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.

Road Trip, Day 1 - Good Friday

It was Easter break (no school for 2 weeks) and we were setting off for a 10-day trip to the South Island with Nolan and Erica. We had ambitious plans which included driving 3500 km (2174 miles). We'd be driving from #1 to #4 on the New Zealand map on the right. That's about the same as driving from Bellingham to Los Angeles and back. BUT - and this turns out to be crucial - there won't be any motorways, just 2-lane roads. Imagine driving on Highway 1 along the coast all the way to L.A. instead of using I-5. Imagine the unimaginably beautiful scenery. But imagine how much longer that would take. Imagine all the carsick people in the back seat.

Our first day would involve driving all the way to Wellington, at the bottom of the North Island. (On the map, that's from #1 to #2) We left at 7:00 a.m. - even though I am NOT a morning person - and stopped within 20 minutes for crappuccinos for Curt and Nolan. As I got out of the car in the parking lot, I realised I still had my slippers on! My shoes were sitting back home by our kitchen door, and I had intended to put them on as I left, but evidently I didn't. Good grief. I did the same thing once before, when I wore my slippers to choir accidentally. I am having WAY too many senior moments. Those were the only shoes I was bringing on this trip, apart from sandals. Would it be sandal-wearing weather (hot and sunny) every day? Probably not. And I had no shoes for the next 10 days. Hmmm. Plan A - turn around and go back for my shoes. This idea was nixed by everyone. Plan B - My slippers almost look like shoes so I could just keep wearing them and nobody would know. I'd certainly be comfortable! Plan C - Maybe I would just have to buy some shoes. The consensus was to go with a combination of Plans B & C. As you might expect, Nolan got a big kick out of my absent-mindedness, but he would never tease his poor old mother about it throughout the trip, would he?

It took us about 9 hours to get to Wellington, but we made lots of pit stops and with 4 drivers we managed pretty well. During the drive, Erica took lots of pictures and Nolan did lots of crossword puzzles. We like to help him, which he doesn't always appreciate, but it helps us pass the time. We found our hotel in Wellington after a few wrong turns, U-turns and swear words. We call these episodes "Adventures" which is a euphemism for being lost and frustrated. One problem is that Curt is morally opposed to turning around; I think it's against his religion. Apparently, it feels too much like defeat and he doesn't want to have to admit that we're lost. So we keep going and proceed to get lost-er.

Eventually we arrived at the hotel. Whew. After checking in and schlepping all the luggage to our room, Curt and I decided to stretch our legs - remember, it's been a long drive! So we went for a walk (wearing slippers) in Wellington's Botanic Gardens nearby and climbed the trail to see the city from the summit. Very nice. We also stopped at a children's play area and tested out the zipline which was pretty cool. I always wanted to rig up a zipline from our house in Portland to my school below. You could see the school from our back deck, and it seemed like a pretty efficient way to commute to work every day if I could just jump on a zipline and whoosh down the steep hill, landing in the football field. Alas, it would only work if I could get Boone to crank me back up the hill at 5:00 every night and he wasn't too keen on that idea. Wimp. So I walked or biked to work instead. But it would have been fun.

We walked back to the hotel to get Nolan and Erica so we could drive around and find something for dinner, which involved more Adventures. As the official mapigator, I usually get blamed for getting us lost. In my defence, it's impossible to see the map in the dark. So I can only get a glimpse of the map as we drive under a street light, and then whoosh, my light source is gone. Before long, my credibility is gone too. On the way home, it sounded something like this:
me: Turn left at the next light
Curt: What? That's going to take us down to the waterfront again. We want to go the OTHER direction.
me: Trust me. It'll get us right back to the hotel.
Nolan: Why should we trust someone who can't even remember her shoes?
Curt turns left as directed. A few seconds later, we enter an unexpected tunnel.
me: "What is that tunnel doing here? There's not supposed to be a tunnel. Uh oh. You need to turn around. Trust me on this."

Our 2nd Son is our 1st Houseguest!

TUESDAY:
Our #2 son, Nolan (a.k.a. Best Bud), and his girlfriend, Erica (a.k.a. Buckwheat), arrived in NZ this morning and will stay for two months. Nolan just graduated with a degree in Philosophy and French, and Erica graduated with a degree in Environmental Science. The trip to NZ is their graduation present from us.

