Friday 30 September 2011

One Stop Too Far

I was really unhappy to leave New Zealand this morning. But now I kind of want to go home.

After a get-me-there-way-too-early airport shuttle (early check-out time), a 2.5 hour wait at the airport, a 4 hour flight, a 3 hour time change, long customs and immigration queues, and another hour on a bus to my current hotel, I'm in Melbourne. And I'm exhausted.The weather here is terribly grey and Seattle-ish, and the moment I went out to get some food, it started pouring. It's wet, and it's cold. I popped into the first superette I came across, bought a few snacks, and came back only slightly drenched.

I'm just travel weary.

And I need to buck up. I have less than 40 hours here.

Ok. Less whining, more wine. And rugby. Big match tonight.

Thursday 29 September 2011

Christchurch

I'm in Christchurch, my final stop in New Zealand. When I arrived yesterday afternoon, I immediately went out for a stroll and really liked it here. It felt like the city had such a great energy, but I'm realizing today that I don't particularly love this suburban sprawl of a town. Mostly what I liked was actually getting a feeling for Christchurch, rather than a vaguely glowing approximation overwhelmed by the World Cup, which is what I've gotten everywhere else.

Today I walked through Hagley Park, a huge green space separating the western suburbs from the actual city centre. The hotel owner told me it only takes about 15 minutes to get downtown that way, so after 30 minutes of walking, I was rather annoyed at his exaggeration, and looked up to find myself at the far northeastern corner of the park, when I should have followed the short path West-East. No wonder I'd been going so long seeing nothing but trees.

When I finally made it to the right place, I could only walk a couple of blocks before running into the fence surrounding the closed-off area. Almost all of downtown is still shut to the public after the earthquake, and few businesses are operating nearby. In general, though, Christchurch is less a city destroyed than a city rebuilding. Cranes tower over most of the blocked off section, and there's construction going on everywhere.

I did see one building which was obviously apartments, and almost the entire half of the structure facing me had crumbled. It was as if someone had dissected the building from the top down, and all the rubble was still there, including things like a refrigerator in a kitchen. I thought of taking a picture, but then decided not to. How many people died in that building? Or escaped with their lives, but lost everything else that they had? I couldn't do it; it was a bit too morbid, even for me.

From there I walked through the botanical garden, the art walk, and finally the correct path through the park, back to Riccarton, the suburb where I'm staying. I can see why Christchurch is called New Zealand's garden city, because there's so much park land, and it's all rather lovely. But beyond that... well, I've been able to do plenty of shopping and have eaten well.

Maybe 2 blocks from my hotel there's an Irish bar with a big "we're back open!" sign out front, which I thought looked just my speed, and figured I'd do dinner and a pint down there tonight. On my second walk past, though, I noticed a sign in the window forbidding hats, steel-toed boots, and jandels (apparently Kiwi for flip-flops), "for everyone's safety." You know, there's no indication of why the place was temporarily closed... I think I might not want to get in a brawl tonight, and may need to make alternative supper plans.

Tomorrow afternoon I leave New Zealand and make a short stop in Melbourne before heading back home. I had been really excited for Melbourne before getting here, but after all this time with the Kiwis, I'm dreading Australia a bit. The New Zealanders have been wonderful, and they really paint the Aussies in a poor light. I'm sure it's not true, but you know me, I always tend to feel more of a kindred spirit with the shadow country than the always-getting-noticed big brother next door.

I guess we'll see. The thing that most bums me out is the idea of going back to Seattle. Sure, I miss my cats and my Dirty Half Dozen, but... I can't even fathom that life from here. Not a bit. I could stay here weeks and weeks longer...

Tuesday 27 September 2011

McLean Park - Canada vs Japan; Leaving Napier

Well, I've been to my last Rugby World Cup game for 2011. It ended in a draw for Canada and Japan, 23 all. It was a great game, which theoretically Canada should have won. Japan had great ball handling and pretty much every time they had a good chance to score, they took it. Canada, well... Canada made a lot of errors and failed to capitalize on several opportunities. The Canadians were actually behind a lot of the match, but managed to come back and tie it up in the last few minutes.

