Connectionz

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

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

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!

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

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

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

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.

Road Trip, Day 6

we leave akaroa with stummies full to the brim with warm croissants. john, the limey in the only other room in the b&b tells us before we leave about the keas at arthur's pass where we would be crossing the mountains. keas are intelligent parrots that ostensibly like to eat things like windshield wiper-blades. john says that one kea will distract you by doing... something (perhaps flapping its wings and squawking?) while the other keas pilfer the windshield wiper blades like a bloody pack of thieves. why do they eat wiper-blades? we ask john. because they are squishy, he replies. doubtful. it is much more probable that the keas take the wiper-blades and sell them in a massive, secret, underground wiper-blade market. the noise of the market is undoubtedly deafening: squawk! squawk! wiper blades! wiper blades! squawk! squawk! what's your make and model!? what's your make and model!?

we make our way up the windy roads out of akaroa, passing through an area that looks like rohan from those movies about hobbits. there are many places in new zealand that look like rohan. there are many places in new zealand that look like places from those movies about hobbits. who can say why?

there are one or two sheep here. sheep are a rare breed of flightless mammal endemic to new zealand. they are bizarre creatures-- fat, fluffy, nocturnal, and viciously carnivorous (they are the number one cause of death in the southern hemisphere; worse than heart disease and lawnmower accidents combined). most of the sheep here live in closely guarded sheep reserves, as they are endangered. specialists have estimated that there are only 40 million remaining in new zealand.

it is raining, and our wiper blades don't work very well. we arrive at arthur's pass. we look for keas. we don't see any. we see signs that say "please do not feed the keas". as if the keas actually wanted to eat the wiper blades. the keas have, of course, noted the poor performance of our wiper blades during the drive up to the pass. an intricate network of keas up and down the mountains have identified our car as one not worth bothering with--wiper blades wouldn't fetch more than a dollar in the aforementioned market. so the keas leave us alone.

i take over driving. i drive down the pass. after many kilometers (that's what they call miles in new zealand), i come up behind a tiny red car. it looks like a yugo. yugos blow up easily when rear-ended. that is why they were taken off the market. following the red car, we come to a roundabout. the red car stops at the roundabout, evidently to see if anyone is coming. nobody is coming, and it is not necessary to stop at roundabouts anyway, so i don't bother slowing down because i am assuming that the driver of the yugoish car will proceed any second now. he remains stopped. i press the brakes but it is too late. i am going to rear-end a yugo. we are dead.

it's hardly even a tap. we are not dead. the man in the yugo rolls his window down and tries to stick his head out to see what hit him but he can't because the window is too small. he pulls over, i pull over behind him. he gets out and ambles toward the car. i open the door and get out.

"are you from europe?" he asks.
what should i say? why is he asking this? has he been rear-ended by europeans before?
"no, i'm from the united states."
"well in new zealand, we give way." that means yield.
"yes, but i didn't see anybody coming, so i thought you were going to proceed."
"i was giving way to that truck," he says, indicating a truck that has just now passed us. in america, we don't usually give way to cars that are hazy images on the horizon. it's funny--all of the little cultural differences one notices when travelling in a foreign country. i think about explaining this difference to him.
'in my defense,' i would say, 'in america, we usually only give way to cars that we can see, rather than cars that are merely potential. that way, we save ourselves the trouble of yielding to cars that aren't really there, and it speeds things up a bit.'
"oh, i see," i say instead
"well, have a good trip anyway," he says. he sounds sincere. i am embarrassed.
"thanks."

nolan

Road Trip, Day 5

Before we checked out of the B&B today, Curt decided to go for a run this morning and got a little lost ... er I mean, he had an Adventure. Once he returned, we went for our final breakfast: Curt had very British porridge, Erica tried beans on toast (!), and Nolan fed bits of sausage to Miss Winnie whose belly was dragging even closer to the ground today.

Next, it was time for an Adventure! We were headed to a little French town about 1.5 hours away from Christchurch, called Akaroa. Somehow we found ourselves driving towards the airport before we turned around. And turned around. And ultimately got turned around the right way. It was good to know that we hadn't lost our touch.

On the drive to Akaroa, Nolan liked all the sheep we saw:
9:11 - "Look there's sheep"
9:13 - "Oh my God, there's more sheep!"
9:14 - "Look there's some sheep"
9:16 - "Hey - sheep. You don't see that every day."
It's always good to have Nolan along for entertainment.