Curt and I took the morning off so we could pick them up at the airport. On the way home from the airport, Curt decided to try a "shortcut" which quickly became an "adventure." We still get lost in this city, which seems to have an aversion to a normal parallel grid street system, preferring their streets to be meandering and illogically organised.

Nolan and Erica had been flying for the last 18 hours, so they took showers and naps while Curt and I returned to work. Except Curt hopped on his bike and rode off with my car keys AGAIN so I couldn't return to work right away. I had to wait for him to bring the keys back home 30 minutes later. Brother. Both of our cars were sitting in the driveway, but both sets of keys were in Curt's pocket. WHY DOES HE NEED SO MANY KEYS WHEN HE'S RIDING A BIKE?!?

Later, when Nolan and Erica woke up, they called me at work 3 times to find out 1. where the nail clippers were (in the jewellery box), 2. where the nearest cash machine was (turn right at the end of our street) , and 3. whether we locked our door (yes). I like getting lots of calls at work. It makes me feel needed. But I kept wishing I was home with them instead of at work.

Curt and I both got home at 5:30 and we took them for a walk along St. Heliers beach while our dinner was cooking in the oven. It was a nice way to introduce NZ to them.

WEDNESDAY:
I took Nolan driving after work today, his first time driving on the "wrong" side of the road. He did pretty well, and just needs more practice getting used to the gearshift on the left, and figuring out the roundabouts. We drove a few circles around the neighbourhood, which also helped them learn their way around. I made Erica mapigate us back home.


THURSDAY:
Nolan and Erica drove the car to the nearby train station and took the train downtown. Driving and parking downtown is NOT a good idea for beginner drivers. They found a nice market and had a good time even though it was raining most of the day. That evening, we took them to a new shopping mall and looked at wool sweaters for Nolan and rain jackets for Erica. Nolan really wants a wool sweater from New Zealand, where wool is our biggest export. After all, this country has 4 million people and 40 million sheep!


SATURDAY:
Today we decided to go on a little day trip to Rangitoto Island, a dormant volcano in Auckland's Hauraki Bay. It's the youngest of about 50 volcanic cones and craters in the Auckland area. We drove and parked downtown, which turned out to be a bad idea even for us experienced drivers (we had a few Adventures looking for a car park). We also wandered through another market, looking at wool sweaters for Nolan. Then we caught a ferry out to Rangitoto and enjoyed the 45-minute ride, the view and the sunshine. At least it wasn't raining today.

There's a variety of trails on the island and we'd chosen the 1-hour (2 km) hike to the summit so we could be back at the dock in time for the return ferry. The hike was harder/longer than I thought ... maybe because I'm turning 50 in a few weeks? Or maybe because we gained 259 meters (850 ft) in elevation? But I charged ahead - with a lot of complaining on the way such as, "I'm too old for this!" - and made it to the top. We were all really sweaty and got a good workout! Erica especially likes the scientific and nature stuff like black volcanic rocks all around and exotic birds & plants. She even takes pictures of lichen.

After the ferry ride back to the city, we drove home and stopped on the way at Fishmonger for authentic fish-n-chips take-away wrapped in paper. Mmmm.

The last thing to do that evening was read the paper while Curt gave me a foot rub. Ahhh.




SUNDAY:
Nolan and Erica went to church with us. I made Erica drive us there while I mapigated. It was her first time on the motorway. They're both getting the hang of it fine.

Everyone in the choir was excited to meet them, and during the service the choir director went up to the microphone and introduced them to the whole congregation. Nolan doesn't really like church very much, but kept busy doing an Easter word search that was on the children's page. They both enjoyed talking to people after church during tea. They said afterwards that it was the most they'd talked to Kiwis since they'd been here.

