst part is that Megan can't sit still for more than an hour so she went to work Wednesday so she wouldn't get so bored. Then she felt tired because her body really needs time to heal, so she decided to work only half a day Thursday. Even that was too much. Friday she has a morning meeting but she won't teach for the rest of the day. I feel like I need to tackle her and pin her down to stop her, but she won't stay still. When she is sitting quietly she continues to mark papers. Grrrr.
Megan says that I shouldn't make it sound worse than it is or people might get alarmed. I think I captured the escence of it pretty much. She is a very lucky girl. That's two close calls in the last two months. Remember the taxi and muffin incident at Trafalger Square? I told her that there is to be no more impacts with cars. This trend must stop.

Curt

NZ Election vs. US election

2008-11-11T19:58:00.009+13:00

A few days after the American election, there was an election New Zealand, too. Clark vs. Key didn't get as much worldwide media attention as Obama vs. McCain. Go figure.

It was a beautiful, sunny spring day to go to the polling booth at a local church. And it seemed sensible to hold an election on a Saturday instead of a Tuesday. The polling place was well-organised and efficient but not high-tech: paper ballots to be marked with a pen, cardboard private voting booth and cardboard ballot boxes. Surprisingly, the poll workers were not all octogenarians like they seem to be in US polling places. My favourite part in both countries is getting the sticker that says "I voted."

That evening, we went to our neighbour's house for dinner and results, which was a lovely way to spend my first NZ election coverage ... even if our hosts supported the 'wrong' party.

The NZ election only covered two things: which person you want to represent your local electorate, and which party you want to control Parliament. Two ticks. In comparison, my American ballot had over 30 different offices to vote for, from President, Senator, and Governor, all the way to local judges. And there are no primaries in NZ; each party has already chosen their favourite from within.

Voter turnout in NZ this year was 78%, a bit lower than the usual 80%. The US voter turnout was a record-breaking 68%.

In both countries, the populated urban areas voted more liberal (Democrat or Labour) while the rural areas voted more conservative (Republicans or National) Although the colours are reversed (conservative National is blue), both the US and NZ election maps looked the same: all one (conservative) colour in the heartland with pockets of the other (liberal) colour in the cities.

Obviously, I was not as elated with the New Zealand election results as I was with the US results. In New Zealand, the conservative National Party took power from the liberal Labour Party who had been in control for the last 9 years. Fortunately, the conservative party in NZ is not as far right as the Republican party in the US. But I was still a bit sad that my friend Helen was no longer Prime Minister. I felt smug being able to say I lived in a country with a female Prime Minister.

Since the US swung left and NZ swung right in the same week, many people have asked if it makes us want to move back to America. The answer is not yet. I think it's going to take a long time for America to recover from the Bush years. But it feels good that moving back to America is at least an option now.

the morning after

2008-11-06T08:56:00.003+13:00

Here is the front page of the New Zealand Herald on the day after the American election:

PS - I wonder if the headline and photo will be just as big after New Zealand's own election, which is happening the day after tomorrow.

Tears for Rosa, Martin and Obama

2008-11-05T21:14:00.017+13:00

I dreamt last night that Obama came to my house to remind me to vote. I'd already mailed in my ballot with great satisfaction a few weeks ago, so I don't know why I was dreaming about that, other than the obvious reason that I have been bombarded with US election news for the last 2 years ... and remember, I live in NEW ZEALAND! Yes, there has been a front-page story in the New Zealand Herald nearly every day. (Coincidentally, there is also an election in New Zealand happening on November 8th. Do you think US papers have been running front-page stories about the NZ election day after day? Nah, me neither.)

But I have been consumed by this election, even from 8,000 miles away. First of all, I love politics. I have doorbelled for candidates, served as a page at the state capitol, and attended presidential campaign rallies for candidates from Hubert Humphrey to Al Gore. I became a history teacher, so I taught students about the Declaration of Independence and the Electoral College. I can even sing the Preamble to the Constitution. Yes, I love politics.

So that explains a bit why we were so crushed by the direction that America had been going. In 2004, when George W. Bush was elected for the SECOND time, - I could forgive America for making a mistake by electing him the first time, but to RE-elect him was beyond comprehension - we couldn't take it any more and we left the country.

Many people questioned our decision to emigrate: "He'll be gone in 4 years," they would say.
But it wasn't just the President that we were fleeing. We were fleeing the millions of Americans who think like Bush. The ones who think it's okay to invade other countries. The ones who are against gay marriage. The ones who want to teach creationism but not evolution. The ones who were deluded enough to vote for a man who gives tax cuts to the rich, and the ones who didn't bother voting at all. And they would all still be there. We felt that we were just too liberal to fit in any more.

Today, I was still nervous that McCain would somehow steal the election (like Bush) so I couldn't allow myself to really believe Obama would win. All day at work, I was so excited that I felt like a teenager in love. Couldn't concentrate. Butterflies in my stomach. Election results started coming in at about 1:00 p.m. NZ time, so I had my computer set to NPR (similar to BBC) and listened to the live feed while I half-heartedly marked papers.
Luckliy, I didn't have a class 6th period. Students and staff alike would see me and ask how the election was going. Everyone knows I'm American because a)I talk 'funny' and b)I've been wearing my Obama pin every day for weeks. Last week I even wore a shirt covered with dozens of old campaign pins from McGovern, Carter, Dukakis, Clinton Gore, Kerry, and Obama. I even have a (Bobby) Kennedy bumper sticker. All those pins and stickers would have looked best on my Jesse Jackson '88 T-shirt, but I couldn't find it amid the boxes. Puckishly, I have fond memories of wearing my Jesse Jackson shirt just to make my dad mad.

After school, I went running on the treadmill, but I didn't want to miss any of the returns so I brought my computer to the gym (thankfully my school is wireless, including the gym), plugged it in, balanced it on the treadmill, and ran 5k while listening to NPR. Pretty pathetic, huh. Then I arrived home just in time to hear John McCain's concession speech. I found Curt was already home (indeed, he'd come home at 2:00 just to watch election results) and I found him with tears in his eyes. I was similarly moved. Obama's win gave me hope that maybe America has finally woken up.

Our neighbour arrived with a bottle of champagne and we all toasted the new chapter for America. There are even fireworks going off outside tonight in New Zealand. Not because of the American election, but because it's Guy Fawkes Day. But I can pretend they are celebrations for Obama instead.

How does it feel?
It feels too good to be true.
It feels like pride, something I haven't felt about America in ages.
It gives me goosebumps.
I am so overwhelmingly relieved that in this election, the other America spoke.
Tonight ... tonight brought tears to my eyes.

Rosa sat so Martin could walk.
Martin walked so Obama could run.
Obama ran so children could soar.
author unknown

Spring Break: GLASGOW, EDINBURGH (3 weeks in US/UK/US)

2008-10-21T19:01:00.012+13:00

Glasgow:
We went to the Willow Tea Room, designed by Charles Rennie Macintosh, and ordered a real afternoon tea: scones, cucumber sandwiches, shortbread cookies. It all seemed very British. Macintosh's designs are quite similar to Frank Lloyd Wright's in America which we also seek out in our travels.

Other than the CRM architecture sites, we ended up not liking Glasgow very much. It must be the smoking capital of UK! Curt called Blackpool the cesspool and Glasgow the ashcan of the country.

Edinburgh:
Followed the usual signs to a Park & Ride location outside the city, but it turned out that it was their Grand Opening - lots of dignitaries and speeches and reporters. I offered to be their first customer (and was secretly hoping to get interviewed by the TV station) but there were no actual buses to take us into town. It wasn't open for business yet. So we went to a different Park & Ride further along that sadly lacked cameramen, politicians and personal fame.

We liked Edinburgh. Curt found a gold fountain that he would have liked to sketch but the sun wasn't shining in the right direction.

We went to the Scottish National Gallery and enjoyed their special exhibit of Impressionists. They also had a a nice permanent collection - a Boticelli, 3 Raphaels, a Monet haystack, and even a Fredrick Church (one of his landscapes was always our family's favourite at the Seattle Art Museum).

After the museum, Curt found a well-positioned bench and sketched the city skyline while I ate lunch and walked down the Royal Mile. I found a Christmas shop, bought an ornament, and walked up to the castle. When I got back to Curt, he was done already!

We walked to the the new Scottish Parliament Building next - a modern building that doesn't really fit in with the rest of Edinburgh. Curt says it's not iconic. But it's interesting, if a little wacky.

Our #3 son, a whiskey connoisseur, wanted us to buy him a bottle of "the good shit" while we were in Scotland, but we were too cheap to buy a bottle of Scotch and ship it to US from either Scotland or New Zealand. So we sent him a (free) post card from a whiskey shop instead.

Spring Break: BLACKPOOL, WINDERMERE (3 weeks in US/UK/US)

2008-10-20T18:57:00.010+13:00

Stopped at a rest area on our way to Blackpool. A lady standing in the doorway lit her cigarette right as I was trying to exit the door. I coughed and choked and acted like I was dying as I walked through her smoke. Curt gave me the Stink Eye and thought I overdid it just a bit. We laughed and laughed for miles

Stopped for an hour in Blackpool which was all we could take. First of all, it was rainy and windy with huge waves. Secondly, the town is a hell hole. It may be OK in the sunshine with loys of people, but the "amusements" and activities would still be pathetic.
Curt had hoped to sketch the tower, but it was too friggin freezing
Ate fish and chips, though.

Arrived in Windermere, went for a short hike through the woods to the next village as our B&B hostess recommended. Curt went for another hike the next morning. Then we drove to a trail on our way out of town, and hiked up to a spectacular waterfall with a stone bridge. You know how Curt loves bridges. Curiously, there was also a log along the trail that had thousands of coins jammed in it. Does anyone know the story behind this?

Spring Break: IRONBRIDGE, SHREWSBURY (3 weeks in US/UK/US)

2008-10-19T18:55:00.010+13:00

Left Woodstock, heading west

Stopped in the little Cotswold town of Stow, but didn't lock Curt in the stocks on the village green like every other tourist who's ever been here.

On to Hay-on-Wye, a tiny town just across the border in Wales. Had to take a quaint 50 cent toll bridge. Yes, the town is full of bookstores (more bookstores per capita than anywhere: 1450 people/39 bookstores), but I only bought one because I didn't want to carry too many in my suitcase for the next two weeks. Still, it's a perfect place for a bibliophile like me. And it even has a sketchworthy castle for Curt!

Stayed in Ludlow, but took a daytrip to Ironbridge and Shrewsbury the next day. Rained all day. Was hoping Curt would sketch the bridge in Ironbridge, but it was too rainy. Still, we both liked seeing it and learning more about the Industrial Revolution that started here. I sent a postcard to my fellow Social Studies teachers, to prove that I am working (and learning about the Industrial Revolution) even while I'm on holiday

Stopped in Shrewsbury on the way back - similar to Ludlow with half-timbered houses. Used a park-n-ride service again. Found a table inside Starbucks (needed someplace warm and dry) with a perfect view of some old buildings for Curt to sketch. I ordered hot chocolate and read my book and was perfectly content.

While driving around today, noticed:
Lots of sheep! Just like in NZ. Sheep look better than cows on the hillsides because they are white dots on green fields
Fields are divided by hedges, not fences so the hills are light green with dark green lines.
Distances are short between town. Even shorter than in NZ. Brits must really underestimate how far things are in the US!
Houses are built of brick, even new ones in big developments. American houses are usually wood.
More smokers here, it seems.

Spring Break: OXFORD, BLENHEIM (3 weeks in US/UK/US)

2008-10-18T20:33:00.000+13:00

from Curt:

We left Bath after another "full English" at the B & B. It sure doesn't take long to lose interest in the standard English breakfast: muesli and dry cereal to start, banana, coffee and orange juice while the hot breakfast is cooked consisting of a fried egg, sausage link, ham, fried tomato, fried bread, sautéd mushrooms, baked beans, and toast. That works really well the first time, but after a few days of the same menu, I'd be better off taking the juice and fruit and skipping the rest. But of course I'm too cheap to pass up an opportunity to fill the tank and so I ploughed through the calories - usually sufficient to last a whole day with just an afternoon snack and light grocery meal for dinner.

We headed north toward our next destination of the small village of Woodstock. Our route took us by Oxford so we wisely opted to leave the car at a park-and-ride on the outskirts of the city, and took a bus into the pedestrian-only city centre. It was a crisp, sunny autumn day and I was keen to sit on a quiet bench away from the throng so I could enjoy a coffee and read the Sunday newspaper. Megan headed toward the campus to explore the halls of higher education. The streets were crawling with tourists so it must have been the weekend before the term begins. After catching the return bus to the car park, we passed a train station with about five hundred bicycles parked outside. We also passed a group of about 50 people on motor scooters headed the other way toward the city centre. These old cities are not car-friendly so alternate means of transportation are the rule rather than the exception.

We resumed our journey to Woodstock and then found our next stop at Gorselands Hall B & B just a few rural kilometres outside of the village. It was still early afternoon, so we drove to Blenheim Palace, famous as the birthplace of Winston Churchill. The palace was a gift from the Queen to Churchill's ancestor for winning a decisive battle that saved the day a long time ago. It seems extravagant for just one battle so it must have been pretty important. The place is huge.

When we arrived, there was an organised event in progress on the palace grounds. The event was a bicycle fair with hundreds of families participating in a relay race (complete with coloured team regalia). Some were even playing bicycle polo. I say, how very British. Jolly good show. We navigated our way through the cordoned course to the palace courtyard and wandered around the vast gardens looking for sketchworthy statues or bridges. I finally settled on a gate abutment which gave me a perch and a decent perspective of a palace clock tower. Megan headed off to the Secret Gardens and then went to the Churchill exhibit while I sketched.

After a short rest, tea and biscuits back at the B & B, we drove back to Woodstock for a fine meal at an Italian restaurant which was all very tasty but more food than we needed. It was one of the few times during the trip that we actually ate at a restaurant. Fine dining is not high on our priority list for cultural experiences in foreign lands. We choose to travel light instead.

Spring Break: SALISBURY, STONEHENGE, BATH, GLASTONBURY(3 weeks in US/UK/US)

2008-10-17T18:38:00.000+13:00

1. Picked up rental car.

2. ESCAPED LONDON! Eventually. After a few "adventures" getting onto the ring road. And a few choice swear words from Curt.

3. Stopped in Salisbury to see the famous cathedral. Having read Edward Rutherford's epic "Sarum" last year, it was especially pertinent to see the area. Besides the impressive nave, we really liked the photogenic cloisters and the artsy baptismal font.

4. Saw Stonehenge from the motorway. It's big. Stopped for a few quick pics.

5. Spent 2 days in Bath. Stayed at a serene B&B, a welcome break from the frenetic pace of London. Besides the usual tourist sites, we took a walk along the canal one misty morning and took loads of pictures of bridges and houseboats and fog. Curt loves bridges. In London, he liked 2 modern pedestrian bridges: the Millenium Bridge that links St Pauls and the Tate Modern, and the Jubilee Bridge that leads to the London Eye. But everywhere else in England, he liked the old stone arch bridges. He only sketched one - this one in Bath - but he stopped and took pictures of dozens more, along every road all over the country.

6. Took a day trip to Glastonbury. Thanks to the annual music festival (imagine a supersized Woodstock), the town has turned into a hippie haven full of crystals, incense, and vegetarian cafes. But it also has Roman ruins of its abbey, which were peaceful and yes, photoworthy.

Spring Break: LONDON (3 weeks in US/UK/US)

2008-10-16T17:29:00.000+13:00

In London, we went to quite a few churches including St Martin in the Fields - where Curt sketched a baptism font - and St Paul's cathedral. St Martin in the Fields turned out to be a unexpectedly sweet little place that we'd never been to before (but had heard its name many times when listening to classical music). The interior was friendly, with a gorgeous crypt underneath, and I especially liked the stained glass window that warped into the shape of a cross. The volunteer was exceptionally friendly, too, which is not necessarily a good thing for Curt while he's sketching. The man kept coming over and telling Curt interesting but unwanted stories about the origins of the font, railing, and chest. While sketching, Curt is always zoned out and dislikes interruptions, so it's my job as The Artist's Personal Assistant to get rid of people who try to strike up conversations.

We also went to lots of museums, including the Tate Modern, the National Gallery, the Courtauld Gallery (a nice little museum with a great collection of Cezannes), and the British Museum (to see the Rosetta Stone, and to see the Elgin Marbles which were stolen from the Parthenon).

We enjoyed our tour of Parliament, but a fire alarm went off while we were there so everyone had to evacuate, including the MPs and Lords. I shamelessly snapped this photo of Lord Sebastian Coe (former Olympian and head of the 2012 London Olympic committee) while he was evacuated with us. By the way, entering Parliament was the only time we had to go through a security check. In comparison, every museum, government building, and even the Statue of Liberty requires a security check in America.

In addition, we went to a musical called Jersey Boys about Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons, which was full of great music.

And we went up in the London Eye to see the city, albeit on a grey day.

So it sounds like a fine time, doesn't it.
Unfortunately there were a few snafus:

The first snafu was when I washed my hair with hand lotion instead of shampoo. Yes, this may sound familiar because embarrasingly, I must admit I have done this before - on the day of my dad's memorial service. Talk about stupid.

Snafu deuxieme was that I got confused about what day it was. It wasn't until Curt showed me the newspaper that I was convinced it was really Wednesday. Sadly, we hadn't gone to the Shakespeare play that afternoon at the Globe Theatre (that I had already purchased tickets for!) because I thought it was only Tuesday. I was so mad at myself because a) it wasted money, b) it was an experience I was looking forward to and c) I felt pretty stupid. Again.

Snafu numero tres was the most harrowing. This one didn't make me feel stupid; it just made me feel pain. I got hit by a taxi cab while walking across the street. Luckily, the cab only hit my side, which spun me around. My knee and my right arm were bruised, but that was about all. I was eating a scrumptious yoghurt and pecan muffin from Pret at the time, and it went flying out of my hand onto the road.
Here's how it happened: We were a part of a mob of about 30 pedestrians who were trying to cross The Strand near Trafalgar Square. The mob all stepped off the curb and started across, so I stepped off too. Perhaps the cab was trying to run the yellow/red light? Or perhaps the mob had started out a second before the WALK signal? I just started walking with everyone else and then I felt the cab's impact. All the other pedestrians yelled at him and shook their fists so I think he was at fault. I saw my glorious muffin smashed on the street with tire marks through it and thought, that could have been me. Curt said he thought I was goners.

You might think that I got hit because I was American and therefore looking the wrong way, but remember, I've been living in New Zealand and driving on the left for 3 years now. The direction of London traffic was familiar to me. (I had more trouble when I tried to drive in Portland the following week) By the way, aren't London cabbies supposed to be the greatest ever?!? Maybe the one I encountered was talking on his cellphone instead. I don't know. He didn't really stop. But for the remainder of the trip, whenever I saw a cab, I wondered if that was the one who had hit me. And I was very careful crossing the street thereafter.

As for the muffin, we went to many more Pret-a-Manger stores and bought many more yoghurt pecan muffins over the next few weeks, but I couldn't help thinking about the poor muffin smashed somewhere on The Strand. Perhaps the pigeons appreciated it.

So London turned out to be a bit more of a challenge than Curt or I expected. Overall it just seemed too high-pressured. We were happy to get out in the countryside next.

Spring Break: BELLINGHAM, WA (3 weeks in US/UK/US)

2008-10-15T13:43:00.002+13:00

On September 20, we departed for a 3 week trip. September 20th is also Curt's birthday, and it lasted 43 hours this year! Having an extra-long birthday sounds pretty cool until you consider that his 6'2" frame was mercilessly folded into an airplane seat. Actually, it was his birthday ... and then when we crossed the International Date Line, it wasn't his birthday .. and then it was his birthday again. Got that? So he kinda had 2 birthdays. Does that mean he's one year older or two years older?

We stopped in Bellingham for a day to see 3 of the boys (the other one lives in Phoenix), my mom, and my brother & his family. It was great to catch up on everyone's lives: Nolan is taking the exam for admission to law school next week, Austin quizzed us about life in New Zealand, we got to see Boone's house, and my brother is getting a new house built on Chuckanut Bay. We went to see his steep lot where the house will be, and Curt the engineer evaluated the retaining walls, drainage system, etc. As you do.

While visiting his property, we also walked down a trail to Teddy Bear Cove, which used to be the local nudist beach but was turned into a county park a few years back so the nude sunbathers now go elsewhere. I hadn't been to Teddy Bear Cove since my senior year in high school, when I attended a big kegger down there. (besides being the nudist beach, Teddy Bear Cove's isolated location was perfect for underage beer parties) It was 33 years ago, but I still remember the musclebound football players gallantly carrying the heavy kegs down the long, steep trail. My most vivid memory of that night, however, is colliding with a log down on the beach, and the log won. My klutzmanship resulted in massive, multicoloured bruises on my shins and a limping gait for the next few weeks. What's funny is that I was about the only teenager there who wasn't drinking, yet I managed to incur the only injury. Imagine me trying to convince everyone that no, I wasn't drunk; I just tripped. Imagine the scoffing. For the record, I truly was sober. It was dark out, OK?

Besides reminiscing about parties from decades ago, I spent time with all the family and ate too much of their good food. My mom made Ross cookies for me, Gwen made Snickerdoodles, and Scott made a huge brunch plus a typically outstanding dinner for 12. That evening, my mom and I stayed up til 1:00 a.m. - long past everyone else. Having some quality time with her so we could have a deep conversation was precious. We talked about her coming out to NZ again this Christmas, and about her living all alone once my brother's family moves to their new house overlooking the bay. She's been surrounded by my brother's family since my dad died in 2007, so she hasn't yet had to experience the loneliness that usually comes with being a widow. But she seems strong and eager to face it, especially since she knows she can go live in my brother's new bayside house whenever she's ready.

Signing out

2008-09-14T22:05:00.006+12:00

Hello all! Boone here again. Sadly, it's my final night here in New Zealand so I'm writing my recap of the whole trip.

I left off my last entry right before our trip to Rotorua which was pretty awesome, I learned how to perform a haka. It was Father's Day in New Zealand but that didn't stop me from beating Dad mercilessly at Scrabble later that night. I'm a great son. The following day I took off for the Coromandel Peninsula where I found a hostel and met my flatmates, Eric and Johannes. The three of us drove to Hot Water Beach despite there being a terrible storm. Hot Water Beach has loads of geothermal activity underground so if you dig a hole at the beach during low tide it will fill up with hot water, hence the extra clever name, Hot Water Beach. We were hoping that sitting in a natural hot tub would somewhat counteract the cold from the storm, but that didn't end up being the case.