So no wins for any team I supported in person. I guess I'm a bad luck charm. Interestingly, each game had a different personality for me. The US-Australia match was just fun, relaxed, spent chatting and doing the wave*, since I knew the Americans had no chance. The Scotland-Argentina game was super tense, and a much more serious affair. I was so close to the action, the game was a real battle, and I was getting colder and more drenched the whole time. Tonight's game was a bit of both. I was in the general admission section, standing in a crowd, both taking the match very seriously and having a bit of fun. I cheered my heart out, and damnit, I felt like a Canadian.

Dressed for the match

I'm going to have to plagiarize Morrissey a bit to describe myself here: American blood, Canadian heart.

It was an early kickoff, so now I'm back in time to watch the Americans' final game against Italy on TV. But I'm just not as enthusiastic about it.

Anyway, before I headed to the game, I gave Napier another chance, and spent a few hours walking along its gorgeous waterfront. It has miles of pebble beach with a path above it, and is more like a park than a seaside, since it's not so much a good place for swimming. I took a ton of photos, but none of them could properly convey the vast expanse of turquoise water blending up into the clear blue sky.

Oh, I also checked out that Opossum museum. It was a store selling all manner of expensive opposum fur/merino wool blend knits, with a small area of bad marsupial taxidermy, fake trees, and a few vaguely informational signs. As a fan of the opossum, I was rather disappointed. And I didn't buy anything.

Tomorrow I have to check out of my hotel by 10am (dude, seriously?!), so I suppose I'll get to spend some quality time at the tiny airport before my afternoon flight to Christchurch. Remember the little airport on that show Wings? I think the Napier airport wishes it was that big.

That means it's down to the last 2 cities I'll visit on this trip. It has all gone so fast!


*We've done the wave in all the games I've attended, but the Kiwis call it "the Mexican wave." I asked why, and there's a pervasive belief in New Zealand that the wave was invented in Mexico, 25 years ago. Um, sorry, it was around before 1986, and while there's debate about whether it was started at UW or PLU, it's still Seattle, not Mexico. And much earlier.

Monday 26 September 2011

Napier

After a 40 minute flight, and a giant Tongan team rally at Wellington airport, I've arrived at the small seaside town of Napier.

There is well and truly nothing to do here.

Despite the old cabby giving me a history lesson on the drive, and my motel being "nice and close to the city centre," I'm already kind of bored. I went for a stroll and stopped in at the local supermarket, but most things are already closed for the day, it being past 5pm on a Monday. They have a lovely waterfront that I'm sure I'll spend some time walking along, and a museum devoted to the opossum (totally checking that out tomorrow), but that's about it. At least within walking distance.

Because the town is so small, there isn't a single traffic light or controlled crosswalk that I've seen. Since they drive on the left here, that adds a certain danger that I could look the wrong way while crossing the road and get run over by a car. So I guess there's that for excitement.

Despite everything I read ahead indicating that this motel had free wifi, it doesn't. I can't pay for it, I can't get a secret code from the office, I'm just offline for 48 hours. Well, bugger it all.

Oh, yeah, the voice in my head has become Kiwi by now, hadn't you noticed?

So tomorrow I'll wander a bit more and see the last game of my trip, but tonight I'm at a loss for what to do. I guess I'm entertaining myself in this weird little apartment with my meat pie, my bacon flavored potato chips, a rugby match, and some Australian shiraz.

Tonight promises to be veery spishal. A veery spishal night in New Zealand.

Sigh.

Wellington Regional Stadium - Scotland vs Argentina

I did not get my wish that it stay dry for the game tonight. Nope, that game was very wet. Very wet indeed.

I had fantastic seats, 6th row at mid-field. It's the closest I've seen a rugby match since my brother played in wide open fields, and I'd just sit on a patch of grass a few feet beyond the touch line. I could've taken many great photos from that location, and I did for the first little while, when the teams were loosening up. The last one I took was during anthems, though, because as soon as the game started, the rain started, and it only got stronger and wetter as the match progressed. I kept my camera safely dry in my pocket for the duration.