After church, our neighbour came over hurriedly to ask me to watch their two little boys while he took his wife to hospital for x-rays. She'd fallen off her bike when their dog darted in front to chase ducks. I had fun hanging out with their kids while Curt, Nolan, and Erica went grocery shopping. Nolan predicted that he'd be able to get Curt to buy all sorts of crap since I wouldn't be there. Just like old times. They also went to the top of One Tree Hill to see a nice view of Auckland and how it's laid out. Eventually everyone came home successfully - Annette's arm wasn't broken but in a sling anyway. Nolan didn't talk Curt into buying too much crap.

Nolan and Erica are leaving tomorrow for 4 days in Rotorua. They'll get to see geysers, hot thermal springs, Maori performances, etc. And I'm sure they'll have lots of "adventures."

Getting Paid to Shop

Let me start out by saying that I love this job. Curt calls it my "easy job." Every morning when we head out the door, he says, "Have a good day at your Easy Job." It's a great job. Here are some of the things that I love to do:

ORGANISE - I love to catalogue books. After all, cataloguing is really a form of organising the books electronically. For non-fiction, I get to decide where the book belongs in the Dewey decimal system (like 940.93). For fiction books, I decide which subject headings it belongs in, such as SURVIVAL and ADVENTURE and ALASKA-FICTION.

PROCESSING (which is pronounced proe-cessing) - Besides a bar code, each book gets covered, a label on its spine, etc. I also put "Tattle Tape" in each book which will make the security system beep if someone tries to take the book out of the library without checking it out. I like the name of the product - Tattle Tape - which is really what it's called, made by 3M.

COMPUTER - I like working on the computer all day, cataloguing or issuing books. I also like to help troubleshoot for the library's computer lab, the girls' laptops, the printer network, and even the copy machine. When a class is starting a new research project (pronounced proe-ject), they also come in for a lesson with me and I get to show them how to access the electronic resources.

TALK ABOUT BOOKS - Every 7th, 8th, and 9th grade class comes to the library once a week for a period of silent reading. It's my job to recommend books and to help them find something good. So I show them my crate of "favourites" and briefly describe each one. As the girls listen, I can see them getting excited. When I'm finished talking, I quickly move out of the way because the girls stampede me and my crate of books, trying to grab a certain one. It always makes me feel popular. I think they like my recommendations.

MAKING LISTS - This has always been a favourite of mine. In this job, I get paid to make lists of books about espionage, books about dragons, books about adoption, etc. (These lists help girls choose books) Even better are the lists I make of books we should buy. I get to read librarian magazines full of book reviews, and decide which ones we should buy.

READ - Besides reading librarian magazines, sometimes I get to sit and read with the silent reading classes. The teachers are supposed to sit with them, but if something comes up, they beg me apologetically to please take over. As if it was a hardship to sit there and read!

Well, you can probably see why I like this job so much.
And it gets even better:

Last Friday, I didn't feel like working. Maybe I had Friday-itis or something. So I was belly-aching a little. "I don't feel like working today."
My colleagues imediately went into solution mode. "How about cataloguing? You love to catalogue."
"Nah."
"How about making a book list?"
"Nah."
"Boy there must be something really wrong with you if you don't even want to catalogue or make lists! I know what you can do - you should go shopping at the bookstore."
Suddenly my spirits perked up. They want me to go shopping for books ... spending someone else's money. Perfect. I gathered the lists of lost books that needed to be replaced, worn-out books that needed to be replaced, and a few new books we'd been wanting to add to our collection. I was instructed to get anything else that looks good. (It sure helps that I work for a wealthy private school!)

I decided to bring Lucy along to help me shop. I might have too many books to carry. We also realised that we might have to stop for coffee and a muffin in order to validate our parking. Honest.
Two hours later, we returned with $800 worth of books. And muffins for the colleagues we left behind.
We got back just in time for lunch break.
I love this job!
And just think, I'll get to catalogue all the new books next!

Summer Celebration

Last night, we sang with a massed choir as part of the Starlight Symphony event, an evening of outdoor entertainment for an estimated crowd of 200,000, presenting a complete spectrum of music from opera/classical to New Zealand Idol pop music and lounge lizard schmaltz.

