The mother of all posts….

April 11, 2010 at 2:28 am · Filed under Uncategorized

In the words of a mediocre emo-meta act from the mid naughties, “It’s been a while”. And it’s been largely the doings of my own laziness. However there are also a few mitigating factors which sort of excuse me from my profligate levels of blogging, namely it being summer out here and also not having internet at our house for the last 4 weeks – but this is something which ties into the general narrative of our life in the last couple of months which I’ll elaborate on now.

So, where to start? Ok, let’s take this chronologically – that great standard of raconteurs. We’re just coming into Autumn now after enjoying what was a great second half of the Summer. I think you’re all aware that we went to Australia over Christmas and arrived back in Wellington with a busy schedule ahead of us. Firstly we had signed up to do a sailing course which would take us from January into mid February. The course was fantastic, we learnt a lot and have become what the New Zealand Yachting Association rather unflatteringly terms, ‘competent crew’. I, personally, thought we were at the probably the best of a bad bunch of beginner sailors and at the very least deserve the adage, ‘competent crew – top of the class’, but alas I don’t think it was within the instructors power to modify the qualification.

Next up was the visit of Hollie’s folks for two and a half weeks. The highlights of the trip has to be our visit to Lake Taupo and the bungy swing, and, emboldened by our salty sea dog-ness, our jaunt around Wellington harbour in a yacht crewed by Hollie and I. It was sad to see them leave, but we had no time to rest on our laurels as our friend from university Scott and his partner Brooke arrived post-haste a day later!

I believe this is largely where the blogs stop, and it is probably no coincidence that a lot of drink was taken in the 2 weeks they were here. However, I’d like to put the record straight right away by stating that in no way am I blaming Scott and Brooke for the lack of bloggage, rather the dramatic drop in writing is symptomatic of a very hectic month since they have been here.

In the two weeks that they were here we managed to see and do quite a lot of cool things. The first week they spent exploring Wellington and the local wine region, Wairarapa. We had a few big nights out drinking and dancing, not least the first night of their arrival where I have to give maximum credit to both for fighting jet lag with the power of booze. It did occur to me that Scott might not be in the best shape as we walked back to our place at 10am, him having lost the power of speech in the course of a particularly lengthy 12 hour bender.

For the second week Hollie and I had booked time off work and we all hit the South Island for whistle stop tour in a GIANT camper van. Let me say from the start, if you haven’t tried camping in a motor home and to you it seems a little shall we say ‘retiree’, think again. It rocks, and sometimes literally, but we’ll get to camper van-gate a little later.

Taking the camper van is quite a New Zealand thing to do, well, let me clarify. It’s quite a New Zealand tourist thing to do. Kiwis have, in general, a pathological hatred for camper vans/motor homes which habitually block up their roads each summer. Personally I think they should get better roads. For example, most major state highways are two lanes with a passing lane ever 25kms or so. I mean I like the scenery as much as the next bloke, but come on sort it out lads what’s another couple of lanes? (George Monbiot, if you happen to stumble across this article for whatever reason, hold off on sending Swampy to excavate collapse tunnels under my house. It’s a joke. I’m a firm environmentalist really)

Anyway… so we pick up our motor home in Picton right at the tip of the South Island. The size of this thing shocks all of us. I knew at the time I booked it online it looked big, but nothing prepares for your first close up. It’s bloody massive. So big in fact it goes, “beep, beep, beep, beep” when you put it in reverse and has a height warning in big bold type taped to the dashboard. Inside is everything you could imagine. A gas hob with four burners, an oven, a fridge, a microwave, a kettle, a table to eat at, a shower, a toilet, all your mod cons as they say and there’s plenty of room. It’s the equivalent of a GIANT tortoise going camping. No matter where he goes he’s got everything he needs.

Unfortunately our home from home was also about as fast as a tortoise. We also had problems finding second gear which seemed to take sporadic holidays from the rest of the gear box family. This often resulted in the comical sight of our big ol’ van kicking out a high pitch whine interspersed with the odd gear box crunch as Scott or myself vainly searched for the elusive second. At every junction we’d hold our breaths shifting down from third to second, hoping that Mr 2^nd would be at home, but invariably getting Mr Crunch as our van slowed and cars around us honked furiously.

Not to be deterred by our home’s idiosyncrasies we pressed on for what turned our to be an amazing week. If you’ve seen the photos of our days out and walks on the North Island and thought it was pretty, then the South Island will take your breath away. Around every turn in the road there seems to be some new, spectacular vista as which has you musing over the meaning of human existence. On our first day in the camper we went south down the east coast passing moody mountains shrouded in mist and rugged beaches caught in an angry embrace with the wild southern ocean. If you went south from here there would be nothing until you hit Antarctica. We stopped along the side of the road to get up close and personal with a hit1990s pop singer. Amongst a chorus of, “Nooo we’re never gonna survive, unless, we live a little”, resided thousands of seals just chilling out on the rocks. There were big ones, small ones, fat ones, skinny ones, even baby pups. Ultimately a seal is a seal, but there is definitely something cool about seeing them on their own turf, wild and totally ignorant of our presence.

We managed to get to a mountain town inland called Hamner Springs just as it got dark having driven through some spectacular scenery. Here they have a big open air hot springs complex where you can chill out under the stars. After a long day driving the 40 degree hot pool was a welcome relaxant and the starry canopy a magical canvas in the sky.

At this point in the tale we come to our first night, and what will go down in the annals of history as camper van-gate.

After hooking up to some electricity at a camper van park and having a lovely dinner with some equally lovely wine, we decided to have an early night in respect for the 5am get up to facilitate whale watching at Kaikoura back on the east coast. All was hunky dory on the sleeping arrangements front. Scott and Brooke had a fold out palace in the back and Hollie and took the snug double bunk above the drivers cab, the two resting spots a discreet but by no means adequately separate distance from each other.

What follows can be neatly summed up by the phrase – “if the camper van’s a rockin’, don’t come a-knockin’”.

