Lindsey & Mark Come to Play

And finally the evening dawned..... and we searched the skies from our window for Lindsey and Mark's plane, doing our exercises in the lounge, trying to make sure we'd be fit and lean enough to tackle any energy sapping challenge they threw into our path.



And.....streeeetch. It's so beautiful...... woops missed the plane. They're here! - HUT HUT HUT move it people! After much dilly dallying at the airport (what do you mean the drop off entrance is shut?! That means we have to pay for parking!!) we took up station at the gate, and in they bounded, brown, blonde and beautiful, we felt positively dowdy & ginger in comparison. Welcome to New Zealand guys.....now er, we didn't bring a wallet and we have to pay for parking.. I don't suppose....brilliant. Thanks. Pay you back.
I'm seriously considering a career in wildlife photography after capturing this rare moment of intellectual conversation between Jamie and Lindsey. Drink it in.
Proof that god exists - seen here attempting to pick up Mark by the head using a long orange pin. It's like an orange on a toothpick!! This was taken as we dawdled into Wellington along the coast, after enjoying brunch on the deck at the surfclub, watching the ocean and the planes land - turns out Mark's a plane man, so he was happy.
As Mark pointed out (illustrated above - guffaw!) technically we were in the middle of the city, but surrounded by windurfers and sea birds having their own brunch of mussels.

Nearly there.... Oriental Beach in the background, the 'city beach' which has a big fountain in the water.
... a quickish stop for a beer in the sun, before the bus home. A nasty moment when Jamie realised he'd left our camera in the pub, but as you can see from the happy relieved faces below, he got it back.

Lindsey here practising her royal wave from the balcony, you can't see it from this pick but she was actually waving extra fast to burn off some more energy.

The silver fern ball, hovering outside the city gallery - which we didn't go into because it would mean standing still for at least a few seconds at a time......

Aw. Another rare moment captured - Lindsey and Mark sitting down.... we managed to tire them out....I thank yaw...
Next physical adventure: ten pin bowling, which none of us had done since we were about 10. An ideal outing for Lindsey - food followed by competetitive fun in small shorts.
A couple of greasy spoon burgers and a ginger beer, and the girls were raring to go.
Just psyching myself up to pick up a ball..... I did manage to throw one behind me into the crowd at one point, but Jamie soon set me straight. And no I didn't use the kiddies yellow guide thing, that was for Jamie!
Lindsey after she managed to pick up a ball. She's so easy to entertain!!
Oops dropped it. Quick someone give her a lolly!
Mark doing his usual RANT...sorry, chatter, to distract everyone from his score... heheheh.

And finally G, who made up for his score line with pure style.

Here we are folks- you're watching the expert, with my favourite flame orange ball.

Needless to say, the girls came out on top - Lindsey first (well she is taller - although she's also got a really bad back, so she really did show the rest of us up). Devasted, the boys refused to even speak to us the whole way home. Then we skipped round the supermarket, collecting ingredients for Lindsey's feast for the masses (and just in case anyone wants to recipe - that's one can of chickpeas each, one large cabbage and a fat free dressing).

It was fantastic to have our part Ozzie pals here, it's nice sharing experiences of being away from home, discussing (unless your a boy then it's RANTING) about the quaint differences between countries and cultures. We're looking forward to visiting Oz in June, particularly after we've confirmed they understand the concept of 'rounds' when in a pub - after a few expensive nights apparently gifting drinks to our kiwi mates we've had to re-think our drinking strategies. Flying to Oz would definitely be cheaper.

We do worry they work too hard, and hope that one day they'll cross the ditch to share the joys of Welly with us, sun, surf, shorter work hours, cheaper houses and most importantly, hills. To run up and down, and up and down, all day.

Sportmad

Touch rugby. On paper it sounds something like a playground game of Kiss, Cuddle or Torture - chase me, chase me! Touch! Got you! No you didn't! Yes I did! Touch! Not fair!

My initial forays into the game were confused. I couldn't get a handle on it. And of course I'd much rather have been playing socc...FOOTBALL!

But it was still a chance to wear shorts, get a red head and sweaty curls. Organised through work, ACC, our team are pretty good. We've lost once and drawn once, and won something like 10. In the picture above you can see the physical prowess of some of the players.

Anyway, I've been steadily improving (I think). I certainly have yet to repeat my debut highlight down in Peel Forest last year. Playing for the rafting company against the farmers, we went through a series of passes, culminating in me receiving the ball and bursting through for a sure try. I jumped and slid gleefully across the ground. Upon throwing the ball up in the air joyfully, I realised I was at least 4 feet shy of the try-line, and now had a giant cowpat skidmark across my shirt.

