Comments

Heya all! I've figured out how to set the comments page so that anyone can do it, account or no... hopefully I'll hear from a few more of you. :-)

Chocolate Fish?

I'm only just starting to get used to Kiwi slang. For instance, our own slang of "rooting for" a particular team cannot be used here, as "root" is slang for the verb-form of the f-word. And thus, saying you are rooting for the Italian footy team gives ENTIRELY the wrong message. ;-)

Another oddity is the New Zealand chocolate fish, which is a term for a generic, trivial prize for getting a task done, or figuring out a problem. It's been said in casual situations, but also in meetings and even in some courses I've taken. "A chocolate fish to the first person to figure out this complicated mathematical proof!" (Sadly, though, that proof was so scary that I would have needed a lot more incentive than even chocolate to try wrestling with it.) :-/
Indeed, there are actual chocolate fish, and whether the saying or the product came first, one can only guess. These are usually pink-marshmallow fishes covered in chocolate, and are frequently served with hot, sweet beverages of either the caffeinated or non-caffeinated variety. (And allow me to say, nobody does mochaccinos like the Kiwis! It's like mega-chocolate overload in a cup, with a faint but distinct coffee undertone.)

But all of this is background, so that I might tell you about one of Wellington's most famous cafés -- The Chocolate Fish. It is on a secluded peninsula, inhabited by incomprehensibly rich Kiwis on one side. On the other side is the hub of Wellington's film industry, where much of Lord of the Rings, King Kong, Narnia, and a number of other films were based out of. Needless to say, The Chocolate Fish gained extra panache when all those movies' stars would frequent there during filming, and even rave about it in interviews. Liv Tyler is the restaurants' most vociferous fan... personally, I'm shocked to discover that she eats at all. ;-)

Surely all this publicity and popularity has ruined what might have been originally a hip and obscure gem of New Zealand. Coupon book in hand, Dave and I set forth to find out for ourselves.

The only way to get there is by car, and luckily enough, we were able to borrow one from a friend of Dave's. Of the two routes to get there, we took the shorter, but far more harrowing option that involves all kinds of hairpin turns, blind corners, and sheer cliff-like drops gnawing at the sides of the road. (Next time I'll push for the lengthy but ultra-scenic around-two-bays-and-the-whole-peninsula route!) We finally arrive nearby and park, but I had underestimated the amount of walking to the address of the restaurant. Luckily, it is a beautiful walk. One one side is a secluded beach with big rocks that look more like movie props imitating what beach rocks should look like. On the other side of the one-lane road are stunning houses with well-kept gardens and expensive cars in the driveways. Apparently Peter Jackson, who is considered with all the same nearly-irrational level of awe and reverence by Kiwis as Wayne Gretzky is by Canucks, lives in this district. It's pretty obvious why. ^_^

Having only an address to work with, we had no idea what kind of building to be looking for. We did know we were getting closer upon seeing an unusual road sign, "Waiters Crossing". After chuckling a bit, we found our destination.

The Chocolate Fish is noticeable first for its colour -- the whole building is painted a vivid greenish turquoise, which contrasts with the grey winter day, and most definitely clashes with its stately neighbours.

Despite the cold day the place was still a flurry of customers, and Dave and I were lucky to get a table right away. The first thing I noticed were the chairs, which were individually hand-painted according to zany themes. Dave's favourite was the Cookie Monster chair, whereas I was particularly bemused by another seat -- the Austin Powers chair. Equal parts comic and disturbing, the backrest has a groovy ultra-60's paint job of his catchphrase, "Yeah, Baby!", while the seat itself sported a stylized caricature of Austin Powers'... face. I can just see it now... some couple on a date, getting seated, and her looking down and exclaiming,

HER: "Honey, I seem to be sitting on Austin Powers' face!"
HIM: "Better you than me!"

