Merry Christmas

Merry Christmas

      Yes, Christmas is celebrated in New Zealand.  Celebrated with friends, barbecues, picnics, and beach gatherings.  Cards are sent.  Trees are decorated.  Gifts are exchanged.  The celebration begins Christmas Eve, and continues through Christmas Day and then Boxing Day on the 26th.  The Southern Cross constellation provides the centerpiece of the guiding light.

Pohutukawa.  A New Zealand tree along coastal regions blossoming crimson flowers in December.  The "Christmas Tree".  Its flowers supply the rich mixture for the tui and bell birds as well as local honey bees.  In Maori, pohutukawa means "sprinkled in spray" and may relate to its proximity to the ocean or the twinkling of the flowers.  

The Maori spirits of the dead depart for Hawaiki from the roots of a Pohutukawa located at the northernmost tip of NZ, Cape Reinga.  Hawaike represents the original Maori birthplace and current location of Io, Maori supreme being.  The Pohutukawa apparently launches the souls back to the point of origin.  People transform into birds or descend to places worse than the bottom of the 'long drops' (NZ outhouses).

The Pohutukawa…..bloomer at Christmas, dealer of souls, energizer of birds and bees.

A small tree in a local park, but winner of the "most flowers per square meter" prize.  This one is destined for mystical greatness.

Gatherings and seasonal demonstrations
occur, but not as elaborate as the States.
Lights do not illuminate the neighborhoods…..the sun does.

An occasional over-the-top observation can be found.

Most seasonal decorations blend the local themes and flavors.  These ornaments hung  in a beach town from the light posts.  Antithesis to the meticulously adorned wreaths of North America.










Sam arrives next week to add to the seasonal festivities and spend his semester break with Cheryl and Tom.  He has instructions to bring a few items, but mostly have a new experience.  Plenty of those await him.

The doctor and blonde woman as well as Tom and Cheryl send a Merry Christmas to all.  You need to be safe.  May you be blessed.  You are loved.

Beach Week (?weak)

Blonde Woman on blonde beach.  Nu Chums Beach north of Whangapoua

Another week.  Cheryl caught a ride with friends Didge, Adrian and Rose, Cathy and grandson Rhys, and Jackie to the northernmost tip of the Coromandel.  The Fletcher Bay to Stoney Bay tramp tied the gang together for two days.  Trails where roads were not mapped found cliffs overlooking the bays, islets, and pods of dolphins.  Traveling with people who enjoy the moment, understand their surroundings, and share the knowledge typifies the group.

Didge, a Pacific Islands botanist, and Adrian, a retired chemist,  sustained verbal pace with teachers Cathy and  Rose, as well as Jackie, an active social worker.  Cheryl rounded out the group as the professional questioner.

She returned with a couple more merit badges.










Back long enough to pick blueberries in a field "down the road" near the raspberry patch, Cheryl also began to harvest the plum tree in the back yard and take a scone baking lesson.

Paula Austin held scone court in her kitchen.  The mother of a professional chef, Paula has the New Zealand pastry well mastered.  This now equates to blueberry and plum scones in Tom and Cheryl's kitchen.

Tom and Cheryl completed the entire exploration of the peninsula by spending the weekend on the Pacific side (east coastline).  The beaches have wide, long expanses of white sand kissing the teal blue sea.  Water temperature refreshes briskly.  Swim suits remained intact.









Tom noticed a number of alluring gazes at his bright orange pre-GenX swim trunks.  Mostly from the European guys wearing band-os and pubic packs.  The beach roared its approval when the lumpy T-shirt came off.  His short display of hedonism did not deter the dynamic ocean.  The spectacle repeated itself at Oatama, Opika Bay, Nu Chums, Hot Water, Cathedral Cove, and Stingray beaches.  At the end of the tour his car had been ear-marked to be toted away from the parking lot with a note on the windshield,"Leave your man spanx on and leave the beach".  Everyone has their critics.

The Hot Water beach is a geologic anomaly whereby thermally heated seawater seeps up into the sand.  One tries to dig a hole in the place where the line of heated water is buffered by the non heated water.  Things can get a little hot if in the wrong place.  Hot Water Beach on a hot day did not last too long, so they moved on.












Each beach seemed unique.  All have not been evaluated.  They search for snorkeling stuff, but at the moment content with the sand between the toes and other places.

Cheryl hunting for shells on Oatama Beach

The Cove of Cathedral Cove

Lunch at Opika Bay Beach

Thames

THAMES

     The transient habitat of two folks and their alter egos.

     A glorious idea hatched out of a gold rush and great expectations in the gritty 1860's.