Needless to say there was lots of suspicious movement and noises emanating from the van that night, so strange, bizarre, and frankly awkward, that it was decided a system of strategic evening walks would be employed to negate the cross-contamination of couples’ nuptials. With day one and camper van-gate firmly put to bed, if you excuse the pun, we headed out to the east coast and Kaikoura, home of whale and dolphin watching in New Zealand.

In the end Hollie and Brooke were the only ones to take the trip. Scott and I have already seen a pod of dolphins up close on a trip sailing off the west coast of Ireland and didn’t fancy the $130 ticket to watch a few whale tails pop out of the water. Still, undeterred by my frugal logic, the ladies headed out for a morning of whale and dolphin watching. It has to be said that the sunrise over the east coast was definitely worth the early drive, and as Scott and I chilled with our breakfast and coffee on the beach, the girls saw their whales and marvelled at the dolphins.

With the birds back on board we headed off for a big drive to the comically named, Lake Takepo, in the middle of the South Island.

In New Zealand the variety of landscape never fails to amaze you. As we drove away from the lush green coastline and headed inland the land began to rise up and the colour drain away. Lake Takepo (pronounced Tak-eah-po, not take-a-poo) rest in a high central plateau devoid of rain and scorched brown by the unrelenting summer sun. It’s flanked on it’s western edge by the huge snow capped Southern Alps with the highest peak Mount Cook (Aaroki to the Maori) clearly visible. With all this snow and ice around you’d think the place would be more green. But in one of those strange twists of New Zealand geography central Otago is incredibly dry and is actually classified as a dessert in certain areas. You see the Southern Alps on its west side suck up all the moisture and the prevailing weather systems which blow in from the Tasman sea leaving central Otago bone dry and a great area for growing Pinot Noir grapes apparently.

Lake Takepo lies like an emerald/sapphire streak across the parched landscape. It’s glacially fed, information we ignored like proper tourists and quickly came to appreciate when taking a brief but very refreshing swim. The landscape can’t help but make you feel very insignificant, but that’s cool. Sometimes it’s nice to be reminded that we’re just a tiny grain of sand on the grand beach of ecological existence (how do you like them apples Monboit).

Refreshed by the lake and scenery we headed towards Queenstown for a day of adrenal reckoning. As most of you will probably know Queenstown is the self-styled adventure sports capital of the world. If you want to throw yourself off something high, with or without a glorified piece of elastic attached to your ankles, raft down an dangerously rocky river or ski down the craggy edges of large mountains, then this is the place for you.

Scott and Brooke had promised to do a bungee jump before they came out here. I think the phrase is, “when in Rome”. For Brooke this would be the exciting realisation of a life long ambition, for Scott the regretful realisation of a recently discovered fear of heights.

The story goes that sometime a few years ago Scott’s family came down to visit him in London. Amongst other activities it was decided the family should do the obligatory ‘London Eye’ experience. Laughing and joking jovially about their wonderful day out the Davies serenely entered what would soon become a capsule of anxiety for Scott. As their pod slowly began to rise a small feeling of discomfort manifested itself on the stomach of our hardy Manc. As his family marvelled over the panoramic views of old London town Scott started to instinctively edge towards the geographic centre of the capsule, both the safest and furthest place from the edge. With every inch the capsule climbed the ball of discomfort in the pit of his stomach expanded until it became and uncontrollable burning tumour of anxiety. Later that day I asked him if he enjoyed the day out with his family to which he responded in that flat Manc accent,

“It were aallriiiiigght, until halfway up the fucking London Eye I figured out I was afraid of heights.”

With this tale in mind you can imagine the look on Scott’s face as we pulled into Kawarau Gorge for his shot at the bungy big time. All morning Scott sat pensively in the back enduring my heartless attempts to increase his anxiety. Over the previous three days there had been a lot of chat about the bungy experience and the moment of sheer panic as you fall from a perfectly stable platform. I think this was working Scott up a treat on that fateful morning.

This particular bungy site (there are three in Queenstown of varying heights) was fixed onto an old bridge was spanned a worryingly deep gorge. Looking down from the platform one can see the beautiful, if at that point a little terrifying, jade water of the river foaming and frothing as it cuts its way through the mountain pass. The bungy here is 48 odd metres, a baby in terms of the modern madness they have, but it is the first commercial bungy site in the world, so it’s not without class and history. Having said that 48 metres looks more than enough height from where I was standing watching Brooke and Scott get hooked up. Luckily it wasn’t too busy and Scott only had to endure 10 minutes of pacing up and down the bridge, not once looking out over the precipice. With the tension ratcheting up Scott and Brooke took a seat as the bungy man attached the rope to their feet. Perhaps fearing the employee had a long day in the sunshine and wasn’t quite on his game Scott gamely demanded that he check the ropes again. The guy laughed, “it’s all good mate, you’re not nervous are you”, cue laughs from Brooke. They got up and shuffled towards the edge, Brooke grinning like a Cheshire cat, Scott (actually from Cheshire) not grinning like his homeland feline namesake. Now I was certain he was not going to go straight away. I was convinced he would bottle it at least 5 times before going. How mistaken I was.

To their immense credit both shuffled towards the edge no problems and fell forwards towards the rush of their lives. Credit where credit is due, they went with no fuss and returned heroes. Upon reflection Scott said he was dreading it all morning, but once he got on the platform there was no question of him not doing it. Fair play to the fat Manc, he faced down his fear he liberated himself from what he once described to me as, “an irrational fear that I’m going to throw myself off something high even though I don’t want to.” For Hollie and I our Queenstown bungy still awaits as my sprained ankle has ruled us out on the last two occasions.

Heading on into Queenstown and perhaps emboldened by post adrenal buzz of Scott and Brooke, we decided it would be rude not to book in to do a skydive. We scheduled one for 5pm that afternoon. With the skies blue and sun shining, it promised to be an unforgettable experience. In the meantime we had a wander around Queenstown and had a drink before the big jump.

It’s hard not to be impressed by Queenstown. Although only a tiny place of only 8,000, it nestles snugly by the imperious Lake Wakitipu, hemmed in to huge mountains all around. It has a very European alpine village feel to it, which is not surprising as it is the Southern Hemispheres premier ski destination. The town is small but everywhere you look there are cafe, bars and restaurants, which makes for a carnival atmosphere. We enjoyed a pint in the sunshine and talked eagerly of our impending jump until it was time to head out to the airfield.