Yes, while there are plenty more witty responses possible, we were far too hungry to dwell on them. I went to the counter to order, as is usually done here, and dealt with an extraordinarily jovial waiter. He wanted to hear all about Canada, how we were finding NZ, whether this was our first time at The Chocolate Fish, etc, and then upon taking my coupon, slyly informed me of their lesser-known sister cafe, The Chocolate Frog, which is positively wonderful, I really should go, and did I know that there's a coupon for that in the same book? I walked away from that encounter feeling energized, overwhelmed, and with a curious need to go visit The Chocolate Frog... (I never have been able to resist shamless plugs from restauranteurs -- they almost invariably have such good taste.)

The food was delicious. Dave had some sort of Ultra-Breakfast sandwich, and I had pancakes with seasonal berry coulis. The coffee was great, and they even have little amaretti cookies to go with them. Mmmm...

Then I recognized the decor... the bright, hand-painted menu signs, local artists' works of all styles and colours, a large, stylized mirror so everyone could enjoy the view of the water, and crazy chairs scattered throughout. The Chocolate Fish is precisely the New Zealand version of The Glass Onion! (Point of info: The Glass Onion is the cafe where I worked during uni summers, from which I gained an inordinate number of fun and zany stories.) Something tells me that if Fokke and Cathie had started a restaurant here, it would have been The Chocolate Fish.
:-)

Winter

So it is nearly Canada Day, and it is winter here in New Zealand.

For most folks (including me, before we moved here), the idea of winter in the South Pacific conjures up ideas of palm trees, sunshine and pleasantly warm temperatures.

Here in New Zealand, however, winter is winter. It does not mess around. And here's the proof. Below are three shots taken of roads in the North Island just this week. It is on what's called the Desert Road, which comes from Wellington and takes you to places like
Taupo (scroll down to April 4th on this one), which Karla and I visited back in April. Honestly, it is a desert there--a sort of sagebrush grassland that looks a lot like the Okanagan back in BC.

Anyway, I'll let the pictures speak for themselves:

Here in Wellington, things are just plain rainy rather than snowy (thank the Lord!). But New Zealanders are tough to get through all this. Remember, there is no insulation in the houses here, hardly any central heating, and power outages have been happening all around the country as a result of the bad weather.

Down on the even colder South Island, there are still a few hundred people without power. Either you've got a wood fire, or you're frozen out, basically. So there's quite a few people living in motels down there at the moment.

Not Canada cold, that's for sure. But pretty bloody cold nonetheless.

UPDATE: The NZ Herald says there are more snow storms on the way... :' (

Health Muffins that Don't Taste like Cardboard

In an effort to consume more vegetables in my diet (why can't chocolate be a vegetable, anyways?), I have discovered and adapted a recipe for delicious, fruit and veggie muffins. They're not too bad for fat or sugar, and each one has a whole serving of fruit and veggies in them.

For anyone who might be interested in trying it for themselves, here it is:

Ingredients:
1.5 cups flour (unbleached, or even whole grain if possible)
heaping teaspoon of baking soda
2 teaspoons of cinnamon
1 teaspoon of salt

2 eggs
1 teaspoon each of vanilla extract and almond extract
1/2 cup brown sugar

1/2 cup melted butter
1.5 cups chopped apple (peel can be left on)
3/4 cups each of shredded (coarsely grated) carrot and zucchini
heaping tablespoon of orange zest (for the non-culinary among us, this means grating the peel of an orange with the fine side of your cheese-grater)

Also, feel free to add nuts or raisins to your liking.

Instructions:
Preheat oven to 350F/180C. Combine the first four (dry) ingredients into a large bowl. Combine the next three (wet) into a different bowl, and beat together until the sugared egg mix is fluffy. Next, add the third set of ingredients (butter and fruit, veg) to the egg mixture, and stir. Lastly, put the fruity, eggy mixture into the flour mixture and stir until mostly even. Pour mixture into pre-greased muffin tin, and bake for about 20 minutes. The tops should be brown, and a knife should come out clean from the muffin centre. This should make about 8 regular-sized muffins.

If you want an extra treat, try sprinkling a hearty amount of cinnamon and brown sugar over the tops BEFORE putting the muffins in the oven. This will slightly caramelize the tops, which is very yummy.

Let me know if you try this!