     When guys were guys, and gals with glitter arrived later.  Upheavals of fortune followed the Pacific fault lines depositing enough gold ore into the peninsula.

     The Firth of Thames supplied a water route.  The huge conifer Kauri trees supplied the construction material.  The area initially bloomed like a Pohutukaua tree in December.  The gold craze lasted into the early years of the 1900's.  The picks and axes went limp.  The gals got bored.  They became nurses, teachers, sheep farmers, mothers and continued to build a country.  The guys drank and reminisced about their near misses until silicosis made them immortal.

      Kauri trees allowed a timber industry to continue for a few more decades.  The trees have all but disappeared.  Once the second or third most populous city in New Zealand, the growth dwindled and finally stabilized at 7000-8000.  The Coromandel remains a vacation spot for Kiwi's and international visitors causing the population in the area to balloon in the summer (Dec-Feb).  A fair number of the full time residents formed their life's philosophies in the 1960's and 70's.  Let the sunshine in.  The attitudes remain refreshing; "Come join us", "Use our bikes anytime", "Pick raspberries with us" typify all ages of the Kiwi's.  Early acceptance of any truthful behavior guide the Kiwi social mantra.

In 1820, the HMS Coromandel sailed into the Firth.  She was not the first to sail forth into the firth as several explorers arrived in New Zealand prior to taking notice of the area.  Some British blokes soaked in gin probably missed the ride home to the Thames River area leaving the present locale a namesake.  Finding themselves running around the peninsula they chose to start a club.  And so, the tradition of joining clubs began.

A local park-bench anthropologist believes clubs offer a reason to do something when nothing is available.  Two guys not knowing what to do form a club.  Kiwi's acknowledge the tradition of clubness.

Cheryl blends well into this milieu. She, as alluded to before this note, has joined the tramping club, local organic garden club, knitting club, Thursday night movie club, bird and forest club.  

      Riveted by her latest clubbing experience, "Storyteller's Club", Cheryl returned home in the late hours and relayed the social discourse promptly.  Being the youngest participant at this particular club she could recollect a good share of the meeting.  Stories, poems, and jokes came from Kiwi's with significant experience.  She managed to find something to share.  

      Tom hopes to be accepted into the lawn bowling club.  His credentials are weak, but most participants collect their pensions to support their habits.  Maybe a spot will 'open up'.  

     Watching New Zealand unfold from Spring to Summer may be the most dramatic reversal of life's events under the equator.  Tom and Cheryl anticipate a snowstorm only to have the days lengthen and the thermometer rise.  Moods seem positive.  Anticipation for tomorrow and the sense of today remain heightened.  They feel the need to join another club.

It Happened Again

Yes, it happened again.

The New Zealanders decided to dress up.  A few notes back, mention of Richard O'Brien and "The Rocky Horror Picture Show" occurred in reference to the Hamilton trip.  The doctor and blonde blundered across the bronze statue of Riff Raff on main street.  A weird sense to perform the 'Time Warp' had pulsated through the pelvis, but then past.  A harbinger?  Now an update looms.  A local actor's guild brought the movie to the Thames Cinema along with a stage rendition.  A call went out through the area to local Rocky groupies….the blonde woman and her doctor responded.  

Second hand stores and "opportunity shops"provided a rich hunting ground for accessories.  A vampy red polka-dotted French maid's dress disappeared right before her eyes to another seeker of Frank N Furter's desires.  She went into shopping gear honed by years of experience with highly trained associates.  The outfit morphed into the Magenta housekeeper character.  Proper touches here and there, with the addition of moderate stilettos, and the being emerged.

"Brad Majors is your only option!" she informed the doctor. Dutifully he retired upstairs, put on his usual khakis, white shirt and sweater.  "Put this bow-tie on.  You won't look so much like yourself."  He had left his horn rimmed glasses in Sioux Falls, or he would have been a dead-on spot for Brad. The pre-festivities began in the Grahamstown Bar and Diner with the cast present.  The blonde woman serenaded throughout the crowd receiving verbal and visual accolades. With the cinema immediately next to the bar, the atmosphere intensified.  The 'Time Warp' steps choreographed and doors opened in antiss….apation.  The crowd migrated venues and found seats in the staged-movie theatre.

Then, the magic.  Cast members assembled in the front stage and the spokeswoman stepped forward.  "We have a winner of 'Best Costume' to the Rocky Horror event!"  

And guess what.  Yes, amazing as it might seem….the blonde woman with the black wig and house maid good looks stepped to the front of the theatre and accepted her prize.  Apparently the additional bow-tie fell short on the impression points scale.

The movie was the same.  The cast members acting along side the cinematic production did add another dimension of absurdity.  The blonde woman set another standard; one which will require a great deal of 'op shop' scrounging to overdo.  Her legend grows.