With the tension rising on the ride out the the airstrip our excitement bubble was popped by the news that the wind had picked up too much to jump. Disappointed, we headed back to QT and to find a spot to camp for the night.

Our resting place for the evening took us somewhere we didn’t expect. What looked on the map like a 3 or 4 km road to a camp site turned out to be a 45 minutes drive along an unsealed bumpy gravel track right into the heart of the mountains above Queenstown. Our spot for the night at Moke Lake was superb. Getting in the dark we didn’t really appreciate the isolation of the place until the sun came up in the morning. A thick mist hung around us adding to the eerie feeling for isolation.

In the morning Hollie and I met a few people who run hotels in QT with the view of getting a job down here for the winter ski season. This turned out to be a stroke of genius as we both managed to get a contract working in a hotel for the forthcoming ski and summer season! This means we’ll probably be out here longer than originally planned, but the magic of QT has us gripped and staying 8 months more feels like the right idea. As I write this we have 2 weeks left in Wellington, but more will follow in the next blog.

So, back to QT. After our successful meeting it was decided we should book in for the next available skydive rather than get a refund. What a brilliant decision. As it turns out the skydive is the most amazing thing I have done in New Zealand, and indeed my life. I think the others would agree.

We opted for a 12,000ft jump, 15,000 being the highest any commercial company goes but also $200 more. The scene was set. A beautiful day, blue sky not a cloud in sight and no wind. We climbed into the tiny plane, all four of us crammed in with an instructor attached to your back. You sit on your haunches as the minuscule twin propeller contraption lifts up into the air. The noise from the engines is deafening and you can barely hear one another. As the plane climbs perilously close to the rocky mountains you shoot nervous glances and meek smiles to your mates which mask a growing sense of unease. Looking outside after 10 minutes the once huge mountains now take on the look of a model landscape. Strangely, I can’t help but think of what it must have been like to be the first paratroopers to drop over Normandy.

The red light turns to green and the fibreglass door keeping us in the plane slides across. Scott was first to jump. I was trying to rationalise what I was about to do telling myself that this guy I’m attached to is a professional, that there have never been any fatalities with this company. I take a look at Scott’s face. It’s pure fear, and somewhere in the back of my head a voice pipes up, “there’s a first time for everything”. Scott’s guy shuffles to the edge of the plane, rocks back and forth shouting, “one, two, three”, and they’re gone, falling like a hundred ton weight.

It’s my turn. I’ve no time to think now, my legs are dangling out of the plane, I’m rocking back and forth, one motion forward and we’re gone.

The only way I can describe it is by saying it’s not like a roller coaster. You’re expecting to have this sick feeling in your stomach, but you don’t. Paradoxically, it feels like you’re being pushed up, but here’s the thing. Millions of years of evolution has taught our brains to go into fight or flight mode. So as soon as you drop you get this huge kick of adrenaline and your whole mind is screaming, “you just jumped out of a fucking plane and I can’t see the ground!!” But strangely, a second later the civilised part of your mind has taken over and is saying, “chill out mate, I’ve got a professional strapped to my back, and this is bloody brilliant. Here, look at them houses, they look tiny. Hey, we’re higher than those mountains, woah, we’re going pretty fast. Hey is this what it’s like to be a bird?”.

Before you know it the chute has been deployed and now your cruising through the air, on a 10 minute glide back to where man is meant to be. If you ever have the opportunity to skydive, do it.

Back on the ground and somewhat more philosophical about life we jumped in our van and started heading north again. We stopped at Lake Hawea for the evening and had what was probably our best stop. In the early evening sunshine we all took a swim in the crystal water and played ball. Afterwards we had a lovely dinner, more wine and then did some stargazing. I have never seen a night sky like that, it was like something out of National Geographic. The evening was capped off by the most amazing shooting star I ever saw. It began as a small speak of white dust streaking across the sky and gradually became bigger and brighter as it fell at a 50 degree angle until its broke up in the the lower atmosphere into a hundred red pieces. Truly amazing.

We left for the West coast the next morning marvelling at the natural beauty of the place. In the course of a 4 hour drive we left the parched central Otago plains and onto the wild, wet and green west coast. The change in temperature and landscape was once again unbelievable. On the west coast the hills and mountains are covered in thick, dense green rainforests nourished by the ample levels of rainfall they get in this part of the world. Our drive up the west coast was a spectacular one, if a little cloudy. Was pulled in for a brief glimpse of the Fox Glacier, one of hundreds in the area, which snakes from deep in the mountains nearly all the way out to the ocean. Interestingly, the two major glaciers here, Fox and Franz Joseph, have been bucking the international trends and are actually growing, although not by the same margins as others are shrinking.

We pulled up for the night in Hokitika, home of Pounamu – Maori greenstone or jade. The west coast Maori tribes have always held an important role in Maori culture as keepers of this beautiful mineral. To this day only local Maori tribes are allowed up the sacred rivers to harvest the rock. Although I cynically might say that has a lot to do with keeping a monopoly on the manufacture of greenstone jewellery for tourists. Nonetheless it is an important industry here for the Maori community, and I guess it’s the least white New Zealanders can concede after years of agenda setting.

Hokitika is a pretty small tourist town with noting much to it, but it does do an excellent fish and chips. Enjoying a game of pool later that evening I was tickled by a typically Kiwi public service warning about binge drinking. On a big sticker at the back of the bar the announcement read:

‘GET INTO IT, NOT OUT OF IT. DON’T MAKE A DICK OF YOURSELF.’

A typically forthright antipodean approach to the sensitive issue of alcohol consumption, I think you’ll agree.

For our final two days we headed up to the tip of the South Island to Abel Tasman National Park. As with all areas of the South Island this was another jaw dropingly beautiful place. We settled in at Kaikerikeri Beach, an area which resembles a bay in Barbados more than a beach in New Zealand.

