Bora Bora

We landed in Bora Bora in the afternoon and spent some time hanging around the airport waiting for the ferry to come pick us up. The island is really a collection of motus (pronounced moh-too--it's the Tahitian word for small sand islands poking up out of the ocean), and the only way to access the airport is by water.

The trip across to the main island where we were staying was brilliant. The water was shades of blue I didn't even know existed. Throw this together with the sight of so many over-water bungalows, and Karla and I knew we were in 'official' postcard style paradise.


Bora Bora is the tourist centre of French Polyneisa, and so it was definitely a change of pace from Huahine. The place where we stayed, Chez Nono, was along the beach from several big time resorts (including the Hotel Intercontinental!), and there were a lot more people around. Luckily, this also meant there was easy access to a lot of fun things to do. But first on our list was getting something to eat.

Down the beach from Chez Nono was a little "Snack" where we landed some truly fantastic cheeseburgers and some gorgeous, perfectly crispy and perfectly salted fries. Washed down with some cool Hinano beer, I had 'Cheeseburger in Paradise' by Jimmy Buffett running through my mind. I swear, Jimmy probably wrote the song sitting where I was. But he probably wasn't as lucky as me, since a) he didn't have the lovely Karla sitting across the table from him, and b) he didn't have the privilege of seeing a wild stingray cruise into the beach and along the shallows right in front of us. Oh yes, paradise indeed.


The next couple of days had Karla and I mostly cruising between our beach front bungalow and a couple of deck chairs parked under the shade of a beautiful big tree. The major choices we faced were whether we wanted to swim, sleep, read or eat. I got to saw through two books: The Wisdom of Crowds, by James Surowiecki, that'd I'd been reading for work, and Otherland: City of Golden Shadows, by Tad Williams, that Karla had recommended. Both were goodies. It was great to have the luxury to just read for hours and hours.

We weren't total beach slugs though. We got out and did a couple of dives on the barrier reef that surrounds Bora Bora. The first dive had us swimming with black tipped reef sharks and gobs of gloriously coloured fish. The best bit was the 4 metre lemon-shark that swam along with us for a time. It was huge and beautiful, and not that interested in us. It did get close, though--so close that one of the dive instructors almost managed to catch a ride by getting a hold of its tail!

The next dive was nice but not that eventful. The neatest part of that was the bit of 'drift diving' we did--this meant just floating along as the current took us on a tour of the reef we were exploring. It was so strange to just be weightless and shifted along by the ocean's invisible hand. We were moving fast too--it wasn't exactly slow and easy, and kind of unnerving for diving newbies like us.

The other major activity was tour on our last day. It was great--we started by swimming with some sting rays. They were incredibly friendly, almost like dogs in the way they came up to us and wanted to be petted and fed. They would swim along at our feet and brush up against us. They were often pretty big too, one knocked me right off balance when it snuck up behind me.


We then went for a snorkel with some black tipped reef sharks. The guys running the tour chucked in a bunch of marlin to get them excited. It was amazing to see them swoop in on the bits and pieces floating in the water, especially when those pieces happened to be floating right near you!

After this we went for a traditional Tahitian lunch on one of the motus: barbecued marlin, poisson cru, a local sweet potato, coconut bread, and tons of other tasty tasty things. The tour guides then serenaded us with some local music, and I (with a fully belly and feeling very relaxed) promptly fell asleep. Karla had a great time during my snooze, making friends with the local hermit crab population.

We finished up the day with some snorkeling in the 'coral garden', where we spotted loads more fish, and even a couple of Moray eels. So much fun.


In the evenings, Karla and I would catch the sunset by the beach, and then go out for dinner. The food in French Polynesia is terrific, and Bora Bora was no exception. One stand out place we went was Bloody Mary's, haunt of the rich and famous (including Jimmy Buffet, and it turns out, the gentleman who took Karla and I out for dinner in Huahine, Rudy Markmiller). It's kind of a kitschy place for tourists, with sand on the floor. They even have a big sign out front of all the well known folk who have visited. But despite the hint of tackiness, the food is excellent. The fish, in particular, is brilliant. I know my Dad would be in heaven with all that's on offer.

Fun story: Karla and I got to meet the manager of Bloody Mary's thanks to a little joke Rudy asked us to play. Karla, in her most sultry voice approached Craig, the manger and said: "You know, Craig, you're not as ugly as Rudy said you were". This got some laughs from Craig, who has known Rudy for thirty years, and landed us some free drinks. Good one!

Another highlight of the trip was seeing Karla operate in French. Her skills are amazing! She was making friends with the folks at the hotel and at the dive shop, chatting up check out counter people and bus drivers. I was SO impressed with her, as were all the French speakers we met.

Our last night in Bora Bora we wandered down to the famous Hotel Bora Bora to check out how the other half live in luxury. The hotel didn't fail to impress, and we were even treated to a show! It included dancing, drumming, tests of manliness including spear throwing, rock lifting and fire twirling. It was all really interactive, with the audience members getting in on the performance. It was so much fun to watch, and a freebie to boot!

The next day we were off, and definitely sad to leave. There is so much to see in French Polynesia, I think we're definitely aiming to head back there again, if only for the poisson cru.

Tahiti, Part 2: Serious Lounging in Huahine

After our hectic double-Friday, we spent the next day relaxing. There was an expedition to Fare, the main city, but we got lost on the way home. While there might be worse things than being lost in paradise, the experience would have been more fun had we not been carrying groceries and beer in the sweltering heat. Upon our eventual return to our cabin, we collapsed on the seaside hammocks and opened a bottle of champagne. It was just cheap stuff we'd brought from New Zealand, but it was cold, and utterly delicious.

We spent the remainder of the afternoon lounging in hammocks, watching the surreally-blue ocean, and drinking champagne. It was absolute bliss. Periodically, we would go for a swim off the beach, and the sea was as warm as bathwater. It never got very deep, and you had to watch where you were going for fear of bumping into the innumerable mini-reefs here and there, all filled with beautiful fish.

Our hosts, Rande and his lovely wife, Emere, then invited us to a sunset cruise with some friends. Of course, we accepted, and at 4:30 we piled into Rande's car for the Fare dock. The boat, a pontoon-bar of sorts, was completely packed, and it seemed like half the population of the island was on it. Rande, Emere and Rudi seemed to know everyone there, and Dave and I got a chance to mingle a bit. Nobody else there was a tourist -- everyone else either lived there, or was visiting family who lived there. Huahine is very cool that way... it has a completely untouched, untrodden feel to it. As the boat sailed out to the bordering reef and into the sunset, village men picked up guitars to sing the island songs. It was magical. We arrived back in Fare well after dark, and the men's singing was still going strong even after we'd pulled into port. We thanked the boat owners with a bottle of NZ champagne (we'd brought two), and he seemed quite touched. (Almost as touched as we were for being able to share such a lovely boat ride.)

Given how early the sun sets so near the equator, we had plenty of time for dinner when we arrived back at the cabin. We'd bought burgers, buns, onions, and some BBQ sauce, and were looking forward to cooking for ourselves. They were toe-curlingly delicious, particularly when washed down with a Hinano beer or two. ;-) We stayed up awhile watching the geckos climb the outside screen and eat the bugs attracted to our cabin's light. It's surprisingly entertaining.

The next day was our last in lovely Huahine, so we decided to go sightseeing. We rented a car and toured the island, which was shockingly since there's only one road, and it runs in a figure eight. We saw a black pearl farm, a sacred ceremonial site (called "marae"), the more remote towns of Huahine, menacing land crabs, and a huge number of amazing lookouts and picturesque beaches. We stopped for lunch at a place known for its food and its view, and were not disappointed by either. After lunch, we found a deserted stretch of immaculate beach (not very hard on this island) and went for a snorkel in the gin-clear water. Sure enough, the reefs there rivalled many I've seen elsewhere... but here, we were the ONLY people in the water.

Afterward, we put towels under a big tree, caught an afternoon snooze, chased around hermit crabs, and investigated plant life. One big surprise was seeing a plant I hadn't encountered since the ruins in Belize I saw when I was 9... "sleeping grass". It's a tiny, tiny fern that grows along the ground, and gently closes up when touched or disturbed. What a thrill to see it again!