After a tasty stop at a cheese factory, we arrived in Akaroa which was founded by some French whalers and has retained some of its Frenchness. For instance, it still has streets named Rue Benoit and Rue Balguerie. Our B&B was located on Rue Jolie which means "pretty" in French (and has nothing to do with Angelina). It was a cute little town on secluded French Bay and is a popular weekend destination for Christchurchians. Visiting Akaroa was as close to France as our recent French graduate (Nolan) was going to get.


Our B&B in Akaroa was run by a spunky little lady named Rosemary. She had a twinkle in her eye and a wry smile, and was full of stories of the locals. One millionaire moved here 10 years ago to start a vineyard, and 3 years later- right when the vines were ready to start producing wine - he disappeared without a trace. Nobody knows where he went or what happened to him. Did he get sick of his life and go back to UK? Was he in trouble? Was he swept out to sea? Later that evening, when Curt and I were walking by the lighthouse, he directed my eyes to a spot overlooking the water.
"See those rocks? that's where he jumped."
Uh huh.
"Look how the rocks are all red. That's his blood."
Gee, thanks, Curt.

We liked wandering around the town - I'm pretty sure I made everyone stop at the ice cream shop ... and at the fudge shop. We even found a wool shop and bought a sweater for Nolan! Maybe he'll stop making fun of all the sheep now. And we wandered around the beach, where Erica found more good shells. She's been acquiring quite a collection on this trip. We ate cheese (from today's cheese factory) and croissants (very French, don't you think?) for dinner on the veranda of the B&B. Rosemary had an incredible garden, with lemon trees and mandarin orange trees and butterflies everywhere. Ah. This is the life.

That evening, we saw an amazing clear midnight blue sky that I will try to describe: Usually the sky looks like it has maybe 100 white dots - stars. Tonight, we could see the same 100 white dots ... plus we could see thousands/millions of other microscopic white sprinkles. It's as if someone sprinkled sugar crystals all over the dark background, and the 100 white spots are still there too, only they're bigger and brighter than the sprinkles. Combined, the sprinkles and the dots were magical and we couldn't stop gazing upward. None of us had ever seen such a clear sky with so many stars visible. Undoubtedly, it helped that we're in a remote area of the southern hemisphere, removed from serious light pollution. Admittedly, we're still not very good at recognising any constellations in the southern sky, even the Southern Cross which is a national symbol and is on New Zealand's flag. But that didn't matter. We were astonished by the raw splendour of it. It was amazingly, wonderfully, staggeringly beyond words.

Road Trip, Day 4 - Easter Monday

7:30 a.m: The B&B chimed a series of sing-song bells and announced that breakfast was served. Apparently this building used to be a frat house and they used the bells to get their frat boys out of bed or to declare Lights Out. Personally, I would have preferred to sleep longer (of course) and skip breakfast, but once the bells woke me up, I figured I might as well partake of their fine food. They offered the usual hot brekkies plus a few unusual breakfast menu items such as creamed corn, baked beans or spaghetti. I'd never heard of baked beans for breakfast before I moved to NZ, but evidently beans on toast is standard fare. No thanks. We never did understand about serving spaghetti for breakfast, and don't know if it was served with marinara sauce, or if it was just noodles. We mainly stuck with the traditional eggs or bacon-type selections. Miss Winnie, the tubby resident dachshund particularly liked the lamb sausage; Erica didn't.

Today we mostly wandered around Christchurch: the park, 2 museums, and the main square.
1. In the park, we saw a man punting on the Avon River (a punt is a flat-bottomed boat). The punter wore a fancy waistcoat and a jaunty straw hat and pushed the boat along with a long pole, just like in Cambridge, England. In fact, Christchurch is reminiscent of a proper British city with its cathedral, formal garden, cloisters, and Christ College. Conversely, the accent in Christchurch is LESS British than in Auckland. The people here on the South Island over-pronounce the letter R according to the North Islanders. In Auckland (and in England) they say purple as "puh-ple," and they find it humorous that the hicks on the South Islanders pronounce it "pur-ple." Of course, I say "pur-ple" too so it sounds pur-fectly fine to me.