Abel Tasman is all about the wooded hillsides, golden sand beaches and secluded bays. The best way to explore this is by sea kayak, but unfortunately we didn’t book ahead so missed out on the opportunity. This actually turned out to be a blessing in disguise as during the course of a pretty windy day we saw a few hardy kayakers abandon the long slog back to base and seek refuge from the choppy waters on our little beach. Needless to say it looked pretty tough going, so our walk into the national park to a little sheltered bay actually turned out to be an stoke of luck.

We spent the day playing football, Weeba ball, swimming and chilling in this idyllic location. Looking across at the North Island we noticed a particularly bad weather front move over where Wellington is and thanked our lucky stars that we decided to extend our stay by a day. Turns out a mini-cyclone hit at the exact time we were meant to be getting in on the ferry!

With heavy hearts we headed back to the North Island the next day, but firmly confident that our new move Queenstown is going to be a great idea. Scott and Brooke jetted off the next day back to London and the daily grind. When they got back Scott sent us a nice message in which he said, “you know I’ve never been once for getting itchy feet like you, but in Queenstown there was definitely a tingle of jealousy”.

In the weeks past since Scott and Brooke left we’ve been up to the middle of the North Island to do the Tongariro Crossing, one of New Zealand’s great walks. Unfortunately for us the weather was rubbish so we didn’t get to do the walk. However, we still managed a 6 hour 18 km trek in between Mount Ruapeau and Mt Ngauruhoe which was just a spectacular and more importantly bathed in sunshine. Our walk took us to 1,500m and to the foot of Mt Ngauruhoe, or Mount Doom in Lord of The Rings. Just another amazing outdoor experience!

So, we have a couple of weeks left in Wellington before we make the big move down south. We’ve had a quiet Easter, but the weather has been unseasonably warm allowing us to get out and about for lots of walks in the Wellington hills. We celebrated our 5 year anniversary in quiet fashion, just dinner and a movie, but sometimes it’s the simple things in life which are the best.

As for now, there’s a sad feeling of change in the air here. I guess it’s much like Autumn back at home where the days get shorter and people start to hunker in for the long winter haul. It’s probably a good thing we’re heading to the mountains where the cold weather means snow and therefore skiing for us! It’ll be great to spend a winter not cursing the bad weather and making the most of our time outdoors.

I’ll probably update upon our arrival in Queenstown seeing as we’re devoid of internet at home at the moment.

We hope all is well at home, and thank all of you who made it to the end of this monster blog!

Dan and Hols

xxx

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The Prince is dead, long live the Prince…

February 2, 2010 at 9:10 pm · Filed under Uncategorized

 

  

 

 

  

Hmmmm.    

It turns out that Prince William, 2nd in line to the British throne (and to that of NZ strangely enough), was over opening the newly revamped NZ Supreme Court of Justice. The building has just been refurbished and was opened by Prince William, but interestingly in 2003 the Supreme Court was instated as New Zealand’s highest court of appeal, superseding the old system which deferred to the British Privy Council in matters of the highest legal recourse. So, it’s not without irony that there was a bunch of New Zealanders waving British flags celebrating the visit of this walking symbol of colonial heritage, who was here to open a new building that represents a further break from blighty.      

  

    

   

  

The majority of people I talk to, albeit younger people, have only a passing interest in the royals, but there also seems to be a genuine warmth of affection. Whether this is attributed to a sense of cultural cohesion with the royals, or a sort of celebrity magazine fascination remains to be seen.   

Heritage aside, I believe that culture, both politically and historically, is not above development and reform. We should constantly question our systems, testing and straining for improvements. It seems to me that retaining an absentee monarch as head of state will only restrict New Zealand’s drive to forge a distinct national identity.   

New Zealand already has a rich tradition of cutting edge political reform; from being the first nation to grant women the vote to a recent radical overhaul of the electoral system. If I was a Kiwi I would be in favour a Republic and even a new flag. What relevance does Britain have to modern New Zealanders aside from maybe family heritage. Very little I would argue.   

The time has come for Kiwis to cast off archaic traditions and seize their own political and cultural heritage.   

Vive la Republique!!   

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A bird doesn’t sing because it has an answer, it sings because it has a song.

January 7, 2010 at 11:30 pm · Filed under Uncategorized

Happy New Year to everyone. Hollie and I are back from ‘down under’ and are settling back into New Zealand life. We had an amazing time over in Melbourne with my brother and his girlfriend, Redmond and Megan, who looked after us well. We were taken to some amazing restaurants and were given a real sense of what it’s like to live in Melbourne – which has jumped straight into my top 5 favourite cities (if you’re asking at the moment it stands: 1. New York 2.Chicago 3.Berlin 4.Melbourne 5. San Francisco). I’ll go into a bit more detail about our trip later, but for now I want to talk about something that’s been on my mind for some time now, a subject that I feel inexorably obliged to discuss with you, a subject that is of course…birds.

I’ll forgive the male audience of this blog for looking over their shoulder to see if the wife/girlfriend is looking and rubbing their hands with glee as they praise Daniel for finally giving them the low-down on New Zealand women. Sorry chaps, while the New Zealand ladies are of a pleasing demeanour – if not strangely tall – I am alas not speaking in British colloquialisms, but talking about the avian type of bird.

Simply put, the birds out here are weird. It’s probably unsurprising to hear that the birds on the other side of the world are different from the ones you’re used to seeing in the UK, but that’s not really the main driving force for the weirdness. In fact the birds still look like birds, albeit with different colours and patterns, rather it’s the noises emanating from them which make one pause to see if R2D2 is following them.

You see the birds over here have very, very different calls and songs. In the UK you get a general kind of chrip chrip in the morning, a pleasant consistency of bird song. New Zealand birds however don’t chrip. They click, they whir and whistle like some form of demented Star Wars robot. In the beginning I was taken a back by the sounds, then they enchanted me. Now I’m developing a love hate relationship as NZ number two bird, the Tui, clicks, whirs and whistles outside our bedroom window at 4.30am. You can listen to a selection of the bird calls at this website. My favourites are the Tui, Kakapo, Kokako, Golden Whistler and the Kakariki.