Eric and Johannes had to catch a bus early in the morning so I was on my own for the following day. I went to Hahei and hiked to Cathedral Cove, got my feet wet. There were two little dogs that were walking the trail with me, I think they lived in the area. They followed me all the way back to Hahei Beach, but when I walked up to the car I heard barking down on the beach. I could see one dog and he was barking at the waves. I couldn't see the other dog in the water but the barking dog continued to bark as he went down the beach, seeming to follow something he could see in the water. I sprinted down the beach, ready for a dramatic rescue, only to find that it was a different little dog and he was barking at the waves because he was just a dumb dog. The two dogs I had been walking with were down at the other end of the beach.

Yesterday we flew down to Wellington and explored the Beehive and Parliament building.
Outside the Parliament building is a statue of New Zealand's longest serving prime minister, Richard Seddon, 1893-1906. He was an avid opponent of women's suffrage. I found it pretty funny that the statue faces the recently-built Kate Sheppard Hotel, named after New Zealand's most prominent member of the suffrage movement (she's on the New Zealand ten dollar bill, he's not on anything). We went to a rugby game between Wellington and Waikato, I loved it, I wish rugby was bigger back in the states. Later I went out to a couple of sports bars with my flatmates, three German girls, and we watched more rugby, the All Blacks beat the Wallabies 28-24. After the game we went dancing at this pub that had a live band. Didn't get back to the hostel until 2:30.

This morning we flew back to Auckland and Mom asked me for all my 'bests and worsts' of the trip, here's a few...

Best memory - Paihia hostel
Best volcano (of the 7 I summitted) - Rangitoto
Best kiwi food - meat pies
Best Maori word - Whakarewarewatangaoteopetauaawahiao (I'm not making it up)
Worst part about driving in NZ - the 'give way' rule for lefts turns, absolutely ridiculous
Worst scare - thinking there was a puppy drowning at Hahei Beach :(

New Zealand is pretty amazing, and is completely and utterly different from America. I feel like everybody here has a generally nicer attitude towards foreigners than we do in America. There's far more unprompted help offered everywhere. Everybody is far more trusting here. You can accidentally leave a bag of groceries in the cart at the store and go back and they'll simply tell you to grab everything that was in the bag, someone will return the misplaced one. You can go to the library and check out books even though you have late fees to pay. If you don't have the money on you, no worries, bring it next time. That wouldn't happen in America. And I know these are just small examples but they build up.

The politics are completely different as well. In the US, presidential candidates campaign for about 2 years, but here in New Zealand they do it in 5 weeks. Why does it take two years for us?
The US is a completely politically divided nation, divided for the most part into two parties, Democrats and Repulblicans. Here in New Zealand there are 8 political parties. EIGHT! In the US, hypothetically every Democratic candidate for any office in Congress can lose an election 49% to 51%. Congress would be entirely Republican despite the fact that 49% of the country voted Democratic. New Zealand has a system so that every party is represented proportional to the votes nationwide, so everyone has an equal voice.

The media is completely different. They actually report on things going on throughout the whole world, whereas in America practically all I hear about is what's going on in America. There's far more positive stories than negative ones; in America I feel like all we hear about are the latest local crimes, or the next thing they're adding to the endless list of things that cause cancer. It imposes this fear in us that there's danger lurking around every corner; New Zealand doesn't have that fear. And tying this back in with politics, in the US if you're liberal you watch liberally biased news and if you're conservative you watch conservatively biased news, it's just how it goes. But here in New Zealand I don't see a lot of bias in any of the news.

The food is healthier. I know that sounds strange, but what I mean by that is (for example) a McDonald's double cheeseburger in America is literally dripping with grease, but when I order one here, it's almost dry. It's the same company, and supposedly the same product, but you can literally taste the difference. I'm pretty confident they actually add straight grease to the burgers back in the US to make them tastier. No wonder 64% of our population is overweight.

And while I love all these - what I would consider - improvements over American society, I have grown so accustomed to our rude American behavior, our biased media, our greasy food, and our imperfect democracy, that I don't think I could ever leave it. I doubt my mom will ever stop trying to persuade me to move to New Zealand, and that's all fine and well, but I'm pretty happy with my stars and stripes. Cheers, mate.

2008-08-30T21:25:00.029+12:00

Kia ora! Boone here, I've been in New Zealand for a couple weeks now and Mom asked me to make a contribution to the blog so I'll let you all know some of the highlights of my 4-week trip thus far.

I left Vancouver, BC at 1pm on August 19th and landed in Auckland, NZ at 5am on August 21st. August 20th did not happen, I flew into the future. I started off my trip with lots of touristy stuff; I hit up the aquarium, the natural history museum, the zoo,

SkyTower,

and fed a lamb at SheepWorld.

On Tuesday I caught a train into town and then a ferry out to Rangitoto Island, a dormant volcano. I hiked to the top of the volcano and down into the crater, then explored some lava caves on the east side of the island (had to use the flash on the camera to see where I was going).

On Wednesday Mom and I drove out to Piha and climbed to the top of Lion Rock. She wasn't too keen on climbing but I talked her into it. You only live once.

On Thursday I drove 4 hours north to Paihia and found a hostel. I went for a quick afternoon kayak trip down the shore and back and came back to meet my flatmate, a rather talkative Kiwi named David and his lady friend, a Chilean girl named Katie. They introduced me to a few other people at the hostel including Elena from Germany and Fernanda from Brazil. We all went out to the pub and it just so happened to be karaoke night, my favorite. I met a few nice Kiwi lads and a couple of girls from Iowa. After a few beers I ended up singing 'Born in the USA' with the two other Americans which I'm sure was an overly intoxicated performance and obnoxious to the rest of the bar patrons, but it was lots of fun on my end.

The following day David and I woke up
and went on a kayaking adventure in search of Haruru Falls. However, due to a less than helpful map, we never ended up finding them and paddled back home after 4 hours of the most intense upper body workout I've ever had. But alas, so as not to feel entirely defeated, David, Elena and I hiked to the falls (another 4 hour workout) and were victorious. When we got back David and I made some pumpkin masks for the masquerade ball at the pub (his idea). The prize for wearing a mask was a free drink, not sure if it was totally worth the effort.

I've been joining Mom and Dad at church and singing in the choir with them. Last Sunday we sang 8 or 9 songs in a concert after the worship service. Learning 8 or 9 songs from one choir practice was a bit of a stretch for me, but thankfully Dad was singing tenor as well and drowned me out on any of the notes I missed.

Later that Sunday I finally got to experience a "driveway party" that I had heard so much about. This particular driveway party was planned ahead of time, but Mom says if you stand out in the driveway on a nice day with a drink in hand, no fail, people come out and start to accumulate.
We ate sausages (which New Zealanders eat on buttered bread, not hot dog buns), pavlova, bread pudding, meatballs, and drank lots of beer.

Last night I caught a bus downtown and met up with David (from Paihia) for some drinks. We hit up a few clubs, danced a lot, drank a bit, and I ended up crashing at his place as the buses don't run that late and I had no way to get home till the morning.

Tomorrow we're all going to Rotorua for a solid dose of Maori culture and geothermal geysers, and next weekend we're flying down to Wellington for a couple days where I'll get to attend my very first rugby match.

More to come ...

Why can't I go see Condoleezza Rice?

2008-07-17T09:57:00.005+12:00

Our church choir conductor announced that he has been asked to recruit 12 people to sing the Star-Spangled Banner for Condoleezza Rice's state visit with Prime Minister Helen Clark next week, and he thought of us.

"But you and Curt would probably throw things at her."

"No, I'll behave myself," I protested. "Honest. Plus I already know the national anthem. AND I could sing it with an American accent! Please?"

"No. Actually, you can't participate. There will only be a small group, with 3 people on each part ... and ... you have to be ..." He paused. I was expecting him to say I had to be 'a better singer' but instead he said, "... younger."

Ouch.

"I'm supposed to recruit a youth choir of 18-25 year olds."

At 51, I guess that counts me out. Still, it would have been cool to see Condoleezza Rice in person, even though I disagree with her politics.

Besides singing the Star-Strangled Banner (as he calls it), they'll also perform Hine e Hine, which is one of the songs we performed with opera diva Kiri te Kanawa at Starlight Symphony in February as part of a 500-voice choir. (I already know the words to that one, too. And again, I would sing it with an American accent - which in this case is not a good thing.) Since Dame Kiri won't be there to sing the solo part for Condoleezza Rice, our conductor will get his wife to do it.

This led me to hatch a new plan: The conductor and his wife have a toddler. If he's conducting, and she's singing the solo, who will watch over little Julia? Since I'm one of Julia's favourite people these days (I babysat her last Friday), I would be an ideal person to accompany them to the performance and be the toddler wrangler. Right? Wish me luck.

Why does everyone want to see Naked Guy on Beach?

2008-07-10T18:30:00.006+12:00

I made a discovery the other day as I was looking at all my photos posted on Flickr. I found a command called Your Stats. So I pushed it. And I learned that out of all my 500+ photos, the one that has been viewed the most is: Naked Guy on Beach.

What I find so amusing is imagining all the disappointed websurfers who thought they would see a studly hunk with six-pack abs, lying naked on the sand ... and instead, all they got was an old geezer driving a quad bike along the beach.

Serves em right.

field trips

2008-07-07T16:04:00.010+12:00

Last week, I took 60 11-year-old girls to MOTAT, the Museum of Transport and Technology. We'd been studying technology and inventions so the exhibits at MOTAT were perfect for our topic. We saw old cameras and old washing machines and rode an old tram. It was a bit disconcerting, however, when the MOTAT guide showed the girls an old dial telephone and demonstrated how it worked. They were fascinated by this ancient technology. Talk about feeling old! But it was a great trip, and the girls behaved perfectly, as always.

While I was at MOTAT, however, my English class got into a bit of mischief with the reliever (substitute teacher) back at school. The reliever walked in and saw instructions on the board that said "Silent reading for 5 minutes, then playtime." She was justifiably suspicious and went to get the head of the English department, Margaret, who came into my room: "Right. Who wrote that on the board? And what is it really supposed to say?" All the ponytailed little heads turned toward Jennifer, a bubbly little blonde with a bit too much energy. Margaret sorted out what the class was really supposed to be doing with the reliever, and took Jennifer into the corridor to give her the "You Made a Really Bad Choice" speech. It goes something like this: You wasted the reliever's time./I'm sorry./You wasted my time/I'm really sorry/You wasted the class's reading time/I'm very sorry/You violated Mrs. Davidson's trust in you/ I'm truly so sorry/....

Ironically, while I was on the field trip I had told the other teacher that my English class was so good, "even if a reliever never showed up, the girls would probably read for 20 minutes and then do Skill Sheet #4 as instructed." Ha.

In spite of small glitches like that, I've always been a big promoter of field trips. Some teachers hate them and refuse to take their students anywhere, but I love it. I didn't hesitate to take my students to the state capitol building, the courthouse, or even the public library.

One time I was taking my English class to the Portland public library to show them what a library has to offer - besides books, there are magazines, free computers, free CDs, and free movies. I requested parent chaperones. Andrew's dad signed his name on the permission form and said he'd be able to help. Excellent ... except that I knew Andrew's dad had just been released from prison after serving 5 years for a drug offense. Not coincidentally, he was unemployed and therefore available during the day to chaperone field trips.
My fellow teachers thought I was nuts to let him come along, but I figured it was a good sign that a) he wanted to get involved in school events and b) he wanted to spend time with Andrew (who barely knew him). Besides, he could probably c) learn something new about what kinds of things are available at the library. Maybe he would even d) sign up for a library card while we were there. What would you do? Here's what I did: The ex-con and I took 29 students to the library for an hour and everything went fine. Although he did smell like smoke and had a lot of tattoos.

There were no such problems on the field trip to MOTAT. Diocesan parents are not really the ex-con or tattoo type.

Reports are to be written in passive voice

2008-05-31T14:28:00.010+12:00

It's report (report cards) time at my school, which usually means long hours and major headaches. Besides writing 100 paragraphs about my own 100 students, I was unanimously selected to be the chief proofreader for the rest of the Social Studies department because I am the only English geek in the bunch who has eagle eyes to search out typos wherever they lurk. So I read about 1,000 more paragraphs. Apologies for being such a grammarian, but in the course of reading all those comments, I couldn't help noticing the Kiwi predilection to write in passive voice.

First, an example of passive voice: The hamburger was eaten by me.
and an example of active voice: I ate the hamburger.
Seemingly, both sentences convey the same information, but there is a different tone to the first one. It's as if the hamburger went out and got itself eaten; as if it was somehow the hamburger's fault. As you can see, the passive voice can be used to shed blame.

What I noticed on reports is a tendency to write things such as: She is to be commended for her effort or It is pleasing for me to see her improvement. Why can't they just say I was pleased with her improvement!?!?

I was wise enough NOT to put red marks all over my fellow teachers' reports every time I saw passive voice. I reserved my red pen for their instead of there, run-on sentences and typos. But I mentioned the preponderance of passive writing to them, who were absolutely shocked to hear that the passive voice is frowned upon in America.

In fact, most American university professors believe that the passive voice signals sloppy, lazy thinking; that the writer has not fully thought through what they are discussing. Automatic grammar-checkers on word processing programs also point out passive construction, as if it needs to be changed.

But in New Zealand, it is accepted and even preferred. The Auckland newspaper is full of sentences like It is understood that the man was from Hamilton. In America, the reporter would have written Unidentified witnesses said... instead.

My colleagues and I agreed that this is a partly due to the British penchant for understatement. Likewise, there is a custom of not wanting to take credit for something for fear of looking like a braggart. Therefore, a NZ company report would say clients were well-served. American culture, however, values directness and speaking plainly. Americans aren't afraid to take credit and a US company report would say: our staff served clients well.

And yet, an American made perhaps one of the more memorable passive statement, used to shed blame: Ronald Reagan said "mistakes were made" when referring to the Iran-Contra scandal.

May 18 = Europe Day

2008-05-18T16:28:00.007+12:00

When the kids were growing up, we liked to invent holidays: November 1st was Annual Pumpkin Throwing Day (we'd throw the mouldy jack-o-lanterns from the deck into the wheelie bin below). We had Cookie Dough Day (guess whose idea that was) in March, and T-Bone Day in January. April 12th was Titanic Day, in honour of one son's obsession. And May 18th was Europe Day.

Most people from Washington State
(like us) would normally associate the day of May 18th with Mt. St Helens' eruption on May 18, 1980. But our family departed for an six-week trip to Europe on May 18, 1995 and preferred to commemorate that journey. So every May 18th, we would get out the photo album, watch the old home movies, or read the journals we wrote. We'd ooh and aah at Dwaad's sketches, and reminisce about the food, the sights, and the people we had encountered.

This year, I sent the boys a digital photo presentation about Europe Day which you can view by clicking 'PLAY' below.
Happy Memories.

Make a Smilebox slideshow

Still getting olderer

2008-04-27T21:34:00.014+12:00

I forgot to wear my glasses to church today. As a consequence, I had a bit of trouble reading the choir music. Thankfully, I knew the tune pretty well, but occassionaly had to guess at the words ... and wasn't entirely successful. Let's hope the congregation didn't notice.

It was even harder to read the order of service which was in a smaller font, bordering on microscopic. My arms simply weren't long enough. The most pathetic part was that I didn't get the Lord's Prayer right. Let it be known that I do know it by heart, but I know the American version and without being able to see the words, I can't remember which bits are different in the New Zealand version we do here.

I also forgot to wear shoes to choir practice a few weeks ago, and walked out the door wearing slippers. More alarmingly, this was not the first time I'd gone to choir wearing slippers. And don't forget the time I embarked on a 10-day road trip to the South Island wearing slippers.

Do you think there's a pattern here?

ANZAC Day, 2008

2008-04-25T22:00:00.011+12:00

The choir from Mt. Albert Methodist Church (that's us) sang at the ANZAC service held at Mt. Albert Memorial Hall. We sing there every year. Prime Minister Helen Clark was the main speaker. She gives the speech there every year. It still amazes me how little fanfare there is when the leader of the nation is present at this dinky little community centre: anyone can attend, there's no metal detectors or bag checks or anything, no advance team of bomb-sniffing dogs, no motorcade. She simply arrived in a car with no entourage except 2 secret-service-type guys (who later sang along during the service) and sat in a folding chair, just like everyone else. It's all refreshingly low-key. As it is every year.

At last year's ANZAC service, we wrangled an introduction to Helen, and got to shake her hand and chat with her for a bit. This year, I elected not to impose myself on her, but if I had, I would have asked her about the recent Hillary Clinton gaffe concerning Helen. In an interview with a US magazine, Senator Clinton was telling a joke about the "Former Prime Minister, Helen Clark" ... but in fact Helen Clark is still the CURRENT Prime Minister. There have been plenty of laughs over here in New Zealand about Hillary's mistake, but I doubt if the American press has even realised that she misspoke.

After the service, we went back to the church for more choir practice, but not without a feed. Someone brought homemade ANZAC biscuits (cookies) which were softer and - naturally - better than the storebought ones. ANZAC biscuits, an oatmeal coconut recipe, became the biscuit of choice to mail to the troops during WWI because of their apparent unperishability, hence their name. They are really quite tasty, and an appropriate snack after the service.

"The dog ate my homework" and other excuses

2008-04-18T15:15:00.010+12:00

"Mandy, Where's your myth?" I demanded as class began on Friday.
"Well, it's done but you see..."
"Do you have it? Yes or no?" I interrupted.
"Um. I was ..."
"So your answer is no. You'll be joining me for lunch detention. Today." And with that, I turned back to the rest of the class and proceeded giving the instructions for today's lesson.

On Monday, a big myth-writing assignment had been due in Year 7 Social Studies. Most girls turned in their work.
On Tuesday, I got a few more myths from those who'd been absent, and I nagged the last few slowpokes.
On Thursday, I announced lunch detentions for anyone whose myth wasn't turned in by Friday.
Unbelievably, on Friday there were still two girls, Mandy and Carrie, who didn't turn in their myth. It looked like I would be having 2 guests for lunch ... until Carrie announced that she couldn't come because she already had a detention with her PE teacher scheduled for that day. Mmm Hmm. Call me a cynic, but I needed to confirm Carrie's story with the PE teacher.

Then Carrie told me an even more suspicious story: Mandy's myth got stolen. Another Mmm Hmm. I'm having a bit of a hard time believing there is a black market for schoolwork. Furthermore, Carrie informed me, Mandy was too scared to tell me this herself so she sent Carrie with the news. Admittedly, that's not entirely accurate - Mandy tried to tell me herself but I kept cutting her off. I'd better go hear the whole incredulous elaborate story from Mandy. Do I sound like I have an open mind?

Mandy said her myth was at her Dad's house, and her Dad's house got robbed.
"Why would robbers want your myth?" I inquired, attempting to sound sincere, but not being entirely successful in masking my scepticism. What kind of stories will kids come up with next?
"Well, they didn't actually want the myth, they just used my school bag to load up their loot and the myth was in my school bag."
"Really. So all your other school books got stolen, too?" I am trying to sound sympathetic.
"Um, no. They dumped out all the other books but the myth was at the very bottom."
How convenient. Does she think I am that gullible? "Well, I'll be contacting your dad to let him know how important it is that you re-write it by Monday." I watched her eyes for a glimmer of panic. I expected her to start backpedalling at this moment, but she didn't. Could her story possibly be true?

I have a hard time knowing when to believe students. During 10 years of teaching, I couldn't help noticing that kids at this age (11-14) tended to blame every problem on something or someone other than themselves. When their document doesn't print, it's the computer's fault. When they get caught fighting, it was always The Other Guy who started it. When they get poor grades, it's because the teacher hates them. Then there was the time when a boy impersonated his mother over the phone. So. I get a little suspicious. Call it healthy scepticism.

First I contacted the PE teacher with the alleged lunch detention for Carrie. That part was true. OK. Maybe I'm a just little wary when it comes to students' excuses for avoiding detention.

Then I called Mandy's mum. Yes, Dad had been robbed.
Really? I'm gobsmacked. And a little embarrassed.
Sheepishly, I acted like the purpose of my call was to let her know that Mandy would be working on the myth over the weekend. Yes, thank you for your time.

And yet ...
I'm still the slightest bit distrustful. Could Mandy have asked her mum to lie for her?
Honestly, I really must stop thinking this way. I am far too suspicious.
Or am I?

Continental knowledge

2008-04-16T15:22:00.009+12:00

One of the things I like about being a teacher is all the things I learn while I'm teaching. For instance, in one of the Social Studies assignments, there was a question asking what continent New Zealand is a part of.

My first reaction is to say New Zealand is an island and therefore not part of any continent. But when you think about it, Great Britain is an island, yet still considered part of Europe, isn't it? Japan is considered part of Asia. Um, wouldn't that mean that New Zealand is considered part of the Australian continent?

"ABSOLUTELY NOT!" say my colleagues. They're noticeably adamant that NZ is not a part of Australia. "First of all, Australia is not a continent."

"What? When I went to school in America, we learned that of the 7 continents, Australia was the only one that is both a country and a continent."

"No. It's called Australasia and it includes New Zealand and the South Pacific islands. Sometimes it's called Oceania. The correct answer is Australasia or Oceania"

So I went home and looked it up. Australia is indeed a continent according to Encyclopaedia Britannica, which seems like a pretty reputable source. (I mean, at least I'm not quoting Wikipedia or anything, although it too said Australia was a continent.) Australasia or Oceania may be regions of the world, but they are not names of a continent if you ask me. Not that I'm going to challenge my fellow teachers.

Ultimately I've decided that determining whether or not to include neighbouring islands in the definition of continent may well depend on the distance between the continent and the island. So I researched a few distances: England is 30 miles away from Europe, Japan is 120 miles away from Asia, but New Zealand is 1300 miles - yes 1300 miles - away from Australia. Therefore I would call New Zealand an island and not part of any continent. Who knows. Just don't ever accuse New Zealanders of being part of Australia. They get really touchy.

Teen magazines

2008-04-14T17:25:00.010+12:00

In my Y9 Social Studies class, the girls are studying women's rights throughout history. I am in heaven because it's a topic I love to rant about (ask my husband and four sons). And I work at an all-girls school which means I don't have to be worried about presenting a "balanced" view. Just kidding. But it's hard to explain female infanticide or dowries without sounding a bit biased. You should have heard me explain what a chastity belt was.

One of the assignments involved analysing a teen magazine. Good grief. Those things are wretched. In New Zealand, the teen magazines are called Dolly and Creme and Girlfriend, but I have a feeling they're similar all over the world. Since I didn't have any daughters, I haven't seen a teen magazine since I was a teen back in the dark ages. What a shocker. First of all, they're 90% advertising. And the rest is clothes and make-up tips, advice on how to get a boyfriend and celebrity pictures. Lots of celebrity pictures. The latest covers all seem to be plastered with images of the stars of High School Musical. (A Y7 student told me on the first day of school that the most important thing I should know about her is that she is going to marry Zac Efron. She's 12.)

My Y9 students all purported to be appalled at the content of the magazines, but couldn't help reading the horoscopes aloud and asking me if they could please tear out the centerfold picture of some cute guy, usually the aforementioned Zac Efron.