Sun was setting, and it was time to return to the cabin and pack, as we were leaving for Bora Bora the following day. I would miss Huahine... everything was so clean, so quiet, so uncommercial, and so comparatively cheap. Thanks in part to its undiscovered qualities, and in part to February being low season, we ran into a grand total of two other tourist couples in our wanderings. How much more authentic can you possibly get? Unfortunately, authenticity in this case also means a healthy population of stealthy mosquitos, little to no reliance on the English language, and absolutely no restaurants open on a Sunday night. Our last dinner in Huahine was cheese sandwiches. ^_^

The next morning, Rande and Emere came to our cabin to say goodbye. Emere gave us some shell necklaces she had kindly made for us, which was so very sweet of her. :-) She'd also given us the idea to make arrangements with the car rental company -- letting us keep the car until our noon flight the next day would save us about $20 in taxi fare. The only condition was that we picked up a staff member at the rental agency so he could drive the car back to Fare. Getting me, Dave, the car, and the Avis guy all together was a comedy of errors, but we got to the airport just in time for check-in, which happens about 15 minutes before boarding. All in all, a fairly smooth transition.

It was hard to leave Huahine... the slow, easy pace and the warm people are very easy to get used to. I'll be back, if I can help it!

Tahiti, Part 1: Our Very Long Friday

French Polynesia is wonderful. It's been less than a week, and I can barely wait to return.

We left Wellington at about 8 PM on Friday, which meant we were able to work a full day beforehand. Not only did that save me having to use more precious vacation days, but I have so much to do that I could barely afford to take off the week. Nonetheless, I finished all I needed to, delegated the rest, and headed off to the airport.

Our Auckland stopover was a few hours, which gave us a chance to relax from the long workweek, have a few drinks, and generally get into holiday mode. At midnight, we boarded a plane to Pape'ete (pronounced, Pa-pay-AY-tay) the capital of Tahiti and the largest city in French Polynesia.

Approaching Tahiti, the first thing you see is her lesser-known sister island, Moorea. While Tahiti is green and rolling hills, Moorea is downright ominous. It's craggy, black, ultra-volcanic... the overall effect is like witnessing a handful of devil's teeth rising from bright blue ocean. It is said that one of the artists who migrated to Tahiti had a daily routine of waking up, making coffee, and painting Moorea. It is truly visually strange enough (and oddly, beautiful enough) to easily merit such dedication.

We landed amid the beautiful lagoons of Tahiti's Fa'a airport at 6:00 AM... Friday. After crossing the date line, we got two full Fridays. :-)

Our flight to our next destination, Huahine, was not due to leave until 5 PM, and there was none earlier. So we stored our luggage, and took the opportunity to explore Tahiti. Surprisingly, Tahiti is not at all the lagoon-and-palm-tree image I had expected. The tireless, populous bustle of Pape'ete is far more remeniscent of urban Mexico, but where the ubiquitous adobe-red colour is replaced with an aggressive, living green. Even the air smells of plants barely kept at bay by civilization.

Having long parted with the tourist-hordes headed for their five-star resorts, we took Tahiti's public transport, "le Truck" into downtown Pape'ete. I had heard good things about the market there, and it was apparently one of the few places where you could eat truly cheaply. The ride there was great -- picture a red truck with a semi-enclosed seating area on its rather large flatbed, with three benches running lengthways. It filled up as we approached the market, and we took its emptying as a cue that we had arrived. We navigated ourselves through and around all the neat sights of the Marché, and then went on a quest to find a historic cathedral, the Notre Dame.

It was completely unlike any church I've ever seen. Decidedly un-ornate, with white, tall walls and open-air windows and doors, its only decorations were the usual sequential paintings of the twelve stations of the cross. However, these too were unlike anything; they were highly stylized, with all characters of obvious Island ethnicity and garb. Each painting had a fairly long explanation under it done in rudimentary lettering, entirely in French. We sat there awhile, partly to soak it in, partly to rest. Then we made a move to the seaside.

There was very little there, but we did spot a building that looked nothing like the rest of Pape'ete. It was hut-shaped with deep-brown-coloured wood, large glass windows, and had that familiar overall gloss that reads, "money". Sure enough, it was a tourist bureau... and thanks to it being their low season, we were the only customers there. We asked the staff for suggestions on what to see, given that we needed to return to the airport by 4PM. They suggested the "lagoonarium", and then a museum.

Dodging intermittent tropical rains, we made it to the bus that would take us to the Lagoonarium. This bus was much more like the buses we know, and its rocking motions made it extremely difficult for David and I to keep our eyes open. Luckily, we got off at the right stop, which happened to be, primarily, a beautiful restaurant. We got two tickets -- $5 each -- to the Lagoonarium, which turned out to be a submerged viewing area for a semi-netted-in natural space. The viewing area is joined to the overwater restaurant by a very, very long dock. The soothing sight of pretty fish swimming by put us in danger, once again, of falling asleep on the spot, so we returned to the restaurant for a coffee. Or three.

We were so tired, we could barely get off our chairs. So we drank more coffee, and then more, and then Dave had a beer, and then we started getting hungry for lunch. The place wasn't exactly cheap, but between our total exhaustion, the fabulous view, and the luscious-looking Polynesian buffet being set out, the decision was a no-brainer. So we got some celebratory beers and enjoyed the delicious regional delicacy, poisson cru (raw fish, grated carrots and chopped onions marinated in coconut milk and lemon juice). By this time, the place had filled up with elderly tourists of all nationalities, and it got surprisingly lively even before the music started. A large, floral-shirt-clad Polynesian fellow got on a keyboard and sang for us all, which was every bit as much warmly entertaining as completely kitchy. But we had to move, if we were to see (and find) the museum.

We got back to the road just in time to catch the bus; luckily, staying awake during the ride was much easier this time. We kept our eyes peeled, continually consulting the map, and eventually passed a long, anonymous road where I could have sworn I'd briefly glimpsed a sign saying "Musée". On a hunch, we got off the bus to walk down said street.

It was long, it was well-conquered on both sides by green, green plants, and it was eerily deserted. Plus, aside from the arrow-sign I'd seen, there was no indication of there being a museum at all. But we kept walking.... after all, it was daylight, and in spots where the greenery let up enough to let us see what was behind, it seemed to be a residential area. Aside from the distance, the walking was made difficult by the brutal sun, the thick, muggy air, our exhaustion, and the general suspicion that we might be lost. But we pressed on, and eventually found another sign -- one confirming it was the RIGHT museum -- pointing us down another long, empty and unmarked street. Encouraged, we proceeded, and eventually the trees cleared away and we saw our destination... right next to an amazing black-sand beach.

Naturally, we investigated the beach first. Black sand apparently has volcanic origins, and I had only ever seen it before on certain beaches in New Zealand. One NZ beach in particular is a popular year-round resting ground for seals, who take advantage of scarce warmth by sprawling over sun-radiated black sand. Here there were no seals, and the warmth was my no means scarce. The water was this amazing light turquoise, luminous and alive in the near-blinding sunshine, washing over an onyx-black beach. A sight like that went a long way to restoring the tired bodies Dave and I had, as our Friday was already very long, and it was nowhere near over.

Afterwards, we made our way back to the museum. It covered a general history of French Polynesia, its topography, flora, fauna, culture, and anthropological significance. And best of all, it was air-conditioned. We lingered there awhile, and took off at about 3PM when the place filled up with tourists. Before getting back on the bus, we hit the local grocery store to stock up on snacks for the rest of our journey. The only thing I knew about our next destination, Huahine, is that it is the one island that has gone largely untouched by the tourist industry. Meaning, restaurants, supermarkets, and convenience stores were going to be a totally unknown quantity, particularly in relation to wherever our lodgings were.

We got back to the airport, transferred our bags from storage to check-in, and boarded the plane to Huahine without incident. Huahine is an island halfway between Tahiti and Bora Bora, and is known as the "savage beauty". We'd chosen it as a destination due to its relaxed reputation and road-less-taken status. My research had turned up a highly recommended pension (guesthouse) called Rande's Shack, with whom I had been in contact to arrange for airport pickup.

Breathing a sigh of relief, we finally pulled up to our lodgings. Finally, we can rest. Then, out of nowhere, Rande gave us a big hello, and said to hurry getting settled -- another guest wanted to go to dinner with us. Huh?! So much for an 8PM bedtime... Nonetheless, we had a great time. The other guest was Rudi, an American staying with Rande whilst doing renovations on his own hotel, Te Tiare. Well, what better endorsement could there be for our own accomodations if the owner of the island's only five-star resort was staying next door? ;-) Dinner was lovely, and Rudi was great company; he had all kinds of fun stories about his life, his family, and the resort.

Despite the enjoyable dinner, I was most grateful to see our cabin again. We were fast asleep even before our heads hit the pillows.