For those of you who didn’t know, New Zealand is a land which belongs to birds. As I’ve mentioned before the two islands were the last places on the planet to be inhabited by humans (bar Antarctica). We have only been here an estimated 600-1000 years. That’s bugger all in the grand scheme of our planet’s evolution. When the first Maori tribes arrived from Polynesia they were shocked to find a land stuffed to the brim with huge docile flightless birds and called them Moa. The two islands were teaming with birdlife largely because no mammal predators existed until the arrival of humans, no dogs, cats, rats, bears etc. So birds have always bossed the ecosystem in these parts, but I couldn’t tell you why the Tui has developed such a distinctive call, you’d have to ask the great bearded tit – Bill Oddy.

So, our Christmas was a raging success. Lots of drinking, eating and partying. We also managed to get down to the Great Ocean Road and see the famous Twelve Apostles. This is the spectacular stretch of southern Australia with pristine beaches and dense green bush in the hills by the shore. The Twelve Apostles are pinnacle rock formations which have been carved out of the retreating shoreline by the relentless buffeting of the Tasman ocean. Camping in this area was definitely a highlight of the trip.

We’re back in Wellington, the weather is fine and we’ve got a great few months ahead of us. Hollie’s folks are coming out in February and then it’s the arrival of Scott and Brooke which I’m immensely looking forward to. Hollie and I have also started our introduction to keel boat sailing and found ourselves out in 40 knot wind (45 mph) wind yesterday. It was pretty refreshing to say the least.

We wish everyone a happy new year and may your 2010 be as good as it’s shaping up for us!

Dan and Hols

xxx

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It’s Christmas time, Mistletoe and Sunshine….

December 21, 2009 at 11:18 pm · Filed under Uncategorized

Happy holidays to one and all from under down under!

While Europe and the US is gripped in the hands of an icy but festive spell of weather, we are basking in the December sunshine. As the mercury plummets where you are the silver is rising here, leaving Hollie and I more and more confused about the festive period than ever. Let me share with you the basis of our confusion and the strange experience of an antipodean festive period.

As we all know Australia and New Zealand are former colonies of the old British Empire (who isn’t) and share a large part of their cultural heritage with the practises of the old motherland. In addition to the Kiwi’s love of Coronation Street, Eastenders, a roast dinner, the pub and the Queen, the joy and anticipation of Christmas is no less celebrated here. And understandably so, it is after all, a predominantly Christian country. So far, so good. No overwhelming changes from what we were used to in Europe.

However there is one inescapable fact, one difference of gargantuan and ‘bio-rhythmic’ significance that cannot be escaped. Yep, as I alluded to at the start, you got it, the weather.

Now many an Antipodean will chastise me, no doubt saying something along the lines of, “Typical Brit, complains about the bad weather, then comes over here when it’s beautiful and complains about the good weather”. Of course I would protest that I’m not a Brit, but Irish, and that it’s not about the weather really, it’s got more to do with my concept of what Christmas is all about. You see to me Christmas is all about being cosy, in a pub with your friends and family, possibly by a fire, but absolutely with a pint in hand. The problem over here is that’s exactly how everyone else feels about Christmas – shared cultural heritage and all. So where’s my beef? Well, it’s that the branding of Christmas over here is all out of whack with the natural season and my natural Circadian rhythms.

Walk down any of Wellington’s busy shopping streets and you’ll see the colours green and red, Christmas bunting, silver and gold stars, Santa, Reindeer and Snowmen all smiling jollily despite the merciless sun beating down upon their festive faces. It’s like a Christmas advert for climate change protesters. You can even get the obligatory holiday ‘Gingerbread Late’ in your favourite coffee house – I mean who the hell wants to drink a gingerbread late when it’s 22 degrees outside!?

So, as you can see there is a real dichotomy developing here. As the festive season warms up (literally), so we begin to see pies, game and warm homely foods appear on the menus on pub and restaurants. Just as my body is gearing up for the summer season every shopkeeper, innkeeper and festive street sweeper is telling me to cosy on in for that most homely of seasons.

My solution is a radical re-branding of Christmas. I want to see Santa in his swimming shorts enjoying an ice cold beer. I want to see Rudolph in shades, for once enjoying a breather by being pulled along the ocean on water skis. I want to see Snowmen in chillers, shading themselves from the brutal NZ rays, but crucially enjoying a lovely ice cream treat. I want to see elves playing touch rugby on the beach, drinking beers and BBQ-ing up some prime NZ meats. I want the message to be, “It’s Christmas, get outside and enjoy the sunshine!”. I want, I want, I want…..

And so I must stop myself from sounding like a spoilt child in the midst of a feverish Yuletide rant. I guess being away from your friends and family and not going through the familiar seasonal patterns has made it a bit more difficult to feel Christmasy. But I’ve decided to throw my weight behind this summer at Christmas lark and will be going hell for leather on the beach/outdoor activities when visiting my brother in Australia for the festive period. Hollie and I fly out tomorrow and are both really excited about seeing Melbourne.

So, for all of you back at home enjoying the magic touch of snow, Merry Christmas.

xxx

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Life, liberty and the pursuit of coffee…

December 6, 2009 at 3:17 am · Filed under Uncategorized

Wellingtonians are very proud of their city, and rightly so. When the sun is shining it would seem to me that there is no prettier city, well, that I have been too anyway. It’s nestled by a beautiful bay and flanked by lush green mountains. It has several leafy suburbs dotted around the hills with fine colonial wooden houses majestically perched  above the cityscape. The waterfront is alive with museums, art galleries, bars and restaurants, and from a distance the city’s high-rise glass and steel office blocks cut a clean and impressive skyline. There is little crime, minimal pollution and because it’s a small and compact city, relatively little congestion. As it is the capital public sector employment and all the major corporations that the government scene draws ensures that the city remains prosperous even in these straightened times. For many people, life travels along at an agreeable pace, in fact, in a recent Mercer poll Wellington was named in the top 5 cities to live in Asia and 12^th in the world. Nonetheless, lovely as the city is, beautiful as the surroundings are the real heartbeat of the city and lifeblood of the people is, strangely, coffee.