I happened to be seated in a row full of Scotland supporters, but the rest of our section was dominated by excitable, bouncing, singing Argentinians. Up until then, my every run-in with the Puma fans had been entertaining and harmless. But with the game on the line, they were obnoxious, and got so crazy at every tiny Argentine gain that I was actually knocked in the head several times by their celebrations. That, combined with the cold and the rain, did not make me feel like being a very good sport, particularly when Scotland lost, 13-12.

Both teams were pretty evenly matched, and their defense was on the mark. Unfortunately the soaked field and slippery ball from the rain hampered the offense. There were a lot of ball handling errors, and almost all the points were scored on kicking. It was a pretty tense game, but Scotland controlled the scoreboard for most of the match. It was only in the last 10 minutes that Argentina scored and converted a try to go up by 1 point, and Scotland missed their last drop goal attempt only a moment later.

So 13-12 it ended. We drenched and heartbroken Scottish fans filed out silently while one of our own was named Man of the Match, and the Argentinians stayed in the stands, continuing their shouting, pogo-ing and singing in the driving rain.

I'm somewhat speechless, gutted at the loss, and possibly hypothermic, as I'm still not warmed up over an hour after getting back to the hotel and changing clothes. But I'm so glad I was there; I wouldn't have missed that match for anything.

Sunday 25 September 2011

Rainy Day in Wellington

Wellington is way too small for me to have another full day here. But I do.

I'll attend my second rugby game of the trip tonight, then head up to Napier tomorrow. In the meantime, I've seen pretty much all this place has to offer, but have a wide open schedule until 7 or 8 tonight, when I head to the stadium.

Right now it's raining that drizzly, wet, nonstop, Seattle-style rain. It doesn't look like much, but it soaks you clear through, and I'm not looking forward to going out in it, especially with a forecasted temperature between 35 and 48 degrees for the day. I do have a small umbrella in my pocketbook, I just always forget it's there because I've never used it in Seattle. I've opened it in New York, Copenhagen, and now potentially Wellington. Even so, I'd just rather not.

I hope it dries out before the game tonight, since my high-priced seats are too near the field to be under cover. Ah well, I guess it would make sense to see Scotland play Argentina in good Scottish weather. It just sounds miserable to me.

So now I'm debating whether I need to go out and find some entertainment, but get cold and wet, or be warm and dry, but bored all day. Complicating my debate is the fact that I opted to stay in last night to save money. Instead of going out to pay $20 for dinner and at least $7/beer, I spent around $15 total, having a pot noodle and a cheap bottle of New Zealand wine (Cheeky Little Red), while watching the night's two World Cup matches on TV and playing with my ball.

I should explain. On around day two of my trip, I bought a mini rugby ball, which is nice and squishy, and the right size for my girl hands. When I'm watching matches live, or replays in which I don't know the result and I care who wins, I get a fair amount of nervous energy. Since I'm in a hotel room trying not to yell at the TV or jump up and down (which is what I'd do at home), I grab my mini ball and toss it around while I watch. It uses up that extra energy, and because it's soft, it doesn't hurt when I get distracted and hit myself in the head with it. Which happens more than a few times during a game.

Point is, today I have a bit of cabin fever. And I have nothing to eat besides my instant coffee and a banana.

Crap. Guess I'm going out. Time to watch for a sunbreak, or a fine spell, as they call it here.

Saturday 24 September 2011

A Walk in the Woods

This morning I spent a couple of hours away from Wellington, on a small protected reserve called Matiu/Somes Island. Apparently the Maori named the place Matiu, but the Brits called it Somes, so now they've put a slash in between the two (in line with New Zealand's policy of biculturalism) and called it good.