More excitement

Today was a big day for me at work. A guest post that I'd written for Russell Brown's Public Address blog got published. To my knowledge, this is the first time a public service agency has ever posted on a blog in this way on a public policy issue still in development, especially under the name of a fairly junior joker like myself.

For those who are interested in stuff like this (and obviouosly to bask in my own glory and self-congratulation for a second), this would be like Paul Wells or Warren Kinsella (both big deal bloggers in Canada) having a policy analyst explain how the federal government is thinking about the future of democracy in Canada. I just happen to be the policy analyst. How sweet is that!?

More importantly, Karla and I are off to French Polynesia tomorrow night. We'll be there for a week.

How sweet is that? Life is good.

Dave the G-Man

So an amazing and unnerving thing happened to me last week: I unexpectedly had to speak on behalf of the gang at the State Services Commission (the place that I work) on a panel about "Digital Democracy" hosted by Russell Brown, one of New Zealand's leading bloggers and journalists (that's him in the brown shirt).


This panel was pretty heavy duty too: it included Chris DiBona (far left), Google's lead guy on open-source software as well as a former editor at Slashdot, one of the techy community's key newsources; Alaister Thompson (next to Chris), who founded Scoop.co.nz, a website that revolutionized how news was distributed in New Zealand (every press release that comes out goes up on their site); and Rob McKinnon (between me and Russell), the guy who created a website called Theyworkforyou.co.nz, which helps you learn about what your MP says in Parliament, how they voted, and generally what they're up to.

In short, these guys are digital heroes. And me, well, I work for the government.

This all happened because we found out about the session through a colleague in another department, but unfortunately found that all the places were taken at the session. So I wrote Russell, telling him that our team's job at SSC was all about digital democracy, and could we please have a few places cuz we're so cool?

He wrote back really quickly: no problem about the places...but how about being on the panel?

Anyway, after some to and fro I was nominated by the team to go out to the panel. This was pretty serious for me, since I'd never, ever represented an organization of the magnitude of the State Services Commission, let alone being the ONLY government person on a panel about digital democracy.

The night itself was really fun, though incredibly hot. The venue was absolutely baking. This was good though, because I could blame the sweat pouring down my brow on the heat instead of the nerves. And there were a lot of nerves, believe me.

In the end, I think things went well. But judge for yourself! You can listen to the whole panel chat on Scoop here: http://www.scoop.co.nz/stories/HL0702/S00058.htm

Tick tick...

Today I got a price adjustment on a pair of shorts I bought last week. (For those readers who are not necessarily retail-inclined, a "price adjustment" is what you get when you buy something, it goes on sale afterwards, and you then take it back to get the difference in store credit.) I was curious how long I had on my store credit, when I saw something utterly shocking.

It's valid for 6 months. It expires on August 14, 2007.

Hold the phone -- my birthday is exactly 6 months from now?!!? This in itself is no big deal, but I am planning to be back in Canada before then. Meaning, New Zealand and I have less than six months left. Very scary. Sad too. It's going by so fast.

Scarier still is the readout on my wedding countdown... it's less than 200 days before the big one. It still feels like so much needs to be organized. Part of that feeling is that a lot of things still DO need to be organized, but it's made a lot worse by the fact that I can't actually SEE the things I already have organized. Meaning, the church may be booked, but I have no idea what it looks like, so it's hard to feel like it's really booked. The priest has been arranged, but I've never met him. The dress is ordered, and has arrived, but I've never touched it. All these contribute to a quiet but persistent paranoia that they're not real. Because from where I'm standing right now, none of it is. (It's a very weird feeling.)

Then again, the things that ARE real are the RSVPs I've gotten so far. They reassure me inasmuch as knowing that even if the church, the priest, or the dress aren't real, SOMEONE is showing up to the thing. Having these people together in one place will constitute a positively wicked party -- and as more people RSVP, the party will get better still. And at the end of the day, that's the most important thing! :-D

Lastly, some RSVPs have come in with questions regarding travel, hotels, registries, etc... so I decided a website with all this info might be a good idea. Granted, I don't actually HAVE this info yet, but when I do, it will be on this site. In the meantime, feel free to have a look; and remember, it is far, far from complete at this point. :-)

Sevens Weekend

Any description of this event would pale in comparison to the experience itself, but nonetheless, I'll give it a shot.

Imagine a rugby tournament between a myriad of countries worldwide. Imagine that it tours the world over, each time with a new struggle, and a new champion. Imagine it coming to Wellington, New Zealand, selling out a 34, 000-seat stadium in twenty minutes flat.

Needless to say, it's a big event. Not only does it consume a whole weekend, it consumes the whole town. The normally-quiet, normally-sane Wellington becomes filled past the bursting point with visitors. They come from all over the country, and all over the world, all sharing one common goal -- to have a wildly fun time.

While this wildly fun time does involve the serious enjoyment of a lot of rugby, the rugby takes a backseat to the main attraction -- the costumes. The costumes themselves are incredible. Groups going together co-ordinate creative costume themes, usually planned well in advance. The result is giant groups of Smurfs, toga-ites, Marilyns, Martians, anthropomorphized yogurt containers, Borats, Oompa-Loompas and Hooter girls (of both genders). Some groups get even crazier, and I've seen everything from mail-order brides, to naked chefs, to guys in large cardboard boxes with two circular cutouts calling themselves mammogram machines... the list goes on and on.

The sheer scale is more impressive still. Thirty-four thousand people attend the Sevens, and at LEAST 85% of them dress up. It's actually regarded as weird when people AREN'T in costume.

Naturally, I fully embraced the spirit of such an event and took the opportunity to dress up. The stadium happens to be right next to my work, so it made the most sense for me to get into costume there. I got a couple of weird looks, to be sure, but at least it cleared up all doubt of what team I was backing! ;-) Dave was in theme too, and I painted his face accordingly.

Our Canadian attire did get us a fair bit of attention, particularly from other Canadian ex-pats. I was even run down by a pair of young ladies who urgently asked, `Have you ever heard of Boissevain?!` I replied that I had, it`s in Manitoba! They were so happy to have met someone in the southern hemisphere who knew of their hometown that they bought me a beer. Woohoo!

Another neat Canada moment was our match against Australia. New Zealanders, particularly with respect to rugby, have a rabid blood-oath hell-bent destruction-fixation against their western neighbour. No matter who Oz plays, they are met in Wellington with boos, heckles, and unwavering support of the opposing team, regardless of who they are. It could be a team composed entirely of clones of George W Bush, and they would still be cheered for in favour of Oz. Canada was the recipient of such crowd favour during this match, and the result was our team`s solid victory. Perhaps also their only victory, but as long as we beat Oz, we were celebrities to the Kiwis. There`s nothing like sitting amid 34, 000 people in a distant, foreign country, and having every single voice there cheering wildly and chanting, `CA-NA-DA!! CA-NA-DA!!!` It was magical.

So, hopefully the above description has prepared you for the pictures... be warned, some (particularly the Borat) are not for the faint of heart!

I also took some video of walking around, which is a positively surreal experience. I`ll update this page once I figure out how to upload it.

Ebbing Willpower

Before going into the weekend's madness, otherwise known as the Sevens, allow me first to declare that work bulletin boards can be terrible for one's willpower.

02/02/2007 by Indigo Freya
Statistics New Zealand Bulletin
Board

Rabbit and all accessories for sale $95.00

Dwarf rabbit, chocolate brown and only about 3 months old. No idea what sex, haven't looked! - plus you usually can't tell until they're about 4 months old.
Beautiful hutch that cost over $150 about a year ago and was hardly used until a month ago! Food, drink bottle, bag of straw all included.
We just got it, but can't keep it when we move so better for the rabbit to find a new loving home soon!
email or call Indigo 4858

Must...resist... cute baby bunny!!! Waaah.....

Anniversary at the Races

This Saturday, the 27th of January, marked the anniversary of our arrival to Wellington. It was precisely one year ago that we disembarked from a very, very long plane ride; so thankful were we to be on solid ground and breathe non-recycled air that the newness of the environment took a good while to sink in.

We flopped into a city-shuttle, figuring it was our cheapest option, as well as a good way to see the city. Sure enough, we were the last to be dropped off, and in the course of the ride, we saw all kinds of Wellingtonian suburbs. In particular, we saw many suburbs located high in the hills, up lush green cliffs on hairpin-turning roads. I might have been nervous, but luckily I was far too exhausted from the journey to worry overmuch. It was a beautiful day, complete with bright sunshine over the sparkling blue bay.