2. We went to Christchurch's art museum (of course) and were pleasantly impressed with their collection. There was some weirdo modern art at the beginning, but lovely New Zealand and international art further on. Plus, the museum cafe had good coffee (for Curt, Nolan, and Erica) and a muffin for me (chocolate of course). After the museum, we headed toward Cathedral Square, the town centre, and stopped to buy some shoes for the Shoeless One! Yipee! We also had to get a new journal for me, since I was on the last page. I've always kept a journal during vacations, but for the last 1.5 years since we moved to NZ I have kept it up every day because let's face it, living here is like being on a never-ending vacation! Every day is full of new things to explore and learn, and that's why we like it.

3. In Cathedral Square there were a dozen spectators watching a giant chess game, in addition to a handful of smaller, regular-sized chess games. I think it's a pretty cool initiative to offer chess to the public in the town centre. The 2 men who were playing weren't your stereotypical chess players, either; they had numerous tattoos, multiple piercings, baggy saggy pants, and hoodie up the whole time. I'm not exactly sure what a stereotypical chess player would look like, they these guys looked more like stereotypical unemployed druggies.

4. The day wasn't over yet so we decided to go to the Canterbury museum which also turned out to be better than we expected. Erica especially liked the display of bugs. Nolan liked the stuffed NZ birds because you could push a button and hear their birdcall. He always liked pushing buttons. I liked the Antarctic exhibit. Most of all, Nolan liked the weta. He'd been wanting to see a weta ever since he arrived. It's a wood-eating bug about as big as a cockroach, and it's really gross and disgusting-looking. It became "famous" when NZ's Weta Workshop (named after the bug) won a bunch of Oscars for special effects for The Lord of the Rings movies. So Nolan's been dying to see a real weta. Ick.

5. That night, we went out to dinner and had an excellent chocolate decadent dessert (of course). After dinner, we went back to the B & B for another game of Hearts. Nolan and Erica were tired of losing to Curt so they ganged up on him (and won).

Overall, we had to admit that we liked Christchurch immensely. I remember when Curt and I were first immigrating to New Zealand, we didn't think we wanted to live in Christchurch because it was too small, too far out in the wop-wops, too provincial, too far south, or too cold. We were wrong (of course). It turns out it would have been a great place to live.

Plus, Christchurch is a magnificent word: Chch is the accepted abbreviation for Christchurch, since it begins and ends with ch. Actually, there's another ch in the middle! I seriously can't think of any other words that have ch 3 times. Now, THAT's a fantastic word.

Road Trip, Day 3 - Easter Sunday

We spent Easter morning swimming with dolphins, which seemed appropriate somehow.

First, we were issued a wetsuit. The young man who was distributing them handed me a size 10. I was flattered that he thought I was size 10, but I haven't worn that size for decades! I tried to put it on. I tugged and yanked, but it was simply too tight. Obviously there was not going to be an Easter miracle for me this morning. I faced reality and exchanged my wetsuit for a bigger one. After a short film on dolphins and how to behave around them, a short boat ride to find the pod, and a quick snorkelling lesson for beginners like me, we jumped in. Curt had elected to stay on the boat and take pictures while Nolan, Erica and I wanted to swim. (Only 13 people are allowed in the water, out of respect for the dolphins. But more can come along and watch.)

The water was C O L D! We had been told to keep our hands at our sides (to try to look more like a dolphin), and to hum! Apparently, the dolphins are attracted to noises. Sure enough, they were all around us, whizzing by and circling around. It was pretty spectacular to have them beside me and under me. Weirdly, there were also millions of translucent jelly creatures all over, which was probably why the dolphins like this harbour so much, but I found it a little creepy. I also tended to breathe so hard that I was nearly hyperventilating, which is apparently quite common when learning to snorkel. Overall, it wore me out. I was exhausted after about 5-10 minutes.