I had to take a small ferry over choppy waters and have my baggage inspected for hidden pests before entering the island, then spent a couple of hours wandering the whole place. Turns out Matiu was originally used as a quarantine for sick humans and animals, but eventually turned into a wildlife reserve for birds, bugs, lizards and plants. I had particularly wanted to make the trip to see the Little Blue Penguin, which has a thriving colony on the island.

Most of my day's view
Turns out most of the day was spent just walking paths through the woods, listening to music. I think it says something fundamental about me that I can't have a day in nature without an electronic device to provide a soundtrack. But props to my ipod for putting Neil Young and the Dears in heavy rotation, which just seemed to fit.
Finally! Sheep!

I never saw any of the lizards or giant bugs, aside from a honeybee or two, but I did come across a few kakariki (a type of parakeet which posed for photos, but always in shadow), some Variable Oystercatchers, and a few unfamiliar small brown birds who looked at me quizzically for a moment before flying directly at my head. I also finally got my chance to see some sheep, kept on the island in service of the live-in park rangers -- the only other mammals in residence.

But no penguins.

Apparently this is breeding season for the penguins, and they spend all of their time literally holed up with their chicks. I saw a few of these little penguin hollows, but we were explicitly told not to disturb the nests. Turns out that if a mama penguin is bothered while nesting, she'll take off and leave everything behind, including any eggs or chicks. So no penguins for me.

View of Wellington from the Island
But it was still quite a nice day, windy though it was. I got a good walk in, and finally feel like I've seen some of the real New Zealand. I even followed the trail right up to the top of the mountainous island, specifically because I figured it was the only summit this urban girl might ever reach.

I'm now back in my room, watching the television replay of last night's game. Since it's Saturday night, I planned to actually go out for dinner and drinks in town, but I'm not sure that will happen. My brother told me how expensive this country is, but even with the warning, I underestimated how much cash to have on hand. I'm spending like crazy, and still have 9 more days to fund. I may be staying in. Harumph.

Friday 23 September 2011

Wellington Regional Stadium - USA vs Australia

I've never been one to cheer for the United States in international sporting competitions. I haven't always been the biggest fan of the country of my citizenship, nor felt much affinity for Americans.

At tonight's rugby match, where the USA Eagles played Australia's Wallaby squad, I sang the Star Spangled Banner for the first time since... I don't know, grade school? I waved the American flag like a mad woman. I chanted USA! USA! USA! until I nearly lost my voice.

And I really, really meant it.

But I think maybe I meant it like the New Zealanders meant it.

These guys = Kiwis
There are a few rugby fans in the States, aside from me, and many of them were at the game tonight. Some were, like my Single Serving Friend next to me, expats showing support for their former nation. But most of the US supporters tonight were Kiwis painted in red, white and blue, and dressed up as everything from superheroes to cheerleaders to the Statue of Liberty. They didn't do it because they want or expect the Eagles to win, they just truly adore cheering against Australia.

And my cheers weren't particularly based on love of the USA or pride in being American either. I was shouting and flag-waving as a sports fan. The Eagles are my team. I was supporting them, just like I do for UW's football team, or the Montreal Canadiens.
 
In the end, the US lost 67-5. They played with a ton of heart and skill; they did everything right. It's just that they were so woefully outgunned by the Australian team that they couldn't get anywhere.

In countries like Australia, South Africa, New Zealand -- repeat World Cup winning teams -- the very best athletes they have are playing rugby. Kids grow up on the sport, and spend their whole lives dreaming of the World Cup. The average Team USA rugger had never heard of rugby until they hit high school or college, and some coach suggested they try it to stay in shape between football seasons. No, seriously.

We just can't compete at this level. Rugby is a fantastic sport, and if Americans ever embrace it, we'll be unstoppable. Until then, well... at least we got one win this year, against Russia.

Wellington, Waiting for the Game

It's day 2 of the 4 I'll spend in Wellington, and I'm getting to know this small city rather well. I've done plenty of exploring already, and the hours of walking (including the steep hill to and from my hotel) are taking their toll on my muscles. Just when I think I'm getting in shape, I'm reminded how old and lazy I really am... Oy.

