“If there are squashed hedgehogs on the road, it must be summer...”

 


Ah, the seasons are changing again – the trees are changing color, the nights are turning colder, and hedgehogs are giving way to bush-tailed possums as the most frequently seen road kill. 

But squashed wildlife isn't the only interesting thing to be seen on New Zealand's byways – there are also the poo signs.

Yes, Kiwis take a keen interest in poo (large bags of chicken poo are featured at the farmers markets) but you don't have to wait until the weekend for your poo fix - the equine variety is for sale on almost every rural road. Sadly, there is also the unwanted poo of the dog and human variety. The biggest controversy being debated in the halls of government and the editorial pages right now is how to stop “freedom campers”  (tourists who overnight in non-toilet equipped campervans) from using New Zealand's pristine roadsides as unofficial poo stops.

Another frequent sight along the road is the organic lawnmower. The most popular model is  sheep with a close second being the miniature horse. They're quiet, the only human intervention required is moving them from one area to another and - as an added bonus - their activities produce more poo!

New Zealanders also like their roads to be decorative and to that end they plant interesting shrubberies and get creative with their mailboxes.

 

Our thoughts are somewhat preoccupied with roads right now because we've been resident in New Zealand for over a year, which means our California drivers licenses are no longer, strictly speaking, valid. And so we are assiduously studying the NZ Road Code – all 178 large format pages of it – in preparation for taking the driving test. Since the code contains vital information on what and what not to do in the event of encountering livestock (frequent) and how to maneuver through multiple entrance and exit roundabouts (constant), it is proving to be riveting reading.

And now the second in our series of  “Things common to New Zealand that you will seldom, if ever, see in Santa Monica.”

A letter like this from the electric company:

“Now that you've received your first bill, we thought we'd stick our head over the fence to see if everything's ok.”  Enclosed was a beautifully designed tea towel with their “Declaration of Neighborliness” on it. Oh, and they also sent us a Christmas check for $100 because they'd made too much money the previous year.

And this ad from the Nelson Mail placed by the airport authorities:

“FOUND at Nelson Airport: Red framed reading glasses, black pair of ladies gloves, car key, black scarf. Please contact Security at Nelson Airport on phone 03 547-9372.” (this is a direct line, which will be picked up by a human being who actually knows where the items are located and will cheerfully return them to you).

We'll leave you now with the first of our “Favorite Kiwi Commercials”  featuring a drive along some of New Zealand's more urban roadways (North Island - what can you say?).

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A_pJbl2aQf4

Brrrrr – winter is coming!

Farewell to Spring.... Brrrrrh!

 New Zealand may be the only country in the world where, regardless of what the weather looks like when you leave the house, you should always take along a sun hat, a hooded raincoat, sandals, and boots - and you'll need all of them at some point. If you have ever heard Crowded House's song “Four Seasons In One Day” that's exactly what it's like here (they are a Kiwi band, after all).

With spring a distant memory of several days ago and summer finally here, the weather turned so hot we had to take the duvet off the bed; then it went back on the next day because we were so cold. We put the laundry out to dry in the brilliant sunshine, an hour later we were frantically dragging it inside out of the downpour. And so it goes. The most inexplicable weather is New Zealand's “liquid sunshine.” You'll be walking along under an (apparently) cloudless sky, no coat on because of the heat, and suddenly you'll be pelted with hundreds of tiny drops of rain.

But who can complain when millions of flowers are in bloom, the air is thick with bird calls, and every field and farmyard is filled with baby lambs, ducks, chicks, piglets, and calves - and the roads are covered with......Mini Coopers. Which brings us to our first installment of “Things Common to New Zealand (that you will seldom, if ever, see in Santa Monica).” Starting with: a Mini Cooper Convention. Ah, but not just any convention. This was a vast migration that clogged the roads throughout both the North and South Islands as the doughty little cars convened like a gathering of the clans.

I gave up counting after reaching 300....

.....and this is why they call it a "Mini."












But there's more going on along New Zealand's motorways than caravans of classic cars. There's also livestock - and lots of it. That's why you'll see sights like this to remind you of who really rules the roads:

 
Yes, they may seem all fuzzy and innocent, but you haven't seen the cars that have had a "run in" with them at 100 kph. We've found ourselves - suddenly and literally - in the middle of a cattle drive on several occasions, but this is the best shot I've ever been able to get. For some reason, Jim was never too keen on my either getting out of the car for a better shot or using the flash. I can't imagine why.

It isn't all technology and livestock, though - there's also a spiritual aspect to New Zealand's roadways. When the first European settlers arrived here in the 1800's they looked beyond their basic physical needs to their spiritual comfort as well. The small population in any given area and the high cost of building materials, however, led to this country's becoming the world's undisputed #1 location for  miniscule churches. As the population soared to thousands, however, new larger churches were built that could seat more than a couple of dozen parishioners. And that's where Kiwi ingenuity has come in. Instead of letting these little gems that sparkle along NZ's roads decay and be torn down - they have been repurposed.