Meanwhile, the dolphins had raced away; it was time to get all the swimmers back on the boat so we could reposition and swim again. I appreciated having a little time to rest on the boat while it sped after the dolphins. Then we were back in the water again. We repeated this process a number of times. Nolan and Erica had been having good success. Erica said one of the dolphins was circling around and playing with her. The dolphins are so fast, however, that it's impossible for any of us keep up with them! I sat out the last few swims due to exhaustion. I was definitely knackered (as they say in NZ). But it was still fun to stand on the boat and watch the dolphins splashing around with the other swimmers. Once everyone got back on board for the last time, the boat continued to follow the dolphins so we could take lots of pictures, and they served hot chocolate. Meanwhile, we all got dressed in our dry clothes, which felt really good. If only I had some warm shoes for my frozen feet. Alas, all I had was sandals. (Remember, my shoes were still sitting by the kitchen door at my house, 500 km away)

By this time I was starting to feel a little queasy - as were a few others - which may have been partly why I quit swimming early. I even decided to skip the hot chocolate. Imagine me saying no to chocolate! As time went on, the queasy factor kept growing, and I decided to position myself near a bucket ... just in case. Nolan and Erica were starting to feel queasy, too, but not as bad as me. Sure enough, about 10 minutes before we got back to the dock, I chundered in the bucket. It was not my finest moment.

Once we got back on land, I felt much better. But the thought of getting in the car and going on a winding coastal road for the next 3.5 hours didn't sound too pleasant. I decided I'd be better off driving than being a passenger. I drove real sloooww and real smooooth. It was scenic but it seemed to take a looong time. It must have been boooring, too, for Curt and Nolan promptly fell asleep.We got to Christchurch about 3:30 - see #3 on the map - and we didn't get lost on the way to the hotel (that's twice in a row). The B&B we stayed at was ideal - central location, friendly hosts, free internet, tasty breakfast, tea & cookies every evening, and a fat little dachshund who begged for scraps from the table. They even had a dumbwaiter that took all the luggage to the 2nd floor. We loved this place.

Curt went running in the nearby park while Nolan and Erica and I went to the Arts Centre complex. We walked through the market and some workshops and galleries, including one that had some black pottery just like our bomb collection! (see the 30 Dec. blog "Sydney - Day 6" for an explanation of our non-explosive bomb collection) Fortuitously, we ran into Curt who had finished running and was now walking towards us with a crappuccino in hand. I immediately escorted him back to the pottery shop and we selected a chalice-shaped piece. Excellent.

Next, Curt and I walked downtown to the cathedral and sat down for their Evensong service. This is Easter, after all. They had a wonderful boys' choir performing. But Curt still feels uncomfortable with all the bells and smells that the Anglican Church has. We like our little Methodist congregation back in Auckland better.
Then we met Nolan and Erica at a brewpub for dinner and we all ate too much again. During dinner, we discussed our ambitious travel plans for the next 7 days and we all agreed that we didn't want to drive 9 hours to the next city (#4 on the map). We'd rather skip that destination (Queenstown), slow our pace a bit and relax more. I think the relatively short drive today along narrow windy roads - not to mention the queasiness from the dolphin experience - showed us how unpleasant a long drive would be.

I'd never truly appreciated America's highway infrastructure until now. In truth, I'd seen it listed as one of America's greatest achievements of the 20th century and dismissed it as a strange, obscure selection for a list of what makes America great. Now, I'm a believer. I can't begin to imagine how much America's highway system has contributed to the growth of the economy. Quick, easy distribution of goods equals lower prices and America is exceptionally good at that. Besides the economic impact, the highway system allowed Americans to be a more mobile population. I always loved road trips and even admit I have a certain appreciation for low-brow highway culture - the crowded rest areas, the sleazy gas station, the tacky tourist sights. I also found great satisfaction in the orderliness of the the numbering system of the mile markers and the exits, in addition to the numbering system for naming the highways themselves: interstate highways that run north-south are odd numbers (starting on the west coast), highways that run east-west are even numbered (starting on the southern border). Yup, I'm a road trip junkie.

But what we discovered over the last 3 days was that road trips in New Zealand would be fundamentally different. We wanted less road and more trip. After making the decision to eliminate Queenstown from our itinerary, we finished off the evening by playing another game of Hearts back at the B&B. Curt won again. Nolan and Erica aren't going to want to play with him much longer if he keeps whooping their sorry butts.

PS - There were NO Adventures today. We were quite pleased with ourselves.

PPS - I called Austin on his birthday tonight. It was 2:00 a.m. in Bellingham, but he was still up. We had a long talk. I miss him.

Road Trip, Day 2

It's April 8th, which is Austin's birthday. He'll be 27. Wow. But since it's only yesterday in the States, I'll call him tomorrow on his birthday. Got that?