I haven't done a very good job of sleeping in on this trip, so I headed out at a very non-vacation hour this morning to do some sightseeting. I spent a few hours wandering the harbor area, perusing the Museum of New Zealand, Te Papa, and stopping into the only supermarket downtown for a few supplies.

Te Papa was a typical museum in that it failed to hold my attention long, but there were some items of interest. The exhibits run the gamut from history to nature to art and pop culture in New Zealand, spanning 5 floors. I only made it up 4, skipping the art gallery at the top of the building, and I was mostly stricken by how the museum reflected the biculturalism of New Zealand.

Everywhere I go here, I notice the Maori influence, which is refreshing in a British commonwealth. I don't know the history well, but from what I do know, this could have been helped by the fact that the Queen's army didn't so much invade and kill the native people, as colonialists were generally wont to do; they just kind of moved in. There have been struggles over the years to integrate everyone, but it now seems that the groups have made their peace, and the country has an official policy of biculturalism. The museum most certainly reflects that.

Tonight I get to go to my first rugby match of the tournament, USA versus Australia, and ever since I picked up my tickets yesterday, the time has gone much too slowly. I came to the World Cup assuming I'd just show up to the matches and cheer like a normal person, but this atmosphere of flag-wearing face-painters, combined with my anticipation of finally attending games I've been planning to see for more than a year, has made me become obsessed with getting some gear to properly show my support at the games.

Unfortunately, while I couldn't walk half a block in downtown Auckland without coming across a shop selling RWC swag, Wellington has very little. After stopping in to drop off my foodstuffs and drink some water, I spent another hour perusing the shops on Cuba Street, but didn't come away with much. I did manage to get an American flag on a stick, though, which I will be waving vigorously and with enthusiasm at the game tonight. There are actually quite a few Americans on the streets today, and the Kiwis will likely be supporting the Eagles as well, just because they so love to be contrary to the hated Land of Oz, so maybe I won't be alone in the crowd.

The game isn't until 8:30 tonight, so I'll be counting down for another few hours. There's a stadium shuttle near my hotel, so I'll catch that and avoid a 30 minute walk each direction, which is lucky for my aching legs. Even that doesn't start making the trip until 7, though, so I still have a few hours to kill until things get super awesome.

Tick... Tock... Tick... Tock...

Thursday 22 September 2011

The Land of Rugby

I'm now in Wellington, where I'll spend the next 4 nights and attend 2 of my 3 rugby matches. So far I haven't seen much of town, but I did wander a bit, and found that the city is pretty small and walkable, although the big hills make it less so.

I'm a fan of Bill Bryson, and agree with him that it's always most fun and informative to get to know an unfamiliar place by reading the local newspaper (if you speak the language). So that's exactly what I've done the last couple of days, perusing free hotel copies of the New Zealand Herald and watching TV news now and then.

It has just confirmed my impression that the whole country is rugby mad.

Since Tuesday, all print and news media have been scandalized over what they've dubbed the French Farce. But what could this French Farce be? Government corruption? Ridiculous celebrity antics?

Nope. Team France announced their squad for Saturday's match against New Zealand, and it was largely second-string players. HOW DARE THEY?!

To put it in context, France and the All-Blacks have created quite a rivalry in World Cup play, but this is the first time they're playing each other before the final rounds. As such, this is a highly anticipated match, which sold out the 62,000 seats at Eden Park, with tickets costing as much as $460 apiece.

Mounting the B team is actually a safe move for the French, being that they're all but guaranteed to meet New Zealand again in the pool final, even if they lose the preliminary game. There's no reason to tire and bang up the best players when you know you'll meet again, and the outcome doesn't matter.

To the Kiwis, though, this ranges from an unintended insult, to a calculated attempt to enrage the locals, to a strategic conspiracy that ensures France will win the game. The logic of the last point being that if the All-Blacks see the backup players and become certain they will win, they almost surely won't.