Life in Wellington

Upon reflection, I have firmly concluded that moving to Wellington -- rather than another New Zealand city -- was the right choice. This city is a fascinating combination of metropolitan luxury and picturesque nature complimenting each other marvellously. It puts the "civiliz(ed)" back in "civilization", complete with an enormous number of cafés, art galleries, theatres, and of course, stylish clothing boutiques of every description. (Don't even get me started on the absurd amount of shoe-shopping here... that's a whole blog entry unto itself!) And, all this fits snugly into an area that, from end to end, is about a two-hour mosey.

Also, unlike Christchurch and Auckland, Wellington feels the least like a Canadian city. (Which is kind of the whole point of moving away, no?)
;-)

My experience in Auckland gave me the approximate visual of being stuck in an endless Toronto suburb punctuated occasionally with chain-store strip-malls. The roads were large, crowded, and very wide; at one point, on the main intra-city highway, I looked about to notice that the scene was not a bit different from that of the Ottawa Queensway. It was quite disorienting, to see something so familiar in a place so far away.

Christchurch, on the other hand, is small, new, and picturesque in a way that would be best compared to Saskatoon. In fact, I have since met several Saskatchewanites living in Christchurch; they love the city because "most days, we don't even know we're not in Saskatchewan!"

Aside from all that, however, I was not entirely sure of how I might convey the "True Wellington Experience" to you. But then Dave was emailed this list, and I figured it was as good a way as any.

(For those of you unfamiliar with this kind of list, there are similar ones for cities all over the world, such as "You know you live in Winnipeg when you know better than to drive down Lanark st, and everyone you know makes fun of Transcona.")

So, here goes the Wellington equivalent, with my explanations in (*)'s:

You know you live in Wellington when...
1. You can wake up during an earthquake and think that it's just the wind that's shaking your house. (*this has actually happened to Dave and I) ^_^
2. You can say "Wellington is full of ferries" and not be considered homophobic.
3. You can recognise half the city's population when walking down the street.
4. You can afford a $1000 suit but still flat in a house that requires 3 sets of clothing and two dehumidifiers to stay warm. (*...even then, the term "staying warm" is being used in its loosest sense!)
5. You see someone travelling 100kph on the motorway and you complain how fast people travel these days. (*especially on our street, which is a main feeder for the main highway)
6. You walk from the Railway Station to Willis Street without ever checking for traffic. (*that's about 10 blocks through main downtown)
7. "Just turn left at the first StarMart (*NZ equivalent of 7-11s), walk down the street till you get to the third StarMart, turn right, go 3 StarMarts up and you're there."
8. Seeing the Brooklyn Wind Turbine not turning is a newsworthy event.
9. It takes you 20 minutes to drive around the block in peak traffic due to the 'one way system'.
10. Boarding a Stagecoach bus is a hazardous activity. (*especially when there's umbrellas involved!)
11. You take a bodyguard down Courtenay Place in case you bump into a drunk politician. (*kinda sounds like Ottawa...)
12. The centre line is negotiable, especially on the Brooklyn & Hataitai hills where parked cars can take up 80% of the road.
13. You get altitude sickness going from your car to your front door.
14. You have to leave the city to do your shopping.
15. Any wind that doesn't threaten to take your roof off is just a 'bit of a breeze.'
16. You can detect 27 different shades of black suit. (*...and 19 different shades of red shoe worn with said black suit)
17. When an earthquake hits, instead of hiding under your desk, you hold a bet with your workmates on the force, focus and epicentre.
18. When giving directions to tourists, you point up.
19. You go out for your $5 coffee with friends and complain how expensive Auckland is.

Cool thing today

So, today is a very rainy day in Wellington. Little slivers of ice that are passing for rain are making walking around (which Karla and I do a lot of) very miserable.

Nevertheless, a neat thing happened today that I thought I'd share.

I went over to the Parliament buildings today for a meeting with some people to talk about the project I'm working on, which has to do with MPs making better use of technology. Heading up the elevator I had a brief chat with a woman who got on with me, apparently just finishing a visit with some school kids touring the building.

She made quite an impression--she was expensively dressed, had these neat designer glasses that seemed to incorporate the New Zealand fern, and just had a lot of 'presence'. I figured she was probably one of the MPs, maybe even a Minister. We chatted heading up the elevator about the kids she had just met, and how she enjoyed doing those sorts of things.