In spite of their infatuation with teen magazines, I was reassured when I saw their mis-analysis of a political cartoon from the New Zealand suffrage era. (Did you know that New Zealand was the first country IN THE WORLD to give women the right to vote?) My students were sure that the oversized, powerful woman towering over men was an indication that the cartoonist believed women should be able to vote. (In fact, it was anti-suffrage) But in their world, women have always been powerful. They live in a country with a woman Prime Minister. They have no personal understanding yet that a caricature of a powerful woman would be used as something threatening. Although their answers were incorrect, I found their naivete comforting.

I was also heartened by their response when assigned to write about a woman they admire. I was expecting them to pick someone like Angelina Jolie or - heaven forbid - Victoria "Posh Spice" Beckham, but I was wrong. A few chose Mother Teresa or a sports figure such as New Zealand bicycle gold medalist (and Diocesan Old Girl) Sarah Ulmer. But most of them chose their mums or other female family members. There's hope yet.

Bowling, New Zealand style

2008-04-04T20:27:00.009+13:00

I went bowling today for the first time. Not the American kind of bowling where you go to a smoky building, wear ghastly shoes, and use your brute strength to wallop the living daylight out of 10 white pins. No, this is a more civilised kind of bowling with less walloping. More finesse. This is English bowls. Think old people in white suits drinking tea between turns. Well, that's what English bowls was supposed to be like. That's what the pros do. (Yes, there are pros!) We didn't actually wear white. Or drink tea.

But we did attempt to stand on a little mat and to hit the jack (the little white target ball) with our balls. And we tried not to bowl our balls into the ditch (the gutter at the far end where it'll go if you overshoot it). Basically, I think English bowls is the same as Italian bocci or French boules, although I'm not an expert on any of those versions either.

There might have been a more skilled but less humorous game if someone in our group had bowled before, but we were 2 newbies playing against 2 newbies. At least we were all equally clueless. The first thing one discovers is that the ball itself is weighted on one side so it's not meant to roll straight, which caused endless frustration for me. I suppose with practice, you'd master the behavior of the ball, but since this was our virgin bowling experience, it was just plain maddening. Still, I managed to hit the jack once and I think that scored us a point although I'm not entirely sure of the scoring system. In the end, my pathetic team lost to the still-pathetic-but-not-as-bad-as-us team. But now I know all about jacks and skips and rinks and touchers, and I can chalk up another Kiwi cultural experience.

Jury Duty, New Zealand style

2008-04-02T17:36:00.010+13:00

I was tickled when I got the letter asking me to serve as a juror in New Zealand. I'd lived in the US for 48 years and never got called to jury duty there, and now I got called after only living here for 2 years! Although many of my friends and colleagues recommended that I get excused, I wanted to serve. As a Social Studies teacher, I wanted to learn more about the justice system here. Think of it as Professional Development. And another step in my cultural experience education.

I dutifully showed up at the courthouse on Monday morning at 9:00, armed with a book to keep me entertained during the long waits. There were about 150 of us in the large holding room. My name was called to report for a rape case in Courtroom 3. Hurray!

They took about 25 of us potential jurors in and starting choosing names from a spinner, just like on Lotto. When my name was called, I gathered up my book and bag and started walking toward the jury box as instructed. But before I reached the juror seats, the defense lawyer called out "Challenge!" What? This meant he wanted to use one of his challenges to keep me off the jury.

I turned around and went back to my seat while grumbling to myself. What's wrong with me? I can be an impartial juror! While they finished choosing 12 perfect jurors, I tried to determine what made them more perfect than me. Did the lawyers want men on the jury? (yes) Young people or old people? Guys in suits or students in torn jeans? I decided it was the book that lost me a selection. I vowed not to look so literate next time.

Back in the holding room with the other rejects, I waited for my name to be chosen for another case. I couldn't help reading my book, but rationalised that the defense lawyers wouldn't see me in here.

Then my name was called again, this time to Courtroom 8 for a double rape case. I stashed my book and followed the line of potential jurors, assessing my chances of being chosen this time. The two defendants were standing in the dock, trying to look tough and intimidating. I hated them already. The first name called by the Lotto announcer was an older woman. They challenged her. They must not want old women. The second name was another old woman. No challenge. What? Why is she OK and the first one wasn't? I'll never understand this. My name was called by Mr. Lotto. With my book safely hidden in by backpack, I headed to the jury box but was challenged again anyway. Grrr.

Back to the holding room. Since there were no more trials beginning today, we were excused until tomorrow and I headed back to school for a few hours. When I told my colleagues about being rejected twice, they recommended that I wear holey jeans and a dirty T shirt saying something sux or maybe a beer ad ... then I might get chosen. Sorry, but I don't have any beer T shirts. I guess I don't have a very good chance of getting chosen either.

The next day, I repeated the process one more time, getting rejected yet again. I was sad. My big introduction to the NZ justice system turned out to be a big flop. I should have known things wouldn't go well when I took the bus to the courthouse on the first day and as I got on, a teenage girl gave up her seat for me. She was sitting in the front seats that are reserved for elderly or disabled. And she gave up her seat. For me.

Good Friday driveway party

2008-03-21T19:04:00.010+13:00

We have great neighbours. And a great neighbourly tradition: Driveway parties. It usually happens when one person is out front doing some yardwork. Then another neighbour will come over and shoot the breeze. Eventually he'll bring a beer out. Soon, a few more neighbours arrive. The beer continues to flow. People arrive with folding camp chairs and before you know it, there are a dozen neighbours settled in the driveway with assorted kids running around. Food starts to appear from various houses and occasionally the BBQ is fired up.

Today, as a driveway party started to materialise, we decided to move to the back yard of the house next door for a farewell. The house next door was on a huge triple lot and it had recently been sold to developers who were splitting it into 3 separate sections and building 2 new houses. We had been sad to see the old neighbours go, and we were even sadder to see the huge grassy play area be eliminated. A farewell to the expanse of land was the perfect excuse for today's party.

We took all our camp chairs and carried heaps of food to the empty yard. Margaret brought yummy salmoncakes in honour of Good Friday. Bruce brought his portable grill. The boys started a cricket game in the grass.
John brought some golf clubs and the testosterone took over as all the men whacked golf balls across the gully. John's 12-year old son was a pretty good golfer, too and even the 4-year-old had a good swing as long as he remembered he was left-handed. Bruce swung so hard that it broke the club and he seemed pretty pleased with himself.

In the middle of this idyllic scene, Brenden leaned over to me to say how grateful he is to have this close-knit neighbourhood group. He grew up in a dodgier neighbourhood, lacking the sense of comfort and comraderie that exudes from our driveway parties. All our neighbours are such good people. Especially Brenden. It brought tears to my eyes.

Dame Kiri's backup singers

2008-02-25T18:39:00.014+13:00

We sang backup for opera diva Dame Kiri TeKanawa this weekend at the Starlight Symphony concert. She's probably best known for singing at Charles and Diana's wedding a few decades ago, and remains an A-list opera soprano even now. Plus she's a dame, which is not a slang term for loose woman as it is in America, but one of those British honorary titles that I don't understand. I'm sure this genuine dame has had far better singers sharing the stage with her during her long career, but I doubt if she's ever had more singers than the 700 of us.

The event is called Starlight Symphony, and it's a free outdoor concert in the park attended by hundreds of thousands of Aucklanders every summer. Besides the Starlight Symphony Mass Choir (that's us), there are a dozen guest stars including young heartthrob/popera singer Will Martin, and this year's home-grown guest of honour, Dame Kiri.

The lady herself attended our rehearsal a few days earlier, and we had all been briefed ahead of time to "be respectful of her privacy." Translation: no pictures. Apparently she can be a bit of a prima dona at times. In fact, she was absolutely lovely and professional with us, thanking us all for participating, speaking in a teeny tiny voice ... but when she sang her voice was anything but teeny tiny! Man, her singing sails above all 700 of ours - without a microphone, mind you. Her only prima dona moment was when she suggested that we needed to turn our pages a bit more quietly. Granted, hundreds of pages being turned simultaneously inside a hot crowded church could be conspicuously noisy. But does she really think it will be an issue outside at the park?

The opera music for this year's Starlight Symphony was quite challenging for me: Toreadors from Carmen, Triumphal March from Aida, and Anvil Chorus from Trovatore. It was all in Italian or French, and seemed to go lickety split. Eventually I resorted to cheating; I skipped all the fast notes. No sixteenth notes. Skipping every other word or syllable probably made me sound like a stuttering Italian, but I blended in with the other 699 of us just fine. Curt, however, soldiered on to successfully sing all the notes as written. That's the kind of guy he is.

Unfortunately, wet weather caused havoc on the Starlight Symphony schedule this year. On Friday evening, we spent five hours at the park in the pouring rain for a dress rehearsal sound check. The stage where the orchestra and the guest stars performed was covered, but we in the choir were exposed to the elements. In spite of flimsy rain ponchos being distributed and an army of umbrellas, we were drenched to the bone. Even worse, our music was soggy and starting to disintegrate. At least that provided a better excuse for why I'm only singing half the notes. The rain also caused a postponement on Saturday's scheduled performance, but it finally went ahead on Sunday instead. The clouds started to spit a few times, but at least it never developed into full fledged rain so we were grateful. In the end, the whole show turned out impressively, but my highlight was definitely singing the Maori ballad, Hine e Hine, with Kiri. It gave me shivers. How many people can say they sang backup for a dame?

Sir Ed and me

2008-01-21T11:52:00.005+13:00

Sir Edmund Hillary has died.
In this small country, where there seems to be 3 degrees of separation instead of 6, everyone has a connection to Sir Ed, as he is affectionately called. Here are mine:
• I can't claim to have ever met him, but he lived about 2 miles away and I drive by his house every day on my way to work, if that counts.
• His casket was driven to the cemetery at the end of my street.
• His wife was an Old Girl (alumni) of my school, and their daughter attended my school until age 16 when both perished in a plane crash in Nepal on a visit to see Ed. That was 30 years ago. There is still a Nepalese painting hanging in the school library, donated in honour of Louise and Belinda Hillary.
• My next-door neighbour was acquainted with Sir Ed and more specifically his (second) wife, June: June's sister worked for my neighbour, so they would all get together for a BBQ or whatever. Imagine, Sir Ed has been next door for a sausage sizzle.

Besides admitting to having only the slightest connection between Sir Ed and me, I can also admit to a dearth of similarities between Sir Ed and me.
Ed climbed Mt. Everest, the highest mountain in the world.

I climbed Rangitoto, a volcanic island in Auckland's harbour.

After conquering Everest, he said "We knocked the bastard off"
After huffing and puffing to the top of Rangitoto, I said "Who's idea was this?"

It must have taken Ed days/weeks/months to

travel by ship to India, then over land to Nepal, then walked to Base Camp, Camp 1, etc. until he got to the top.

I had a pleasurable forty-five minute ferry ride from Auckland, and hiked for a few hours.

Ed wore crampons on his boots.

I wore Teva sandals.

The temperature was below zero when Ed climbed Mt. Everest.

It was about 15ºC/60ºF when I hiked Rangitoto.

During his climb, Ed probably said encouraging things like, "Keep going, we can do it!"

During my hike I complained and belly-ached and said things like, "I'm too old for this!"

Ed was 33.

I was 50.

Ed had trouble breathing because of the altitude.

I had trouble breathing because I was out of shape.

From the top of Everest, Ed had a view of everything on Earth.

From the top of Rangitoto, I had a gorgeous view of Auckland and the Hauraki Gulf.

Back at Camp 4, Ed and Tenzig probably had a cuppa tea.

On Rangitoto, I drank bottled water. It was ice cold, and very refreshing.

Afterwards, part of the mountain was named after him: the Hillary Step.

I got nothing.

Here's what I like about Sir Ed: It's not that he was the first to reach the top of Mt. Everest, or raced to the South Pole, or gave all his money to the needy in Nepal. No, it's that he went to palaces and mansions, met royalty and millionaires and - as he described it - never saw much to envy, let alone emulate. I like that he's called Sir Ed. Most of all, I am impressed that his name is listed in the phone book under "Hillary, Sir Edmund." That says everything about him and about this country.

Joan's account of our visit to Waiheke Island

2008-01-13T14:33:00.000+13:00

On Saturday, Jan 12th the three of us took the walk-on ferry (35 minutes) to Waiheke Island. Waiheke is full of “baches”, the New Zealand name for a summer cottage. Like Europeans, Kiwis love their ‘holidays’ and either spend it traveling or going to the family bach at the seashore. If your family doesn't own a bach, at least you can rent for a few weeks. Since we didn’t know anyone we could mooch on we spent the day driving around (Curt rented a car for the day), getting lost a couple of times (called ‘an adventure’) or just being mesmerized by the sound and scene of the waves.

First, we headed for the Saturday Market and just wandered around. Curt found a sausage sandwich and I had my first meat pie. We then aimed for an olive grove where we thought we might have a tour. Since we only ‘aimed’ for the olive orchard we took a wrong turn and ended up at a beautiful beach, Onetangi Harbor. It was about a mile long, white sand, no surfing waves, and beautiful aqua water. Eventually we found our way back to the olive farm where there wasn’t much of a tour until we started asking questions. They had lots of very expensive olive oil for sale and an excellent herb spread, similar to pesto but with no basil or garlic. In a back room where the vats were kept we discovered an incredible chess set carved out of olive wood (I guess), and a dog that looked like Roxie. The chess set was about 8’x8’ with great expressions carved on the pieces. After the Olive farm’ we went back to Onetangi beach where Megan and Curt took a walk along the sand while I sandbagged in the car. Waiheke Island has at least a dozen public beaches like this so it wasn’t crowded.

After an ice cream bar we headed for one of the many wineries and some wine tasting. Curt looked for appropriate place to sketch but nothing took his eye. While Megan and Curt strolled among the gardens, I talked with a couple from Denver who had recently moved to the South Island and were on holiday with her mother who was visiting from Boulder. Small world. We drove around some more through quaint villages, stopped at more beaches, (Curt took a nap on one) and caught the ferry home.

Waiheke Island is probably about 25 miles long and advertises itself as “1000 views and 100 beaches”. Only the west end is much developed, there is also a car ferry, and since it’s only 35 minutes from downtown Auckland, it’s not hard to live there and commute to work or school in the city. What a life!

Christmas: Home Alone

2007-12-28T16:35:00.000+13:00

During the holidays this year, I found that I wasn't feeling as melancholy as last year. I knew my mom was arriving in one week, I'd just spent 2 weeks in the US with all the family in November, and Carlin and Kristen had been here for 2 weeks. So I wasn't pining for my family too much, and our holidays turned out to be quite enjoyable:

On Christmas Eve, it was so hot that we eventually decided to go to the neighbourhood beach for a picnic. We lolled on our beach blanket, read books, and ate dinner. There weren't too many people there. The sun was shining, but there was a breeze off the water. It was perfect. Still, it seems surreal to say that we were at the beach on Christmas Eve!

On Christmas Day, we went to church and sang in the choir. The children's sermon was called Chocolate Christmas! This is my kind of church. Our friends at church made sure we had someplace to go for Christmas dinner (we did) and wished us a happy holiday.

At home, Curt and I opened presents. He got me an iPod, which I'd fancied so I could listen to music while I run on the treadmill at school every day after work. The other students in the gym often have a boombox blaring, but let's face it, I'm too old to want to listen to rap or whatever they've chosen. I'm also so old that I spent the rest of the day trying to figure out how to use the darn contraption. It didn't help that the only directions that came in the box were in Chinese. No English. On the plus side, there were a few helpful diagrams ... with Chinese captions. Good Lord. (eventually I found some English instructions on Apple's website)

My present to Curt was a new patio umbrella because ours was broken in 2 places. He spends a LOT of hours on the deck and I thought he should have a better umbrella, but he didn't seem to think there was anything wrong with the current one even though ...
1) The up and down mechanism broke soon after we bought it, and it had to be held in the up position with an army of hose clamps. Hence, it always stayed up.
2) Then there was a windstorm (remember, it was eternally open, so it caught the wind like a sail) which caused it to shear off at the table height. Curt's solution for this was to scour the neighbourhood on the day of the annual Inorganic Rubbish Pick-Up (people can put out old sofas, broken washing machines and piles of junk to be taken to the rubbish tip) until he found a silver pipe that was just the right diameter. It looked like it had been a shower curtain rod in its former life. He attached the ex-shower curtain rod to the what was left of the umbrella pole, and voila! Just like new.
Clearly, Curt has embraced the Kiwi mentality that anything can be fixed with a bit of ingenuity and some Number 8 Wire.
Note: in early January, the old umbrella broke a third time, so he relented and started using his new one instead.

After opening presents - there were only two presents so it didn't take very long - we went to my friend Lucy's house for Christmas dinner. She had graciously invited us to her family gathering, which included her husband and two kids, her mum, her in-laws, and a brother-in-law with his family. We arrived in time for the tail end of family gift exchange, and Lucy's two children proceeded to show me all the terrific presents they'd received.

I also accompanied her two kids as they played Christmas carols on piano, appointing myself in charge of the left hand/bass part. Best of all, Lucy and I played some flute duets. We had only recently discovered that we both played flute and both bemoaned the lack of opportunities to play, so we'd decided that a family Christmas gathering would be the perfect excuse to inflict our mediocre musicianship on others. Luckily, the audience was filled with holiday spirit and generously tolerant of us.

Although the good times and good conversation meant more to me than good food, I must affirm that there were indeed heaps of good food. Lucy's a wonderful cook and an elegant hostess - a Kiwi Martha Stewart. There were 6 dishes and 4 desserts, all exquisitely prepared and presented. I especially feasted on the shortbread cookie sandwiches with strawberries and cream in the middle. Heavenly.

We felt privileged to be included in their family Christmas, and it was the ideal way to celebrate the holiday thanks to Lucy, Grant, Emma, Liam, Oma, and all the Powells.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

POSTSCRIPT:
Because of the International Date Line, my four sons wouldn't be celebrating Christmas in America until the next day. So on December 26 (Auckland time), I called the boys. Boone was the only one at the designated Christmas headquarters (Grandma's house) and he was a bit under the weather, so he was not very talkative. Apparently, he'd had a cold for a few days, but went there for Christmas dinner anyway. After chatting with Boone, I got to talk to my brother a little, too. But I found that I wasn't as stoic as I'd felt yesterday. I was on the verge of tears. Next, I tried calling Nolan (who had already come and gone from Grandma's) but he didn't answer. I tried calling Austin (who was celebrating Christmas in Missouri with Jonna's family) but he didn't answer either. I tried calling Carlin (who was celebrating Christmas in Phoenix with Kristen's family) ... no answer. I left messages. Then I went ahead and cried. Just for a minute.
Remember what I said about not pining for my family? I lied.

Christmas Letter 2007

2007-12-28T08:33:00.000+13:00

December 2007

Merry Christmas once again from New Zealand. We’ve been here for 2 years now, and continue to be energized by the experience of living overseas. Often, a highlight for me involves learning a new word (skive: to sneak away for the weekend), new pronunciation (zebra = ZEBB-ra), new custom (US graduation ceremony vs. NZ prizegiving ceremony), or new saying (we haven’t seen you in donkey’s years). We’ve got good jobs, a nice house, great friends, and we’re living on an island in the South Pacific. It’s not a bad life. The only thing missing is having family nearby, but as you will see below, we were fortunate to have experienced plenty of highlights with family this year.

First Highlight of 2007: spending a week in Sydney last January, including being there for New Years Eve fireworks over the iconic Harbour Bridge and Opera House, a memorable event in a magnificent setting. In September, we also went to Melbourne to celebrate Curt’s birthday. (One of the benefits of moving to the opposite hemisphere is the opportunity to explore a different quadrant of the world, and we’re certainly trying to take advantage of that whenever we can!)

Lowlight/Highlight: A week after our return from Sydney, my dad died which was not unexpected, but difficult nonetheless. I flew back to Bellingham to spend time with my family, and Curt was able to arrive later for the memorial service. During our visit, there were lots of tears and lots of laughter, wonderful food and wonderful music. My favorite part was having sleepovers with each of the boys – talking through the night, reminiscing, and crying. I was especially grateful to be able to spend time with my two brothers (see photo) and my mom, who has just the right balance of inner strength, yet welcomes comfort and support. Even though a death in the family is painful, it’s still a highlight being surrounded by those who know you best and love you anyway.

Mini-highlight: On the way home from the US to NZ, we stopped in Fiji for three days for some rest and relaxation. There had been a military coup a few months earlier, so tourism had declined and we were the only guests at the hotel. (Don’t worry, a Fiji-style coup is pretty laid back) Anyway, we had the beach and the pool to ourselves. It was the perfect way to recover from an emotional and busy month.

Higher-light (and a not-so-highlight): In March, Nolan and his girlfriend Erica came to visit us for two months in New Zealand, after graduating from college (he in philosophy and French; she in environmental science). We showed them around our fair city, and even celebrated my 50th birthday while they were here with a big party. In addition, they traveled around on their own for part of the time, including volunteering at a kiwi bird conservation site for a week. We also spent a few weeks together traveling around the South Island where we swam with the dolphins which was exciting, although I managed to get seasick on the boat. That part was not one of my highlights.

Higher-er-light: In November, we went to Phoenix for Carlin & Kristen’s wedding. Kristen had bravely met the ENTIRE family at my dad’s memorial in January, so we already knew her and loved her and are pleased to welcome her into our crazy family. I’ve needed a daughter for 27 years and am thrilled to finally have a daughter-in-law! Besides, her name fits perfectly with our Curtin/Megan/Austin/Nolan/Carlin/Byron naming pattern. It must have been destiny.

In Phoenix, we reveled in all the wedding excitement with the extended family. Carlin had selected all three of his brothers to be his Best Men, and they were strikingly handsome in their tuxedos. This was my first experience as mother of the groom and I was gushy (of course), emotional (naturally), and cried (obviously) at the wedding. Perhaps I will get better at it with practice.

Grand Highlight: After the wedding, Austin & his girlfriend Jonna, Nolan & Erica, and Boone joined us for a grand road trip to the Grand Canyon. (Carlin and Kristen were on their honeymoon) Curt and I had lived in America for five decades, and had never been to the Grand Canyon, and all I can say is: Wow! Besides being amazed at the grandness of it all, we had a grand time hanging out together.

Higher-est-light: We arrived back in New Zealand just in time for Carlin and Kristen’s arrival. Yes, after spending a week of their honeymoon in Fiji, they spent the next two weeks with us in NZ. We tried to pack in as much sightseeing as we could: Kristen and I especially liked feeding the chubby lambs at Sheepworld. Carlin and Curt learned how to dance part of the Maori war dance called the haka (they tried to look appropriately ferocious). We feel fortunate that we had this precious time with the newlyweds, generating memories together.