After a failed attempt to create a club in Auckland, Wellington got its first socce...FOOTBALL!! team this year. Despite a poorish season they still averaged around 10,000 fans for most home games. I've never seen Helen have more fun at a sporting event than when we saw the Wellington Phoenix play. (H: apart from winning bronze in the Three Legged in P3 with Louisa Heart....I kept that badge for far too long....sigh.) And without the age-old loyalties ripping my heart apart, I was free to enjoy the spectacle too. The Cake Tin was alive to the sound of "The referee's a...." and "Same old Aussie's, always cheating."

People were genuinely surprised at the atmosphere - none more so than the rugby lovers. They'd never heard continuous noise like that. Even when losing!

Nick had given me a copy of The World Cup Baby. A memoir by a friend's brother. The book is about following football from far flung locales. It's about passion.

I met Euan McCabe, the author, before one of the Phoenix games, to interview him for a magazine. It was great to just get down to brass tacks and discuss Ipswich's form of late. He has been to see them twice. He also went to the world cup in Italy (1990) and hasn't missed a world cup match on TV since the latter stages of that competition. That puts him at 250 games in a row!

When my dad told me he had been outside his Shetland croft, deep in winter, in gale force winds, to shovel snow off the satellite dish so he could see Match of the Day, I thought that was dedication. Euan McCabe has many tales like that.

I seriously recommend his book for anyone who likes football, or is curious as to why people are so delirious about it. You can buy it here.

Here's Euan at the Phoenix's final home game.


Cue screams!

Yes, Beckham mania came to little old Wellington for one weekend. It only cost $2millionNZD. Worth every penny I reckon. It was a full house at the Cake Tin, and the largest football crowd ever in New Zealand. (H: He's TINY! They don't tell you that in the Gillette adverts, this man is small.)

Although only a friendly, there was no love lost between LA Galaxy and Wellington Phoenix.(H: check out Jamie's staple footie commentary phrases! What he means is they shouted at each other a lot, and David - we're on first name terms now - frowned constantly. I think it might be written in his contract to look as sultry as possible at all times).

Ruud Gullit had just become manager, and he chewed his way through a packet of gum like the best managers around.

Beckham scored a penalty, but never got to show off one of his trademark free-kicks, despite the persistent hacking at his shins. (H: And small boys in front of us screaming their heads off for the entire match.....I tell ya I nearly.....grrrrr!!)

At least we got to see his tatoos. (H: hey David you missed a bit!)

SUPER COOL!

It seems so long ago now, but when we first ventured south to Christchurch in October 2006, French Florian looked after us. Through him we also met Scottish Euan (although there are mutual friend connections a go-go). (H: er.....I can't think of a caption for this photo, it's just too scary).

The pair are both at the University of Canterbury and they also share a passion for the outdoors. Florian was recently telling me about his 2km swim and how he'd almost killed his dad while on a 'leisurely' bike ride. They don't know their own fitness.

The pair of them came up in November and stayed with us to celebrate my birthday. It might be the last time we see Flo. He is leaving for Europe, and a possible teacher-training course.

We took a short walk up the hills above Paraparaumu and then on the beach. (Although you can't see any cars on the beach, there were loads around!)



H: I am NOT loving this picture!! Holding a Paua shell, of which there are loads here and they make pwetty jewellry from them, and eat the insides - Paua mince. I guess that's the NZ version of haggis...?

Graham 'G-Dog' Simpson

Where do you start with G-Dog? (H: Here!) He arrived full of Californian cheer and Scottish chat. Oh how we had been missing both. His timing was impeccable. We had just found the perfect house to buy - small, wooden, draughty and on an impossibly steep bit of land. Stressing our way through the mortgage process et al, G-Dog cooked us wonderful meals every night, baked cakes, popped wine bottles and generally looked after us. He's pictured here helping Nick paint and build his fence. (The man can only do good!)

When he left to work in Queenstown we were gutted. We were, I selfishly confess, secretly pleased to learn that his job then fell through. We told him to come and stay with us. Having just moved into our new home there was a multitude of tasks needing looked at. For instance, our diet had retreated back to pasta dishes, beans and porridge.

Within a week of his arrival we'd had homemade burgers, perfect pancakes and guacamole dips.

G has transformed our life here in our new home. Actually making it feel like a home. We are already mourning the beginning of next month when he will depart for California once again. The Littlest Hobo. Groundskeeper Willie. We salute you!
(H: This is not G windsurfing! But is a good metaphor for how happy we were to see him back!)