Anyway, I came out of the elvevator to meet my appointment, and the person I was meeting said: "Oh! Did you meet Jenny, David? Jenny Shipley, our former Prime Minister. She must be in the buildings today for some sort of event."

So how cool is that? I made chitchat with one of New Zealand's Prime Ministers without even knowing it!

Ka Mate!

So this weekend was back to rugby after a few weekends off: one visiting the Wairarapa, another rained out, and last weekend visiting Picton. All were great trips, but I was eager to get back out there. And this weekend was extra special in the world of real rugby, since it was the first international test match of the season: All Blacks versus the Irish.

The good news of my game Saturday was that I was in the starting fifteen, playing number six, or blindside flanker. The bad news of the game was that I didn't play very well. The worst of it came when I fell over into a crowd of guys pushing the ball forward in a group (called a maul). Imagine roughly 10 big guys all pushing like hell, wearing spikes, and barely noticing that you're there as they try to get the advantage. Honest to God, being stuck in that crowd, these guys blocked out the sun. I tried to crawl out, but they kept following me!

Anyway, I wound up looking like a draw by numbers game with all the spike marks on me. Am resolved to go out next week and really kick some butt.

After the game came the ritual meet up at the pub, and we settled in to watch the All Blacks take on the Irish. The game was great--really tight with the Irish leading at half-time, but with the ABs coming back to win in the end.

Possibly the coolest thing was seeing the Haka on live TV. Imagine 50 000 rabid Kiwis bellowing a Maori war chant at the visiting team, led by their most favored players who accompany the chant with really intense, agressive actions. If you've never seen it, check out some video here, or for a more souped up version, here. It's incredibly stirring, projects power, aggression and sheer 'Ahmacummintagitcha' like nothing else. It's certain to leave you with goosebumps.

By the way...

...welcome to New Zealand winter.

Don't be fooled, though -- it's only this nice when you're in the sun. And also, as houses are both unheated and uninsulated, butter at room temperature is completely solid, and at nights one can often see one's own breath while watching TV. So, it's not paradise.

But it sure beats snow! ;-)

Over the Channel to Picton

Last weekend we decided to venture to the much-renowned South Island of New Zealand. Wellington is on the lowest tip of the North Island, thus we were able to catch the ferry departing right out of the city itself. The ride there was smooth, and about 3 hours long. Dave was in heaven, as the scenery was nearly identical to that of the BC Vancouver-Victoria ferry ride. For a duration in the middle, however, there is a point at which the ferry is surrounded by no land at all -- this part being the infamous Cook Strait. While it behaved well on the way there, the way back was rough and had a number of very large swells, and many people were very ill. Luckily neither Dave nor I are prone to seasickness (thank God!) but hearing so many sick little kids helplessly crying and retching was almost as bad. Poor things, but the sad thing about seasickness is that the only real cure is arriving, which isnt anything that anyone can really help with.

In Picton, the day was cloudy, and by that I mean cloudy in a specifically New Zealand fashion; the clouds gather, then descend upon the cities so that everything is stuck in mist. It does not necessarily rain, exactly, but a stroll outside will fast render you drenched. We did some boat rides around the sounds, which were stunning, and learned of some boat-access-only hotels of all price ranges that Dave and I vowed to stay at next time. In addition, a mere 2-hour drive away is New Zealand's most famous sanctuary of wild seals, dolphins, and all types of whales, surrounded by eco-tourism companies offering the opportunities to watch and swim with them. We did not make it that far this time, but to think, this is all so close to Wellington!

We ended the day with dinner at one of the town's few restaurants open past dark, and during our post-meal drinks we were joined by a group of the town's rugby hooligans. It took no time whatsoever for the evening to go from quiet to insane, and we somehow ended up at a bar with very few women there. To be honest, the only aspect of it I remember with total certainty is that "mixing" is gastrointestinally wrong, and I vow to never do it again. (Let us ignore however many other times I have made that same vow...) ;-)

On a similar note of gastrointestinal wrongness, I must tell the story of an astoundingly wretched burger we encountered in our misguided attempt to find onion rings in a small town after dark. Stupidly running astray of the main street, where respectable people eat, we finally found an open greasy spoon where we could get onion rings, and a burger each. All was well, until we got the burgers home and looked at them.