Though the weather wasn't as ideal one year later, the day was certainly more eventful. The Wellington Cup Races were taking place that weekend, which is how we chose to celebrate. The Races are a big deal in Wellington -- men and women alike dust off their best outfits (hats and all), and climb aboard a crowded train, and upon arrival to the racetrack they join thousands more in betting and general merrymaking.

Dave and I started our day at the races with a champagne breakfast with friends. Between us all, we had brought a little too much champagne... this might give you an idea of the theme for the rest of the day. ;-) We then made our way to the train station, where we met up with more friends, drank MORE champagne, and eventually got onto the train. Once we got there, we staked out some great seats and watched the event unfold. The races themselves were great, but the genius part was, between races was a fashion show -- or more specifically, a best-dressed competition among the attendees. Unfortunately, entry to the competition was limited to those who had registered already, thus rendering Dave and I unable to compete. Ah well, we looked great anyways... there's really nothing like getting dolled up for an outdoors event.

We placed some bets, and overall came out ahead. My modest bets had won a bit more than they lost, but the big winner was Dave, who had a half/half win/place ticket on a dark horse (no pun intended) that ended up taking the race. Thus his $10 became over $80. Such a thing calls for celebration... in the form of Chinese food, and of course, more champagne.

However, all this excitement, fresh air, and getting up at early hours (for breakfast) had us tidily asleep at the ungodly hour of 10:30. All said, though, it was a wonderful day... one of the best here I've had yet.

Sunny Napier

Five hours from Wellington is the world's greatest collection of Art Deco architecture outside of Miami. The place is called Napier, and Karla and I just returned from a couple of days by the sea and among the grape vines at some of New Zealand's oldest vinyards.

Yesterday, we ate lovely fish, saw the new James Bond movie, and sampled some Hawke's Bay wine. Today we went to the beach, saw a shearing show and drove back home.

Cool thing: Eric Clapton is playing at Mission vinyard (the aforementioned New Zealand's oldest vinyard) next weekend. Napier is fully booked in preparation for 25 000 new people to land on a town with a regular population of 50 000.

Another cool thing: we finally had lots of sunshine and it finally felt like real summer. The temp was about 26 degrees the whole time, and Karla and I actually got sweaty just by standing around. Of course, when we got back to Wellington--surprise, surprise--clouds and rain. Things should improve though. It's staying in the twenties celsius pretty regularly now.

Next weekend should be fun: it's our 'one year New Zealand anniversary' on Jan 27th, and also Wellington Cup race day. So we plan to get all fancied up and place some bets on some fillies.

And the New Year Begins

There are a number of rituals associated with the bringing in of a new year. There are resolutions, there's coming back to work and routine after a long break, there's thinking ahead to what's to come and reflecting on what's passed...

...but for me, the most important new year's event is the second-week internet search for the best movies of the passed year. Not the Oscar nominations, mind you, but the amalgam lists that put together all the ratings of the top hundred critics. The movies are ranked according to the number of mentions received, as well as their placements within each critic-list. The result is a list -- a super-list, if you will -- that covers every genre, every taste, every level of fame and obscurity, and a near-perfect success rate.

Well, maybe it's somewhat less than near-perfect, but for every listed dud (say, Primer, or, heaven forbid, the travesty known as The Brown Bunny), there's four or five more that are wonderful, and you wouldn't discover otherwise. Walk on Water, Mirrormask, The Squid and The Whale, Happy Endings, Millions, Hustle & Flow, Me and You and Everyone We Know, Godzilla: Final Wars, and Mondovino were all brilliant, underrated and largely unnoticed gems that I would have passed over without the sage intervention of former years' lists.

And, as of now, I have another 232 movies comprising 2006's finest to add to my "To See" list. (Luckily, I've already taken away the four we've actually already seen... only 228 more to go!)


Then again, given how busy this year will be, perhaps I'll exercise discretion and maybe NOT see Final Destination 3...? ;-)

I am SO Visa-tisfied!

Big news of late is that after much worrying (some would say fretting) on my part, I am now the proud owner of an official New Zealand work permit and multiple entry visa current until September 30th 2007. Karla would not have been happy if they'd thrown my butt out of the country, lemme tell ya.


My current permit/visa was going to expire at the end of the month. So it was bit of a pinch, but I managed to get my old passport renewed, all my info together (believe me, it's a lot) and in. Within a couple of days, I was approved thanks to a terrific immigration officer named Andrew Webber.


I gotta say that as a government service delivery nerd, Immigration New Zealand rated pretty poorly until I met Andrew. I couldn't get any definitive answers to my questions, people made me feel mightily vulnerable, and I just felt I was in the dark a lot of the time.

It wasn't until I got the State Services Commission (the government agency I'm contracting for) to start making inquiries for me did I really get some traction.

Even so, Andrew's boss (and his minister) will be getting a letter from me saying how great he was: he was empathentic, authoritative, confident and efficient. And frankly, he made a big difference in my life and for my peace of mind.

Public services make such a difference to people. Andrew sets the bar for how good they really can be.

Moms & Dads, Christmas and New Years

Sooo much has been happening this last little while. Karla and I (with an emphasis on my own slackness where the blog is concerned) are admittedly way behind. Here is the 11 point update on what's been going on:

1. My mum and dad (Chris and Ben) arrived in New Zealand just in time for my birthday at the end of November. We went out for a lovely dinner and I got lots of neato gifts, cards and phone calls from all the really lovely friends and family in my life. I'm so lucky!
2. Mum and Dad run off to see New Zealand during the week, while Karla and I work our butts off finishing projects. We see each other on the weekends, exploring Wellington, and also Queenstown, where we have a great time seeing Milford Sound (amazingly beautiful) and jet boating at 75 km/h down a really rather narrow canyon.
3. Karla's friend Andy arrives, and they head off together to see the massive caves and marvelous glowworms at Waitomo.
4. Me and Dad head to a car auction to look for a car. After feverish bidding and $1800 we are the proud owners of a 1996 Mazda Familia. Giddy up, we got wheels people!
5. Karla's mum and dad (Margaret and Wayne) arrive shortly after my mum and dad get back from Christchurch and the South Island. We all head out to the Wairarapa region to a beautiful countryside cottage we'd rented, and drink way way way too much wine following tours of the plentiful local wineries. It was great to get out of the city and show the folks some rural New Zealand. You should have seen the stars. Breathtaking.
6. My mum and dad leave November 18th, and me and mum nearly start bawling at the airport. It was so great to have them and share a little of our life here. I miss them lots and Karla does too.
7. Karla's mum and dad (so thankfully) are here to chill out for at least a little while. So we don't do much of anything for a few days. It's great to just hang out after lots of running around, though there's still Christmas shopping to do...
8. Christmas! We drink champagne on Christmas eve, and have champers and orange juice for breakfast Christmas day at Wayne and Margarets apartment. Presents fly everywhere! We receive lovely gifts from all over Canada (thankyou everyone!!). Big Santa score for Davey: Karla is taking me to Tahiti in February! Holy moly I'm lucky!
9. A flurry of organization by Wayne, and we are off to Christchurch for New Years. Wayne scores us an amazing apartment at the Holiday Inn in downtown ChCh, right in the heart of the action. One night, I nearly got carried off by drunken Kiwis at an Irish bar after an amazing time at a place called Octagon, that specializes in Jazz and blues. New Years Eve, Wayne, Margaret, Karla and I head out to one of those Japanese places where they cook dinner in front of you (Teppinyaki?), which was SO cool. We rang the New Year in at a bar called the Stock Xchange, and the party continued until about 4am.
10. Next day we head off through Arthurs Pass to Hokitika, famous for its jade. We have a great time inspecting the wares, and then head off up the West Coast to Picton, where we head home.
11. Yesterday we went to Kapiti Island, a nature reserve that only allows 50 people per day admittance. We saw wonderful scenerary (ie New Zealand as it probably looked 500 years ago), and met lots of native birds who were pretty curious about their visitors. All that walking left us pretty tuckered out, but Wayne and Margaret still managed to find themselves in Maori family gathering, where they were telling stories, and ensuring that everyone was well fed. They even managed to get us an introduction to a genuine All Black who played for NZ in the 80s.

So that is the story to date. We have lots of pictures too, so those will be up as soon as we can get them up at the magnificent HelgaHume Flickr site.