Everyday highlights: Besides all the traveling and special occasions, we treasure our daily life in New Zealand. Curt still likes being a dam engineer and his company is starting to realize how lucky they are to have him. I adore working as a librarian, but have also started teaching again. I had one English class last term, and will have three more in 2008, which suits me just fine. My friends at work are particularly good at patiently educating me in unfamiliar Kiwi-isms. Our church friends have been very good to us, too, and we especially enjoy singing in the choir. We’ve also had the opportunity to sing with a few additional groups, such as accompanying a symphony concert, and participating in an outdoor festival mega-choir of 350 voices. On a frivolous note, I was tickled to meet the Prime Minister in April at a war memorial service at which our choir performed. It’s reassuringly quaint that New Zealand is the kind of country where you can cross paths with the leader of the nation, and strike up a conversation while her two (!) security men hover inoffensively nearby.

Overall family highlights: Boone, 22 (#4) is now living in Bellingham, starting a new job as the youth leader at church, a natural progression after all those years of church camp. Carlin, 24 (#3) and Kristen both graduated from college in May, and are embarking on new careers – he as a valet manager at a fancy resort in Phoenix, she as an elementary teacher. Nolan, 25 (#2) and Erica are also in Bellingham, working at jobs they are passionate about. Austin, 27 (#1) and Jonna are in Bellingham too, going to school, working, and enjoying their life together. They all spend lots of time at Grandma’s house, where they get gourmet home-cooked food and the chance to visit my brother and his family who now live there with my mom. Happily, I will also get the chance to spend time with my mom in January, when she arrives in New Zealand to spend six weeks with us.

As you can see, everyone is well-settled in their lives, including us. As I look back on 2007, I can’t help but feel extraordinarily privileged that we’ve had so many incredible highlights in our life. For you in 2008, we hope your lowlights will be minor, and your highlights will be many.

Megan & Curt Davidson

Prizegiving vs. Graduation

2007-12-27T20:11:00.000+13:00

I went to my first prizegiving ceremony at Diocesan. It was the end of the school year and 200 of our Year 13 girls had completed their secondary studies. In American tradition, there would be a ceremony marking this occasion, called Graduation. But In New Zealand, there is no such ceremony for secondary schools. Instead, there is Prizegiving.

The basic purpose of Prizegiving is to announce all the students who had won scholarships or awards of any sort. At Diocesan's Prizegiving, girls who achieved 95% or above in all their classes earned awards, as well as 90% awards and 85% awards. Usually, they received certificates, but sometimes there was a gift included with the more specialised awards like Best Art Student. Actually, those specialised awards were not called Best Art Student - they were called The (insert wealthy family's name here) Memorial Cup for Excellence in Art, funded by an endowment from a Dio donor.

The most alien part to me was that in NZ, there was no recognition for every Year 13 girl who had completed her studies. In contrast, during an American graduation ceremony (see photo on the left), the principal would read all 200 names one by one, and each student would come up to the stage to receive their diploma and a handshake. In the U.S., winning a university scholarship or a prize for the best science project would be announced in the school newspaper, or maybe the local newspaper, but not at the graduation ceremony.

On this day at Diocesan's Prizegiving, all the teachers processed into the gym, wearing gowns and collars signifying their degrees. We wore full academic regalia, including different colour hoods or collars to represent different departments (minus the mortarboard hats). But the graduating Kiwi students did not wear gowns, unlike the U.S. where the students would've been the ones parading in, wearing gowns and mortarboards with tassels.

At Diocesan, like every NZ college (=high school), the most anticipated moment is finding out which girl has been named Dux, the top scholar of the school. There is also a second-place title, called Proxime Accessit. In America, the top scholar would be called Valedictorian, but she would know ahead of time that she won, and she would have to give a speech at the graduation ceremony.

Besides prizes for the Y13 girls, there are even prizes awarded to the Year 12 and Year 11 girls. While their prizes are not university scholarships, they were awarded things like 95%, etc., and also a few specialised subject awards.

Diocesan's prizegiving was held during the school day, so every student from Y11, 12 and 13 attended in uniform. whereas American graduation ceremonies are usually held in the evening or on the weekend, so the younger students' attendance is not compulsory.

There are some similarities, however.
• In both countries, there are "inspirational" speeches about how you have your whole future ahead of you, yadda, yadda, yadda.
• Both countries play Pomp and Circumstance during the processional.
• Both versions are held in large venues with lots of parents present, taking lots of pictures.

In America, graduating from high school is an important rite of passage; it's seen as the beginning of one's adult life. On the other hand, in NZ - since some students leave school at age 16 with a Level 1 certificate, others leave at 17 with Level 2, and the final group leaves at age 18 with Level 3 - being 18 and finishing a Level 3 certificate isn't the same benchmark in life that it is in the US.

American teenagers also look forward to a big graduation party after the graduation ceremony. This is usually sponsored by a parent organisation and may involve going to a few different activities (like disco/go karts/video arcade) lasting all night. In theory, the parent group ensures that it is an alcohol-free event, but in reality some may get smuggled in. There did not seem to be a similar all-school party after Dioesan's Prizegiving - it was 3:00 p.m, after all.

I can't really say if either system is better than the other. At first, I felt a little sorry for the Y13 girls because they didn't have a special ceremony marking their completion. But they have other traditions instead: a Leaver's Dinner and a formal Ball (to which their parents were invited!), and they seem to be content with that.

One other similarity I found - both Graduations and Prizegivings are basically pretty boring to sit through.

Act III : Finale

2007-12-26T10:54:00.000+13:00

On Sunday, Carlin and Kristen came to church with us and he played viola for 2 songs - one with the choir and one with just the organist. The choir muddled through their parts due to lack of practice, but the viola part sounded lovely and everybody appreciated him.

After Curt made French Toast (Kristen's favourite) for brunch, we went to the Viva Voce concert, a 24-voice a cappella choir conducted by a man from our church. Curt has sung with this group a few times, whenever they need some extra basses and we always enjoy their performances. This time, their concert was being held at St. Matthew-in-the-city, an elaborate stone cathedral with gorgeous acoustics. The setting was beautiful and the music was exquisite, as always.

When we got home, Carlin and Kristen helped put up the Christmas tree and decorate it. Carlin got to explain to Kristen the story behind the ornaments, and tell her various tales of Christmases over the years. Carlin also read his favourite Christmas picture book to Kristen, "Red Ranger Came Calling," about a boy who asked Santa for a Buck Tweed Two-Speed Crime-Stopper Star-Hopper bike, but instead of a Tweed bike, he got a treed bike. The story ends with a photograph of an actual treed bike - a bike stuck in a tree 50 years ago on Vashon Island in Washington State, and the tree trunk has grown around it - the inspiration for the book. Red Ranger is only one of the many Christmas picture books our family has collected over the years. The other favourite is "The Poky Little Puppy's First Christmas," especially when Austin would read it aloud, using silly voices. Ah, Christmas time. It can evoke such strong memories.

This year, it was only December 2 when we put up the tree, but since we wouldn't have any family here on December 25, we decided to have our little Christmas celebration a bit early. So I got out the Christmas dishes and the Christmas tablecloth and everything. We lit the advent candles and Carlin said a blessing before we ate which (of course) made me cry because they were going to have to leave the next day. After dinner, we opened our presents from each other and they had found us a perfect lawn ornament of a pukeko whom I have since named Nigel. I love pukekos because they have huge feet and walk like they're wearing clown shoes, which I find positively endearing.

Their last day in NZ was a Monday so Curt and I had to go back to work, while Carlin and Kristen stayed home for a quiet, relaxing time (no sightseeing) and tried to fit everything back into their suitcases. Carlin surprised me by showing up at work for morning tea one last time, which made me cry (of course). What a sweetie. Later that afternoon, Curt and I took Carlin and Kristen to the airport where I finally had to say good bye, and yes, I cried.

Besides being able to spend this time with Carlin, it was especially good for me to share the last 2 weeks with my new daughter-in-law (whom I barely knew before the wedding) because now we had a stronger bond, shared memories, and connections. I never had any reservations about Carlin's choice as his bride because my boys have always had good taste in women and I've always loved their girlfriends. But after having spent some time with them, I'm even more convinced that he picked the right person. Welcome to the family, Kristen!

Act II, Scene 3: citybound and southbound

2007-12-25T15:55:00.000+13:00

CITYBOUND:
On Thursday, I took Carlin and Kristen to the aquarium, called Kelly Tarlton's. First, we got to see a scuba diver hand feeding the fish in Underwater World. She was getting mobbed by all the fish and turtles, and I'm sure it made her feel quite popular. There was also a Stingray Encounter with a diver feeding the huge stingrays as they moved elegantly through the water. Their wingspan was about 6 feet! But our favourite part was the penguins. We rode the little snow vehicle through the penguin exhibit 3 times, watching them swim and dive and twirl in the water. There were even baby penguins recently hatched, all fluffy and cute, and you could see them hiding under their parent, occasionally sticking out a webbed foot or a grey head. Strangely, there were about 100 girls from my school there, on a class trip with their science teachers. It seems I can't escape school even when I'm not there.

On Friday, I went to the Auckland Zoo with Carlin and Kristen ... and about 100 students from my school. Yes, there was another class trip courtesy of the science department. Yesterday, the Year 9 girls went to the aquarium, and today the Year 8 girls went to the zoo. What are the odds? Mostly, I tried to be incognito, either wearing sunglasses or hiding under an umbrella, depending on the weather at the moment. But at each place, a few girls noticed me "Look, there's the libarry lady!" or "Hey, isn't that the libarrian?" (What I want to know is: why can't they pronounce library correctly?)

Besides girls in Diocesan school uniforms, there were plenty of exotic animals at the zoo. Seals played and wrestled while sea lions whooshed through the water. The kangaroos were disappointingly lazy, but the emu came right up to us. A mama spider monkey clung onto her baby while scolding a mischievous teenage monkey who wouldn't obey. A peacock was showing off his feathers. Carlin especially like Janie, the last of the Tea Party gorillas. Apparently, back in the 1950s, the zoo used to dress up 4 gorillas in frilly dresses and they would have a tea party for the crowd. Janie is the last one alive, and she is pretty old but still entertaining as she searches for her food, hidden in various containers around her enclosure. We also saw rhinos and hippos and lions and tigers and cheetahs. Sadly, we never were able to locate the (nocturnal) kiwi bird in its dark exhibit. We learned two new Scrabble words while we were there, but I've forgotten one of them already: spronk is what the springboks do when they jump straight up in the air as if their legs were pogo sticks. And the other new word was ???

After the zoo, we went to Newmarket for lunch where - you guessed it - I saw 2 more Diocesan students and one Diocesan teacher. I think they're tailing me. Or stalking me.

Next, I dragged Carlin and Kristen to the Auckland Museum for a short visit. I really wanted them to experience the volcano exhibit, where you sit in a living room and watch a volcano erupt a few hundred metres offshore from Mission Bay. We also briefly walked through the Maori and Pacific Island exhibits, marvelling at the giant waka and the ornate marae. After seeing a few bugs (wetas) and birds (giant moa), we were exhausted. It had been a long day. I wouldn't recommend going to the zoo AND the museum in the same day. On the plus side, I didn't see a single Diocesan student while at the museum. Whew.

SOUTHBOUND:
Once we arrived home at about 4:00, we immediately started packing for a road trip to Rotorua. Unfortunately, the traffic did not cooperate and we didn't arrive in Rotorua until 9:30. During the drive, Kristen and Carlin played Scrabble in the back seat until Kristen started getting carsick, so she and I switched places and I took over her Scrabble game. I lost badly, but kept everyone entertained which was my real objective. Even Kristen forgot about feeling icky and laughed a few times.

Along the way, we stopped for coffee at a little place in the middle of nowhere and saw the most curious mail boxes. Apparently, this cafe served as the local post office, and each local resident had a post box. This in itself doesn't seem overly curious until you look closely at their numbering system. It went
like this: 1 2 3 4 5 35 38 42 44 43 11 12 31 14 15 16 17 18 19 20. Hmmm. To add further confusion, there was a small piece of tape on box #43 that said 10. We debated the possible origin of their numbering system while drinking our coffee and, unable to come up with any reasonable explanation, moved on.

The next morning in Rotorua, we went to Te Puia, a Maori cultural centre and geothermal site. Curt and I had been there once before, a few weeks after we landed in NZ, almost two years ago. The Maori performance was still the best part - I volunteered to do the hongi with the welcomer lady because I was the only tourist who knew what a hongi was (it's a nose-to-nose greeting). The guy doing the fierce welcome this time wasn't as fierce as the last time we were here. But the dancing and singing was great. They even invited ladies from the audience up to the stage to learn bits of the poi dance, so Kristen and I volunteered to make fools of ourselves. We twirled little white balls on their strings and tried to remember out steps at the same time, not entirely successfully. Then they invited men on to the stage to learn the haka, and Curt and Carlin gave it a go. Curt tried to be especially ferocious. After the Maori performance, we went to see the bubbling mud and the geysers. Carlin was happy when the geyser finally erupted.

Before leaving Rotorua, we had a picnic lunch at the lakefront, and walked over to an amazing church decorated with Maori carvings all over the walls and the altar and the pews. In the courtyard outside the church, we could also feel the thermal energy below our feet pushing up the pavement and discolouring the concrete.

On the way home to Auckland from Rotorua, we stopped at Hamilton Gardens and saw 4 weddings going on there! It's a popular location, obviously, for wedding pictures. Carlin and Kristen liked the Italian Garden best while I liked the Herb Garden, and Curt liked the Sustainable Garden with heaps of cool ideas.

For the last hour in the car, we played word games like G-H-O-S-T and I kept them entertained again. I kept trying to use the letter Z just because I like saying zed. We finally got home at about 8:00, and stayed up even later playing Taboo next. I haven't played Taboo in 10 years probably but I was always really good at it which infuriated Curt, who was never very good at it. That explains why we haven't played in 10 years, I guess. I have this theory that women are better at Taboo because they have more connectors in their brains from the right side to the left side. They are able to think more creatively while men tend to think linearly. In Taboo, thinking linearly is clearly a disadvantage. We played the women against the men. Need I tell you who won?

Lastly, we looked at photo albums. I had spent 6 weeks compiling 10 years' worth of memories and I needed to show them to someone so Carlin and Kristen were the lucky winners. They were good sports about it. Plus, Memory Lane is a fun place to be.

Well. It had been a busy week and an even busier weekend. But their time with us in NZ was almost over, for they were flying home to America in just 2 short days.

Act II, Scene 2: northbound

2007-12-24T12:51:00.000+13:00

SATURDAY -
Decisions:
1. We decided to head north this weekend, to an area called Bay of Islands.
2. It decided to rain all day.
3. Kristen and I decided we wanted to stop at Sheep World, a tourist place just outside Auckland where you can watch them shear sheep, etc. Curt and Carlin weren't nearly as enamoured with chubby sheep as Kristen and I were, but they agreed to come along anyway. Besides the sheep shearing demonstration, we got to pet the sheep, feed them pellets and feed milk bottles to the lambs. They guy giving the show was admittedly corny, but we (Kristen and I) loved it anyway. The place also had talented sheep dogs who demonstrated their skill. In addition, they had goats, donkeys, rabbits, ducks, alpacas and even deer. While living in Bellingham, we used to see deer in our yard once or twice a year, but we were never able to pet them. Here, Carlin finally got to feel its velvety head. The only bad part about our visit to Sheep World was that it decided to rain the whole time (see #2 above).

We got back in the car to drive for a few hours, then decided to stop at the famous toilets in Kawakawa. Yes, they have the most famous toilets in the world (so they say). It was designed by Hundertwasser, an Austrian artist who lived in New Zealand for his last 30 years, and he designed these public toilets for his tiny little town. It's colourfully spectacular, with a grass roof, ceramic mosaic tiles, cobblestone flooring and a (live) tree. Kawakawa's toilets were a perfect potty stop.

We arrived in Paihia in the Bay of Islands a few hours later and spent some time wandering through the town, looking at souvenir shops and hoping to find a wool sweater for Carlin (we'd bought Nolan a wool sweater while he was here, so Carlin wanted one too). Ate traditional Kiwi fish & chips for dinner and played Scrabble in the hotel room. I can't remember for sure, but I'd guess that Curt won.

SUNDAY - Curt made French toast for breakfast before Carlin and Kristen went on their dolphin cruise. We'd been swimming with the dolphins with Nolan & Erica but if you recall, I had been seasick on the dolphin boat and therefore not very keen for a repeat performance. We sent them on the boat without us. They got to see dolphins playing and romping, but regrettably they weren't allowed to swim with them because there were baby dolphins present, and conservation laws prohibit people being in the water with the babies. Still, it was an exciting experience for them. Meanwhile, Curt and I went to see Haruru Falls, read the paper, and I took a L-O-N-G nap, getting sunburned in the process.

We packed up and left Paihia, heading back to Auckland. After a few hours' drive, we stopped at a deserted beach for a brief pit stop but ended up staying 3 hours! It was so vast and blue and pristine and perfect that we decided to change into our togs (swimsuits). I ran down the beach, went in the ocean and got knocked down by the waves a few times, feeling about ten years old. Carlin laughed at me. Curt walked along the sand, collecting shells to embellish his elaborate sand castle masterpiece. Except for a bit more sunburn, it was truly idyllic - peaceful, sunny and golden. Aaahh. The only strange thing that marred our enjoyment a tiny bit was an old man riding a quad bike up and down the beach ... naked. We couldn't really figure out if he was patrolling the beach, or if he just like riding around naked. A strange incident, in an otherwise great weekend.

On Monday, Curt and I regrettably had to go back to work, and Carlin & Kristen excitedly headed to a bach (vacation home) on the Coromandel peninsula, generously loaned by our neighbours. They would get a few well-deserved days to themselves (they were on their honeymoon, after all).

Act II, Scene 1: The newlyweds arrive

2007-12-20T20:39:00.000+13:00

MONDAY - Carlin & Kristen arrived to spend the next 2 weeks with us. On their first night in NZ, we took them for a drive to the neighbourhood beach and on the way back, I gave Carlin his first driving lesson for driving on the left. It always sounds scarier than it is; people usually get the hang of it within a few days. He did fine.

TUESDAY - Curt and I had to go to work today so we sent the intrepid travellers off to explore Auckland on their own. They even put gas in my car and did the grocery shopping! I think I'm going to like having them around.

That evening, we took them to One Tree Hill for a great view of Auckland from sea to sea. New Zealand is so narrow at this spot that you can see both east and west coasts. Kristen especially liked the sheep who eat the grass on One Tree Hill (instead of using lawnmowers). We stopped at a fence and tried to entice a sheep near us, but it wasn't interested.

Back at the house, they played Scrabble while I marked papers. Curt won the Scrabble game, of course. Poor Kristen didn't realise she was marrying into a ruthless Scrabble family.

WEDNESDAY - Carlin & Kristen came to my school today for morning teatime to meet my colleagues. Then they went to Newmarket to shop (it's the ritzy shopping area), and finally they met Curt for a picnic lunch. He took them to Winter Garden, a beautiful setting in the the huge domain (park) near his office.

I've been feeling a little lost at work concerning my English class, not knowing what they did while I was gone, or what I'm supposed to be teaching them now that I'm back. Since I only teach one class, I'm often out of the loop. Well today, I got a bombshell. The head of the English Dept came to the library to see me and asked how I was doing. "You do know that reports (report cards) are due tomorrow morning, don't you?" What? I had no idea. Somehow, I thought Dec 6 was the due date for reports. Oh my. I started entering scores right away, but knew it would take me HOURS.

On top of that, I got a call from the HR guy at my school. I had applied for a job as a Social Studies teacher on Monday, and they wanted to interview me. This was good news ... but the interview was the following day, and I had to prepare a sample lesson plan. It looked like I was going to be up all night.

I would've preferred to skip choir practice and work on my reports, but Carlin was coming to practice a song with the choir so I felt I should be there. I was the one who got him roped into this in the first place. The poor guy. His own mother had talked him into performing with the choir on viola while he was here on his honeymoon. I am shameless. In my defence, I was imagining a simple hymn where he could just pick out a nice harmony line, but our director chose a longer and far more complicated song which Carlin would have to practice. (The choir was going to need lots of practice, too) At least Carlin and Kristen got to meet some of the choir folk who have been so good to us, and they were all pleased to hear him play.

Back at the house, I was madly writing reports while Carlin and Kristen played a "friendly game" of Scrabble (read: not always friendly). Eventually, everyone went to bed except me. I stayed up till 1:00 a.m. finishing stupid reports, and preparing for my job interview the next day. At least I wouldn't have to go to work the following day. I was taking it off because it was American Thanksgiving. I'd been hoping to do some sightseeing with Carlin and Kristen, but instead I would be going to a job interview ... and shopping and cooking Thanksgiving dinner.

THURSDAY (THANKSGIVING) -
Prepared a few dishes for the Thanksgiving feast that morning before I went to the job interview at 11:00. It seemed to go pretty well. I think it was more than a courtesy interview, at least. They were impressed with the student work samples I brought, including the packet of instructions all laid out for the kids - timeline, grading rubric, parent signature, etc. They liked my IT skills, too. Fingers crossed.

On the way home, I stopped at the grocery store for more turkey day supplies, but still couldn't find pumpkin pie or Durkee's French Fried Onion Rings, a necessary ingredient for the traditional Green Bean Casserole (Carlin's favourite). Eventually found a recipe to make my own french fried onion rings which was amazingly easy! As for pumpkin pie ... I decided to skip it. I don't even like pumpkin pie so I wasn't inclined to make one from scratch. Sent Carlin and Kristen to the store to buy an alternative dessert. They wisely chose something chocolate.

Made the usual turkey, stuffing, etc. but added a bit of Kiwi culture by using kumara as the sweet potato dish. When Curt got home, he started the tates and gravy. Mmmm. My favourite part. Kristen and Carlin put extra leaves in the dining room table, for we had invited our neighbours over for an authentic American Thanksgiving.

Our neighbours, Bruce and Annette and their two boys Sam (8) and Nick (6) arrived in time for some traditional pre-dinner Thanksgiving colouring: Carlin taught the boys how to make an outline of their hand and turn it into a turkey. They were suitably impressed and created some masterpieces of their own. Sam was also impressed when Carlin played a few songs on the piano for him. Sam had recently started taking piano lessons, and it was fun for him to see how years of practice could pay off. He even fetched some of his music and played for us. Sam and Nick also kept busy playing with our giant tub of Legos. It was nice to see that little boys of this generation are still enthralled with Legos, like my boys were. We explained the background of the Thanksgiving holiday to everyone, how the Pilgrims would've all starved to death their first year without help from the Indians, etc. And of course, we ate too much. But it sure was good.

After dinner, we all needed to go for a walk and burn off some of those calories, so Bruce and Annette grabbed their dog and we all went to a nearby parkland. Carlin threw the tennis ball for the dog, a golden retriever who reminded us of Duffy, the dog he'd grown up with. The little boys chased each other and ran off steam, while the adults enjoyed the conversation and the serene setting. It was a perfect way to end a lovely day.