Before leaving for New Zealand both Hollie and I thought hard about which city we were going to settle in. Speaking to various New Zealanders in the UK the first thing that they mentioned about Wellington was its fantastic café culture. Now not being one to drink coffee all that much I wasn’t quite sure what this meant. I surmised that it would obviously mean there is a lot of coffee shops in Wellington, but it isn’t until now that I realise how that affects the culture of Wellington.

Believe it or not Wellington has more coffee shops per capita than glamorous New York. You can’t go more than 100 yards without coming across another place for a quick pick me up – think Ireland and pubs!! They come in all shapes and sizes too, from huge Starbucks style lounges to tiny espresso machines strapped to the back of a moped. The really refreshing thing is that most of the chains here are exclusively Wellington brands. It seems that young entrepreneurs buy into the coffee culture here with much success which again adds to the sense of drive about the city.

But what makes the café culture is the fact that these shops are more than just places to get a coffee. Many open late, serve artisan food and have liquor licences. Each one has it’s own design, theme and charm, serving as great places to hang out, have a coffee, beer or wine with your friends. Many have live music nights and host local arts and drama groups. It’s here where the city’s heart beats and where her people meet. So, if I had to say what defines Wellington, it wouldn’t be its natural setting, nor its pace of life, but coffee and its houses – the lifeblood and soul of this wonderful city.

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Newspapers, giving thanks and pumpkin pie

November 30, 2009 at 2:20 am · Filed under Uncategorized

American poet and enlightened thinker, Allen Ginsberg once said, “Whoever controls the media, the images, controls the culture”. Personally I think ol’ Ginny was stretching the point a little, but nonetheless it’s a good reminder of the power of the media to reflect culture and its importance as a fourth estate to the political establishment. It’s with this thought in mind that I have been taking a keen interest in the newspapers over here.

I always enjoy picking up a local paper wherever I’m travelling in the world. It’s a great way of tuning into the burning issues of the day, and you nearly always find a cracking headline or two. But I must say that I have been surprised by the difference in news values here compared to the UK.

While they love a good celebrity or political scandal here just as much as the rest of the world, the bread and butter news stories take on a more parochial local feel here. Part of this might be the fact that regional media is king. There is only one, at a push two, national news titles and a very modest public sector broadcasting scene. As a result most media establishments are very focussed on local, community based issues, rather than the big international news of the day. I guess this is another indication of the the age and isolation of the country. But what is really nice is the palpable sense of NZ pride which runs as a theme in a lot of the stories. It certainly makes a difference from the scandal ridden, negative approaches in the British news media – if appearing a little parochial.

I’ll share with you a couple of headlines which tickled Hollie and I over the last few weeks. This Sunday the headline story on the second page of the NZ Weekend Herald read, “Ex-PM joins leak litigators”. Obviously growing up with juicy British political scandals my eyebrow raised and eyes were drawn to the story. Turns out it has nothing to do with political leaks, but everything to do with the kind of leak a plumber might raise his eyebrow to. Yes…. the story was about a former Prime Minister whose house was leaky. Amazingly this was not a ‘slow news day’ story as it was not the first time this has happened to an ex-PM and not the first time it was reported on!!

Stories that became front page headlines because of the NZ angle include; “New Zealander claims Harry Potter Castle”, “The New Zealander behind the Ramsay kitchen empire” and “Outrage as New Zealand biscuits are outsourced”. I’ll be sure to share any more crackers with you as the weeks pass.

In other news Hollie and I were invited to a thanksgiving feast by our American friend Sarah, with her new adopted family in New Zealand. She’s not one of those weirdos who divorce their family, rather she stayed for four weeks with a friend of hers who she met in Ireland and got to know his family really well. The Scannals were a great bunch of people and I felt like a mini celebrity because they’re all from Irish decent and bloody loved my tales of Donegal, Belfast and Dublin. We ate some awesome traditional thanksgiving fayre including pumpkin pie which was a delicious first for myself and Hollie.

 

I’m still rocking the hospitality industry at the moment and Hollie has settled in nicely to her job. The weather is really good when the sun shines now, but it’s still very changeable and as I write this the rain lashes down outside. Only four week until Christmas – how did that happen!?

Our love to all.

Dan and Hollie.

 

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Fish, meat and veg…

November 23, 2009 at 10:16 pm · Filed under Uncategorized

Firstly a quick job update. I’m in gainful employment which, frankly, is a big relief. But before I lap up the chorus of congratulations there is a slight caveat – it’s bar and catering temp work! I think my mum’s sentiments summed things up nicely when she shrieked down the phone, “DANIEL, that’s not why we educated you!!” Of course it was a wee jest, and I rather think my folks will be happy that they don’t have to send out the all too customary financial care package to one or more of their cash strapped kids – Redders (my brother who lives in Australia) take your bow now. The point is I have work which is paying the rent, bills and leaving me a bit to spend, but only just. The work itself is also pretty fun, mixing with lots of other travellers, going round Wellington doing anything from silver service waiting, bar work, washing dishes to assisting chefs. I’m still looking for a ‘proper’ job, or something more 9-5 so I can spend my weekends getting out an about with Hollie. So, the employment quest continues…. but consider it like at the end of The Two Towers, where we feel good about a stunning victory (me getting paid and making rent) against the odds at Helms Deep, but the quest for ultimate salvation (me earning more than $13 an hour and working 40 hours a week) still hangs in the balance with Frodo and Samwise (the grateful employers of Wellington).

So, as you might have guessed from the title of this blog, my particular focus this week is going to be food. Here in under down under food is plentiful, bountiful but not always cheap. Hollie and I both had this preconception that we were going to live like kings for a third of the price out here. While I can’t say that we’re living like kings, we’re certainly not rolling around in the muck with the peasants. The reason for this lack of regal living is the shocking state of supermarkets, or should I say supermarket, in Wellington.

Back home in the UK there exists a very strongly consumer focused and deregulated market in just about everything. Whether it’s your phone, internet, gas, electricity or indeed food, there are always at least 5 major players vying for your cash which inevitably and quite brilliantly has a tendency to drive down prices. New Zealand is a producer nation, exporting lots of yummy foods all over the world. So it was with this simple notion in mind that I expected to have a field day at the supermarket. Wrong, wrong and double wrong. Prices were  not just  high, they were exorbitant, unjustified and downright unfair. The reason for this? There are only three big supermarket chains in NZ that I can see, and in Wellington one – the strangely cosmic sounding New World – has a complete monopoly. No competition, no incentive to discount. Young country, young markets.