The Makeover

Well, I decided it was time to switch over to the new version of Blogger. Hopefully this one is a bit more co-operative for uploading pictures than the last one. Anyhoo, take a look at the nifty new features:

• a visitor counter,
• a world map showing where people are accessing this blog from, and
• links to other blogs, written by groovy people we know!

Hope you enjoy the changes, and more improvements should be on the way. In the meantime, hope everyone had a wonderful Christmas, and have a great New Year!

Christmas Eve...

Christmas preparations have been full on here in the South Pacific for the last couple of days. Santa's workshop has had to take exceptional measures to ensure certain individuals aren't too clever by half (as they tend to be) about finding their presents before the great man arrives this evening:

Those affected by these measures were saddened. But they know that Santa knows best (heh).







"But I'm so cute and innocent! How could Santa embargo me so?"












As a final precaution, however, a grumpy reindeer was posted outside the workshop's door to ensure absolute security. My, isn't he a fine looking speciman!








"Merry friggin' Christmas, all right? Now keep it movin' elf-boy."











Merry Christmas everybody! Will be back again tomorrow with more stories and pictures!

Phew!

Ever since our return from Oz, things have been nonstop.

At work, I was plunged into organizing the annual Stats New Zealand methodology symposium, otherwise known as the Professional Development Offsite event. I had never organized anything like that before, and to a large degree was on my own to do so. Luckily, some very kind workmates were able to lend hands here and there, which made an immense difference; the task was reduced to being difficult and unweildy, rather than simply impossible. All the same, I have a newfound respect for people who do this for a living!

So, after a long week of getting the event plans set and ready, Dave and I whisked off to Auckland for the long-awaited U2 concert. U2 has been a favourite band of mine for well over a decade, and for various lame reasons I've had to miss their tours in the past. But not this time! Needless to say, I was psyched.

The warm-up act (Kanye West) was fun, the weather was cooperative, and the concert was amazing. The band focussed on its hits, old and new alike, and particularly memorable was The Edge's searing guitar solo to "Bullet the Blue Sky". The most striking thing, though, was a logo scorched across the stage-spanning screen during "Sunday Bloody Sunday" with a simple, splendid message...

"Coexist". Amazing.

So, after the concert, Dave and I returned back to Wellington. The airlines were all sold out, so we took a 12 hour bus ride back. While it may sound uncom-fortable, it was actually quite pleasant -- we both welcomed a chance to sit and do nothing but enjoy the view.

Upon returning, I was immediately thrust into the insanity of the SNZ event itself, and making sure everything went off without a hitch. Or at least, as few hitches as possible. All in all, it was a complete success (insofar as the talks happened, people were fed, everything occurred reasonably on time, and people seemed to be enjoying themselves). I even succeeded in getting some colleagues to do a statistician's Haka, which was possibly the most amusing thing I've seen all year. ;-)

Immediately thereafter was Dave's birthday, as well as the arrival of Ben and Chris Hume. We went to Dave's favourite restaurant -- Cafe Bastille -- where we were treated to champagne by the waitress for waiting so long for a table. The food was well worth it, though, and the company could not have been better.

The next night was the SNZ Christmas Party, where I got a chance to wear a new dress, and I found a new dance partner. Dave and I skipped out a bit early so we could spend more time with his folks, which was a nice way to end the night.

10AM the next morning saw me on a flight to Rotorua, where I spent the day Zorbing and lounging in the thermal pools. Zorb, as some of you may recall, is the inflateable hamster ball I mentioned in a previous post. They put a bunch of water into it so you slip and slide around, no different than a waterslide. It was an absurd amount of fun. Later I went to Rotorua's famous thermal spas and watched the sun set. It doesn't get any better than that.

Next day, 7 sharp, I'm on a bus headed for Waitomo Caves to meet Andy Quigley, a fellow Stats Canada-ite here for a visit. We meet up, gear up, and do a 100-metre abseil (rappel) into a chasm known as The Lost World. From there, we trek through over 2 kilometres of black caves against incredible currents of varying strengths and depths. (I learned that, for those of us who are "buoyant" in the hip region, dragging oneself through small crevices against deep, gushing water is damn near impossible!) The cave walls were so rough, I'm still waiting for the skin on my fingertips to grow back. The experience itself was amazing, though, and I'm glad Andy suggested it. Aside from being a completely cool thing to do , we saw galaxies of glow-worms, and even made friends with an eel.

After that, Andy and I indulge in some much-earned beers. He hands me an envelope, in which I find a Christmas card signed by the StatsGang, and it damn near makes me sobby. I miss those guys.

Next day is the bus to Auckland, from where I'm catching my return flight. We happen to be on the same (only) bus as an Australian couple we befriended, and so it is a lively bus ride back. We arrive with just enough time to do dinner before I need to dash off to the airport, so we find a cute Lebanese place that'll let us drink Andy's wine there. The food was good too. ;-) I say a temporary goodbye to my Stats buddy, and a few hours later, I'm back in Wellington.

You lost track of the days yet? Me too. So I'm at work, trying to concentrate over muscle pain, skinless hands, and a general and persistent feeling of disorientation. Somehow, I manage to be productive enough to dig myself out of the work that had piled up during my involvement with the PDO event. Then I find out that both the other people working on my main survey will be leaving in the next month, thereby leaving me, for the foreseeable future, as New Zealand's foremost official statistical authority on disability statistics. Scary.

The workweek is further shortened by a trip out to the lovely Queenstown, which is our Christmas present from the Humes. It was a fabulous time, but I fear that our Christmas present to them will not be as exciting...? :-\ Queenstown is very tough competition for most things, gifts and destinations alike. It is a little like Banff -- picturesque, brand new, and full to the brim with international travellers (yet strangely devoid of locals). We enjoyed a stay in a lovely lakeside villa, from which we would walk into town to enjoy the restaurants and shopping. Most importantly, though, we saw Milford Sound, arguably New Zealand's most cherished and most beautiful park. It is a rugged area carved entirely out by glaciers, leaving behind unlikely-looking mountains and fantastic waterfalls. We took a cruise though the main pass, which was positively breathtaking. Pictures to are here.

Also of note was the contest of wills between Ben Hume and the scourge of the southland, the car-eating snow parrots known as Keas. One was eyeing up our rental car and approaching it intently, only to see Ben's steely glare and slink guiltily under a nearby car. It would reemerge slyly, hoping to go unnoticed, slink ever closer to our car... and then stop and retreat again when it made eye contact. Luckily, we were able to get out of there before our car became a meal.

The following day, before leaving, Ben and Chris took Dave and I on another, much wilder boat ride. In the shallow, gold-bearing river of Shotover Canyon, we all had a most exhilerating jet-boating experience, complete with breakneck speeds, 360-degree turns, and the occasional near-collision. It was a great time.

Next stop was Kawarau Bridge, a historical monument of sorts. It is the very place where a man of dubious sanity named A. J. Hackett invented the sport of tying elasticized cords to one's feet, then flinging oneself off a high place. Sadly, this historic bungy-jumping establishment was completely booked, so no one among us was able to partake in the madness. It really is a shame. I even resisted the temptation to Photoshop our heads onto other bungy jumpers so we could gain bragging rights. ;-)

Then, back Dave and I went to Wellington, whereas Ben and Chris continued their travels via Christchurch and Kaikoura. This has left me with just enough time to catch up on sleep, let my liver recover, and get the house properly cleaned in time for the arrival of BOTH sets of parents. (Mine are due to arrive in less than 48 hours, and I would much rather my mother not meet the army of dustbunnies currently threatening to conquer my house.) And somewhere, in all these things to do, I still have a full-time job to keep me busy.

Luckily, this weekend is shaping up to be a treat. The six of us will be heading up to Martinborough, the lovely wine region nearby. We have a house rented that promises to be a nice, secluded place to put our feet up, read a book, recover from jet lag, and probably drink a lot of local wine.

Sounds like bliss.

Oz Trip, Completion

Dave and I are now officially back from our trip around Australia. Between the time difference (3h) and the extended-holiday brainspace, we were both rather discombobulated for our first day back at work. Luckily, there was no drama at my work while I was gone, so I got to ease into being back. So far, so good.

Back to the holiday itself, lots has happened since my Airlie Beach / Whitsunday post. We headed onto the cruise, and it was splendid. It was a catamaran that sleeps 30, but just barely, so it was a bit tight. Luckily, the others on the boat were sufficiently amicable that this wasn't uncomfortable. Nonetheless, I'm still very glad Dave and I sprang the extra bucks for a private cabin.