Last year, we didn't do anything on Thanksgiving; it was just another day at work for us. So this year it was nice to have Carlin and Kristen here, and it was a prefect excuse to put on a big Thanksgiving dinner. And inviting our friends to be a part of our American holiday made it even more special.

FRIDAY - Went to work at 7:30 and got a call from the HR guy at 8:00 offerring me the Social Studies job! The Humanities Dept loved me, apparently. I was applying for a part-time position, but they wanted to know if I would take the full-time position instead. I had been hoping to teach part-time and still work in the library part-time, but had recently found out that I wouldn't be allowed to, unfortunately. After agonising indecision, I eventually decided to teach part-time: 4 classes of Social Studies and 1 class of English. But no more library, which was sad. Initially, I was a little angry that I wasn't allowed to stay in the library part-time, but I had to remind myself of all the recent whistleblower drama I had been caught up in. I was being given an opportunity to get away from that craziness and into a higher-paying job. I should be happy! Plus it felt so good that someone wanted me.

Meanwhile, back to reality: It was getting close to the end of the school year and there were lots of special events around the school. Somehow, an English teacher forgot to come teach her class in the library 6th period. Her girls were all there, but there was no teacher. Yikes. Barbara and I did our best to manage the orphan class and run the library simultaneously. In addition, our library boss had been home sick most of the week and was not at school to teach her class, also 6th period. Unfortunately, she forgot to tell the appropriate person to secure a reliever (substitute teacher). About 20 minutes into the period, we got a frantic call at the library. Where was the Library Manager who was supposed to be teaching her class? Do we know what her class was meant to be doing? Where is the video they should be watching? So I hustled the video up to the classroom, only to find absolute pandemonium: One girl had covered her face with stickers (and couldn't see) and had two pairs of pink knickers on her head. Yes, underpants. The rest of the class was - as you can imagine - out of control. Good Lord. I removed the knicker-headed girl from the room, did my best I'm-really-mad-and-I-mean-it voice to settle the class, and turned on the movie, Romeo and Juliet. At least the knickers were clean.

At home that night I had heaps to report : the job offer, 2 unattended classes, and the girl with knickers on her head. Carlin and Kristen had heaps to report, too: They'd taken the train downtown all by themselves, shopped at the outdoor market, took the ferry to Devonport, and had fish & chips for lunch.

Carlin and I had an important conversation later that night. We stayed up late (too late) talking about my feelings that I was "losing him." Part of my sadness came from the fact that he and Kristen would be living in Phoenix, 1200 miles away from Bellingham where all our family gatherings would be. Whenever Curt and I fly back to America, Bellingham would be the logical destination ... but Carlin wouldn't be there. I hardly had any right to blame him, though because we're the ones who moved 7,000 miles away to the other side of the world. Still. It's hard to let go, I guess.

Intermission

2007-12-20T19:57:00.000+13:00

Intermission lasted 48 hours:

We returned home to Auckland at 6 a.m. Saturday morning, did heaps of laundry, and took quite a few naps. Beautiful, sunny day. Good to be home.

Went to church Sunday morning and sang in the choir. Everyone was glad to see us. Then took another nap.

Monday morning - had to go back to work. It was good to see my little friends who hang out in the library every morning. They call themselves the "library slaves." They fight over who gets to feed the fish, plus I've taught them to fill up the copy machines with paper, collect books from the returns slot, and turn on the search station computers. They are my groupies. Well, they were positively ecstatic to see I had returned. They RAN in and nearly knocked me down with their big hugs. It's nice to be loved. My class was equally happy to see me again. They stood up and cheered when I entered the classroom.

I left work early to pick up Carlin and Kristen at the airport! They'd been in Fiji for their honeymoon for a week, and were now going to spend 2 weeks with us.

Intermission was over.

Act I, Scene 3: Grand Canyon

2007-12-16T17:25:00.000+13:00

It was time for a road trip.
We were off to the Grand Canyon with Austin+Jonna, Nolan+Erica, and Boone. (Carlin+Kristen were away on their honeymoon) I said a teary goodbye to my mom and 2 brothers. At least I would be seeing my mom in January in NZ for 6 weeks!

Seven adults and 7 adults' luggage was a lot to cram into the rental mini-van. If only somebody hadn't bought so much chocolate chips and other American purchases while they were here. I tried to call Jolynn's house to see if we could leave some suitcases with her for a few days, but it turned out that the number I was dialing was Carlin's! Oops. I hung up as soon as I heard his voice message. I'm pretty sure I wasn't supposed to call the groom at 9 a.m. on the day after the wedding. The boys got enormous comedy mileage out of my blunder, making jokes that I can't repeat in this blog.

We're off. Saguaro cactus everywhere. Nolan was feeling carsick within the first hour. We stopped and changed places. Was he really sick or was it a ruse to get the front seat? Hmmm. Throughout the trip, there was incessant competition for who sat where. It was just like when they were littler and they'd shout "shotgun" to claim the front seat. Actually, we had assigned seats in our family van (with name tags) because I got fed up with them fighting over the seats every time we went somewhere. Some things never change.

We stopped again in Flagstaff for lunch. Nolan mocked Erica during the entire trip because her pronunciation of Flagstaff sounded more like "FLAYG-staff." She poked him frequently in retaliation. Luckily, she's good-natured about his ribbing. This was our first family vacation that included girlfriends, but Erica and Jonna have been a part of the family for so many years now, that it seemed natural. Those poor girls - I wouldn't blame them if they didn't want to be associated with our family ever again after being subjected to multiple discussions about poop. The boys seemed to bring it up in every conversation during the 5 hour drive. Who raised these kids?

Arrived at Grand Canyon. WOW. Took many photos. Walked along the rim and hiked down a little bit. Took many pictures. Here's one of Boone looking over the edge. Don't lean too far! Watched the sunset. Took many pictures. Bought many souvenirs. Went to a pizza place for dinner, then back to the lodge to play cards. I lost many times, but always seemed to have a pair of fours. Why? Carlin called during an airport layover on their way to the honeymoon resort in Fiji. He sounded a little sad that he was missing a big card game on a big family vacation. I tried to convince him that no, we're not really having any fun. Alas, the hoopla from the beer-drinking brothers in the background exposed the truth.

The next morning, Nolan accused Austin of plugging up the toilet in Nolan's room. Austin denied it, saying he saw it go down successfully. Why was he using Nolan's toilet anyway? (probably because he didn't want to stink up his own room) Will this never end?

Explored the Grand Canyon some more. Took more pictures. Drove to Flaygstaff for lunch provisions, then on to Walnut Canyon, to see some Indian cliff dwellings, holes in a sheer cliff wall. How did the Sinagua Indians get from their houses/caves down to the creek for water? And how did they get up the cliff to their crops above? It was all pretty cool, but going up 204 steps back to the top of the canyon (at this altitude) was tiring. I wouldn't last a week in this tribe.

Since we were in the neighborhood, we drove to Meteor Crater next. It's a big crater in the middle of the desert, and it's been used in a few movies. We thought it might be kinda cool to see it, but upon arrival, we discovered that they charge $15/person (guess who would have to pay). So we turned around and left. We're just not interested in paying $105 to see a hole in the ground.

Our next destination was Sedona, an artsy town that claims to have vortexes of positive energy. I guess it's quite a mecca for the New Age, crystal-worshipping type of people. One of our favorite pastimes was to argue about the correct way to pluralize vortex: shouldn't it be vortices? But the Sedona information all said vortexes. The most vocal advocate for the proper plural (vortices) was the same boy who used to insist that, since the plural of octopus was octopi, the plural of bus was bi. MmmHmm. Being the English teacher in the car, I'd like to think that my opinion would be the last word on the subject, and my verdict was: isn't there anything else to talk about?

Besides arguing about grammar rules, Curt and I liked the galleries and artsy shops, and we finally found a bomb! As I've explained before, we have a collection of black pottery that we call our bomb collection due to the shape and color. We like to buy a bomb on every trip, and had been in America for 10 days so far without any success ... until we got to Sedona. Once we'd found a bomb, our trip seemed complete, so we went next door to a chocolate shop to celebrate. Hooray!

That evening, we went to a Mexican restaurant for one last family dinner. The food was excellent and the portions were HUGE! Curt and I ordered a Margarita to share, but I drank most of it. I only drink once or twice a year, so it was really out of character for me. The boys, however, drink a lot more than me. After dinner, we went back to our condo for another card game and more drinking. Eventually, they ran out of beer. Curt and I refused to drive them across the street to buy more, and they were too lazy to walk so they had to do without. Poor boys. Curt and I went to bed at 10:30 but the card game was still going on for quite a while. See, they CAN have fun without beer.

The next morning, Curt made tates, eggies, and snausage for breakfast, a family tradition. But before we left, there had to be one final climactic plunger episode: Boone plugged the upstairs toilet, and was plunging vigorously. Jonna came running out of the downstairs bathroom, screaming that there was water pouring from above. (The upstairs bathroom was located directly above the downstairs bathroom.) Hmmm. Did Boone's plunging rupture a pipe? Poor Jonna was (justifiably) not amused that water was dripping onto her toothbrush, hairbrush, shampoo, etc. Eww. We checked out of the hotel, reported the "leak" and hit the road.

On our way out of town, we were determined to experience some of the alleged positive energy Sedona promoted. So we followed a map to a vortex and climbed to the top of the hill as indicated. There was a curious collection of stones part way up, as if someone had constructed a mini altar to Fred Flintstone. At the top, there was an exquisite view of the Red Rocks surrounding Sedona... and a few people meditating in the lotus position... and a sign asking everyone to respect the integrity of the site ... but no positive energy that I could feel. No doubt my cynicism was preventing me from experiencing the full power of the vortex. What a crock.

After a few more hours on the road and a picnic lunch, it was time to deliver our charges to the Mesa airport. Not surprisingly, I cried. Not surprisingly, Curt consoled me by saying " As much as I love them, they really are a pain in the ass." Which made me laugh.

Curt and I had one more day to spend in Phoenix before our flight to NZ, so we decided to go see a few more Frank Lloyd Wright buildings: we admired the Biltmore Hotel and lingered there for hours, marveling once again at his genius for design motifs and his attention to detail, then we stopped at ASU campus to see his round auditorium which was also magnificient.

Finally, we re-packed our suitcases (too many chocolate chips in one bag made it overweight), caught a plane and spent the next 18 hours in various stages of discomfort or boredom.

It was a great trip. Obviously the best part was being able to see the boys and my mom and my brothers. Plus the wedding festivities were special. Curt and I had exactly the right amount of time together just the two of us vs. being surrounded by relatives. As a bonus, we had two weeks off work to spend in sunny weather with a lot of time at the pool. It doesn't get much better than that. The only downside is that we had to go back to work Monday morning.

Act I, Scene 2: Phoenix

2007-12-15T10:43:00.000+13:00

Wedding Day minus 5: Flew from Las Vegas to Phoenix.
• First, stopped one more time at Mrs. Fields Cookies in the Las Vegas Airport. MmmMmm.
• My mom booked condos for the week for all of us. It would be fun to have the whole fam damily staying at the same place, even if it would get a little crowded. At that moment, we were just happy to have laundry facilities, kitchen, and a pool! Had to try out the pool right away.
• First night – went to (future daughter-in-law) Kristen’s parents’ house for dinner. Excellent opportunity to meet her folks before the rest of the clan started arriving. Yummy enchiladas for dinner. Kristen and her mom were up to their eyeballs with wedding preparations. In this instance, I am exceedingly thankful I only had sons.
• Carlin played piano for a while at their house – I hadn’t realized how much I missed having him around to pound out a few songs. I even played a duet with him ... and got perhaps half of my notes right. Kristen’s mom, Jolynn, said he looked so happy playing with me. I beamed.
• Back at the condo, I stayed up late talking with my mom, who I hadn’t seen in 10 months. She’s doing fine (of course) since my dad’s death, but I still miss her. At least I'll see her lots when she arrives in January to stay with us for 6 weeks!

Wedding Day minus 4:
• Went shopping at large warehouse retailer to stock up on American things that we can’t get in NZ, or are too expensive in NZ. At the top of my list are Nestles chocolate chips. Chocolate chips in NZ just don’t taste the same (not semi-sweet enough?), so whenever we’re in the US, we buy large quantities to take back with us. We eat them by the handful, sprinkled on ice cream, and in Toll House cookies. Today, we buy 5 industrial-sized bags, a total of 22.5 pounds. It will last us a few months. (The customs man later questioned my suitcase loaded with 10kg of an obscure substance. I pleaded chocoholic.)
• Took my mom, Carlin, and Kristen to Taliesin West, the architecture school complex built by Frank Lloyd Wright, who lived in Phoenix for many years and designed many of the buildings around town. Carlin remembers going to Falling Water, Wright’s famous house cantilevering over a creek in the woods in Pennsylvania. We’ve also been to Wright’s home and studio in Chicago, but Carlin must have been too young to remember it. Our poor kids – with an engineer for a father and an art history teacher for a mother – have been forced to see architecture and art all over the world. They may not have been too happy about it at the time, but they appreciate it now. I think.
• That evening, we made one of Carlin’s favorite meals at the condo, fettuccini alfredo. Then we decided to have the happy couple open our wedding presents to them. My mom had made them two quilted wall hangings: one was a white-on-white silk wedding pattern of a never-ending chain. The other was black and red for their new kitchen. I'd made them a photo album of Carlin’s first 24 years so Kristen could see what he looked like as a cute little kid, and so she would know a bit more what it was like growing up in our family. We all had a good time reminiscing and looking through the pictures. I love Memory Lane.
• Later, we had to drive all the way out to the Mesa airport to pick up Austin+Jonna, Nolan+Erica, and Boone. I was so excited to see the rest of my boys that I was skipping around the airport. I wasted no time getting started hugging them and patting their scruffy cheeks. And talking a mile a minute.
• For added entertainment, we used the GPS system my mom got with her rental car to guide us to the airport and back. I named the GPS voice Jeanette because she sounded like a Jeanette to me. Whenever we missed a turn, she’d say, “Recalculating,” with contempt and tell us to make a U-turn. Jeanette wasn’t always helpful because she sent us the wrong way at times, but we laughed and imitated her voice.

Wedding Day minus 3:
• Boone plugged up the toilet in the condo first thing this morning and needed a plunger. Austin needed the plunger again 30 minutes later after he plugged it up, too. Good grief. I am reminded of when we had 4 teenage boys in the house, and plunging was a daily occurrence. Why are they all such big poopers?
• Boone and I went to a mall this morning and got haircuts (he was shaggy!). I've been wearing my hair in a "bob" for at least 10 years and it's become stylish again, thanks to Victoria Beckham. Lots of students at my school have recently been getting their hair cut in bobs. Curiously, when I mentioned Victoria Beckham to Boone, he looked puzzled and inquired, "Who's that? Oh, I know - you mean Posh Spice?" Like him, I barely knew who Victoria Beckham was when I lived in America, and wouldn't have recognized David Beckham's face on a billboard. But living in New Zealand, there are strong ties to England and to English "football" (soccer) teams. A day doesn't go by without a Beckham in the news. The British (and Kiwi) obsession with athlete's wives is curious to me because in America nobody cares who's married to Peyton Manning (football) or Alex Rodriguez (baseball). Anyway, the stylist made my hair look like Victoria Beckham's, but only for a few hours. I was never able to replicate it, so I went back to looking like me by the next day. While at the mall however, I managed to find a Mrs. Fields Cookies store near the haircut place. Score.
• Then we took all the boys to pick up their tuxes. They looked quite handsome all dressed up. But there was lots of complaining: one’s jacket was totally too big and needed to be exchanged; one’s tux had a different threadcount than the others (who cares?); and one’s alterations weren’t done at the same time as the others’. Sheesh.
• Time to go back to the condo and jump in the pool.
• That evening, we all went to Kristen’s parents’ house again for a BBQ including ALL her relatives. We met Kristen’s grandma, 3 aunts, 3 uncles, unknown quantity of cousins, and 5 bridesmaids. Curt happily took over the barbecuing, and avoided as much social interaction as he could. Boone was hoping to charm a bridesmaid, but didn't have any success.
• Back at the condo, we stayed up late laughing and playing cards. I lost many times, but always had a pair of fours. Not good.

Wedding Day minus 2:
• Ditched everyone to go shopping all alone for jeans and shorts. Having family around is heavenly, but it was equally heavenly to escape the close quarters and obtain a bit of solitude. Plus we needed groceries. Also went to the post office to mail postcards to my work colleagues and my students. I’ll probably be back to work before the postcards get there. Oh well.
• When I returned to the condo at 3:00, the men were all at the pool drinking tequila as a prelude to the bachelor party t that night. Brother.
• Tonight while the young people were all at the bachelor or bachelorette parties (in NZ, they'd call it a hen party), Curt and my mom and I stayed home for a nice quiet evening. I opened one of the bags of chocolate chips and made 65 Black Bottom Cupcakes (Carlin’s favorite) to be the Groom’s Cake. I’ve never heard of the "Groom's Cake" tradition before. But it was a good excuse to a) eat handfuls of chocolate chips; b) lick the spoon, the beaters, and the bowl; and c) eat multiple cupcakes. Did 2 loads of dishes and 2 loads of towels. Unrelenting shortage of towels around here due to 7 people swimming, showers, etc.

Wedding Day minus 1: Rehearsal
• The male members of the family watched a football game on TV while the females went to the pool. My younger brother Ross had arrived from Hawaii and wanted to watch his alma mater, Air Force play Notre Dame. (I think they won)
• Piled everyone into 2 cars to go to the rehearsal at 3:30. Jeanette guided us there. I got weepy during the rehearsal, as the reality of "losing" my little boy hit me. : ( There's a ceremonial "giving away the bride", but no equivalent to giving away the groom. What's up with that? Overall, the groom's mother is supposed to be pretty invisible. Kristen's grandma informed me of a funny saying last night: that the mother of the groom's job is to wear beige and keep quiet. Sadly, I'm not very good at either of those things.
• Piled back into the cars to head to the rehearsal dinner. In the car, Boone announced that he needed to poop. Big poop. He hoped there would be a plunger at the house we're going to. The rest of the boys added their suggestions for plunger substitutes: chop sticks, plastic knife, even bare hands. These guys are all twenty-something, but I swear they act like they're six years old with their obsessive bathroom humor.
• Rehearsal dinner was a Santa Maria style BBQ in someone's back yard. Not sure what makes it Santa Maria style. LOTS of people there (55?), mostly Kristen's relatives. I wrote the check. My mantra: wear beige and keep quiet.
• Carlin presented gifts to his groomsmen: beer mugs engraved with their nicknames: Worsty (Austin), Best Bud (Nolan), and Big Blinga (Boone). These will be put to good use, I'm sure.
• Dinner was over by 8:30 so we all went back to the condo for a pool party, including the groomsmen. My older brother Scott, wife Diana, and their two daughters arrived that night too, after driving for 3 days from Bellingham. Gwen (10) is on the local swim team and she raced Curt (53) one length of the pool and won. Poor Curt. Boone and Sasha (9) played in the pool, but mostly we sat around the hot tub and had a mini-family reunion that night. Good times.

Wedding Day:
• The 3 boys had to go for a photo shoot at the restaurant where the reception would be held later that night, a really cool location with fountains and archways and bridges and lights. Carlin had chosen all 3 of his brothers to be his Best Men, plus he had 3 other groomsmen. Before the wedding, the photographer took lots of artsy photos of the wedding party. Everyone looked spiffy. My boys clean up nice.
• Tried to get semi-spiffy myself, and we all went to the church for the wedding. Curt looked enviably spiffy in his tux. Nolan escorted me down the aisle, then Jolynn and I lit the unity candles. I didn't trip over my dress. This is good. Then there was a slideshow comprised of pictures of Carlin as a little boy, Kristen as a little girl, and finally pictures of them together. The slideshow was the moment when I started crying. This is bad. But totally expected. I had a wad of tissues stashed in Curt's pocket.
• The wedding was beautiful, of course.
• Then we posed for family pictures - the Davidsons were represented by 14 of us; Kristen had about 75 people from her side of the family. Quality over quantity?
• Next it was off to the reception. All 3 of the Best Men/brothers gave little speeches about Carlin, but the microphone kept flicking on and off, so people could only hear every other word like this: "I'd like xxx that Carlin xxxx really xxxx and I xxxx he and xxxx ..." Meanwhile, Austin & Nolan had smuggled in some vodka and tequila. (the reception was supposed to be dry) They had an especially good time. Poor Boone never did charm any of the bridesmaids. At the end, we all farewelled the bride and groom and blew bubbles as they got into their limo after the reception.
• Then we headed back to the condo for one last pool party, and to say goodbye to my 2 brothers who would be leaving the next morning. It was good of them to come all the way to Phoenix for the wedding/family reunion.