Don’t ge me wrong, the New Worlds’ are amply stocked and very nice places to shop, but only if you’re rolling the Nelson’s (for American’s see Benjamin’s and Briton’s Boulton’s). So Hollie and I found ourselves getting very uppity in the middle of the supermarket over the price of such trivial items like; tins of chopped tomatoes $4 (£1.80), two breasts of chicken $13 (£6) and chiles $64 (£30) per kg!!! For the sake of our pockets as well as our fragile Sainsbury’s Basic Range warped minds we needed to find a cheaper alternative. And this is where the small, community minded localism of New Zealand came up trumps.

We had heard whispers of a farmers’ market on Sunday somewhere near the waterfront. So one sunny Sunday morning Hollie and I grabbed some eco bags (ahhh thank you) and headed on down to check it out, well we had nothing to lose compared to the blood sucking we received at New World.

What a revelation; it really was pure unbridled joy for the both of us. Fresh, fresh, lovely food everywhere untouched and unsullied by the hand of ‘The Man’. Prices were fair, nay, they were bloody cheap. Local producers from the area drive in fresh produce every Sunday and do a roaring trade to the thousands of Wellingtonians who are fed up of being ripped off at the supermarket. You can get all your veg, beautiful lamb, beef and game, and you can even buy fresh fish off an Italian fella on a boat. Brilliant. I’ve even taken to eating fish, so that’s an indication of how fresh and good the food is!

So the farmers’ market on a Sunday has become a bit of a ritual for Hollie and I. Last week we got a load of veg and fruit (onions, potatoes, peppers, chinese greens, asparagus, apples), lovely lamb shanks, fresh cod and beef schnitzel + mince all for $60, or about £28 to you lot. Fresh produce at bargain basement prices. Every time we find a discomforting aspect of life over here, the place throws up a perfectly likeable and often brilliant alternative.

And finally I’ll give you a quick update of goings on. We had a great Guy Fawkes night over here, which is celebrated with as much pomp as it is in the UK (again another strange cultural mix for NZ heritage). They have a huge fireworks display over the bay and it seemed as if the whole city was out to watch. There was a great atmosphere and a brilliant fireworks show. Special mention must be given to our American mate Sarah who excitedly announced to us over coffee, “So, apparently they have this huge fireworks show and burn bonfires, all because of some British guy who tried to blow up London or something years ago. Whaddya know!?” Classic.

Last weekend we had a visit from Hollie’s family friends Marilyn and Derek which was great. We had a few drinks down by the docks, followed by wine and nibbles at our flat (which is a great tool to impress!) and then down for a fantastic seafood dinner which was very generously shouted to us by Derek and Marilyn, so thank you both for a brilliant and tasty evening! Both had a lovely time by all accounts and they were particularly impressed with Te Papa and the exhibition gallery which was displaying work from Yayoi Kusama. In fact they were so impressed with the Kusama exhibition that we decided to go this weekend. As you can see from the link above her work is pretty interesting. She’s clearly nuts, the spots so prevalent in all her work are apparently an influence from “recurring hallucinations experienced as a child”, but at least it makes for interesting art.

Time is rolling on and I have to get my slow roasted lamb shanks out of the oven. Bon appetite and regards to all.

Dan and Hols.

xxx

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Observations from under down under…

November 2, 2009 at 6:32 am · Filed under Uncategorized

Greetings from what I’m now terming, ‘under down under’.

While I was racking my brains for a pithy salutation for the title of this blog I got thinking about how far away we are. Obviously ‘down under’ is synonymous with Australia, which seems to me a tad unfair as New Zealand is definitely more ‘down under’. So, I’ve decided to re brand New Zealand as ‘under down under’, because it is. So, GREETINGS FROM UNDER DOWN UNDER.

New Zealand is a young country. Now I don’t mean young as in you see lots of feral teenagers hanging about on the streets – in fact by 2020 the NZ government expects the population of over 65s to reach 1 million – but young, as in historically speaking. Academics think that the indigenous population only made it across between 700- 1500 years ago, and New Zealand as we know it from our Eurocentric point of view only came into being when Captain Cook scouted the shores of the two islands in 1768. The process of colonisation (or read, screwing the Maori tribes out of their land) only got going in the 19th century. Even today there is a national obsession with demographics as every good Kiwi reminds you in the pub when talking up the glorious sporting achievements of the All Blacks, “and we’re not even 5 million people”. Yeah yeah.

But my point is that this is a young country, relatively untouched by the hands of human development. Sure, the native forests were almost wiped out by greedy loggers and land hungry farmers, but there is still vast swaths of this country untouched by modern development. This was really brought home to Hollie and I this weekend past when we hired a car and drove to Martinborough, the wine growing region about an hour away from Wellington.

Upon getting our hire car I excitedly opened the map, making mental notes of the big natural features around Wellington I wanted to drive to, only to be disappointed. Look at any map of New Zealand and you’ll notice huge areas cut off from the lowly car user. I keep forgetting about this country’s age. It’s not like the UK, Ireland or anywhere else in Europe for that matter which has been lived in so long that there is always a well trodden path – or asphalted road – leading you to your destination. In some ways this adds to the rugged, raw natural beauty of the place. A sense that the land out here is still winning some battles against the parasitic incursion of civilisation. In other ways it’s bloody frustrating when you realise that the connecting road around a coastal headland is for 4x4s only and you have to drive 30 mins back the way you came. I guess the marvel of nature will never defeat the driving sense of pragmatism in a civilised mind.

Getting out of Wellington was nonetheless a treat. We drove about an hour north-east up and over the imposing Tararua Range of mountains. The “motorway” devolved from a three lane commuter belt between Wellington and Lower Hutt, to a single lane veritable snake of a road, sprinkled with swooshing switchbacks and sheer drops down the side of the mountain. I’ll score this one, Nature 1 Civilisation 1. It is the only road connecting the eastern half of lower North island with the western half, and is a vital artery for one of NZ major wine growing regions.