Today we would be taking a ferry from the North Island to the South Island, which would take about 3 hours. We knew we would have to wake up early to get to the ferry on time, and last night we were worried about getting lost and missing the boat. We seem to have a propensity for that sort of Adventure. So we scouted out the ferry terminal location while we were driving around last night during our Adventure. Not surprisingly, we took a wrong turn and missed it, but we did see where it was and we did see where we should have turned. So this morning when we drove there, we did it right! No Adventures. Hurray! Oddly, we also got stopped at a police checkpoint, looking for drunk drivers ... at 7:00 in the morning!

This morning as I was getting dressed, I made an unfortunate discovery: I had forgotten to bring a hairbrush. Honestly, I must be getting Alzheimers. The last time I had forgotten to pack a brush was when I flew to America for my dad's funeral, but at least I had a good excuse that time. This time I was just plain dumb. I would have borrowed a brush from Erica but she doesn't brush her hair; it's really curly and she finger-dries it. Curt and Nolan don't use combs or brushes or anything. So I was pretty much S.O.L for the time being. Not to mention the fact that Nolan would now have 2 things to tease me about - forgetting shoes and forgetting a hairbrush. I've been making this WAY too easy for him to make fun of me.

Meanwhile, it was a sunshiney day and a beautiful sailing from the North Island to the South Island. Actually, the Cook Strait could be a treacherous crossing at times. There was a famous ferry that sunk about 40 years ago and 51 people died. It's not exactly the Titanic, but nonetheless it is New Zealand's great maritime disaster (#4 Son would like it; he was obsessed with the Titanic for years). I tried not to think about the capsized "Wahine" as I looked out at the innocent blue water sparkling in the morning sun.

On the ferry, we'd scored 2 nice soft couches and since we had 3 hours to kill, we decided to play a game of Scrabble. I ended up winning which is a little unusual but not totally surprising. However Curt came in 4th place out of 4 people and that's NEVER happened. Perhaps he's getting Alzheimers now, too. After Scrabble, Curt, Nolan, and Erica wanted to play Hearts. But Nolan and Erica had forgotten to bring the deck of cards. Hah. I'm not the only one who forgets things. Anyway, Curt bought a deck of genuine InterIslander Ferry cards so they could play Hearts. Strangely, there seemed to be a marked card and it was - of all things - the Queen of Spades. Anyway, Erica led for 90% of the game, then lost dramatically at the end to Curt. I think he was trying to reestablish his gaming superiority after being Buck-Naked-Last in Scrabble earlier.

Once we got back on the mainland, we drove an hour or so to a winery called Forrest Estates. The area outside Blenheim is one of New Zealand's premier wine countries, so there were wineries everywhere. I picked this winery because Nolan's middle name is Forrest, and because they had a sculpture garden and a resident artist! We sat at a patio table in the sunshine and Curt, Nolan, and Erica tasted all 15 varieties. Eventually we bought 6 bottles between us. And we walked around their property, admiring the sculptures and soaking up the surroundings. It was a great way to spend the afternoon.

The Designated Driver (me) drove the next 1.5 hours along a picturesque coastal road. Nobody was carsick yet, knock on wood. We managed to stop at Ohau Point to look at a seal colony. Most of the older seals were really fat and lazy, but a few young ones were goofing around. They sure looked like they had a pretty good life laying there on the rocks, mostly sleeping away the day. I could get used to a life like that. Except for the part about getting eaten by orcas.

I drove on to our destination, Kaikoura, and found the hotel without getting lost, which is always worth mentioning. Kaikoura is a little seaside town famous for its dolphins and its crayfish. We walked around a bit, bought a hairbrush for The Forgetful One, sat on a beach, and listened to the surf. The surf sounded quite different here because it was a rocky, pebbly beach and water has a different sound when tumbling over rocks. Curt and Nolan threw rocks into the ocean and tried to skip rocks until they each threw their shoulders out. Later, we found a little seafood place to go for dinner. Mmmm. They served huge portions and we all ate too much. It was great.

After dinner we had another Adventure, scoping out tomorrow's dolphin destination. We drove all over Kaikoura before we finally found it, only a few hundred meters from our hotel. Nolan and Erica were beginning to tire of all these Adventures, I think.