By day, we would alternate between snorkelling and scuba diving. I'm glad I did both, because each is such a different, if not totally incorparable, experience. Snorkelling is physically exhausting, but requires little to no mental computations... meaning, more brain power can be used on actually observing the fish. Furthermore, it's harder to bump into people while snorkelling, and if you do, it's annoying rather than potentially life-threatening.

Scuba diving is entirely different. Because you are wholly submerged in water, moving around is much easier. All the equipment becomes totally weightless, and the slightest arm or leg movement moves you forward in an organic and graceful manner. While not physically demanding at all, the sheer notion of breathing underwater was one that my body, at first, rejected outright in the form of unadulterated panic. First, you must get over that, then you start noticing the increasingly unbearable sinus and ear pain. Then you have to control that properly. Then, once you're at a depth, you have to think and move AT ALL ANGLES -- left, right, up AND down -- which is wholly unnatural. Then you have to watch that your long flippers don't accidentally hit any coral and destroy hundreds of years of irreplaceable growth. Then your buddy glides by, nearly kicks you in the face with his flipper (and thus nearly dislodges the thing you BREATHE through!) but it's nobodys' fault, because it's tight to move around in, and chances are, you've probably nearly kicked him in the face, too.

Somewhere, in all this thinking, you're supposed to notice and appreciate your surroundings. It took a couple of dives before I really could. Luckily, towards the end, things were much better.

We saw sharks, turtles, Nemos, angelfish the size of dinner plates, parrotfish, massive tropical lobsters, giant clams... more than I could even name. The coral seemed much more beautiful in the Whitsunday edge of the Great Barrier Reef, and the fish certainly were more curious and friendly. Some of the big ones were a little TOO curious and friendly, though... on my last snorkel, I was fairly edgy about the deep channel I had to cross to get back to the boat. Now, you don't have to see "Open Water" to know that inter-reef deep channels can (and should!) be nervewracking. So here I am, making the best time I can back to the boat, and I breathe a big sigh of relief when I'm about a metre from the boat ladder.

Then I see a giant, black thing lurking in the shadows UNDER THE BOAT. Eep. Before I could make up my mind on what to do, it came close enough to tell that it was clearly some sort of fish, not a shark. All the same, it was probably the better part of 1.5m long, completely black (which is odd, considering all the bright colours in a reef), and structured exactly like any small fish you'd find on a restaurant plate. Overlarge eyes, puckered lips, almost round in shape from the side, and very narrow. And he was approaching me with the benign but persistent curiosity of pedestrians coming across a movie set barricade on their daily commute. Luckily, he stopped about 2 feet from me, and held his distance while I slowly went for the ladder. Meeting him was definitely a great experience, but man, was I ever happy to get out of the water!

So that was the reef. There's plenty more stories, but this post is already long enough. The boat also visited two unique beaches in the Whitsunday Islands. The first is known for having sand that is 99% silica... meaning, it is pure white, and as fine as sugar. The beach is shallow for a long, long ways, and because of its warmth, families of stingrays live there. Dave and I saw several beauties, including one that was asleep. We were able to get respectfully close and watch him awhile. It was magical.

The other beach was Finger Beach, so named because the beach itself juts out a distance from the island such that the ocean surrounds it on both sides. There I followed an unamused turtle as he swam in the nearby shallows. He was cute, if antisocial.

So needless to say, the boat trip was an immense success. It was the sole (but ample) redeeming factor of the township of Airlie Beach, or as I like to call it, "mega-attitude-toting obese bad-bleach-blond monoculturalized no-culture American-chain-food nickel-and-dime-ing tourist Hell".

If I hadn't been so grateful to leave Airlie Beach, I might have minded more when, upon arrival to Melbourne, the early-evening temperature was EIGHT FRIKKIN DEGREES. Waaah.

Flashback to Karla packing: "Hmm, I'm going to Australia in the early summer, so I won't be so silly as to pack any long pants!"

Again, waaah. Serves me right for forsaking my Winnipeg Folk Festival roots -- dress for all weather, no matter what. Anyhow, cold or not, Melbourne was worth the trip and then some. The city is stunning, the people are beautiful, there's no end of cultural events to take in, the fashion is sublime, and I haven't eaten so well so cheaply since my last visit to my beloved Montreal. Because of all this, Melbourne has become one of my new favourite cities.

We did some sightseeing, some partying, and on our last night, we saw a concert. It was a free "Make Poverty History" concert featuring some top acts, such as Eskimo Joe, Jet, Sarah Blasko, and even an appearance by U2. It was a great time, and an even better way to wrap up a fantastic holiday.

Ok, so enough of me blabbing. I've uploaded a few pictures here, and another perspective on the trip can be found in our good friend / travelling companion Tomas's blog. Enjoy!

Sad News

Before going into the details of the trip, I would like to share some sad news I received.

I just learned that a deep kinship spanning over a decade of my life is schedueled to end in May, 2007.



Since the age of 15, when life was much, much different than it is now, I fervently followed the lives and adventures of Francine and Katina in the series, "Strangers in Paradise". This internationally-recognized and wildly-acclaimed series has captivated the most diverse audience in the comic book industry. More impressive still is that it is written, drawn, and published by a single person.

The appeal isn't in superhero storylines or talking animals -- rather, it's in the realism of the subjects and characters. One girl struggles with weight, self-esteem, and bad luck with men, whereas her best friend is a loveably obnoxious artist recovering from alcoholism. A myriad of supporting characters rivals the full cast of The Simpsons in number, but in depth and heart, they are in a league of their own.

For more than a decade, we've grown together, we've laughed and cried together... and now, it is officially coming to an end. As of May, it will be no more.

Let us have a moment of silence for the girls, their friends and family, and all those that will miss them. I sure will.

Oz Trip Continued

Hello everyone!

Well, since the last post, Dave, Tomas and I have made our way to the northernmost territory of Australia, Queensland. But don't let the word "north" fool you -- down here, it's positively tropical. The three of us have had a perpetual sweat-sheen for the entire duration of our stay thus far... and it is WONDERFUL. It's a most welcome change to the "temperate" climes of New Zealand, or even our weekend in Sydney.

We landed in Cairns on Monday, and have since done rainforest trekking, swimming in pristine waterfalls, and of course, the majestic Great Barrier Reef. The Reef has been a goal of mine since the tender age of nine, when my father dragged me off to snorkel in Belize... it was so astounding, that once I learned there was an EVEN BIGGER reef to be experienced, I vowed to see it. And now I have! It was stunning, and a loooong post in and of itself. All I'll say in the meantime is that we all tried our hands at scuba diving... and it was incredible. Also very scary, alien, and immensely claustrophobic, but that's a part of the challenge. We went down to about 12 metres and saw the most amazing things. With luck, we will get to do it again soon.

Since Cairns, we took an overnight bus to the Whitsunday Islands, where we will soon be departing on a 3-day 3-night cruise in the somewhat lesser-travelled extension of the reef. After that, we're flying to Melbourne for some much-needed urban relief. (God bless nature and everything, but I could really use a mochaccino!!!) ;-)

Anyhow, I'm thinking of all of you, and big thanks on the comments -- miss you all tons! :-)

Sydney!

Am sitting in the studio apartment of one Mr. Tomas Ernst in the King's Cross area of Sydney, Australia.

Last night Karla and I flew in from Wellington, saw the Harbour Bridge and the Opera House. Both are beautiful.

It's been great catching up with Tomas as well. It's been a while--nearly a year!--but we picked up no problem and are having a great time. He's living the student life and loving it. His place is minutes from the water and downtown. He's got a nice set up here.

Today we went to the Sydney Aquarium and it was fantastic. There were all kinds of sharks, seals, a crocodile, penguins, and loads and loads of fish. It's one of the best I've seen--the tanks were massive, and you could walk into glass tunnels that made you feel you were right in the water. Not that you'd want to be. You should have seen the teeth on some of these sharks, even though none of them were man-eaters.

The difference between Wellington and Sydney is striking too. You really feel like the world is happening here in Sydney. The corporate headquarter skyscrapers are everywhere, and there is a real international buzz about the city. Wellington, while fantastic in so many ways, just isn't the metro that Sydney is.

Karla has been taking many many snaps, as usual. Will share as soon as we can.

Kaikoura

Last weekend was New Zealands' Labour Day weekend, so Dave and I decided to take a trip to the south island. After taking the ferry across the channel, then driving for about 2 hours, we arrived at Kaikoura, the most magnificent place I've seen thus far in this spectacular country.