Even aside from the French Farce, all news is dominated by the World Cup. Four miners who died in a recent cave-in got 2-3 minutes on the morning show today, wedged between a 5-minute segment on rules surrounding a scrum, and 5 more minutes on the New Zealand player line-up. On commercial breaks, every store is advertising their All-Blacks merchandise, with one newspaper ad calling out a limit of 10 team flags per customer.

What on earth would one person need with more than 10 New Zealand All-Blacks flags?

In The Bluffer's Guide to Rugby, Alexander Rae sums up the Kiwi obsession fairly accurately (I'm paraphrasing, because I don't have the book on me): New Zealand is known for rugby and sheep, and since the sheep are nothing out of the ordinary, they are overly serious about the rugby.

Indeed.

That being said, I have yet to see a single sheep.

Wednesday 21 September 2011

Auckland

Some cities are amazing (New York, London, Toronto), and I will go back time and again with no agenda, just to enjoy their metropolitan charms. But in general I've found that a city is a city, is a city, worldwide.

Yes, a rugby ball-shaped building
As cities go, Auckland is... a city. I didn't find much of interest downtown, except for the widespread rugby mania. I visited the Real New Zealand Festival / Rugby World Cup Fan Zone at Queen's Wharf, bought some extremely overpriced souvenirs, and met a Canadian who lives here now, and was apparently thrilled to meet someone from her part of the world. Our conversation went like this:

Her: "You don't sound like a waddy, where you from?"
Me: "Seattle... erm,  the States."
Her: "Oh really? Do you watch a lot of Frasier? That's what Seattle always makes me think of. I'm Canadian."
Me: "Huh. I've lived in Canada as well, actually, British Columbia."
Her: "That's a good choice on where to live. I'm from Ottawa. It's a very government city. Have you had the 'American hot dogs' here?"
Me: "Um, no, not so far."
Her: "Oh, well if you try them, they're TERRIBLE. They taste bad, and they're grey. My biggest complaint living here is the food...."
From there, she launched into a 5 minute tirade on all the foods she loves in North America, but which suck in New Zealand, while I smiled politely and backed away slowly. Finally she noticed that I was roughly half a block from her and stopped talking.
Me: "Ok, nice to meet you. Have fun at the rugby." [dashing in the opposite direction]

I find this exchange particularly funny because food was the only other thing that impressed me in the Auckland city centre. I discovered that it's possible to have delicious soft, flaky Brit-style scones WITH BACON INSIDE THEM. Who knew?! Now that I do, I will be attempting to make them back home. The standard supermarket cheese and bread here are similar to what you'd get from a specialty shop in the States, the meat actually tastes like it came from a real animal, and the beer and wine are fantastic. Plus I love the humor about it; my favorite food truck downtown was called Banger Brothers, motto: "You'll be much happier with a good sausage inside you."

After spending a few hours wandering the busy streets, eating more than my fill, and getting a slight sunburn (despite SPF 40 and an overcast 60 degree day), I hopped back on the train to my hotel and more rugby replays on the telly.

Late in the afternoon, it occurred to me that I leave Auckland in the morning, and I shouldn't pack it in just yet. I went out walking again, this time several blocks down the main road in front of the hotel. Just like yesterday, I didn't find much, but I did discover that even in New Zealand, guys like to call to me from the windows of passing cars. Ah, well, some things are the same the world over.

When I began getting hit by the odd rain drop, I gave up and came back, just in time to find that Team Samoa is also staying here, and watch them board their bus to practice. Well, I assume it was for practice, since they don't have a match today, but were all in game kit. I then turned on the TV in my room to see a replay of their loss against Wales on Sunday. This trip continues to be surreal.

I'm finishing my day watching a replay of Canada's loss to France in Napier (lots of Canadian supporters in the crowd so I hope to be in good company cheering on our Canuck boys there next week), eating dinner from the hotel restaurant (not bad), drinking an Australian blonde lager or 4 (tastily alcoholic), and getting to bed early so I can wake up for my morning flight to Wellington. It seems a fitting end to my uneventful time here in Auckland.

But that's okay, my trip is only getting started.