The deceptively normal bun concealed two grey patties, undercooked ham, wilted lettuce, an unidentifiable array of sauces all in aggressively unappetizing colours, and a rubbery egg. Best of all was the melted cheese, which was a putrid, rotting yellow which pulled apart in a way that suggested that it had been a prop in a gory science fiction movie. We dubbed this, "Death Burger".

Death Burger and mixing aside, it was a very fun trip, and we intend to do it again now that we know about all the hidden gems of accomodation hidden in the Malborough Sounds near Picton. Though hopefully next time, the Cook Strait will be calm-ish both ways. ;-)

Seals!

Ok, so these are the rocks that you see when speeding along the coastal road. On our first pass-by, nothing seemed special about them... we were too busy looking for seals.

So on our way back, no longer expecting to see any seals, I see this rottweiler-like head poke out of some long grass. We stop to investigate, and sure enough, it's a seal. And another one, and another one. They are sooooo cute!
Here are the pictures... none of them are that close, since I didnt want to get too near to any wild animal that's significantly bigger than me. ;-)

What was also really interesting is that, once you know what to look for, the otherwise-unremarkable rocks become teeming cities of seals! This shot gives you a better look at that. There's at least a dozen in that shot... can you find them? ;-)

The Nearby Wine Region

So, here in no particular order is the scenery we encountered in the Wairapa region this weekend. Luckily, the weather was ideal for the whole time, and the drive was only an hour long. By "only an hour long", however, my main point is not how lovely it is to be so near something so lovely, but rather that I could not have lasted a single minute longer on that twisting, winding, curling, and at times even death-defying so-called highway, which was little more than a ledge carved out of steep mountainsides. And of course, being a highway, all the local drivers would insist on carrying on at what seemed to us at speeds which appeared borderline insane. Luckily this harrowing part of the drive lasted only for the first half -- during the latter, we saw flat pastoral lands that would not have been out of place back on the prairies. But for the not-entirely-straight road, that is.

We headed to the coast first, as we had heard that there were wild seals to be seen there. At first we saw nothing, but decided to enjoy the coastline anyways. The beaches had black sand, made from the breaking down of volcanic rock. I had never seen it before, and it was an impressive sight. Huge waves breaking on the shore attracted several groups of surfers that we saw along the way. The black, volcanic rocks jutting out from the shore were also very neat -- they have a rough, pocked surface with sharp outcroppings that make the rocks perfect to climb. Shoes grip that kind of surface marvellously, but it is also a surface that you do NOT want to fall onto, lest you wish to be exfoliated like you've never been exfoliated before! ;-)

We got to the end of the road, and though we had been disappointed by not seeing any seals, the scenery was easily beautiful enough to deserve its own appreciation. There was a lighthouse atop a massive cliff with an endless set of stairs that I somehow got talked into visiting, and the first picture on this post is the results of that climb. (Once I had finished being dead of exhaustion and petrified of the height, that is.)

You'd better damn well appreciate it! ;-)

Also accompanying Dave and I on the trip was one of Dave's workmates, a Belgian named Wym. He was cool, and it was neat to have someone else along. One of the neat things about NZ is that there are all kinds of fellow foreigners around, so you get to learn quite a bit about where they're from. So much so, in fact, that a Maori fellow at work once said that he always wished to experience the rest of the world... but it seems, in New Zealand, that one can learn firsthand all about the rest of the world, as the rest of the world seems to always make its way here! This is not as much of an exaggeration as it may sound -- after four months in NZ, I now know more about Belgium, the Netherlands, the UK, South Africa, China, the Phillipines, and even Alaska than I had known before. It's very neat.

On an unrelated note, New Zealand's english-dominance has one very pleasing side effect -- of all the people I've met, all the co-workers, friends, strangers, telemarketers, etc, NOT ONE has mispronounced my name. People in non-Manitoba Canada always had a great difficulty with it, which irked me to no end. But not here! Hooray!