Our massed choir of about 400 members began rehearsals for the concert just a week ago. Our conductor had to try to keep 400 people together, which is not an easy task ... but not nearly as hard as keeping 400 people together WITH the orchestra. However, under the able management of the gifted and ever-patient John Rosser, we all pulled together and presented a very respectable concert. John was dressed in a glitzy new waistcoat that his septuagenarian mother sewed for him (as she does every year). He also wore white gloves so we could see his hands better in the dark, which he donned ominously, shoving each finger tightly into the fabric as if he was getting ready to commit a heinous crime and didn't want to leave any fingerprints. Fortunately, the white gloves also made him look a bit like Mickey Mouse which reversed the sinister factor considerably. The choir was seated in the bleachers in front of the Cricket Pavilion while the orchestra was on the stage behind us, along with the hosts and soloists. The only problem with our seats was that they were hard, wooden, backless bleachers. I had heeded the warning to bring a cushion along, but Curt assured me he wouldn't need one. Ha. Guess who wanted MY cushion for the 2nd half when his butt started to go numb.

The crowd had set up folding camp chairs and laid out picnic blankets on the grass, stretching across the Auckland Domain for several hundred metres. As darkness came, children activated their green and blue glow-in-the-dark candles, swaying them to the music as you might see at a rock concert. It was a well-mannered, multi-cultural, multi-generational crowd.

Besides the choir and the orchestra, there were about 6-8 soloists. One of the more curious performers was a soloist who, a few days earlier, had arrived at our choir rehearsal in his flash convertible (parked conveniently but illegally right in front of the venue), with his shirt unbuttoned too far and wearing designer sunglasses. Next, he proceeded to blow kisses to us. Hmmm. The expression on our conductor's face of barely concealed contempt was almost as entertaining to watch as the strutting itself. Then our star opened his mouth and sang. What a voice! He has a lovely, clear tenor voice, a successful singing career in London, and is good looking. So I was incredibly curious as to why he felt he needed to act so cheesy. And that was only the rehearsal! Wait till you hear what he did at the performance: he wore a lizard skin jacket, and during one part of the song, he pulled it off one shoulder as if he was stripping/undressing. There was also, of course, a good deal of hip thrusts and come-hither looks. It really was too much for me. But he sang like Pavarotti so I may have to forgive him most of his sleaze.

One sweet moment was when the throng of revellers arose to dance a waltz performed by the orchestra. The sight of all that spontaneous joyous motion was quite a spectacle to see. Leading the dance on stage was a discus thrower "who could smash a watermelon with her thighs" (as the host described her) but was remarkably light on her feet. She had been a contestant last year on New Zealand's Dancing with the Stars and she and her dance partner had been a crowd favourite all the way until their second-place finish. I can see why. It was quite impressive and a little surprising to see this huge woman wearing a size 26(?) glittering gown gliding across the stage with such glamour and grace. She qualified for the Olympics on Thursday and danced for the crowd on Saturday. Wow.

The choir also had a good time performing a bit of choreographed cardboard flashing during the classic Beach Boys' tune, Good Vibrations. For most of us, putting the cards up and down at the right time was more difficult than singing, plus we had to sway (in the correct direction), and do a psychedelic card spin for The Big Finish. Who knew we had such diverse talent.

The programme energy was raised to a mighty crescendo with full orchestra and choir performing Tchaikovsky's 1812 Overture, complete with cannon, a barrage of fireworks, and a laser light show. The crowd went wild. The concussion from the cannon fire was enough to take your breath away. Sitting at the outer edge of the altos meant that I was only a few metres away from the cannons. Even though you know they're going to go off, you're still blown out of your seat. Ka-BOOM!

Sitting at the outer edge of the altos also meant that I was right by the aisle where the celebrities entered and exited. The Prime Minister went by. Hi, Helen. As did my friend the lounge lizard (with his cell phone stuck to his ear). This is the point at which I could name-drop a little ... except I've never heard of the stars who were there: Boh Runga, Andy Lovegrove, Geoff Sewell, The LadyKillers. I'm obviously too old to know who the latest stars are.

The programme concluded with the New Zealand national anthem sung in Maori and English (as it always is), and the pride and goodwill of the people was palpable. The evening ended with a quick and orderly departure of the sated crowd, and we only saw a limited amount of litter which we found unusual for such a large number of people where alcohol was neither prohibited nor abused.