Tuesday 20 September 2011

The Rugby Effing World Cup, Dude

After some research this morning, I determined that I can take a train from my remote hotel to most of what I want to see, located the nearest station, and noted down the appropriate routes. Then I had some lunch and turned on the television... and hours later, I haven't seen any of Auckland.

Crouch...

I only have 10 channels here in my hotel room, 2 of which are Sky Sport stations. They're showing all the Rugby World Cup matches live, and when nothing much else is going on, they replay games that happened in the past few days. So as soon as I sat down in front of the TV for few minutes, I was sucked into 2 full matches. I barely looked away. And suddenly it was after 4 pm.

I didn't feel like starting an adventure that late in the afternoon, especially with mild jet lag. Instead I went out for a walk, because the map shows mostly grassy park-type areas nearby. But all I found was a very strong wind blowing around a few huge parking lots, a hospital, a golf course, and a racetrack. Within 30 minutes I was back in my room, absorbed in a third rugby match.

...Touch...

Whenever I've talked to anyone about my trip here, they're all jealous of my visiting New Zealand, but confused by the rugby aspect. On the flight in, my seatmate was a Kiwi who I got on quite well with, and she was perplexed by my situation as well: "So you're from America, but you follow the rugby. How did that happen?"

I had no idea; I couldn't remember. Not until sometime during Game Two this afternoon.

...Pause...

It started when I was in grad school, and I had Fox Sports World as a basic cable station. I liked watching sports, and was enamored with anything from the United Kingdom, so when I happened across a 6 Nations match one day, I watched it for a few minutes... which turned into watching the rest of the game. And then several more of the games. I was hooked.

I watched as much of RWC 1999 as I could, sometimes staying up half the night to see the off-hours matches live. I saw a USA vs Scotland exhibition match in Oregon for the run-up to the 2003 World Cup. It was the pinnacle of rugby union. And I wanted to go to there.

...ENGAGE!

Along the way, my brother started playing rugby, which got me even more involved in the sport. When he gave it up, and I stopped having any stations that showed games, I didn't stay a close follower, but I still wanted to go to Rugby World Cup. The desire never went away.

That's why I'm here. And I'm still having trouble believing that it's real, that I'm so lucky, that I actually have tickets to matches. So you know what? I'm quite happy to spend my first day in New Zealand sitting in a hotel room watching world cup rugby on TV. Quite happy indeed.

New Zealand

Well, I've made it to New Zealand. I got on a plane on Sunday night and landed on Tuesday morning, so now here I am in the future, and the Southern Hemisphere. I feel a bit out of sorts, but this is possibly the least jet lagged I've ever been, which is odd considering how far outside the space-time continuum I am right now.

When I first looked out the window on the drive from airport to hotel, all I saw were a load of houses stacked down a green hillside, and thought This looks like British Columbia. Which is only because when I lived in Burnaby, my living room window looked out over an identical view of Coquitlam. Then we turned a corner; the sea extended out before me, and I started noticing the palm trees. While it does "look like Idaho," as my brother astutely observed, New Zealand is still a small island in the Pacific, with all that entails. I'm sure I'll continue to notice some very distinct features as the days pass.

I'm starting my trip here in Auckland, though with all the Rugby World Cup goings-on, the best hotel I could afford is a fair distance from downtown. I haven't gotten my bearings yet, but I have a feeling that it will take quite an effort to visit the rest of the city. Since my guide book is less than informative in this area, I'm paying way too much for internet access to find out.

Beyond that, I have no idea where the next couple of days will take me. I can bet that soon my brain will start speaking to me in a New Zealand accent, though, which will only add to the weirdness of my travels.

OK, maybe I should explain. I don't have strange voices in my head. The neighbor's dog isn't sending me messages. I don't know how other people's brains work, but my thoughts are all in words, sentences, paragraphs even. Actually I don't much care how your mind functions, and because I'm not super high right now, nor am I interested to know if the color I see as green looks red to you. Anyway. When I think, it's like my voice is in my head, saying I think I'll stop over there for a coffee, then wander down the road a bit to do some shopping. Whenever I visit a place where everyone speaks English with an accent, though, my thoughts eventually begin using that accent. I don't pick it up when I talk out loud, only inside my head.