Back to the trip itself, we finished up at the coast and left. But it's a terribly interesting thing, what things appear the moment you stop looking for them... more on that later. We went to lunch, then hit the last winery that was open for a tasting. Tirohana offered us a numer of delectable wines to try, and every last one was delicious. Two in particular stood out, one being the cafe-style Pinot Noir (not to be confused with the proper, much more intense Pinot Noir), as well as a dessert wine that absolutely blew my face off. It was sweet, but tart, and not at all syrup-y. Naturally, we bought a bottle of each, then headed to a nearby town, Greytown, for a nice Italian dinner.

After that we headed home. Strangely, the drive through curvy mountaintops alongside gaping abysses tends to be less stressful when the dark prevents one from seeing (and thus, fretting about) the abyss. ;-)

New link!

Have added a new link to our sidebar--Euphemistically Convivial--which is our friends Nathalie and Brian's blog. Karla got to know Nathalie thanks to Nathalie's Dad, who happens to be Karla's old Director at StatCan. Nathalie is also pictured below with the fabulous Karla

Nathalie and Brian are great people, and have a great family--three kids named Julia, Ethan and Noah. The kids were in bed when we were having our party during the Weekend of Mayhem though. 3am is way past their bed time.

Ours too, for that matter.

So here I am, finally

So, I have to say, I am lame for taking this long to post.

Karla, I think everyone would agree, has been doing a fantastic job with this blog. But it's time I put some stuff up too. I sure hope I can be as good and fun and entertaining as she is.

Yesterday I played a full 80 minutes at my regular Saturday afternoon rugby game. And today, I am truly, truly, truly sore. Hurling yourself at 200-250 pound grown men for an hour and twenty minutes will do that to you, I guess. But good Lord is it ever fun. I never knew I liked knocking into people so much. And the beers that happen right after the game are terrific--as you come into the lockerroom, tired, muddy, bloody and sweaty, some guy hands you a Cold One. I don't think anything is ever so tasty as cold beer after a hard physical effort.

Everything is really well organized too. We have uniforms, team socks, fully refereed games, the works! There's an unofficial 'clubhouse' at this bar at the Cambridge Hotel here in town. My team is called the Pink Ginners, my handle is 'Moose'. See me intimidating the competition here and in all my glorious form here.

As for Karla's post on the Mr. OBU/Universe competition, she described everything really well, and I gotta say I had just a great time. Everybody 'backstage' was really cool, and cheered everyone who went out there on in a big way. I still think I should have placed though. None of us internationals (the sock man was from Vermont, USA) got even a nod, and we were bloody entertaining (especially me!).

Anyway, can't really complain. Though I never want to drink a litre and a half of beer that quickly ever again. On the other hand, it kind of helped a fella cut loose, which was definitely a good thing given the competition. It also helped me ignore the dishpit that was my changing room. Ugh. And me trying to get in and out of my good suit.

Will try and keep posting more regularly, and maybe throw up some links to stuff that I come across that I find interesting. Hope it all works! TTFN!

Weekend of Mayhem, Part Two

Dave's Mr. Universe competition was the next day, and fortunately, the rugby that afternoon de-hangover-ified him nicely. However, he did not recover fully enough to be at full form for the beer-skulling contest, which was the first round. Then again, that quantity of alcohol (1.5 L) would be hard to take all at once at any level of sobriety. He downed it all, as was expected by the crowd, but not without difficulty. Indeed, some competitors did not finish theirs, and of those that finished more quickly, there were some digestive consequences backstage.

The subsequent rounds included formalwear, swimwear, and two talent rounds -- one to be prepared by oneself, one to be drawn from a hat. Dave did marvellously with the eveningwear, and despite my persistent encouragement otherwise, had decided to go with the respectable swimming shorts. Alas, how were we to know that such degrees of nudity and silliness were so commonplace, if not expected? The collage above was Dave's competition, which helps give one an idea of the sheer madness afoot. There was everything from stripping, swimming, seranading, drag, Dutch pickup lines, brakedancing, Elvis inpersonation, marshmallow-mouth-stuffing, and even a girl competing for the title of "Mr. Old Boys University". I might have cheered for her more, if she hadnt been relying entirely on skin rather than an actual schtick. Another contestant worthy of creative praise would be Mr. Blue Sock, who paraded through a crowded bar wearing head-to-toe tinfoil. In one fell swoop he tore it from his body, to reveal a lone royal-blue sock to hide his shame. (Naturally, he had chosen a knee-sock for the job, which only made the whole thing funnier.) I'll bill him for my therapy later.