Yes, they now serve their communities as museums, fruit and veg shops, art centers, antique stores, pubs, and - of course - clothing stores (in case you can't read the coffin, it says "Clothes to Die For").

We didn't do any decorating this year, but nature took care of that for us - this is the Pohutukawa - a.k.a. the New Zealand Christmas Tree.

Happy Holidays to All!

Next Post: You can tell what season it is by the road kill...

Two Countries Separated by a Common Language......

One would think that communicating with New Zealanders would be easy. After all, we do share a common mother tongue. Ah, but therein lies our difficulty, because while Jim and I speak fluent American, the New Zealanders speak fluent Kiwi. Just how different these variants are was brought home to me when I was hired by a broadcasting firm in Nelson to rewrite the US version of their website into, well, American. The problem was not so much one of grammar (for instance, they would write “a hour” instead of “an hour”), as it was the sorts of things they would say: “When setting up your station, you can be faced with all manner of fishhooks.” Or, “You want to keep your script within cooee because if it's not at hand when you're on the air, your broadcast could go all pear-shaped.”

Even when words look and sound exactly like ours, they can carry a different meaning. For instance, a dairy is not a place where cows congregate to be milked – it's the Kiwi equivalent of a 7/11 and a place where you might buy a bottle of wine and some smokes. (Note: In an effort to discourage smoking, the NZ government has mandated that every cigarette pack be emblazoned with truly disgusting photos of diseased organs caused by smoking. So customers routinely ask for a pack of lung cancer or heart disease, which is done with a sang froid that indicates this strategy is not working. And what we call “coffee breaks” in the US are known as “smokos” here. The Kiwis obviously still have a way to go on this one).

There's also a difference in the expressions used. While in the US “the rat race” refers to working endless hours to afford things you don't have time to enjoy because you're working endless hours, in New Zealand “The Rat Race” is an annual fundraiser wherein rats (the small furry kind) are raced through the Prince Albert Hotel for the benefit of volunteer Search and Rescue.

Many expressions, though, are easily understood in context. “That idea won't float for toffee” or “He's mad as a cut snake” are so wonderfully graphic that they register immediately. The Kiwis also use “crook” and “be right” in almost every situation where something has gone awry, as in : “Ah, this fence is crook.” “Never mind, mate; I'll get some number 8 wire and she'll be right.” Kiwis also use words to express their emotions that have a more visceral quality than ours. If someone gets good news, they'll say they're "rapt" or "chuffed."  If very disappointed - "I'm gutted."

 

Probably our biggest comprehension problem, though, is with accents. When I decided to take up spinning (I'd bought an entire alpaca fleece, but that's another story), a wonderful neighbor of ours called to say that she'd secured a “Little Piggy” for me. I immediately pictured the spinning wheel as barrel-shaped with maybe a corkscrew spindle, only to discover when I went to pick it up – that it was actually named after the maker's wife: Peggy. The accent problem works the other way as well, despite the prevalence of American TV shows here. Occasionally when I'm speaking to someone, they'll get a rather bemused look on their faces and then smilingly say "Could you repeat that? I couldn't understand a word you said." And it's not just me. Jim tried ordering a "Hop-Picker" beer at the local Craft Beer Festival (Slogan: "Dead Good Beer"). The tap wench just gave him a blank stare until the the Kiwi at his side (always a good idea to keep a translator on hand) leaned in and said "Hay mains a happickuh."

And sometimes the problem is just a difference of perception. “It's brisk today” is the Kiwi way of saying it's zero degree weather and there's a 50 mph wind blowing the birds out of the sky. As it is now officially spring, they're saying that a lot these days.

Next Post: Springtime in New Zealand....brrrr!

 

Foraging In NZ, or Growing Pear (Shaped)

It's a bright sunny day in Mapua, and I'm sitting here at the computer trying to rub enough feeling into my fingers so I can use the keyboard. During the balmier months, it's easy to forget that there's nothing between NZ and Antarctica except a couple thousand kilometers of open ocean. But now, at the start of the winter season with the Southerlies blowing in, it's hard to forget it.





Didn't Think to Bring a Window Scraper




Despite the freezing weather that regularly visits these islands, the Kiwis have been curiously lackadaisical when it comes to winterizing their homes. Most houses are built on top of concrete pillars which are highly efficient at transferring cold up through the uninsulated floors. The cold likewise finds easy access through the equally uninsulated walls and roofs and the single pane glass windows. Leaving your flannel sheets and duvet in the morning can be an effort of will when there's frost covering the ground – and sometimes the inside of your windows.