There will be a blog post going over the trip itself, but first are the pictures! I uploaded some here, but then my flickr account ran out of room, so I had to borrow Dave's for the rest. Enjoy the pictures!

Apparently, it's Hallowe'en soon.

This is the first year, in the entirety of my existence, that it has completely and utterly snuck up on me. I usually plan for it for weeks, sometimes months -- what costume I'll wear, whether I'll make it or cannibalize it from parts of other costumes, what I'll do, where I'll be... this would always be so exciting. And it still is. I'll dress in theme to virtually anything that warrants it. Frankly, I'm still cheezed that I'm not allowed to trick-or-treat anymore. It seems that fully-grown humans going trick-or-treating tend to be greeted with suspicions of being a mugger rather than candy. I much prefer the candy.

Nonetheless, Hallowe'en is only five days away, and I only just realized it last night.

But it seems like such an absurd holiday here. I mean, spring is in the air, so everything is fresh, green, and very, very damp. (But luckily, mould DOES wash out... hooray!) Nothing here is Halloween-ish at all, as we all know that the following are absolutely mandatory prerequisites for the holiday in question:

* the darkness falling earlier and earlier,
* the eerie crunching of leaves underfoot,
* the dry, dusty bite of cold, late autumn air, lightly perfumed with stubble-burning smoke,
* the thrilling suspense about whether you'll have to wear a snowsuit under your costume.

But it is nothing of the sort here. To be honest, I'm not even sure if they celebrate Halloween here -- it might be more of a Guy Fawkes country. On the other hand, I have never known Wellingtonians to pass up an opportunity to dress up, so we'll have to wait and see.

O Negative

As many of you already know, the Kiwis invented many of the world's extreme sports. Apparently there's something in the air here that makes people want do strange, adrenaline-inducing activities such as bungee jumping, or running down a hill in a water-filled plastic hamster ball.

Getting into the spirit of the local culture is a very high priority for me. Granted, I may yet go bungee jumping and hamster-ball-ing, but what to do now? Of course, my courage is nowhere NEAR enough to do the kind of extreme-adrenaline-pumping sporting that my extremely brave friend Lisa does... specifically, she gets her rushes from singing the national anthem at university basketball games! Eeep. I can jump off a cliff, but forget about THAT level of courage. ;-)

So, in contemplating what else might bring me to the brink of terror (and preferably do so frugally), I came across a bulletin board notice at work. It was New Zealand Blood Services calling out for donors. My blood froze at the mere thought.

Which, of course, meant that I had found exactly what I was looking for. Extreme terror, pushing of physical limits, no cost whatsoever, and hey, maybe even saving a life. And free cookies. Sign me up!

(For those of you who don't know, I am the single biggest BABY with needles... I've been known to cry, whine, see spots, and usually faint when getting one. Hence the unadulterated terror.)

Anyhoo, I managed to give a whole half to 3/4 pint before nearly blacking out! The blacking out part wasn't so fun... or at least, I don't think it was fun, but I can't really remember. Nonetheless, I took the ransom out in cookies, and had an excellent excuse for being spacey in my meetings that afternoon. Quite a good experience, and I think I'll shoot for the whole pint next time.

Plus, I got to learn my blood type! O negative. The Japanese use blood types as horoscopes... Apparently O's are like this. Weird, eh? ;-)

Finally, more pictures

So after having argued to, wrestled with, and copiously cursed at Blogger's flakiness in picture-uploading, I decided to look elsewhere.

With any luck, this link should work. It contains pictures of the trip to Auckland and the Coromandel Peninsula that Dave and I took some weeks ago. It was a great deal of fun, and we learned the following:

• * Helen Clark was in the Koru Lounge (NZ equivalent of Maple Leaf Lounge) with us, but in a different part than the standard Koru Lounge riffraff (i.e. us)
• * We ran into a movie star on the plane! "Sione's Wedding" actor Robbie Magasiva was on the plane with us.
• * Auckland was lovely, and we found a great garden-mansion hostel to stay in. The weather was much warmer! The plants seem to like it better there too...
• * All-you-can-eat sushi buffets are a great idea... except for the being-so-stuffed-you-feel-like-you're-gonna-die part.
• * The roads in Coromandel Peninsula are downright scary. Sharp turns at top speed, teensy narrow roads, vanishing corners, major slopes, steep cliffs and hungry abysses, all at once.
• * Sheep are less scared of cars than they are of people.
• * Coromandel Town serves fresh half-shell oysters at $20 per dozen. You eat them while overlooking the body of water they were caught from that very morning.
• * Shiraz is called Syrrah here.
• * Coromandel Town is also known for its clay hills, used as a raw source for many local potters and sculptors. One even built a railroad into the clay hills, excavated clay along the way, and has since turned the railroad into a tourist attraction.
• * On the opposite side of the Coromandel Peninsula is a famous beach. At low tide, magma-heated water seeps upward through the sand, making nice, toasty pools of water to rest in. It needs to be mixed with normal seawater, however, as the heated water can actually burn one's skin.
• * A set of caves near Hot Water Beach include Cathedral Cove, an aptly-named cave with a gigantic opening and a massive domed interior. It is simply spectacular. Also, the sand on the beach is actually pink!
• * Calla lilies grow everywhere, wild and untended. Given that they are an incredibly posh, popular, and very expensive wedding flower, it's neat to see them growing by the roadside like weeds. Interestingly, they are the New Zealand symbol of women's suffrage.
• * Nearby Thames town, there is a greenhouse dedicated entirely to raising orchids and exotic butterflies. Witnessing them flying free is positively mesmerizing to watch.
• * The atlas moth has a wingspan of nearly a foot, and the beating of its wings has sufficient force to seriously disturb any unstable surface the moth may be attached to... such as a shirt.

Enjoy the pictures -- short descriptions can be obtained through clicking on the "Detailed" view. Let me know if this works for you!

MOULD

My summer clothes have grown MOULD.

Mould. How gross can you get? What is WRONG with this country?!?!

It's been bad enough that, for the past 7 months, I've had to limit myself to outfits suitable for sustained (indoor!) exposure to 15C. A damp 15C. I'm a central-heating-phile Canadian... how many friggin outfits like that do you think I own?!?! Maybe 10?

So, much to the disgust of my fashion sense, I've been wearing and rewearing (and rewearing) these ten outfits. FOR SEVEN MONTHS. I look like a homeless fashion victim. My workmates must think I'm living out of a backpack.

But that's ok. Because warmer weather is coming, and maybe one day -- one day -- I'll be able to once again express myself through my beloved clothing. My beloved, painstakingly-chosen, often expensive, and absolutely integral-to-my-sanity clothing. They plead to me, "Karla... Karla... when are you going to wear us again? You havent forgotten about us, have you? We love you!"... to which I, with a heart full of sadness, must say "Soon, soon. The weather is warming, and soon we can be together again."

Today, it was finally a bit warmer. Not warm enough for summer clothes, mind you, but I just couldnt take waiting any longer. I don't care, I'll just be cold. My poor clothes...

So I gleefully pull out all my summer clothes, only to see... green spots? Brown fuzz?! What the -- ?!?!!?

New Zealand's shoddy infrastructure has violated my beloved clothing. My inner sanctum is covered in MOULD. THIS IS NOT OK.

So now, I get to spend my weekend lovingly resuscitating (hand-washing) my beauties. As if I didnt already have enough to do. Mould... what is WRONG with this country?!?!!?

Canada in 45 minutes

I got to my desk yesterday morning and found a very interesting email.

"Hi all,
Unfortunately we haven't got any body to give a talk for our next SM seminar.
Rather than cancelling it, I am wondering if any body who has given a talk/presentation to people outside of SMS recently and is willing to share with us.
If you are keen, please contact me by 12.00pm tomorrow (29/09/06) at x4160.
Cheers,
Nellie"

No presenter, eh? I thought back to the last seminar I attended, which was a colleague speaking of her experiences working for the Office of National Statistics for the UK. She spoke about the project breakdowns, the power structures, and even what the work environment and the building itself were like. There was so much interest, latecomers in the audience had to scavenge chairs from other conference rooms. People were jammed together to listen to this talk.

Surely, I thought, a similar talk on a Statistics Canada experience would be interesting...? Before I knew what I was doing, I talked to Nellie, and she thought it was a great idea.

Gulp.

So now I'm committed... the email notification has gotten out, and I hope there's some degree of interest. It would be embarrassing if no one showed up. :-/

And of course, it's completely impossible to describe vital Statistics Canada philosophies such as complete geographic centralization (despite the vastness of the country) and its utter devotion to bilingualism (an alien concept here), without going into some history.