Dave stepped up to the competition well. For his swimwear performance, he smartly had grabbed two props -- my silly Canadian toque and a glass of water. Strutting down the catwalk in a way that would have made Derek Zoolander proud, he reached the end, took off the toque, and in a most sultry fashion poured the glass of water all over himself. The crowd went wild, but not so much so as they did for the chosen-talent portion. Dave returned to the stage in his formalwear and got everyone to clap in rhythm. At this point, he produced a harmonica and jammed on it solo into the mic. While the playing itself was excellent, no one had been expecting this; once they recovered from the sheer shock (note, a be-sock-ed man was actually less shocking to this crowd) they cheered even more wildly than before.
In light of the fierce competition, Dave did not win, though it was agreed by all -- including Mr. Universe himself -- that he at least deserved to place. The night was still a very fun time, and we even met a bona fide All Black, Conrad Smith (between the ladies, naturally). For those less familiar with rugby, the All Blacks are the worlds' best known rugby team, and are known to perform a Maori war-dance called "The Haka" before each game to scare their opponents. While I cannot speak for professional rugby players witnessing this dance, the first time I saw it, I felt a strange but urgent need to hide behind a large piece of furniture. Anyhow, from meeting Conrad I can say that he is far less scary than the dance his team does, and it was really neat to meet a Kiwi celebrity.
Also, in many of the above pictures you may have noticed the lovely Ms. Nathalie -- of Brian and Nathalie, where Brian is the guy with the guitar in the previous post. They're Canucks too, and dangerously enough, Nathalie is just as fond as I am of makeup, shoes, clothes, nails, and all that girly stuff... malls of New Zealand, beware! ;-)

Weekend of Mayhem, Part One

In case further confirmation was needed of Dave's and my mutual inability to keep dates straight, we have gotten it this weekend.
;-) A fortunate turn of events stemming from seemingly mysterious baking behaviour revealed that the Poker night with Brian and Nathalie was in fact a different night than the Mr. Universe competition. (She was baking for the party on a Thursday, thus casting into extreme doubt my understanding that the party was on the Saturday.)

So, a fabulous time was had at Poker on Friday -- so much so, that Dave and I didnt make it home until the next afternoon. ;-) Not too much money was lost overall, and as more alcohol was consumed, there was much enjoyment of Dance Dance Revolution. The potluck (which Kiwis call, "Bring a Plate") was also a considerable success, as the Caesar salad was well-received. One partygoer came a little too close to an untimely death by persistently making guesses as to the secret ingredients -- he just didn't buy that it really was "love". Or lots of garlic... sometimes it's hard to tell the difference. ;-)

The evening wound up around 3AM with an enthusiastic though inebriated round of Karaoke Revolution, which is always a hoot, and later a sing-along courtesy of both Brian's and Dave's guitar skills. It was a good way to wrap up a fun night.



...But the weekend of madness wasn't over yet!







(to be continued...)

So How's This for Coming Outta Left Field?

New, legally appropriate measures of hazing have evolved, apparently. While certainly better than the kind of hazing that used to occur, it is nonetheless a shock to learn of the new methods. Particularly in the form of your lovely fiance coming home and announcing, with some trepidation, that he has been volun-told by his rugby team to enter an upcoming Mr. Universe contest. This contest includes, but will not be limited to, a drinking contest, a pick-up line contest, an eveningwear contest, and of course, a swimsuit competition.

Eventually, the hysterical laughter subsided. We will be prepping for this ahead of time -- I mean, how cool would it be if he won!? -- but in the meantime, I thought you might get a chuckle out of this. I know I sure did. ;-)

The Webcam is Now Functional

...Just thought I would get the word out. While it will be a bit tricky to work in terms of the time difference, it would be splendid to talk to you all. In fact, the reception is both clearer and less lagged than the telephone, not to mention cheaper.