Martinborough itself is a charming colonial town nestling on the Wairarapa plains. Every house is wood built and seems to have its own design and charm. Vineyards surround the town and the local area producing some of NZ famous whites and I have to say a few good reds too. We lunched in a lovely café opting for the very New Zealand ‘mince on toast’. Before you pass judgement on what must sound like a WWII rationed meal, it was surprisingly pleasant. Then again, I’ve never been much of a food critic, too much of a fat git who enjoys whatever is on the plate. We also tasted a few of the local reds after our meal, which were all good in my opinion. Then again, I’ve never been much of a wine critic, too much of a lager lout who doesn’t know the first thing about wine.

In the afternoon we headed south to the rugged and breathtakingly beautiful coast. Again that sense of isolation cropped up as we snaked along (sometimes dirt) roads, hugging the crumbling coast with the powerful white frothy swell battering the land to our right. About 40 mins into our drive we literally stumbled upon a colony of seals. I must confess we did have a guide book which claimed the existence of the colony, but for our sins we couldn’t spot any. We eventually parked the car up and decided to walk along the beach. As soon as we got out of the car we suddenly started spotting the seals, great big bloody seals with bells hanging off them. Their camouflage was so good it was like staring at a magic eye picture where once you get it, the picture takes on a whole different feel. We got pretty close to the fellas, but were warned off in no uncertain toothy terms by one lad unhappy with our encroachment. There is definitely something cool about seeing wildlife in the natural habitat. We both left feeling pretty pleased with ourselves and headed back to Wellington via some of the Lord of the Rings shooting locations – which are bloody everywhere and look nothing like they do on film of course. Still beautiful places though.

I’ve also got to mention the museum of Wellington. A bulging archive of useless, oh sorry I meant useful ;), information on the history of Wellington. Coming back to the young country thing, I kind of get the feeling that New Zealanders are struggling to build up a sense of their own identity and shared past. For instance, in the museum they have a big time line from 1900 to the present day with one major epoch changing event described for each year. 1978 reads something along the lines of, ‘New Zealand sees its first McDonald’s open in Wellington.’ I swear there was also something from the 1950s which read, ‘Old Bill, New Zealand’s eldest horse collapses and dies while on show at the Wellington fairgrounds’. Young country.

Anyway, back to more pressing matters. My continuing joblessness. Well… it continues. I’ve taken to walking around in the suit I bought to make myself feel vaguely employable. Haha, of course I’m not going to let this become a digital wall of my self pity. Those of you who know me (which is everyone reading the blog, therefore making this a rather grand and theatrical statement) know I’m no quitter! I’m keeping my chin up and searching for anything that will pay the bills now. Hollie is in good form and going like the clappers at work. We’ve also booked a flight to Melbourne for Christmas with my brother. “But Daniel, you have no job, how can you afford that?” I hear you (specifically my parents) cry. Well the answer is simple… Mastercard. Haha, I jest of course, while Mastercard has very generously agreed to do the initial purchasing – thank you Mastercard – I have agreed to pay him back when I have a job. Isn’t that simple – Daniel 2 Life 1.

Good health to all.

Dan and Hols.

 

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Tales from the windy city

October 27, 2009 at 9:45 pm · Filed under Uncategorized

Hello all!

We’ve been in Wellington now for 3 weeks, and to be honest with you it’s actually felt like we’ve been here longer. This is probably a good indication of how quickly we’ve settled in. So, I’ll give you a brief run down of what’s happened over the 3 weeks and try to give you a flavour for what life is like over here.

 

 

 

As you know we moved into our new place pretty much straight away. It’s amazing really, because it’s fully furnished it feels like we’ve been here ages! We’re making use of the big kitchen, cooking a lot of nice fresh food. We’ve not been able to make much use of the patio out back because to be honest, it’s been bloody freezing! Having said that it is noticeably warming up now. I hope to have the BBQ out in full force soon.

So, between us we’ve had mixed results in the job hunt so far. Hollie had an interview on the first Friday and on the Monday she was offered a job, what success! It’s a similar role to her last job as a marketing assistant, expect this time she’s working for one of the major design agencies in New Zealand. An amazing achievement I think we can all say. Unfortunately my job hunt has not been as fruitful as Hollie’s. I’ve met a lot of people and networked till I can network no more, literally (I went for a coffee with a PR guy and he suggested a list of people to speak with, all of which I had already spoken to!). So my CV and name is out there, and I’m hoping that when an opportunity arises I’ll be considered. In the meantime it’s labouring or bar work for me!

We’ve had a lively three weekends, heading out with new friends, celebrating Hollie’s birthday and generally getting to know the city. Wellington is a lively town, lots of bars, cafes and restaurants. It’s beautifully set, nestled between two hills facing onto a big bay. Our house is right next to one of these big hills and has lots of awesome walking tracks – one of which I got lost on the other day! Hols and I also did the city to sea walkway, a beautiful 15km hike from pretty much outside our front door through loads of beautiful green spaces in the city and south out to the magnificent Cook Straits. You can’t do that in London!

 

 

 

 

 

Kiwis are a very friendly, no-nonsense sort of people. Everyone I’ve contacted regarding jobs has been super friendly and if they couldn’t help me directly, they gave me more contacts to chase up. Everyone here is pretty active as well, walking around at lunchtime you see loads of office workers out for a lunchtime jog! I think there’s pretty much a similar drinking culture as in the UK here, it certainly looks as though everyone is enjoying themselves on a Friday night. There’s actually a lot of UK and US shows on the TV here, so it’s a bit strange being on the other side of the world, switching on the TV and hearing the depressingly familiar ‘deee deeee de deee de deeeee’ of Coronation Street or the cunning witticisms of Jeremy Clarkson! So it feels a lot like the UK, but the big difference is obviously the Maori culture and majestic landscape.

We’re thinking of hiring a car this weekend and getting out to wine country to our east at the weekend, so I’ll update you on that if we do it.

Oh, and I forgot to mention that we live across the road from the Prime Minister’s house! Brilliant!

Love to all

Dan and Hols.

 

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