Augh, History, my old nemesis... what a detested subject! And yet, fairly unavoidable. I guess I'll just leave in the parts with war, drunkenness, beaver-chasing, and burning down the White House.

...Wait, that's all of it, isn't it? ;-) Maybe history isn't so bad after all.

Anyhoo, wish me luck! D-Day is this Thursday.

Pink Ginners Prize Giving

Last night we had the team dinner, where they handed out awards for the year.

I got two! Best Foreign Player and a certificate for my 'player of the day' performance a while back.

Karla got one as well...Best Foreign Supporter. She is a totally deserving recipient of such an honor.

In short, she rocks!

Crazy, nasty politics

Some of you will be astonished that this is my first post about politics in all the time that we've had this blog. I've tried to spare Karla (and you all) from my junkie ways. But what's been happening in NZ politics has been too crazy to resist posting about it.

There's a lot of background I need to explain before the really juicy/crazy stuff. So please stick with me.

To start at the beginning, last November there was an election here. During that election, the Labour Party, led by Helen Clark, mailed out a big batch of what they call 'pledge cards'. Basically they're wallet sized cards that had the key planks of the Labour platform on them, with Helen Clark's picture on the front. These were sent out a few weeks before the election, which Labour eventually won.

Trouble was, it turned out Labour used public money (their parliamentary funding that all parties are entitled to help them function in Parliament) to print and mail out the cards, rather than their own political party money, which is meant to be used for election related expenses. The Chief Electoral Officer said, 'Poor form'. The Solicitor General said, 'Poor form'. And in a leaked report, the NZ Auditor General here has said, 'Very, very poor form'.

The AG's report not only implicated Labour, though. It also implicated all the other parties: the National Party (the main opposition, basically equivalent to the Tories back home), the Greens, United Future (centre rightwing), New Zealand First (rightwing), and the Progressive Party (leftwing).

According to the leaked AG report, the Labour Party had 'misspent' about $400 000, National about $10 000 and the others at amounts somewhere in between. When the controversy broke, the National Party oh so nobly paid back the ten grand that they spent improperly. They then went on a 'pay it back' campaign in parliament and the media to try and force Labour into coughing up the cash, saying they had 'stole the election' using taxpayers' dollars.

Labour replied that the AG was wrong in his assesment, blamed the administrators of the fund for allowing them to use the money improperly, and publicly mused about changing the law to allow publicy funded election campaigns, retroactive to the previous election. After several weeks they said that they simply weren't going to pay the money back, no matter what.

All this gave National all they needed to start calling Labour corrupt, which really ticked Labour off. One of their cabinet ministers, Trevor Mallard, said that he had a bunch of dirt on National MPs and was going to reveal what he knew if they didn't cool it with the corruption talk.

This is when things got really bad. Shortly after this news broke that the leader of the National Party, Don Brash was taking some days off of his duties in Parliament to attend to 'problems in his marriage'. There were rumours that Brash had been having an affair with a very prominent business woman, and that some in his caucus had questioned him on whether the rumour were true. None of this was helped by the fact that Brash had met his current wife while still married to his first. Lots of people were wondering if Brash would survive as leader of National.

Helen Clark and Labour went on the offensive. Clark said that she was looking forward to reminding Brash about 'integrity' in their next question period. Parliament had turned really nasty by this point, and hardly anything could be said in the house without the one side shouting the other down if they were trying to speak.

So pretty ugly right? It gets uglier.

Last weekend a newspaper ran a front page lead story asking if Helen Clark's husband, Peter Davis, is gay. They had a shot of him hugging and possibly kissing another man (a close friend, apparently) at a victory party following Labour's last election win. It then came out that a National activist had written a letter to a newspaper raising questions about Peter Davis' sexuality, though it wasn't clear whether his letter was the catalyst for the barely substantiated front-page story.

Obviously the PM was furious about the report, and blamed National for planting the rumours. National has been furious about the treatment of Don Brash, and blames Labour for stirring up the rumours about his alleged affair. Right now, things seem to be just plain viscious.

The whole sordid series of events seems to be doing tons of damage to the system here. Who would ever want to step into public life if they have to put up with rumours about extra-marital affairs and the sexual preference of their spouses? Most commentators here are calling it a 'new low', and I'm inclined to agree. Even BC politics isn't this mental.

It's Official

...Dave and I have officially felt our first New Zealand earthquake. Or in my case, my first earthquake ever.

We live on a busy street that feeds into a highway, so I had just assumed it was a rather large truck passing. Dave came in, excited, and told me it definitely wasn't... apparently earthquakes feel slightly different than trucks, and anyways, no trucks go by here at ten to midnight. Makes sense.

Apparently earthquakes are very common here, and probably more than a dozen have happened in the last few months, but they have thus far been so inconsiderate as to occur in the middle of the night. For those of you who know Dave and I, it takes a lot more than a little earth-shaking to wake either of us, so we've missed them all.

But not anymore! Hooray!

Beefing up

So before Karla and I left on our holiday, I entered a raffle to support a work colleague's chorus. She and her chorus are raising funds to be in a choral competition in Las Vegas (not a topless choral competition, I was assured).

So, for five bucks in exchange for three tickets, I entered. The prize? A quarter of beef. What's a quarter of beef? Here's a quarter of beef:

Help a friend out, right? Not that a quarter of beef would ever fit inside my apartment sized fridge/freezer. I mean, that would just be a joke, right? Right. But five bucks towards a worthy cause and what are the chances, right?

Well the joke's on me my friends. A lovely woman named Liz left a message this morning while Karla and were still away to let me know that I've won "a huge amount of meat" after being one of the names drawn in the raffle. I have the honor of travelling out to a factory in Petone to claim my prize some time this week.

The question is: what the heck am I going to do with all this beef? There is NO WAY it's going to be able to stay here. Can I rent freezer space? Another thought might be a 'beef party', where we give away free meat after making people enter silly competitions.

Please, any other thoughts? I'm in a fix here, since it is now clear that no good deed goes unpunished.

Help!

Coromandel shout out

Really quick post to say Karla and I have been holidaying in the Coramandel peninsula, near-ish to Auckland. Very pretty and rural with lots of seascapes and mountains. Even thermal springs right on a beach! The only downside is rain rain rain rain rain.

We had a beautiful first day but since then it's chucked it down. We're still having fun though! Tonight we're in Thames, and tomorrow we're back to Auckland for our flight home. Will have lots of pics to share once we get back to Wellington. Karla has been taking some fantastic shots (and I even have a good few in there too). Talk soon!

A Very Good Week

This has been a very good week. Work's been very busy, but it's nice -- the days go by quickly, and it's a welcome change of pace to the still-only-learning mode. My project proposal has gotten approved for funding for the coming year, so work will start on that next week. That will be very exciting to get started on... writing the definitive set of standards and guidelines for Editing & Imputation for all Statistics New Zealand is such a great opportunity to be involved in, let alone leading!!!

More tangibly, however, several other events have made this week especially good. For one, humanity has once again survived SkyNet day (Aug 29... and if you get this reference, you're a nerd too!) ;-) Today, Sept 1, is officially New Zealands' first day of spring, and the weather's been incredible. Bright sunshine, a mellow, dry wind, and a balmy 15C collectively do wonders for the human spirit. You can even see, on the busy streets, people actually smiling and wearing bright colours -- the latter being especially surprising for Wellington, the official capital of black.

Another neat thing about Sept 1 is that it is now exactly 1 year until the wedding. Somehow, it seems realer now. (Naturally, that's a good thing, except for that nagging feeling that I shouldn't be procrastinating as much now!) ;-) Dave, being the romantic gentleman that he is, began the celebrations for our "-1st Wedding Anniversary" by showing up at my work with red roses. He's so great. In another hour, we're getting dolled up to continue the festivities at a fancy restaurant, Logan Brown.

And, as if that wasn't enough reasons to be happy about Sept 1, there's one more... it's the effective date of the PROMOTION I snagged!!!! ^_^ I had kept my application, endorsement procedure, interviews, etc. more or less quiet so as to avoid jinxing anything... but yesterday afternoon I was told that I got it, and with good supporting feedback to boot!

What this means for the job is that I'll be doing essentially the same job, but with more responsibility, more autonomy, and higher expectations with respect to leadership, initiative, involvement and overall job performance and quality. Apparently there's also a bump up in pay, too, but I did this mostly to stretch professionally... and something tells me I definitely will be, soon!