However, since this is a video medium, and that it will likely be morning for me, I reserve the right to take a minute to de-scary-ify myself first.
;-)

Feeling Accomplished

So, I just finished my first presentation for work. Granted, it was only for a half-dozen people or so, but it was well-received despite being first thing on a Monday morning. (Personally, I have a hard time receiving anything well on a Monday morning, unless it's more sleep!) ;-) I think I even answered the questions intelligently, which is definitely a good feeling. Hooray!
Also, it turns out that in the duathlon I ran last weekend, I placed fairly decently (about average). Meaning, I ran 5k and biked 10 in 68 minutes. Who would have thought it? But seriously, there is to be no worries about me becoming a health-nut. ;-) I just do these things so I can eat more Tim Tams (which are DELICIOUS cookies sold only in Oz and NZ).

Of a less good note is that the "professional" pictures from the duathlon didnt turn out so well. Who would have thought that people dont look very attractive while exherting themselves to within an inch of their lives? Needless to say, I was far too concerned with things like persuading one foot to go in front of the other to notice the evil cameramen lurking around the corner to take unflattering pictures of me. Damn paparazzi. Boo, I say! Luckily, Dave took a few before and after, when I was in a state of not being dead. Not to say that those are much more flattering, especially given my unfortunate placing of the race number, but still less bad.

If there is one thing that can pick a tired girl up after running a duathlon....

...it's remembering that Lent is over, so a good, cold brew is on the menu for relaxation! Bonus, eh?

Wrinkles and Leather Pants?

In most circumstances, sixty-plus year-old men publicly bemoaning their lack of "girly action" would be socially frowned upon, if not met with legal action. Last night, instead, this situation was met with unbridled applause from over 30, 000 Kiwis, for they had paid good money to hear these very sentiments from these very men. Dave and I were there, and what a great time it was... I now much better understand why The Stones are still as big as they are.

We only decided to go yesterday, as the impending event only really grabbed our attention then. Both of us work within earshot of the stadium, so the workday that day included much testing noise and window rattling, and workmates pretending not to notice it. We figured we would grab dinner wherever we could, then head back in time to see if we could get our hands on any cheap-ish tix. Every restaurant in a 3-mile radius was positively packed, but luckily Dave thought to try this hidden gem of a restaurant, the Katipo Cafe, which we frequent for Sunday breakfasts. Sure enough, it was open and still had some room, the latter probably being due to its' being largely invisible from the streetfront.

The meal was fabulous, but there was a sinister (and delicious) twist -- their french-fry dipping sauce bears an uncanny resemblance to the patented, ultra-secret Helgason-Caesar salad recipe. I might have berated them for stealing the family recipe, if I could have possibly kept my mouth fry-and-dip-free for long enough to do so. ;-)

We then secured some tickets to the show. While they were higher on our price scale than what could be called "cheap", the seats were killer. Or, more specifically, the tickets allowed us access to a section of the floor that made sneakily slinking to better and better spots a rather simple matter. Stealth was still required, though, since security was tirelessly ensuring that anyone being where they shouldnt were quickly replaced to their former spots, or at least farther away. But Dave and I went uncaught, as no one ever suspects the Canadians.

We arrived during the opening act, which was Calgary's own Nickelback. They played very well, and more importantly, displayed a grateful humility that, aside from cementing their status as Canadians, endeared them to the crowd even further. The audience remained reserved, however, until The Stones arrived -- after that, it was madness all around.

They went through the hits, mostly, and the highlight of the show (for us) was when a section of the stage travelled way out into the audience, giving the rest of us on the floor a close view (30 feet away, I'd guess) of the band for a song or three. Very cool. Other than that, there were videoscreens and pyrotechnics galore, and the encore (featuring the essentials, "You Can't Always Get What You Want", "Painted Black", and then "Satisfaction" as the finale) was ended with a fabulous fireworks show.

All in all, very much worth the price of admission -- The Rolling Stones rock!

More Dam Pictures

Here be the before and after, as well as a neat shot down the creek. Lovely, eh?