The festive spirit engendered by the free concert was a perfect way for us to blend into the local culture and to feel more a part of the wider Auckland community. Mostly it was a magical evening of good clean fun, made even more special by my singing buddy, a recent widow, who was reminded of last year's event when she had been seated out in the crowd with her husband. We hugged and she wiped her tears while we listened to the New Zealand Idol judge crooning the words from Bridge Over Troubled Water:
When you're weary, feeling small.
When tears are in your eyes, I will dry them all.
I'm on your side. when times get rough.
And friends just can't be found,
Like a bridge over troubled water.
I will lay me down.

Back to Work

The summer holidays are over, and school has started up again. I'm back at work. It's weird to have this all happening in February instead of September. I may never get used to it.

Being away from work for 2 months over the summer meant that I forgot my passwords (There are 3 different ones for various library systems). I couldn't remember my morning routine at work as I open the library, turn on the lights, turn on the computers, etc. Every morning I seem to forget something different. I even forgot to feed the fish.

One bit of excitement for the library staff was a box of chocolate given to us by an English teacher. This assortment was the expensive kind and even came with a diagram showing which shape represented which flavour. I love those. We 4 librarians decided to each eat one chocolate every day. Since it was the inaugural day of the box, though, I proposed that we each eat two this time. Lucy seconded the seconds. We ate two. At the end of lunchtime, Barbara sealed the box with a label and wrote her signature across it, to try to make sure I didn't eat any more. (I arrive at the library every morning at 7:30 and am all by myself for the first 90 minutes so I could - in theory - eat extras during that time and nobody would be the wiser.) Still, I couldn't believe they didn't trust me! I told Lara and Lucy what she'd done and said, "Can you believe it?" They responded, "Yes." When I got home that night, I told Curt what Barbara had done. "Can you believe it?" "Yes."

Later that week, I encountered a good example of the British influence on New Zealand society. We were discussing the news that Prince Harry was going to serve in Iraq. They were all worried about him and concerned for his safety. I said, "He's just the second son. They'll still have William." Well, that elicited a horrified response from everyone which included loud gasps and statements such as, "You're so American!" They said it good-naturedly, and clearly kidding me, but there's an element of truth there. Of course, they went on to explain that it's commonly believed that Prince Harry's real father is James Hewitt, with whom Diana was having an affair. Apparently Hewitt is a redhead and so is Harry and most people believe that Charles isn't Harry's real father. This was all news to me.

Another example that happened this week was when Lara was trying to describe a certain student: "She has dark hair cut in a bob." Nobody knew who she was talking about yet. "And she looks very British." Suddenly EVERYONE knew who she meant. What does one look like if one "looks British"? Apparently, it means one has pale skin. Looking British is not a description that we would use in America, but everyone here certainly knew what it meant!

I also learned 2 more pronunciations this week:
• Mocha is pronounced mock-a, not moke-a. I told Curt to make a note of that for the next time he orders a coffee.
• Furore is the NZ spelling for furor, and is pronounced fyer-or-ee. I'd seen the spelling but didn't realise it was pronounced differently until I head someone on the radio say it. I learn something new every day.

It's nice to be back in New Zealand where my brain is constantly stimulated by Kiwi pronunciations, words, and culture. When describing this aspect of living abroad to an old friend in Bellingham, she pointed out that most people would find so much newness exhausting. But no, I still find it exhilarating.

Fiji Layover

We flew from LA to Fiji on our way home to New Zealand. We left on Monday, 29 January and arrived in Nadi (pronounced NAHN - dee) 11 hours later on Wednesday, 31 January. Megan wrote in her journal for Tuesday, 30 January, "Didn't happen - crossed international date line." I don't know why that always seems worth mentioning. It's not really magical or extraordinary. It's just a trick of the calendar.

I had booked three days in Fiji because we actually got a cheaper return trip fare by landing in Fiji instead of flying direct from LAX to Auckland. The Fiji government was overthrown a few months ago in a military coup and the global community responded by shunning trade and tourism. To encourage tourism, I think that the government probably subsidised the airline industry with incentives to bring more tourists back to the island. The net result was a cheaper flight for us, so we couldn't pass up the opportunity to explore part of this South Pacific tropical paradise, despite the recent coup.