On Waitangi Day G and I took ourselves up towards the Wairarapa, turning off the main road just before Masterton (Norfolk Road) and heading to the mountains.

We made our way up to Mount Holdsworth, following Gentle Annie Track (which was gentle) through a section of close-knit beech trees.

And then into an altogether more Entish forest.


The going was steep for less than an hour after that.



And in 3 hours we were at the top. 1470m





One thing G has made perfectly clear to Helen - I am not the noisiest person in the world! (H: true, but being the second noisiest person in the world isn't that great a title either).

Although G has had it with New Zealand (Helen: but not with us!), I do hope we see him again in the not too distant future.

Pioneers

There really is a late pioneering spirit about New Zealand. Can see your breath inside the house? Dry your eyes! Man up! At least you've got four walls.

Kiwis just get on with the job. If they don't have something, they make it. They burn stuff. Hunting is a favourite past-time. The open country is there to be tamed and explored.

What that means in the 21st century is that people drive wherever they like.

It's a bright sunny day, you get your stuff and head down to the beach, the kids are running around in the slow lapping waves, the dog is tormenting some poor baby seal, fantastic, now's the opportunity to catch 20 winks. Then suddenly an SUV trundles past at a fairly sedate 20km/h - but the music is blaring loud. Frowning as it disappears up the beach you settle back down. Just as you are drifting away 3 motorbikes roar past with ear-splitting throttle. This is New Zealand beach life. For the most part.
H: luckily for us the beach nearest to our house is barricaded by a big wall, so you can't drive on. Perfect. So long as you can squeeze your way past the odd game of touch without getting lamped, it's a perfectly peaceful getaway.


This sign kept the majority of traffic off Titahi Bay beach. While house-sitting we stayed here for 3 weeks. I came here daily with Holly (pictured) who was a stressed-out wee soul. Having grown up in the freedom of a vineyard up north, she'd never really adjusted to city life. Just the sight of other dogs sent her into a tizz. Titahi Bay is what New Zealand life is all about. Close to the city, but far away enough. Good surf. And of course you can take your car onto the sand.



One resident in the area, Iain Hosie, is an artist and friend of Nick's. We'd seen some of his pop-art in Nick's house and asked if he would do a piece for us. We wanted something to commemorate our house-sitting adventures, and he came up trumps with this!

(H: don't worry Mum - we didn't pose for this one)

After Titahi Bay we were in Scotland for 3 weeks. Upon our return we house-sat in Korokoro, Petone. This was the closest we had been to the city. Now only a 5min train ride! Roxy was our companion here. The daintiest cat we've roomed with, barely larger than my slipper.



H: Back to the pioneer thing - I think the ironic thing is that although we're the visitors, we're not the ones with the pioneer mentality, it doesn't matter how much flying I do, or where I end up, I will never be able to fix a lawnmower with a 9 guage wire (or is that 8..?).
I'm also guessing the pioneers didn't housesit when they first arrived - but hey, house sitting's resourceful in its own way. And as you can see from her sheer size, looking after Roxy could be very demanding.
We're still attracting animals - Merlin the cat is still a regular fixture, and via Merlin, about 6 mice. Not all dead, at least not until you hear the 'crunch'. ew.

One man and his dog

Shot in shimmering dappled sunlight, here is Ben Dalgetty, surveying "moi land". It really is like something out of Sheepdog Trails. Just like you see on TV. I whizzed up to Ben's family's farm waaaay back in August last year (oh yes folks, we're catching up) as I waited to hear about my job application to ACC.



Ben was working for River Valley on the Rangitikei River, and he took me down the tight, pool-drop gorge. Of course I fell out to test just how cold the water really was. Damn cold.


The river community is a small one. No matter where you are in the world, you always find a connection to someone. And when it comes to the river homes, they are also very recognisable. In River Valley there was the token abandoned bus turned into a bedroom.



But perhaps more surprising was the ramshackle box cum bedroom. In California we called these 'jousting boxes' and 'lemonade stands'. Whatever you call them, I have spent a good portion of my life inside of one. Due to the more variable weather in New Zealand, this one was a good deal damper.


Have we mentioned the lack of insulation, central heating or double glazing in most Kiwi homes (H: including ours! Enter Graham...)? They look cool though.


H: this one is a cutey, it's opposite the bus stop to work. We should probably do a post on Wellington houses, there are lots which are stunning, all colonial porches, latticed overhangs and crazy access -there are a sizeable number with venicular railways to get them to the front door. One couple put one in for their elderly dog - I spent a lot on my Ruby but not quite that much!