Act 1, Scene 1: Three days in Las Vegas

2007-12-14T19:55:00.000+13:00

First, there's the requisite 24-hour ordeal to fly from NZ to Las Vegas:
:) bought a bran muffin at the airport. Mmmmm.
:( obese man sitting next to me on the plane, who has the armrest up. I immediately put it down. Later, while I was asleep, he put it up again. I put it back down. I don't think he would have done the same thing if Curt had been sitting there instead of me. Grrrr.
:( while at LAX switching planes, am reminded how many people wear those little Bluetooth telephone earpieces. Thank goodness that trend hasn't hit NZ yet.
• Helen Mirren was in line at the security check. Also at the airport, saw that guy who plays Grissom on CSI, who ended up being on our plane. His show is filmed in Las Vegas, after all. He patiently stood for photos with fans at the Las Vegas airport while waiting for his limo driver. When I tell my students later that I saw him, they are apoplectic that I didn't have my picture taken with him.
• arrived in Las Vegas. Weather is perfect, but we're exhausted and grimy. I've found a Mrs. Fields Cookie store at the airport already. I could smell it.
:( walked from our hotel to Mandalay Bay to see our first show, Mama Mia. It's next to impossible to find the actual theater in the complex. They make you snake through the casino to get there.
:) loved Mama Mia! Perfect show to see when jet-lagged.
:( tried to buy a cup of coffee, were forced to walk through a smokey casino only to find the coffee shop overflowing with customers
:( tried again to buy coffee, were forced to walk through another smokey casino only to find the coffee shop closed
:( :( tired and frustrated and sick of being forced to walk through smokey casinos. I just want to get the hell out of there, but we keep going deeper and deeper into the maze. I finally ask a shopkeeper how to escape to some fresh air and he directs me to an emergency door that mercifully leads to the employee parking lot. Ah. Freedom.
:( :( :( I hate Las Vegas already.
:) next day, we decide to shop instead of setting foot in any casinos. Curt needs new running shoes, which are way more expensive in NZ. I need jeans. Ditto. We have some success, although ...
:( :( ... after 3 or 4 purchases in a row, my credit card is mysteriously declined. It takes us a good 24 hours hours to get this straightened out. Apparently, when we suddenly started using our (US) card after it had been lying dormant for 6 months, it triggered a security alert to make sure the card hadn't been stolen. In theory, it's a nice idea, but in this case it was complicated to un-block it. I was not happy.
? Am I being a whiner?
:( while I'm ranting, what's with all the leopard print clothes? I've been out of the country for 2 years, and didn't know it was so popular.
:( :( :( :( :( the worst part, though, is all the people handing out advertising cards for local strip shows. There are 5-10 of these people on each block, clicking and flicking their cards in an attempt to get your attention. Mostly, the cards end up all over the sidewalks which are therefore covered with porn ads 24/7. Delightful.
• am definitely whining (or as they would say in NZ, "whingeing")
:) went to the Guggenheim museum in the Venetian which was a small exhibit but contained major artists, major works. Not crowded at all. Who visits Las Vegas and goes to a museum?
:) also stopped by the Bellagio lobby to see the glass art ceiling by Dale Chihuly, a Seattle glassblower. Who visits a casino just to admire the ceiling?
:) :) went to our next show, Cirque du Soleil's homage to the Beatles called "Love." It was absolutely, fantastically, tremendously phenomenal!!! Knew all the words to all the songs, and sang along. They are so creative, using trampolines, skaters on ramps, people in and on and out of a VW Bug, blowing bubbles, suspended dancers (of course), counter-balanced ladder on a wheel with a girl on the top end, tricycle propelled by empty boots (no rider), gigantic white parachute covering the entire audience, silhouettes of the Beatles, and voice-over of them chatting in the recording studio. Way cool.
:( couldn't find our way out after the show. Why do they make it so hard to exit? Sheesh.
:) on our last day, we rented a car and drove to Hoover Dam because the dam engineer in the family wanted to see the mother of all dams. He was suitably impressed. Big turbines and intake towers and tailrace and other dam parts. Plus it was good to get out of the city.
:) on our way to the show tonight, we wandered through Caesar's Palace shopping area which was NON-SMOKING. Caesar's is my new favorite. Ate dinner at a deli there.
:) :) :) went to our last show, Spamalot. Busted our guts, laughing. Silly and funny and clever and hilarious and great. "You can't make it on Broadway without Jews" in one song, made fun of gays in another, and "There's always a song like this." Good fun.
:( one last time through the smokey casino to exit. So tired of it all. Then have to weave through all the people on the sidewalk like an obstacle course. Phew.
:) We spent 3 days here, and never gambled a cent.

Anticipation

2007-11-03T15:04:00.000+13:00

I've always hated it when people start out by saying, "I'm sorry I haven't written in so long..." but I'm tempted to say it myself this time. I haven't written a blog in 3 months(!) and it's not because I was lacking things to write about. On the contrary, it's been quite eventful around here.

First, the anticipation: We're leaving in a few hours to catch a plane to America to attend Carlin's wedding! We'll be gone for 2 weeks, including a short stop in Las Vegas, a week in Phoenix where the wedding will be held, and a side trip to the Grand Canyon with the boys after the wedding. It'll be great! Unfortunately, my brain left about a week before the actual trip began, and last week at work I: forgot my keys on Monday, forgot my glasses on Tuesday, forgot my lunchbag on Wednesday, and finally LOST my keys for good on Thursday. Obviously, I need a vacation. I promise to write blogs all about our trip when we get back because I'm sure there will be lots to tell.

Now a snapshot of everything that's been going on during the last 3 months:
• I'm teaching one class of Year 7 English this term. Yea! I love it. The girls are sweeties. Am scheduled to teach at least one class next year, and I'm trying to get more than that.

• Big excitement at work trying to catch a thief who was stealing money from the library. Secret cameras, night vision, bait, sensors, etc. This sort of thing is pretty thrilling in a librarian's world. We feel like we're on CSI. The plan worked. Our money (mostly overdue fines) is safe again.

• Even grander drama at work involving a less-than-glowing performance review, and the resulting backlash at those who submitted the aforementioned less-than-glowing comments. Different people are in emotional meltdown on different days. There's too much friction everywhere and we're caught in the middle of it. I'm too old for all this drama. Vow to find someplace sane to work. Start applying and interviewing for other jobs, as are 75% of my co-workers.

• Went to Melbourne for 4 days in September for Curt's birthday. Vow to write some blogs about that, too. Curt did some sketches, and we went to museums, beaches, gardens, markets, etc. Excellent trip. I definitely needed a break at that point (see above) so it was especially good.

• Spent about 6 weeks catching up on the family photo albums, which were 10 years behind. It was fun to go through all the old pictures and re-live our travels, but it's sure a big job. Feels so good to have it done finally! Vow not to let it get so far behind next time. Can remember making that vow last time ... about 10 years ago.

• Curt painted/redecorated the guest bedroom (formerly purple!) in anticipation of Carlin & Kristen visiting us after their wedding and after a honeymoon in Fiji.

• New Zealand's national rugby team, the All Blacks play in the World Cup and the entire country is obsessed, getting up at 4:00 a.m. to watch the games taking place halfway around the world. Inexplicably and possibly unforgivably, the All Blacks lose in the quarter-finals, and the whole nation goes into mass mourning mode.

• Went to see the musical "We will Rock You" based on songs by Queen. The pulsing bass line, vibrating the floor, takes me back a few decades. Good fun.

• Spent lots of time planning for the wedding: I had to find a mother-of-the-groom dress (I'm not much of a shopper) and fancy shoes (I'm a sensible shoes-type). I had to get hotel rooms reserved, car rented, and show tickets purchased (Las Vegas). I made a spreadsheet (well actually it's more of a matrix) of who's arriving when ... and who's staying where ... and who's doing what. It's a masterpiece. Most importantly, I identified all the locations of Mrs Fields Cookies stores in Las Vegas and Phoenix. I'm ready to go.

So. Maybe you can see why I haven't written in a while. I vow not to get so far behind this time. Really.

Harry Potter Week at our library

2007-08-04T17:53:00.000+12:00

Yes, we're suffering from Potter Mania here in New Zealand, too.

The final book in the Harry Potter series, "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows" went on sale Saturday, 21 July at 11:00 a.m. which is midnight in London. Buying the book at 11 in the morning is serendipitously convenient for Kiwi kids because they don't have to stay up all night reading it like UK and US kids who get their books at midnight. However, there were still some NZ teenagers who got in line the night before and stayed up all night on the footpaths outside Auckland's bookstores. Other Potter fans were in line bright and early, wearing various wizard costumes, glasses, and jagged scars on their foreheads.

I was less impatient, waiting until 3:00 in the afternoon to go to the bookshop, and I didn't have to wait in line at all. There was still a huge pyramid of books available. It was fascinating to watch shoppers approach the mountain of books, pick one up, surreptitiously flip to the last page, try to figure out who died, then guiltily look around to see if anyone caught them peeking. I shouldn't complain, though, for I did the exact same thing.

When I got home, I read the last chapter first (Spoiler Alert: Harry lives), then I started at the beginning. Some people are shocked when I admit that I - a LIBRARIAN - often read the ending ahead of time. I've done this for decades, and I don't think it reduces my enjoyment of a book. In fact, I enjoy it more because I like to see the path that the author takes me on as I journey through the plot to the ending. I also like to read magazines from back to front. But that's just me.

When I got to work Monday morning, many of the Potterheads had already finished it (I told them I'd read the first 8 chapters, plus the last chapter), and others were still working on it. It's an amazing and heartening sight to see groups of girls sitting around all reading the same thick, red book. My fellow librarian Lucy outdid herself with a new Harry Potter bulletin board, including twinkling lights and a broomstick flying overhead. I displayed my 6 American Harry Potter books, which all have different covers (here's US#6 vs. UK#6). And one book even has a different title! The first book was originally published in UK as "Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone" but the US publishers thought that "Philosopher" would sound too geeky to American kids so they changed it to "... Sorcerer's Stone." Who knew.

Leilani, our Library Prefect (that means she's the girl in charge of the library's student helpers) planned an exciting week of Harry Potter activities:

Monday: Harry Potter food for sale during lunch. I made Dragon Droppings (chocolate & oatmeal no-bake cookies). My colleague Lara brought Luna's loony chocolate (it was yellow and green). Students brought chocolate frogs, cups of gummy worms, etc. It was a big hit.

Tuesday: Leilani designed 5 Harry Potter pins to sell for $3 each. At our school, the girls all wear uniforms so there are limited opportunities to express your individuality. The only thing allowed is lapel pins. The more pins you have, the cooler you are. You earn pins by being on a sports team, or being in a musical group, or being a student librarian. etc. The girls covet pins. Some of the older girls have about 50 pins on their blazer, and this is a sign of status. Leilani had 100 Harry Potter pins made AND THEY WERE SOLD OUT BY 11:00. So she called the badge-making company and ordered another 100 for tomorrow.

Wednesday: Potter fanatics are in the library at 7:30 asking "Do you have more badges for sale?" "When will the Harry Potter badges be here?" The new pins arrive at about 8:00 and cause a stampede. Leilani arranges to order more, including a new design.

Thursday: There was a Harry Potter debate today at lunchtime. Some of the girls on the school debate team had agreed to debate whether Neville or Harry makes a better hero. The girls representing Neville did a gallant job, arguing that he doesn't get distracted by girls like Harry does, he kept Dumbledore's Army going when Harry dropped out of school, he was the one who cut off the head of the snake, and he was much better in Herbology. But the Harry Potter team won, arguing that he was better looking (like a hero should be), he was the first to learn how to do a Patronus, he was an outstanding Seeker in Quidditch, etc. Harry was the obvious winner. But it was quite entertaining. The Little Theatre was packed with over a hundred girls watching the debate.

Friday: This was the day of the Harry Potter quiz, which had been generating excitement all week. There were 20 teams of 4 girls each, and even a teacher team, including me! The teacher team (The Mighty Muggles) managed to get 32 out of 60 questions right, only because we eavesdropped on the teams around us, peeked at their papers as they wrote, offerred high marks in exchange for correct answers, and flattered the judges repeatedly on the answer sheets. Alas, it didn't help. These little Pottermaniacs knew WAY more than us. The winning team got 59 out of 60 answers correct! Our best excuse is this: We read the early Harry Potter books a decade ago, and have read HUNDREDS of books since then. Plus we're old and our memory is shot. The quiz was fun, though.

PS - I finally finished HP#7 Thursday night. It ended just the way I expected it to.

Whooping it up at the Librarian Conference in Wellington

2007-07-06T19:15:00.000+12:00

After a prolonged debate, it was finally decided that I would get to attend the School Librarian Association of New Zealand (SLANZA) conference in Wellington. At first, my colleagues and I assumed that the boss would go. Then she didn't want to go. Since it looked like nobody was going (and there was money in the budget), I told her that I was interested in attending ... but I was the employee with the least seniority, so she needed to offer it to Lara, Barbara, and Lucy first. Eventually it was decided that Lucy and I would BOTH go, which I never imagined would happen. We hurriedly reserved flights, booked a hotel, and registered for the conference before anyone could change their minds.

The big adventure began with me having to get up at 4:30 to get to the airport by 5:30 for a 6:00 flight. I am NOT good at getting up early. I am SO not a morning person, and I reminded Lucy of that repeatedly throughout the day. On the other hand, I could hardly believe that you only needed to check in 30 minutes early for an NZ flight! It's great living in a small country that isn't hyper-sensitive about security and terrorists. Curiously, Lucy and I were not seated together, but that's OK because I probably wouldn't have been very good company at that hour of the morning anyway.

Once we landed in Wellington (1.5 hours later), Lucy escorted me into the Koru Club, Air New Zealand's first-class lounge. Lucy's husband is a more-than-frequent flyer and he's a gazillion-mile member of the Koru Club or something like that. Anyway, Lucy gets access too, so she suggested that we go there for free breakfast. I'm all over that idea. It was my first time in a first class lounge and now I know what I've been missing all these years: cushy armchairs, hundreds of free newspapers, unlimited free food and drinks, fancy restrooms ... the works. I ate some really good muesli (granola) with yogurt and was tempted to find out which brand they serve because it was the best muesli I'd ever had in NZ. Mmm mmm. Alas, we had to get to the hotel before I could gorge myself further.

We took a taxi to the hotel, dropped off our bags, and walked to the high school where the conference was being held. We arrived just in time for the powhiri, a traditional Maori welcome ceremony. After the keynote speaker, it was time for morning tea: scones. Then we headed off to our first session. I went to a session on copyright laws in NZ (I know it sounds boring, but it's stuff I need to know) while Lucy learned about new IT developments in libraries. Then it was time for lunch: mini quiche and tarts. There was another session, then afternoon tea: muffins. Don't you love this country! After our 3rd session, there was even wine and cheese. They sure fed us a lot.

Like most conferences, some sessions were better than others. One frustrating presenter told us how to use an online database, but didn't even let us log on and try it ourselves. We just sat there in the computer lab and watched him do it. Ugh. The same is true of the different speakers; some were fascinating, some were funny, and some were boring. I still like going to conferences, however. There's things to learn, and new products to see, and inspiring speakers. Either I get great ideas for what I'd like to do differently, or I get validation that I'm doing some things well already.

My favourite speakers are usually the authors. In May, I went to the Auckland Writers and Readers Conference and got to hear about 25 different authors speak in various sessions. Joanne Harris (Chocolat) was wry, and Lionel Shriver (We Need to Talk About Kevin) was appropriately intense. Joy Cowley, an NZ children's author, told about her childhood when she always read a book while walking, and even read a book while riding her bike! (then she crashed into a parked car). I know it's nerdy, but I like to hear authors speak. At this conference, there was an entertaining speech by author Kate DeGoldi, and also Apirana Taylor, a poet who played various flute-like instruments as part of his poetry performance.

Often, the best part of a conference is the vendor tables with all their exhibits. I know they're just trying to sell me something, but they give away so many freebies that I don't mind stopping to talk to them. Lucy and I ended up with a shoulder bag full of pencils, pens, rulers, bookmarks, posters, hats, jelly beans, books, reading lamp, calculator, and notepads - besides the product information. We made a haul.

The conference ended early on the second day so the participants would have time to enjoy Wellington. You'll never guess where Lucy and I ended up - the Wellington City Library. We tried shopping, and even went into a store or two but then decided to see what the city library was like and ended up staying there the rest of the afternoon. We were interested in how they displayed their books, what kind of signage they used ("Dewey Love Non-Fiction? Dewey Ever!"), and the names of the various sections (Nostalgia Collection = classics). Lucy even took a few pictures, which brought a supervisor over who asked what we were doing. When we explained that we were school librarians admiring their set-up, she was really nice and said she was happy to answer our questions. (In America we would have been questioned to see if we were making plans for a terrorist attack) We browsed their shelves until we got bored and then started walking back. We're such library geeks. In our defence, we did go to a Belgian pub for dinner, which sounds much more happening than it was. I better skip the part about dancing on the tables and picking up cute (younger) guys in case our husbands read this. No, seriously.

The truth is that I'd been sneezing and blowing my nose all day so I took some antihistamine back at the hotel and fell asleep while Lucy was still watching CSI. Sharing a hotel room was not a problem for us, but I'd asked Curt if he ever shared hotel rooms with other guys when he went on site visits and he said No Way!. Apparently sharing a room is a girl thing.

On the last morning, the alarm went off as scheduled. I hate alarms. I hate getting up. At home, Curt gets up first, takes a shower and turns on the heater in the bathroom (this way it's nice and toasty when it's my turn). When he comes out, he gets dressed and starts to make the bed ... except I'm still in it. He folds up the duvet. Brrrr. Finally, he has to "hug" me, then sit me up, then stand me up (still hugging), and finally send me to the now toasty bathroom. It's our tradition. In the Wellington hotel room, I didn't have anyone to drag me out of bed. I explained the routine to Lucy, but she refused to perform Curt's duties. Anyway, I had to get out of bed all by myself and I performed admirably. Lucy threatened to tell Curt that my whole routine is fake, and that I'm perfectly capable of getting out of bed by myself. Uh oh.

On this particular morning, Lucy turned on the TV to watch the replay of the America's Cup race that took place in Valencia at about 2:00 in the morning. We didn't care enough about the race to stay up and watch it live (although lots of Kiwis did) but we wanted to know the outcome so we watched the replay. At this point, the New Zealand boat was down 4-2, and the Swiss boat only needed one more race to win overall. When we turned it on, the Swiss boat was ahead. It looked like it would be all over for the Kiwis. But no. Something happened to the Swiss boat ... they were losing ground ... the Kiwis passed them! It looked like the Kiwis might win after all. The Kiwi boat kept gaining ground (do they call it gaining ground or is it gaining water?) and had a comfortable lead as they neared the finish line. But apparently the Kiwis had a penalty against them from an earlier infringement. This meant they'd have to make the boat do a pirouette! So just before the finish line, they cranked it hard to the right (starboard? port?) and the boat turned in a tight circle. Unfortunately, this allowed the Swiss boat to catch up and pass them BY ONE SECOND. The Swiss boat won the America's Cup.

That was a pretty exciting finish, considering I don't even care about this sport. But boy, the rest of New Zealand sure cares. The whole country would be in mourning after this. If it's any consolation, most of the crew members on the Swiss boat were poached from New Zealand (but everyone here considers them traitors). I guess New Zealanders dominate the crews on pretty much all the boats. Sailing is HUGE in NZ. One more thing - why does Switzerland have a boat when there's not even any oceans in that country???

Today's date was July 4th, which doesn't mean anything in NZ, but would be a big holiday in the US. Since Wellington is the nation's capital - and the location of the American Embassy, I wondered if there would be some sort of 4th of July celebration there to mark the occasion. Coincidentally, the US Ambassador is from Portland, but he was appointed as a reward for his service to G. W. Bush as campaign finance chairman or something. So he probably wouldn't be amused but my explanation of why we moved to New Zealand. I guess it's just as well I didn't try to attend anything at the embassy.

Back at the conference, we had one more speaker, morning tea, another sessions, lunch, one last session, and a closing panel. Done. Our flight wasn't until 7:00 so we had some time to kill. No, we did not go to the Wellington City Library this time. We went to Borders Books. Which is almost as pathetic, I guess. For dinner, Lucy proposed that we go to the airport early and have free dinner in the Koru Club. Sounds like a plan. I got to gorge myself one last time before we flew home. This time, Lucy and I were seated together and we debriefed: good conference, lots of loot. We can't wait to share all our new ideas with our colleagues. Lucy said she'd make a Power Point of the pictures she took. I told her to remember to remove the picture of the cute guys that we picked up at the pub, or our fellow librarians might think we had too much fun.

Hard of HearingKiwi

2007-06-03T18:34:00.000+12:00

We've been living here for 1.5 years now, and we really are better at understanding the Kiwi accent. I swear. But at times, it still stumps us. There have been three recent events that reminded me just how muddled I can get.

There's a great kids' book called Millions, written by Frank Boyce. It's about two young British boys who found a bag of money and had to figure out whether to spend it, how, and on what. Eventually it was made into a movie, and my library purchased it. So I decided to bring it home on Friday and watch it. All good so far. In the opening conversation between the boy and his dad, I understood exactly 0% of what they said. Curt didn't fare any better. The boy's voice is kinda high, and he mumbles a little. Maybe that's why we missed it. We re-wound it and watched the scene again. Nope. Nothing. This movie takes place in Northern England and is about a low-income family, and their accent is absolutely unintelligible to us. There seems to be a lack of consonants in their speech. We finally resorted to subtitles. I'm so ashamed. We had to watch an ENGLISH movie with subtitles!

Also this weekend, there was the national spelling bee going on in Washington DC. Curiously, a New Zealand girl had qualified to compete, and it was a big news story around the country. I didn't even realise that the American spelling bee allowed kids from other English-speaking countries, but I guess they do. It seems like it would be a bit of a disadvantage for her because there are so many things spelled differently (like manoeuvre and kerb) that she had to learn. There are also words that sound significantly different (like furor in US = furore in NZ which has 3 syllables fyur-OR-ee). And she has to be able to understand the word that the judges are saying. That actually turned out to be easier than the judges being able to understand what SHE was saying.

The Kiwi girl made it beyond the preliminary rounds and into the televised finals, where the judges constantly struggled to understand her. For instance, they couldn't tell if she was spelling a word with a G or a J. G/GEE in NZ sounds a lot like J/JAY because E sounds like A. The judges kept asking her to repeat it. She'd say JAIE - or something like that - and they were stumped. Finally, they asked her to give them another word that starts with the same letter. She said giraffe. Ah hah! She was spelling with a G after all. The New Zealand news was having great fun with the judges' ignorance. They interviewed Kiwi schoolmates who all agreed she'd clearly said JAIE and why couldn't the judges get it?

The third incident happened at my school (which is named Diocesan School, but often called Dio for short). One of the teachers came in to the library to do some photocopying and struck up a conversation with us:
Teacher: Do you have a Dio beer in the library?
Lara, a fellow librarian answers: Nah.
Teacher: I have one beer, but I need about 4.
(I look puzzled)
Lara: Where'd you get yours?
Teacher: A parent of a student gave it to me.
(I'm still looking puzzled)
Teacher: I was going to be teaching a unit on storytelling, and thought it might be fun to use Dio beer.
(I'm extremely puzzled)
Lara: I think there's one downstairs in the office, though.
Teacher: Yeah. Theirs is all dressed up in school colours.
(I am beyond puzzled now)
Teacher: Remember when they were taking pictures of the beer and emailing to everyone?
Lara: People who dress up their beer must be sick.
Teacher: You sure have a funny look on your face, Megan.
Me: I'm still trying to figure out what this conversation is about. Usually if I listen long enough, I can use the context to fill in the blanks. But I'm lost. Are you talking about Dio beer???
Teacher and Lara, laughing hysterically: No, a Dio BEAR! You know, a stuffed teddy bear with the school insignia!

As you can tell, I'm still not quite fluent in Kiwi. But I did have a small success recently: I commented on the lovely scones that we had for morning tea, and Lucy said I pronounced it exactly right! (I've only been practising every Monday morning tea for the last 10 months!) Scone in Kiwi is pronounced about halfway between SCUHN and SCONN. And I did it right. Once.

Listmania

2007-06-02T19:44:00.000+12:00

I am a listaholic. I love grocery lists, to-do lists, book lists, staff lists, travel lists, and obscure lists of any kind. So naturally I was thrilled when Lucy said she was going to do a bulletin board display in the library about lists. Brilliant!

We included books like 1001 Books You Must Read Before You Die, and The 10 Best of Kiwi Ingenuity. In addition, she found some lists such as the biggest libraries in the world (Library of Congress is #1) and most common baby names in New Zealand (Charlotte & Jack). And the best part was that Lucy wanted each of us to submit some lists, too.