We arrived at the airport at 6:00 AM and the heat and humidity were already uncomfortable. High temperatures in Fiji this time of year are about 30 degrees Celsius (86 F) but the nighttime low temperature doesn't dip much below 25 C (77 F). A small group of island singers greeted us with traditional Fijian songs as we cleared customs. We gathered our baggage and found a man holding a card with my name on it, all pre-arranged in advance for a quick shuttle to our hotel. Unfortunately the destination on the card read "Tubakula" and not "Saweni Beach" as I expected. I asked the driver if these two names referred to the same destination, and he assured me that they were part of the same ownership. Big mistake. We hopped on the air-conditioned tour bus and drove anti-clockwise around the island toward the capital, Suva. About 90 minutes later, he dropped us off at Tubakula where the receptionist had absolutely no record of our booking. The booking agency had stuffed up our details and sent us to the wrong side of the island. They quickly called another driver who altered his morning plans and drove us back to Nadi and then about 20 minutes beyond to Saweni Beach Apartment Hotel. As we were driven back and forth across the island, we encountered a half a dozen military checkpoints that seemed to be more for appearance's sake than for security. Eventually we arrived at the correct location and checked in to our self-contained unit early at 10:00 AM, having toured much of the scenic main island for free, albeit in a slightly jet-lagged stupor.

The hotel consists of 12 apartment units, each with a kitchenette, and one larger dormitory for backpackers. Apart from one backpacker from the UK staying in the dormitory, we were the only hotel guests for the three days that we stayed. Tourism is definitely suffering from the coup. The experience was surreal in that we had near-exclusive use of this beachfront hotel with shimmering pool and tropical gardens with swaying coconut palms for next to nothing.

There was a hotel cafe, but we were more interested in learning to use the local bus system to travel to Lautoka nearby to buy groceries for our meals. At the bus stop near the hotel, a friendly woman waiting recognised us as non-native (not that hard to tell!) and helpfully explained how to pay the driver and when to change buses and where to catch the return bus. The buses appear to be war surplus vintage. Our bus was air-conditioned the old fashioned way (it didn't have any glass in the windows) and we had to agilely step over the exposed gear box by the driver to get to a bolted bench seat. The buses get plenty of patronage from the locals as fare to Lautoka was only 75 cents. Riders nimbly disembarked as the driver slowed down but rarely actually braked to a complete stop along the route. Thick black diesel exhaust billowed in a trailing cloud.

We bought fresh produce at a market, and stopped for groceries at the supermarket. A small boy helping his mother in the market was really excited to see us since the colour of our pale skin was such a novelty in the mass of humanity. Buying groceries in Fiji is very much like our experience in Puerto Vallarta, Mexico - unfamiliar looking vegetables amid the flies and heat, and abject poverty always just a few paces away. Although Fiji is a poor country, I believe that their quality of life is probably somewhat self-selected and that given a choice, they may actually prefer to live with their family among a few goats and chickens to supplement the copious garden bounty rather than sell out to the man for western style affluence. It's a tropical island after all. Other cultures simply do not share the American value of seeking maximum compensation in exchange for labour or capital investment and the expectation of commensurate prosperity as a measure of one's worth. Good on them! On the other hand, roughly one person in every family has left Fiji in search of better economic opportunities, often to New Zealand.

With the aid of another helpful local man, we found our return bus and brought our supplies back to the hotel. The hotel owner brought a complimentary bottle of chilled wine to our room and apologised for the stuff up with the airport shuttle service. I eagerly accepted her unsolicited and gracious offering. Now we were fully stocked for three uninterrupted days of rest and relaxation.

The remainder of our visit consisted of frequent trips to our almost private swimming pool (10 metres from our door), occasional dips in the warm, placid ocean water with white sandy beach (ignore the tidal rubbish), leisurely strolls among tropical foliage dodging killer coconuts, reading, napping, and not much else. After a whirlwind of activity in the US for the memorial service, it was a perfect way to ease back into the rhythm of ordinary life. I'm glad we visited Fiji - like most of our travels, I feel enriched by the experience.

Curt