Still, Jim has valiantly gone forth - dressed in cycling clothes better suited to balmy Southern California - to tackle the rolling hills, grit covered shoulders, and stares from locals who (despite there being a small serious cycling group here) still find it a source of wonder when men appear in black Lycra shorts and jerseys that call to mind a flock of mad parrots.

But enough of all that. This post was supposed to be about foraging in New Zealand and – despite the chilly weather – the foraging is still very, very good.

Food is almost inescapable in New Zealand. There are the stands along the roadsides offering everything from pumpkins to kiwi fruit to whitebait. There are also farmer's markets in every town worthy of the name, plus supermarkets, corner shops, bakeries, and sadly, an influx of McDonalds, KFCs, Dominos, and Burger Kings that has increased the average weight of the average Kiwi by 11 pounds in the past few years.





A Day's Foraging





This post is not about the food that's available to buy, however, it's about the food you can get for free! Every home here seems to have lemons, oranges, grapefruit, feijoa, persimmons, crabapples, and/or figs growing in its garden. And the trees are quite prolific – even as we enter winter most branches are still covered with ripening fruit. The trees are so furiously producing fruit, in fact, that their owners are royally sick of it. After eating them in every conceivable form they want nothing more than to get rid of them – and are delighted if a stranger knocks at their door promising to take some of the overflow away (I recently cleared almost 100 deliciously ripe feijoa from a grateful neighbor's driveway where they had fallen overnight)!





Jim Takes It To The Top









If you don't want to bother picking your own, giant bags of apples, golden kiwi, and anything else that's in season can be found along every roadway for about $1.30 (just drop your coins into the honor box) – a dozen fresh free-range organic eggs will set you back less than $3.00 (any mention of money on this site is converted into US$ amounts since Kiwis also have dollars).

Another great way to score a delicious meal and get some exercise out in the fresh air is to volunteer to pick olives or grapes at a friend's “lifestyle block” (code for: “We know we can't make a living off this small amount of land, but it's fun to own a “farm” that requires very little work AND gives you a great landscape to look at from your living room windows.”). These occasions involve much interesting conversation and laughter with the other pickers, a generally fantastic lunch - with alcohol and music - and some of the fruits of your labor to take home (cases of last season's wine and fresh olive oil after the press).

So, needless to say, neither of us has lost any weight....


Next Post: “Two countries separated by a common language......”


URGENT QUERY: Is there anyone out there who knows someone who works for New Line Cinema? My goal for the coming year is to be an extra in “The Hobbit” !

The Yanks Have Landed

After three years of concerted effort, we're finally here! Here being Mapua, a charming village situated halfway between Nelson and Motueka (the biggest cities in this region) with the estuary on one side of the main road and groves and pastures on the other. As I type this, the sun is shining, the birds are singing, and the rain is pouring. Back in Santa Monica this would be considered a torrential downpour; here it's "liquid sunshine." To give a sense of just how liquid it is, a town to the south of us had 16" of precipitation yesterday (about an inch more than Los Angeles gets in an entire year).

Our first few weeks were taken up with all the details of settling in a new place as well as a foreign country - while trying to monitor the location of the rest of our belongings which remained, stubbornly, in Los Angeles. Many emails and overseas calls later, they were on a container and crossing the Pacific to Auckland in a record 7 days, where they were immediately impounded by Customs. Apparently, by packing a few bottles of Nyquil, we had raised the question of whether we might be bringing in supplies for a boutique Meth lab.

Two weeks, and many calls and emails later, Customs reluctantly released our belongings. Which then went into a truck and on an all-expenses paid tour of New Zealand. Although we haven't got an exact location, we are reasonably sure that they're currently residing in Christchurch - about a five hour drive southeast of here - and there's an even chance that we will actually get our winter clothes before spring.

While Jim has been busy riding his bicycle, checking out all the breweries/pubs in the area, and setting up satellite TV so that he won't miss out on any of the Formula One races, I have been out seeing something of the countryside. When I expressed this interest to our friend Tim, he immediately packed me off to a friend's winery where they were frantically trying to bring in their grape harvest before it got ruined by all the “liquid sunshine.” So there I found myself, snips in hand, harvesting grapes as fast as I could – a job that I would never have been allowed to do in California, where I would have been pegged immediately as a left-wing, union-organizing radical and escorted off the premises. Here, I was welcomed along with the other workers (mostly young mothers with time on their hands while their kids were in school). We spent the day chatting while we picked, discovering who we knew in common (more on this in a later post), generally enjoying the sunshine, the beauty of the vinyard, and trading information on all the interesting things going on in the region. Here is where I first learned about NZ's thriving barter economy. All of us were “friends of friends” and we worked for a Ploughman's lunch, a cheese and wine tasting at the end of the day, and a case of excellent wine when the harvest was over.

Next Post: Foraging in New Zealand, or why Kiwis never go hungry...