We had great fun looking at lists online. The best site by far was Mc Sweeney's. http://www.mcsweeneys.net/links/lists/ McSweeney's is a publishing company founded by Dave Eggers (A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius) whose mission is to support new writers and to promote writing to kids. They wanted to open a writing center for kids in San Francisco, but because of zoning regulations, they were told they had to be a retail store. Their solution? After careful deliberation, they determined that there was a distinct lack of pirate supply stores in the Bay Area. Their writing center now sells pirate supplies at the front of the store, and is a drop-in center for kids at the back. Curt and I went there once and bought loaded dice and an eyepatch, but declined the puffy shirt. As you can tell, they're a bit quirky, and their website is too. It has loads of funny lists submitted by readers such as:
TERRIBLE NAMES FOR HAIR SALONS by John Moe
Shear Hostility
Get The Hell Out Of Hair
The Mane Reason My Parole Was Revoked
Nervous McStabby's Hair Care Place
Reason Has Been E-Clips-ed by Rage
Running With Scissors
In No Conditioner To Drive
Hair Commandant
Cuts & Bruises
Dude, I'm So Buzzed
The Viet-Mane War Memorial
I Hate My Mother
George Hair-ison's Solo Career
Why Won't You Dye?
Mein Coif

Oh boy. I went home and immediately started brainstorming possible lists. When Boone (#4 son) was little, he used to read the dictionary for fun (!) and make lists of all the words that you could type using only the top row of keys on a typewriter (like troupe), or words that begin and end with the same letter (like alfalfa and ammonia). So he was my inspiration on a few of the lists. Being an English teacher also guided my choices, I think. Eventually, I chose the following lists:

PALINDROMES:
Some men interpret nine memos
Dennis sinned
Don't nod
Too bad – I hid a boot
Rats live on no evil star
No trace; not one carton
Was it Eliot's toilet I saw?
Murder for a jar of red rum
Never odd or even
A man, a plan, a canal – Panama!
A man, a plan, a cat, a canal – Panama!
A man, a plan, a cat, a ham, a yak, a yam, a hat, a canal – Panama!

OXYMORONS:
Jumbo Shrimp
Pretty Ugly
Definite Maybe
found missing
exact estimate
alone together
original copies
genuine imitation
sweet tart
peace force
seriously funny
liquid gas

Worst movie titles:
Cannibal Women In The Avocado Jungle of Death
The Incredibly Strange Creatures who Stopped Living and Became Mixed-Up Zombies!!
To Wong Foo Thanks For Everything, Julie Newmar!
Santa Claus Conquers the Martians
Fat Guy Goes Nutzoid
Leprechaun: Back 2 tha Hood
Phffft
Killer Klowns From Outer Space
How To Stuff a Wild Bikini
Half Past Dead

Celebrities who go by one name:
Madonna
Jewel
Eminem
Prince
Sting
Bono
Beyonce
Pink
Moby
Beck
Usher
Oprah
Cher

Besides finding and writing our own lists, we invited students to add some to the bulletin board. They have included Favourite Songs (of which I was not familiar with a single one!), Places I'd Rather Be Than at School, and Best Fantasy Authors. It's been fun to see the students' responses to the display - both reading it/chuckling at it, and writing a list themselves. Coincidentally, there is a new TV game show in NZ about making lists called The Rich List. Lists must be the latest rage, and Lucy was obviously ahead of her time.

I made one last contribution to the bulletin board - a list of all 50 states in alphabetical order. My Kiwi colleagues were (mildly) impressed.
What lists would you include?

Senior Citizen

2007-05-27T20:36:00.000+12:00

Curt went to get a haircut yesterday, and the lady gave him a Senior Discount. He's 52. He debated whether to correct her, but he was too cheap to give up the $7 discount it proffered.

He hates paying $20 for a haircut anyway, since he doesn't have a lot of hair to cut. And there's not much styling involved since all it takes is a #4 guard. It's all over within 5 minutes, and he doesn't like paying $20 for it.

A few months ago, he talked me into cutting his hair for him. I reluctantly agreed ... with the condition that he would not yell at me. He reluctantly agreed. Sitting in the kitchen with a towel around his neck, I dutifully shaved his head with the #4 guard. So far so good. This is kinda fun. Just a little messy. Next, he wanted me to use the edger to trim the bottom and his sideburns. OK. I can do this. Finally, he wanted me to use the #2 guard to blend the edging with the #4 guard section. Huh? I did my best, and he claimed he was pleased with the outcome. Uh oh. I feared I may have just gotten myself a job.

But wait. The second time I tried to cut his hair, I was not as successful. The edging was a little crooked. And when I was supposed to blend the edging with the other section, I slipped and made some obvious gashes in the hairline. I didn't draw blood, but the hair was clearly missing at an angle above his ear. Oops. I tried real hard to blend the gash by making everything shorter on that side. Hmm. He tried real hard not to yell at me.

Eventually, he started hinting that he needed another haircut. I pretended I didn't hear him. He brought it up again the following week. I dragged my feet. He finally got tired of waiting for me to do it, and went to the beauty shop. This is when the Senior Discount surfaced. What do you do when someone offers you a lower cost because you're old? Is the discount supposed to compensate for the fact that you're now balding and greying? Should he be offended or should he be appreciative?

Well, you know how this ended. He smiled and took the change. He has no self-respect.

Farewell

2007-05-26T20:17:00.000+12:00

We said good-bye to Nolan and Erica at the airport this morning. And I didn't cry too much. I'm quite proud of myself.

Last night, we went out for a farewell dinner at an Italian place down by the waterfront. This area is known as Viaduct Harbour and was redeveloped to host the America's Cup in 2000. Besides all the restaurants and bars, there's a marina, boat charters, and the maritime museum. More importantly, it's still Team New Zealand's headquarters. If you're lucky, you can watch their boat going out for practice runs. At the moment, however, the boat and the entire crew are in Valencia, winning the America's Cup semi-finals 5-0 against the Italian boat, and preparing for the finals against the Swiss boat. The newspapers are already assuming victory, and the subsequent right to host America's Cup in 2010. New Zealanders are definitely fanatics about sailing and yachting. I'm not much of a sailor myself. It's just that owning a boat always seemed like a waste of money. Plus I'd get seasick. However, I still cheer for the NZ boat, and I still enjoy walking along Viaduct Harbour with the lights sparkling off the water at night. It's a great location for a farewell dinner.

At the restaurant, we had an authentic Italian waiter who was really good. I liked his accent. After exotic main courses like pumpkin-stuffed cannelloni, we still succumbed to our penchant for gluttony and ordered dessert. Chocolate of course. Yes, we ate too much, but walking back up Queen Street to get to our car helped a bit. Plus I saw a great bomb in the window of a store on Queen St. I'll have to go back tomorrow (when stores are open) and buy it.

Once we were back at the house, Nolan and Erica had to pack. It was sad to watch them closing down their life here with us to go back to life in Bellingham. Their most challenging packing problem was how to get 6 bottles of NZ wine and mead safely to America. So they'd bought a special box with polystyrene inserts to protect the bottles. It should all survive.

This morning, Curt made tates and eggies for brekkie for them one last time, then loaded all their (large) bags in our (tiny) car. At the airport, there was even a special counter for them to check their fragile wine box, along with people's oversized surfboards and such. It seemed promising that the wine bottles might just arrive intact.

All week, I had been threatening to refuse to take them to the airport, or to hide their passports, but in the end I accepted the inevitable and I'll have you know that I delivered them to the airport without a scene. Because of my earlier threats, though, they thought we were kidding again when Curt said, "You probably don't know about the $25 Departure Fee." After smiling knowingly at each other and a few nudges, they realised we were serious. There really is a Departure Fee.

As you can imagine, it's been really nice to have them here for the last 2 months. We've enjoyed their company. I try to tell myself that it'll be good when they're gone, too, because ... umm ... there'll be less dirty dishes? But I will miss having them around. Note the sad look on my face in the photo above. Then note the happy look on Nolan's face. He seems to be a little too pleased with the notion of leaving us. Hrmph. Well, I'm absolutely ecstatic that there will be less dirty dishes AND that I will have more time on the computer now that they're gone. So there.

PARTY!!!

2007-05-20T16:37:00.000+12:00

Erica and Nolan chopped and mixed and assembled and cooked all day. And they made every dish into a work of art! Curt cleaned the bathrooms, replaced light bulbs, and picked up 2 cakes from a fancy bakery in Parnell. I hoovered (vacuumed), but that was the extent of my contribution. Then I took a nap.

Everything was ready, everybody came, and everything went perfectly! On top of that, Curt said really sweet and heartfelt things about me at the party and he earned some big-time brownie points. What more could I ask for?

Everyone raved about Erica's food. Grant ate 20 or 30 chicken skewers. Mark liked the marinated mushroom antipasto skewers. Barb was impressed by the tortilla roll-up sandwiches. Erica had also made crostini, mushroom croustades, cheese platter, veggie platter & hummus, fruit platter & yogurt dip, and my favourite - Tollhouse Chocolate Chip Cookies. I had told everybody specifically NOT to bring any presents, but a few guests brought chocolate anyway. They know me so well. Almost everyone brought a bottle of wine. I think we ended up with more bottles left over after the party (10) than we had bought before the party (7). Net gain in the wine inventory.

Upstairs, I'd put out a few toys and art supplies for the 7 kids who came. The kids kept busy most of the time by making me scads of birthday cards using fancy scissors and coloured paper and stickers. It was sweet. The oldest 2 girls, Emma and Isobella did a good job watching over the younger ones, although the playroom was still pretty messy in the end. Then Emma and her mom (Lucy) picked up all the bits of paper for me. True friends.

So many people were there! Of the neighbours, there was Matt & Maree (from whom we bought this house and who still live nearby), Brendan & Melanie, Annette, Gabrielle, and John & Margaret (a teacher at my school). Mo (a Canadian) & Simon were there, fellow expats we'd met through an expats internet forum who coincidentally bought a house right down the street. They were pleased to meet the Gowing Street neighbours, but they also connected with another Canadian (Joanne), who is married to our choir director (Mark). Besides Mark & Joanne, from church there was Ivan & Anne, Vicky & Graeme, and Jenny & Marston. Work friends included Jon & Suze from Curt's office, plus Lucy & Grant and Barbara & Derek from my library. I was especially glad to finally meet Barbara's husband, Derek, because I'd heard about him but had never actually laid eyes on him; I call him Barbara's "alleged" husband. Best of all, we got to see Rick & Bev for the first time in over a year. They had hosted us, guided us, and helped us move to NZ in 2005 but lately we've been embarrassingly lax about keeping in touch. When you add in Nolan & Erica's presence, plus me & Curt, it all added up to 30 people. I ended up with quite a collection of birthday cards, too. Of course, it helps if you provide supplies and instruct the kids to make lots. Overall, it made me feel all warm inside to look around my house, crowded with well-wishers, and see evidence of our first 1.5 years here: good friends, good jobs, good church, good house, good son who just graduated. Not bad.

But it got even better: At about 9:00, Curt and Erica brought out the desserts, one chocolate cake and one cheesecake. Excellent choices! Everyone sang Happy Birthday, but with the room full of choir members, it was a far fancier rendition than your average refrain. Then Curt handed me a glass of champagne and proposed a toast ... but first he wanted to say a few words about me. Really? I knew nothing of this plan. He went on to say that I was a wordsmith, and that I had taught him to appreciate the power of words. He said the word he associated with me was "muse" and that I'd been his muse for 29 years. He noted that muse is also the root for the words "music" and "museum" - both important words in our lives - and the root for "amusement." I do make him laugh. I'm funny. I wish I could remember everything else he said that night, word for word, but I was shocked ... SHOCKED that he would open up and profess his emotions. It's just not his style. So I can't remember how it ended. I think he wished me well for the next 50 years or something. I was touched. Then I grabbed the first piece of chocolate cake and chowed down.

After the party, Nolan said that it was the best time he'd had in the entire two months they'd been in NZ. He especially liked our neighbour Brendan, who invited us over to his house the following night to watch the rugby game/drink beer. Earlier, Brendan and Nolan had drifted over to Brendan's and so they missed the cake and the toast. Brendan's partner, Mel was furious with him for stealing Nolan when he should have been here, but I wasn't. I'm glad he got to talk to people and meet people and enjoy himself, even though he and Erica were working in the kitchen most of the evening, heating more crostini and barbecuing chicken skewers. After everyone left, we tidied up a bit and did one load of dishes. We finally got to bed about midnight which is WAY past the appropriate bedtime for an old geezer like me.

Lovebirds

2007-05-18T18:33:00.000+12:00

Carlin emailed twice yesterday. He asked Kristen to marry him, and she said yes! He took her up to Pittock Mansion in Portland, the location of their first date, and proposed there. He's so romantic. The Pittock family were newspaper barons and the city later bought the house and extensive grounds, restored it, and it's used as a park and wedding venue. It's pretty flash. Apparently, when Carlin and Kristen went there for their first date, it was muddy and wet - so muddy that Kristen's shoes were ruined and she had to throw them away. They managed to have a good time together in spite of the soggy mess, so it must have been true love. Aahhh.

Besides getting engaged, Carlin & Kristen both graduated today - he with a Bachelor's in Music and she with a teaching degree. I wasn't there for the graduation ceremony but his little brother and his grandma were. Grandma even gave him a graduation quilt which is a really special tradition of hers.

Kristen's family is from Phoenix, so the wedding will be there in October or November. I am excited to start making plans for us to travel to the wedding. It'll be another chance for the whole fam damily to get together. The brothers will all be in the wedding party, wearing tuxedos and looking handsome. Nolan says if he's the Best Man, he wants to listed as Best Bud in the program.

Now Grandma has to start making them a wedding quilt!

on bended knee

2007-05-16T22:31:00.000+12:00

I called #3 son, Carlin, tonight, and he said he's going to propose to his girlfriend, Kristen, tomorrow. I'm so excited!

My 50th birthday

2007-05-15T20:56:00.000+12:00

Well, today is my actual birthday. Fifty. It sure seems like a really big number. I'm old.

Erica made dinner tonight and they'd stopped at the local bakery to get some fancy chocolate tarts for dessert. Mmmm. We also opened a bottle of champagne to celebrate the half-century mark. They gave me a birthday card about old people's eyesight being so bad that they can't read the fine print, but the print was so small, I couldn't read it so I didn't get the joke. Oh, the irony. They also gave me a new bomb for our collection. Curt wrote a note at the bottom of his card that said, "You look pretty good for 50, but then again, my vision isn't what it used to be." I am not kidding. He wrote that on the card.

Then we headed downtown to go see Fiddler on the Roof! Lucy had told me that her favourite part about going to the big theater downtown was the stars that lit up the ceiling, and Lara had said to look for the lion statues with glowing eyes. The theater was indeed impressive, designed like a Moorish garden, with turrets, minarets, spires and tiled roofs. It's pretty remarkable.

Fiddler on the Roof turned out to be as good as I hoped. Topol owned the character of Tevye. He was full of energy when needed, yet old and dejected when needed. His voice had lost none of its power. It was incredible. Erica's eyes were bright and sparkling throughout the performance. She loved it. Nolan would never admit it, but he liked it too. I only sang along a few times, but I couldn't help it. Who can resist Sunrise, Sunset? Or If I Were a Rich Man? Besides, I sang real quiet, under my breath. I didn't ruin the show for anyone.

Once in Portland, I actually got to sing as loud as I wanted - we went to the Sound of Music Sing Along. It was great. They had the lyrics on the screen ... but I don't need them. I know all the songs by heart. Heck, I know all the dialogue by heart! There was a costume contest during intermission and some of them were pretty creative. People had dressed up as nuns, or goatherds, or girls in white dresses with blue satin sashes. The theater also distributed a little goody bag with props: edelweiss, drapery material, and an invitation to the Baroness's party. We had a blast. If only someone would produce a Music Man sing along ... or Fiddler on the Roof sing along.

Even though I didn't get to sing If I Were a Rich Man at the top of my lungs as I would have liked, it was still a great birthday. Sadly, 50 is also still a very big number.

Mueseum/ Mother's Day

2007-05-14T17:15:00.000+12:00

We had another busy weekend with Nolan and Erica. Saturday we went to the Auckland Museum. Sunday was Mother's Day. Then my birthday was 2 days after that. Busy week.

1. We went to the Auckland Museum, a huge building with a brand new dome addition. I always get lost in there. The museum's displays include nature, culture and history, but Erica liked the nature stuff the best (naturally). There were all sorts of plants and animals, including fish. There were also plenty of gross-looking bugs. Nolan liked the wetas the best (naturally). There was even a giant stuffed moa - an ostrich-sized flightless bird that was hunted to extinction once humans arrived. We all liked the Maori display, especially the giant waka (canoe) and the elaborately carved marae (meeting house) that you could walk into (if you take your shoes off first). I liked the historical displays (naturally) about WWI, Gallipoli, and WWII. It was only 2.5 weeks since ANZAC Day, and there were still wreaths on the memorials and red poppies affixed to the marble wall listing lost soldiers' names.

Everyone's favourite, however, was the volcano exhibit. Curt and I are from Washington, the home state of Mt St Helens, so we have a long history with volcanoes. In 1980, we heard the BOOM, even though we were 200 miles away from the big blast. Then from 2001-2005, we had a great view of Mt St Helens out the picture window of our house in Portland where we could watch the mountain every time it decided to wake up and spew some more, which happened every 6-12 months.

In the museum's exhibit, we sat in a fake living room while watching fake news of an impending eruption in Auckland's bay. The news showed people evacuating the city, and experts evaluating the latest seismograph. There was footage of steam coming out of the bay, and then there was a huge KABOOM! The fake living room shook and nearly scared the pants off me. The lights went out and the TV screen went black. Looking out the living room's fake window, you could see the eruption, the destruction, and the ash. It was quite realistic and rather sobering. Auckland is built on 50 volcanic cones, after all.

After getting our thrills at the museum, we went to Devonport for fish and chips, with a slight detour to Devonport Chocolates (naturally). And another detour for crappuccinos (naturally).

2. Sunday was Mother's Day, which (naturally) is not a very big deal around our house because Curt doesn't want to make any holiday a big deal. He doesn't get me a present or a card or anything. (This explains why I was determined to make my 50th birthday a bigger deal by buying tickets to Fiddler on the Roof and by planning a party for myself.) Happily, this year Mother's Day was a little more special than usual because Nolan and Erica were here. I made them come to church because it was Mother's Day. Lots of people wanted to talk with them afterwards. Everyone at church always makes them feel special. That evening, Erica made salmon for dinner and it was excellent (naturally). And they got me a card. Then we watched Heavenly Creatures, which is a great NZ film, but probably not a good choice for Mother's Day because the characters in the movie kill their mother. I just hope Nolan doesn't get any ideas.

Birthday planning

2007-05-11T15:15:00.000+12:00

I was turning 50 in a few days, and I wasn't sure how to celebrate it. I wasn't particularly pleased to be a half-century old. But if I could come up with something fun - something noteworthy - it might help me feel better about being so old.

PLAN A:
A revival of the musical Fiddler on the Roof happened to be in Auckland this month, starring Topol, its original Broadway star 40 years ago. I'm a sucker for musicals. I know the storylines in musicals are corny, but I still enjoy the songs and the costumes and the spectacle of it all. One of my favourites has always been The Music Man, in which the love interest is Marian the Librarian - little did I know that I would grow up to be a librarian! Plus it's about a marching band and has some good old-fashioned John Philip Sousa-type music in it. I love it.

So. Fiddler on the Roof sounded like a perfect birthday activity, except for one thing: I was worried that the star might be over the hill. Honestly, Topol must be at least 70-something now! One of the worst musical productions I ever saw was when an older, washed-up Broadway star agreed to reprise his role in Annie Get Your Gun. He was 60 or 70 at the time, and he wore a girdle/corset to cinch his belly, which was only partially reduced. The leading lady was played by a young woman in her twenties, and it was impossible to accept this pathetic old geezer as her paramour. Ew.

Because of this, I was sceptical of going to see an old star like Topol. I waited for the reviews - excellent. Word-of-mouth - glowing. One friend pointed out that since Topol was an old man playing an old man, it wouldn't be as bad as an old man playing a young man. OK. I'll go. The next step was to convince Nolan and Erica to come.

me: I was thinking of getting tickets for Fiddler on the Roof for my birthday.
Erica: Oooh! I'll go! (with glee)
Nolan: I've already seen it. (with dread)
Erica: Oh, come on, Nolan. I've never been to a play or musical. This will be great. (with excitement)
Nolan: Mom dragged us to plays and musicals every summer. (with disgust)
Erica: Really! What did you get to see? (with envy)
Nolan: EVERYTHING. Music Man. King and I. Man of LaMancha. Grease. Little Shop of Horrors. Sound of Music. Godspell. Good lord, I've seen them all. (with woe)
Erica: You're so lucky!
Nolan: Lucky? When you're a 10-year-old boy, you don't like to go to musicals, especially when your mom sings along. She sings along! (with embarrassment)
me: It's settled, then. I'll buy 4 tickets. (with a smile)

PLAN B:
Maybe I should have a party. It might make the event of turning 50 more palatable. Plus our friends would get to see Nolan and Erica one more time before they go back to America. The only thing wrong with parties is that they're always so much darn work. I only wanted to have a party if I didn't have to do any of the work. Presto. Erica would shop and cook and cater the whole thing. Nolan would be her driver and sous-chef. Curt would order a fancy CHOCOLATE cake (or two). I would eat the cake and enjoy the party. Perfect.

I decided to go with both Plan A and Plan B. Maybe turning 50 wouldn't be so bad after all.

More and more sightseeing

2007-05-07T19:27:00.000+12:00

This weekend, we decided to go to the aquarium and the zoo. Erica, being the scientist in the family, was especially keen to see all New Zealand's exotic species. Nolan just likes any opportunity to see wetas.

The aquarium, called "Kelly Tarlton's Antarctic Encounter & Underwater World," was built by a Kiwi deep sea explorer and salvager named - you guessed it - Kelly Tarlton. They have a huge penguin program there and we went through that area twice. Penguins are just so endearing with their little tuxedo outfits, and the way they torpedo through the water and waddle around on land.

The aquarium also has an underwater tunnel you walk through while sharks and fish swim around and above you. Some of the fish are stunningly beautiful and colourful, but some of the other creatures at the aquarium gross me out. I'm especially repulsed by eels, and prefer to shield my face when we pass their tanks (which of course, makes Nolan seek out all eels and steer me in that direction).

In addition, we saw feeding time at the stingray tanks when a diver entered the tank and hand-fed the stingrays ... the same kind of stingray that killed Steve Irwin, Crocodile Hunter, last year. Stingrays seem so ominous, I think, because they're black and they glide through the water like Stealth bombers. Plus they're HUGE! They're as big as my dining room table. Overall, they're downright creepy, and there's no way I would ever get in a tank with stingrays like the diver did.