I know, I'm crazy. But it's all part of the fun of my vacations. 

Until I get out among the Kiwis and think with an accent, I've got some Aussie rules football on TV and am spending time making a plan of action. More to come on how it turns out... next time I have internet access.

Sunday 11 September 2011

In the Moment... 11 September, 2001

On this big and tragic anniversary for the USA, I find myself unable to come up with any original thoughts amidst the current media deluge on the subject. When I think back, I remember sadness about the lives lost, but more anger at the country's desire to take more innocent lives in return. Since I've always written -- kept journals as long as I can remember -- I thought I'd go back to the 24 pages I penned 10 years ago today, and see what I was really thinking at the time.

On 8/19/01 I moved from the outskirts of Vancouver, British Columbia, and settled back into the giant suburb that is Vancouver, Washington. The trip across the border had especially harsh security, and they nearly didn't let this US citizen back into the country. On 9/11, I was freshly married, still getting settled into the new place, looking for a job befitting my recent graduate degree, awoken by the phone before 7am local time, and sitting home alone watching television and writing intermittently for the entire day. It was from this context that the following excerpts come... copied exactly as I wrote them at the time.

9/11/01 
"A day that will live in infamy..." 

Sigh. I was trying to sleep this morning and keep being woken up by people calling with updates on all this plane crash crap.... My mom called and said "Welcome back to America."

....There's a sudden assumption that it must be someone Middle Eastern. The government knows that's who will be blamed in anything like this. The Palestinians earlier blamed for the attack claimed NO responsibility.... In addition, they keep going on about how intelligence knew this kind of attack would be coming....

I don't know, but it all just seems too convenient. The only goal this week in DC was to fix the economy -- well, look what's happening now, step one to a war that'll boost the economy. I need to get the hell out of Dodge... AGAIN. That's why I hate this place....

This is all a bit surreal. It's more like a movie or a fake or something. I saw the second tower of the WTC collapse. Peter Jennings could barely keep it together as that was happening. And now another plane crash. 

What gets me is all the poor innocents being killed in all this. The pawns in the pointless international penis-length competition. The people doing their jobs or trying to go on vacation or visit someone. Even worse, the rescue workers trying to help them out who've now lost their lives as well....

The Defense Department types are already talking about how even the biggest terrorist organizations couldn't pull this off, so it must have been a government. They're the only ones who could do it. And the FBI guy just said a "massive retaliation" would be necessary. Why? Because that's how they want it. No good reason. 

It's all playing out like I figured. They'll now keep talking about governments, who's responsible, how we need to retaliate, all day. They'll do all they can to use the media to get the populace behind them. That'll boost popularity when they go to war, rather than getting Dubya in trouble....

The news coverage has now spiraled into a bunch of reactionaries giving their views. Everyone wants to blame someone and go kick their ass for it. 

Dubya called it an attack against freedom. Since freedom must be defended, he swore that the US will find whoever did this, "hunt them down" and "punish" them. All of these people keep working harder and harder to make us want revenge. 

The only single voice of reason has been one senator (didn't catch his name) who said that this wasn't a government or a huge group of millions of people, just a small group with lots of funding and good organization, so don't go bombing some country over it....

It's now late afternoon on this coast and nothing more has happened since this morning, but news coverage continues on EVERY station. Nothing but recaps and windbags, but it's still going.... I'm now watching the BBC World News coverage, just for a change. I'm tired of everyone trying to convince me that it's ok for the US to go blow shit up....

Since the communication lines are supposed to remain open, I can't use the phone or computer to do anything I need to do today. So I just put on some music and started reading instead. Then Chris came home for a few minutes and we had our little bitch-fest. After that I felt better.... 

It was just a weird day.... I should probably stop writing and start thinking about going to bed. I'm not tired, but I know I will be tomorrow if I don't get to bed soon.... The end of a long, strange day.