We ended our visit to the aquarium by buying crappuccinos and sitting at the wide picture window, enjoying the view of the sun shimmering on the bay. It's not a bad way to spend a day.

The following day, we all went to the zoo. Guess who forgot to put on their shoes and accidentally wore slippers - Curt! At least it wasn't me this time. It was another beautiful sunny day, perfect for visiting animals in this lovely setting where peacocks roamed free on the footpaths (sidewalks).

We especially liked the majestic giraffes, zebras (pronounced zebbras), lions sleeping and looking lazy, and elegant springboks. In one of the monkey areas, there seemed to be a dispute among the residents because the monkeys were all screeching and chasing and snapping and fighting with each other. The hippos lounged appropriately in muddy Hippo River. There were sea lions and little penguins splashing around, entertaining the crowd. In the cheetah enclosure, a zookeeper was sitting with 2 cheetahs and petting them as he talked to the visitors - which is even worse than being in a stingray tank, if you ask me. The tiger acted like he was the king of the zoo, but the giant Galapagos turtles roamed equally regally, and the elephants knew they were the true supreme rulers. In the Australia exhibit, the emus came right up next to us, while the kangaroos hopped around looking fiercer and more powerful than the furry, cuddly perception I'd always had of kangaroos ... from where - cartoons or stuffed animals? Now I can see that you should never mess with kangaroos.

Best of all, we attended a native fauna encounter where the zookeeper showed two of New Zealand's icons, a tuatara and a kiwi bird. The tuatara is a very ancient species – it is the only survivor of a group of reptiles that roamed the earth at the same time as dinosaurs. Tuataras can live to be 100 years old. There's not very many tuataras left, and they're only found in New Zealand. It was pretty cool to see one in person. The zookeeper also showed us a kiwi, and it was fun to see it walk/waddle around, surprisingly fast. It really went lickety-split.

Nolan has been obsessed with wetas (among other things) and he was happy to see some at the zoo. We'd mentioned his obsession to friends, and one sweet lady from choir caught a weta on her back porch to bring to him. She put it in a cup, covered it with paper and sealed it with a rubber band. Then she poked a few holes in the paper because she wanted it to be able to get some air. The next morning, the weta was gone. Uh oh. Poor June now has a weta running free somewhere in her house. And poor Nolan never did get his very own weta.

Back at the zoo, we resisted the temptation to stop for crappuccinos because we were so exhausted and just wanted to get home. Despite our tired footsies, it was an excellent way to spend the day. Later that evening I talked Curt into giving me a foot rub, even though he was the one who wore slippers the whole time and his feet probably hurt more. How do I manage these things?

More sightseeing

2007-05-02T18:36:00.000+12:00

Nolan and Erica were ready to stay at home this week to see a few more sights around Auckland, after having spent the past week volunteering at a Dept. of Conservation site.

Since Erica just graduated with a degree in Environmental Science, she was interested in doing some conservation work in New Zealand while they were here. So they signed up to go to Motuora Island to help the ranger. They camped all week but had access to kitchen and shower facilities.

Motuora Island is a kiwi bird sanctuary where they allow kiwi babies to live in a controlled environment - an island without predators - before they are big enough to be released on the mainland. Kiwis, a flightless bird, are endangered and revered in this country. Most Kiwis (people) have never seen a live kiwi (bird), especially in the wild. But Nolan did. One night he went out with his flashlight (I mean 'torch') and saw one. According to Nolan and Erica, kiwis are also really noisy at night (they're nocturnal). At first, this seemed pretty exotic to be listening to genuine kiwis squawk at night. Then it became a little annoying. Eventually they just wished the stupid birds would shut the heck up.

On Motuora Island, the Dept. of Conservation (shortened to DoC, pronounced "dock") is also trying to restore native trees and there is a conservation society that supports this effort and organises a planting day for its members. One of Nolan and Erica's jobs was to prepare for the members/helpers and to oversee their planting. On other days, Nolan and Erica cleared bamboo and built a solar panel for the ranger's building.

Overall, it was a pretty cool experience for them, and not the sort of thing a tourist usually does. They went swimming in the ocean a few times and Erica collected LOTS of shells. They also got to see heaps of pukekos, a bird with long stick legs and big feet that walks like it's wearing clown shoes. They're blue and colourful, and cute.

As I said, after all that excitement last week, they were ready to stay home and relax a bit. So we decided to go see a few things around Auckland. On our first day, we went to meet Curt for lunch at the Winter Garden (see photo at left), walked to the Art Gallery, and then the Sky Tower. I'm afraid they didn't get to relax much after all.

The Sky Tower looks quite a bit like Seattle's Space needle except not as elegant. We took the express elevator to the viewing level and admired the view. We could see Rangitoto, the volcanic island we'd hiked up last month. We could see the ridge where our house supposedly was, somewhere in Meadowbank. We could see One Tree Hill (which doesn't have a tree ) and Devonport across the bridge. We could even see all the way to Coromandel Peninsula, where Nolan and Erica had gone for one of their getaways.

As you may know, New Zealand is the birthplace of bungy jumping and this country is overflowing with similar extreme experiences. On the Sky Tower, a person can "freefall" from the top while attached to a cable that essentially lowers him as fast as he would fall. But it stops him part-way down, so he can hover in front of the viewing level and wave to his friends. While we were admiring the views, a guy suddenly dropped into sight outside our window, dangled there for a few seconds (see the guy wearing blue & yellow jumpsuit in the photo), then continued "falling" to the ground as the cable eventually slowed him down and landed him gently on the target. I've got to tell you, it's rather disconcerting to see someone flying by.

The other opportunity for a thrill at the Sky Tower is their glass floors. While you're up on the viewing level, you can obviously look out - but you can also look directly down to the footpath through the glass floors. (notice our "frightened faces" in the photo, and notice the glass below our feet) In addition, you can see down while riding in the glass-floored elevator, which is bad enough. It's a long way down. I don't like looking down.

Well, that was more than enough thrill for us for one day. And not enough relaxing. So we headed back home to take a nap.

Connectionz

2007-04-26T18:56:00.000+12:00

Meeting the Prime Minister reminded me of one of the differences between New Zealand and America: New Zealand is such a small country that meeting someone famous is entirely possible. I've noticed two consequences of this: Kiwis think that a typical American knows famous people (they don't). And Americans don't think a typical Kiwi would know any famous people (they do). Here's some examples:

On my first day teaching in New Zealand, the students asked me:
1. Do you know 50 Cent? (no.)
2. Do you know the guys from American Chopper? (no.)
3. Do you know any wrestlers from WWF? (no.)
As you can see, I was disappointing to them right from the start.
But they honestly thought that because I'm American, it's entirely possible that I would know someone famous in America. I don't. (It's quite disturbing to discover who they think is famous in America, or which famous Americans they hoped I knew - but that's a different issue)

New Zealand is so small that when there's a national disaster that affects a few hundred people - like the ferry Wahine that sunk on its way to Wellington - odds are good that the average Kiwi knew someone who was involved. A neighbour's son, a colleague, or a relative, for example. Since I rode the Wellington ferry a few weeks ago, wrote about it in the blog, and read a book about it, I have been bringing up the Wahine disaster in conversations and have discovered that my colleague's husband was on the same ferry boat a few weeks before it sank AND a science teacher at my school was on the ferry as it sank and helped save people. As an American, I find it amazing to find connections so close! But it's not amazing to Kiwis.

I recently went to hear an author speak about a biography she'd written of Sir Edmund Hilary, the New Zealander who was the first man to conquer Mt. Everest, more than 50 years ago. She explained the difficulties she encountered because her subject was a national icon, practically a saint, and still very much alive. She asked how many people in the audience had met "Ed." Out of 150 people in the room, about 25 raised their hands. I was astounded! If you were at an author event in America and asked how many people had ever met Muhammed Ali, I can't imagine you'd get a single hand.

Well, now that I'm living in this small country, I think I should go out and meet some more famous people. I've already met the Prime Minister. Who else should I seek out? An All-Black Rugby star? (Hmm. They're quite good-looking) The latest winner in New Zealand's Dancing With the Stars? (No. Too tabloid) How about Sir Ed? He lives in Auckland. His wife and daughter both attended my school, and he gave a painting of Mount Everest to the school in their honour after they were killed in a plane crash. That painting hangs in the library. Yes, I think I'd like to meet Edmund Hillary next. After all, it's not impossible to meet a national treasure in this country.

ANZAC Day

2007-04-25T17:08:00.000+12:00

The Mt Albert Methodist Church choir (that's us) sang at the ANZAC service at the Mt Albert Memorial this morning. There were dawn services all over New Zealand on ANZAC Day, including the largest one in front of the Auckland War Memorial Museum, but Mt Albert's began at a more reasonable time, 9:30 a.m. Since this was one of scores of smaller, local services, I wasn't expecting much. I was wrong.

ANZAC Day is a national holiday to commemorate New Zealand soldiers. The date of April 25 was chosen because that was the day in 1915 when the ANZAC (Australian & New Zealand Army Corps) forces landed on the beach at dawn to begin their campaign to take the Gallipoli peninsula from the Turkish army. (See the red circle in the upper left corner) The invasion was ill-advised and after 9 months of fighting, little ground gained, and over 10,000 men lost, the troops pulled out without a victory.

It feels strange to me for a national holiday to be on the day their army got slaughtered. I'm more accustomed to the rah-rah patriotism of America where we celebrate, magnify, and treasure only victories, and secretly wish our defeats would disappear. On ANZAC Day, however, people don't celebrate the lost battle; they honour the men who bravely went into battle even though everyone knew it was a suicide mission. They honour the way the tiny little country on the other side of the world sent their boys to help the British Empire. They honour the way those boys distinguished themselves and earned respect from Australian and British troops. April 25, 1915 was the day New Zealand was admitted to the Big League, and they proved themselves worthy. ANZAC Day is a solemn day, deserving a solemn service that always ends with the bugler playing Last Post.

In Mt Albert's little Memorial Hall, I was astounded at how many people were in attendance! There were 250-300 people trying to fit into a venue that seats about 150. Luckily, the choir was positioned on the stage so we were assured a seat. Before the service, we had been forced to scrounge a few chairs; we grabbed all the strays we could find, including 3 we took from the podium. Once the service began, the place was packed, and the audience was standing all along the back - 4 rows deep - and more standing outside. There was an abundance of strollers, toddlers, and school children alongside the veterans and older generation. All sorts of local groups were represented: Mt Albert creche (pre-school), 2 local high schools, Girl Guides (Girl Scouts), Mt Albert churches, Mt Albert Senior Centre, Mt Albert Bowling Club, NZ Navy, NZ Air Force, NZ Coast Guard, RSA (the NZ veterans' group is called Returned Services Assoc.) ... and on and on. Each group laid a wreath at the memorial.

The main speaker for the service was none other than Prime Minister Helen Clark, because the Mt Albert neighbourhood is her home electorate. She gave her speech without notes, citing battles and relating history to the New Zealand experience. She's probably given a fair number of ANZAC speeches before. Overall, she's a polished speaker, with an unusually deep voice that carries well and commands attention. There were 3 security men discreetly but obviously lurking about, wearing earpieces and looking shifty. During the service, she sat by the podium, on a chair that someone had fortunately replaced because a certain choir had snatched hers. I can't believe we stole the Prime Minister's chair! It's a wonder we didn't get arrested by the guys in suits.

After the service, everyone got a cup of tea, including Helen Clark. She was chatting with various people while her security hovered nearby. At one point, Officer #1 spoke into his sleeve to tell something to Officer #2, who looked back at #1 from across the hall with a puzzled look, a shrug, and some pointing at his ear, indicating that his earpiece wasn't working and he couldn't hear a single word that Officer #1 had said. Ha.

Shamelessly - utterly shamelessly! - I asked one of our choir friends to introduce us to Helen Clark, since I knew that they were long-time acquaintances. He readily agreed, and ushered us over and introduced us as his American friends who moved to NZ. She shook our hands and asked where we were from in America, so we described our locations in Washington State & Oregon. We mentioned that Auckland looks a lot like Seattle - waterfront, ferries, Sky Tower. She agreed, but said she'd just been in Seattle in March and it was dreadful, rainy weather. We all agreed that the weather was much better here in NZ! After a bit more chit chat, we moved along and let others talk to her.

Next, we headed back to the church for a pancake breakfast put on annually by 2 members of the church. Brian, the choir accompanist, played old war songs like A Long Way to Tipperary while we all sang along, even though I hadn't heard of any of the other songs. But it was a fun way to spend the morning. And yummy.

Well, that was my brush with fame here in NZ. My choir friends kept asking if I had a good talk with my friend Helen, and were teasing me about never washing my hand again, now that I had shaken hands with the Prime Minister. I know it was brazen of me to ask Merv to introduce us, but I thought it was pretty cool to meet her nonetheless.

Road Trip, postscript

2007-04-21T17:49:00.000+12:00

We received a speeding ticket in the mail today.

Apparently, two weeks ago on Easter Sunday at 12:30 p.m., our car was detected going 64 km/h in a 50 km/h zone. (This converts to 39 mph in a 31 mph zone) This was after we'd been swimming with the dolphins - and I'd thrown up on the boat - as we were just leaving the town of Kaikoura.

We determined that Curt was driving. He was not happy with this realisation. He spent an appropriate length of time ranting about the miniscule amount over the limit, the short length of road that was 50 km/h before it reverted to 80 km/h, the small town police force installing speed cameras so they can use tourists as a revenue generator, and the monumental pettiness of it all.

We pondered whether we should pay it or not.
In Portland, I'd once received a ticket by mail for running a red light. The streetcorner had a camera that was triggered by any vehicle running the yellow light which turned red while it was still in the intersection. But a lawyer friend had told me that the photo-tickets were actually illegal/unconstitutional and you didn't really have to pay them. So I didn't. I never heard about it again. I hoped that photo speeding tickets in NZ might be similarly invalid, but included in the ticket was a brochure (pronounced BRO-shure) explaining the technology, the legality, and the court system. Drats.

I wondered if it did any good to write a sob story at the bottom of the ticket, detailing my recent vomiting episode as some sort of excuse. Even better, we wondered if we should say that I was still nauseous and that Curt was speeding to get to the side of the road quickly so I could toss my cookies again. Sadly, we knew that a) this was a lie and b) it wasn't even a very good lie.

We paid the ticket.

Road Trip, Day 10 - Home!

2007-04-15T15:57:00.000+12:00

We left Wellington (#2 on the map) at 8:00 a.m. and arrived home in Auckland (#1) at 6:00 p.m. Long drive.

Fortunately, we stopped ...
... at a fruit stand
... to change drivers. We all took turns - except Nolan, who refused.
... at a pie shop. Guess whose idea that was.
... at Lake Taupo to stretch our legs and admire the scenery
... at a honey and mead store. Nolan is a mead aficionado and works at a meadery in Bellingham. I'm not sure where his fascination with mead began; maybe he was an Arthurian knight in a former life. Anyway, he was quite interested in the mead industry in NZ. He and the shopowner talked knowledgeably about different varieties and different techniques, and Nolan got to try a number of samples before he selected one to buy. He was happy. But he still wouldn't drive.

Overall, it was a good trip. We got to see a lot of the South Island.
According to the odometer, we drove 2655 km (1593 m.). Here's the traditional best/worst summary:

PRETTIEST DRIVE -
over Arthur's Pass (Erica)
wine country in Marlborough (Nolan)

FAVOURITE WILDLIFE -
dusky dolphins (Curt)
slimy plankton (Erica)
Winnie the fat dachshund at the B&B in Christchurch (Erica)
sheep (Nolan)
wetas (Nolan)
lazy seals (Megan)

BEST PURCHASE -
shoes for the Forgetful One
bomb (Curt)
black leather slides (Erica)
wool sweater (Nolan)

MOST EXTRAORDINARY ADVENTURE -
getting lost in Wellington so much that we had to resort to KFC for dinner against our better judgement (Curt)
learning to Give Way (Nolan)

YUMMIEST FOOD -
tiny mandarin oranges straight from the garden of the B&B in Akaroa (Erica)
pies (Nolan)

MOST MEMORABLE VIEW -
stars at night (Megan)
Pancake Rocks (Curt)
Akaroa Harbour (Erica)

FUNNEST GAME -
Scrabble (Megan, because she always won)
Hearts (Curt, because he almost always won)

FINEST PLACE TO SIT AND ENJOY THE GOOD LIFE -
on the veranda at the B&B in Akaroa (Erica)
Kaikoura beach (Megan)
Forrest winery (Nolan)

Road Trip, Day 9

2007-04-14T16:48:00.000+12:00

Uh oh. The alarm in our hotel room didn't go off. Luckily, Curt woke up at 7:35 anyway ... but we needed to hit the road at 7:50 to catch the ferry. No time for showers. We just threw everything in the car and started driving.

The drive from Nelson to the ferry terminal at Picton is another winding road over mountains and along the coast. It only takes 1.5 hours to get to Picton, but that was enough time for Nolan to get carsick. He said he wasn't feeling too good. Curt pulled over. Nolan threw up in the bushes. All those pies he'd been eating probably didn't help.

When we arrived in Picton, we found out that the ferry was running an hour late, so it turned out that we had lots of time. Oh well. This gave Curt & Erica a chance to get coffee & tea, while Nolan and I went in search of carsick medicine. The village of Picton is little more than a ferry town, and it serves a few thousand ferry passengers every day, so I was guessing they sell PLENTY of seasick pills. Sure, enough, the chemist had a substantial selection, and recommended SeaLegs. Sold.

During the break at the cafe and the chemist's, we also used Picton's public toilet, which ordinarily would not be noteworthy except it was downright weird. Curt used it first, and reported that it played cheesy Burt Bacharach music while he was in there. Obviously, that made us all want to experience it. When you pushed a button, the door slid open like on Star Trek. There was even an automatic toilet paper dispenser that gave you an exact amount. There didn't seem to be a flusher button, but a recorded voice told me that it would automatically flush when I pushed the button to exit. It felt like something from the Jetsons.

While waiting in line for the ferry, we learned that the crossing today was going to be rough and there was a "moderate" seasick warning. Fortunately, we were freshly stocked with enough seasick medicine for all of us. And it was a good thing we were, for the crossing was indeed choppy. A few of the more miserable travellers were in the bathrooms puking, but we all managed to survive with our stomach contents intact. Oh, and we played Scrabble on the ferry (again) and I won (again).

We arrived in Wellington at about 2:00 and even though everyone would have preferred to take naps, I made them all go to the museum instead. We walked through the shopping district and along the waterfront to get there. After the long ferry ride, it felt good to be out in the fresh air and walk around ... at first. Then we walked for another 2 hours inside the museum, and before long my feet hurt. Still, Erica liked the bush walk and the skeleton of the pygmy sperm whale hanging from the ceiling. Nolan liked the bugs (again) because it had big wetas. I liked the chocolate chip cookie at the cafe.

Back at the hotel after dinner, Curt took some cold medicine for his sniffly and sneezy nose, and combined with the seasick medicine, he fell asleep at 7:15 p.m. It's been a long day. It's been a busy week. It'll be good to be back home tomorrow.

Road Trip, Day 8

2007-04-13T16:45:00.000+12:00

Nothing much happened.
We stayed in Nelson, reported to be the sunniest spot in NZ.
It's an artsy town.
We wandered around their downtown.
Erica bought 2 pairs of shoes. She was happy.
We walked along their riverfront.
We ate good seafood.
We liked it.

Road Trip, Day 7

2007-04-12T19:55:00.000+12:00

Today we went to see Pancake Rocks, which is a strange rock formation of layered rocks. Thankfully, the weather was sunny and warm, as opposed to yesterday's deluge. We even stopped at the beach for a picnic lunch - despite Nolan's request that we buy pie for lunch. Again.

He's really obsessed with the New Zealand meat pie which is the quintessential Kiwi lunch. They are sold in corner markets and supermarkets and takeaway shops and school cafeterias. Nolan adores them. He seems to want pie for breakfast. lunch, and dinner. He notices all the pie shops along the road - which is a considerable number. He shouts out "Pie time!" and goes through withdrawal if he doesn't get enough pies. I like pies, too, but I'm suspicious of their potential ingredients: mystery meat leftovers. Your basic pie has a reputation of being made of little more than minced offal swimming in puddles of thickening gravy. Nonetheless, Nolan is a firm member of this fan club. Yesterday, we stopped for coffee at 10:00 and he wanted a pie already. He's already had breakfast at the B&B, and it wasn't lunchtime yet, but the coffeeshop had pies, so there was really no question. He needed a pie.

Well, in this case, we stopped on the beach and ate cheese and crackers and fruit for lunch - no pies. The waves are really wild and rough here on the west coast of NZ. After lunch, we arrived at Pancake Rocks and followed the trail to the sea's edge. The wild waves have chiselled away huge chunks of the rocks, leaving pools and crevices and arches that all get splashed with violent seafoam. It's pretty impressive yet inexplicable; nobody really knows why these rocks are layered as they are. But we definitely know why they have eroded away so drastically.

There was still a few hours of driving to do today. As usual, Nolan was in the back seat doing crossword puzzles. We were bored. We wanted to help.

Nolan: OK. Who was the number one artist in 1973 according to Billboard? Nine letters.
us: Beatles!
us: Rolling Stones!
Nolan: 9 letters.
us: Led Zeppelin!
Nolan: NINE LETTERS. Begins with E.
us: Does Simon & Garfunkle fit?
(the answer was Elton John)
Before long, Nolan was thoroughly discouraged with our "help" and would really rather do the puzzle himself, which would be faster and far less exasperating. However, we were bored silly, having too much fun, and desperate to be included in any pastime that entertained us so. We agreed to take it seriously and actually help.
Nolan: OK. Who was the number one artist of the rock and roll era, according to Billboard? 12 letters.
us: Beatles!
us: Simon & Garfunkle!
us: Queen!
Nolan: TWELVE LETTERS, people! The fourth letter is I.
us: Michael Jackson!
us: Madonna!
Nolan: Oh, come on. You guys are impossible. Why don't you do your own puzzle from the other crossword puzzle book instead of ruining mine?
us: Because that's full of New York Times crossword puzzles and they're too hard for us. Please let us help. We promise we'll do it right this time. Please?
Nolan: Oh, all right. 12 down. Actress Ruby.
me: Dee! Ruby Dee! See, I am helpful!
Nolan: Very good, Marm. How about ... Oscar-winning role for Hanks.
us: That guy on Castaway!
Nolan: I need a name. 4 letters.
us: The guy with AIDS ... in that one movie.
Nolan: FOUR LETTERS.
me: I think his name was John. In Castaway. That's 4 letters.
Nolan: John? I'm not so sure I'm going to take your word for it.
me: Don't you trust me?
Nolan: No, Mom, I don't trust you. Why? Because you shout out Led Zeppelin when I want a 4-letter word, and because you can't even REMEMBER YOUR SHOES.

The answer was Gump.