      Spring and early summer bring scores of landscape scenes around Thames and the area.  As poorly as the photographic records are rendered, the impulse to capture them remain irresistible.  Gardening and dirt groveling hobbies flourish.  The homes lie among the gardens.  Even businesses prefer a floral display to architectural grandeur.

Manuka flowering bush atop of the Rangitoto Volcano

No anesthesia needed here

Dental office 2 blocks from home

            "The earth laughs in flowers"

                               RW Emerson

            "who wants flowers when you're dead? nobody."

                               JD Salinger, 'Catcher in the Rye'

Hanging out in the Hauraki Gulf

The Hauraki Gulf holds Auckland in her bays, harbors, islands, and coastlines.  New Zealand's largest city hoists the title "City of Sails".  A typical summer afternoon find the Kiwi's running downwind, hanging onto halyards, jibbing, and celebrating life as she presents.

Tom and Cheryl gazed at the amazing sailing machines as the ferry and yacht carried them out to the Hauraki Gulf.  Beautiful day, beautiful water, and no sail.  Only the imagination of sitting on the bow with the forestay secured in one's hand and the water rushing past.

What is not to love about sailing?

Is that Odysseus out on the front?  Is he sailing past his Muse?

In about 1400 AD, an eruption occurred in the Gulf of Hauraki leaving evidence of Maori inhabitants similar to Vesuvius and the early Italians.  Six hundred years later it remains uninhabited with the exception of curious hundreds daily visiting the geologic anomalies.

Rangitoto Island volcanic beach sand crept into the cuticles and cutaneous creases of Tom's toes.  He stood stately in the Hauraki Gulf---first Pacific immersion.  Having chugged up to the volcano's crest, surveyed the Auckland landscape, photographed the moment, and marched down to the sea,  the feet needed the light teal saltwater.  Cheryl dressed for cool and wet with her knee-high wool socks and black water-proof hiking pants.  She got hot and sweat.  Too many people at the beach for her to shed the garments.

Along the coastline old lava flows spill into the sea resulting in rugged rocks resisting the rule of wind and waves.

The black beach sand represents the loss of resistance.  The urge to rid the black pants had to be resisted.  They had to stay where they were.  The blonde woman practiced self-control.

The first whimper of New Zealand discontent…













                                                                                                         
…..The fact that she could not join the guy frolicking in the Great
 Pacific.  Pants on?  Yes.  He prepared with his zip away bush pants, and a big smile.

How big is that smile, Tom?


Boots parked ceremoniously on the black sand beach.  Readied for the next steps across the abandoned  island and onto the next point of interest.  The boots deserve some attention.  Lying in wait in the dark closet at home like hunting dogs, they partake in the vast majority of activity.  All hail to the hiking boots!



A dash from the beach to the dock to catch the ferry back to the harbor earned a beer and salty kumera fries.





Continued activity in the Hauraki Gulf followed a trip back to Thames,  a soaking of the feet,  and a constitutionally solid breakfast.  A jet boat ride ( a large multi-personal jet ski ) carried the two out the Waitemata Harbor into the Gulf.  After 30 minutes and a thorough seawater cleansing, the jet boat was back in dock.

Whale and dolphin research receives a boast from the visitors to the area.  In 1962 New Zealand whale industry came to a stop simply due to a lack of whales.  Under the Department of Conservation, whales have regained a foothold.  The bryde's whale spends time in the Hauraki Gulf.  Nearly 50 of them consider it home.

Drying out on board of the whale and dolphin exploration yacht, another great day allowed Tom to use his all purpose viewing binoculars.  A mother bryde's whale (Tohora)and her youngster entertained most the afternoon. Common dolphins, acting as professional entertainers, escorted the the boat to the fishing grounds.  An orchestrated gathering of fish by the dolphins preceded the smorgasbord led by diving gannets and finished by the whales.

The day in creation was right.  The wind was right.  The sun right.

Something moved in Tom's stomach. It was not last night's Chinese hotpot dinner.  It was the witnessing of something much larger than ordinary.  The extraordinary?  Or, the Glory?  The feeling of connection.




                                                      

Mid-November

Cheryl responded quickly to another invitation to occupy a tent on an isolated Coromandel campsite.  The location included neighbors Nick and Kari Scaletti, Peter and Nancy Lloyd.  Listening to the nocturnal rhythms of the sea, they awoke to campfire, camp food and a new day of kayaking/fishing.  More consumption of nutrition and life...

She returned to Thames satiated with the New Zealand outdoors, at least for a few days.  Fortunately, the desire returns quickly.





Cheryl fishing in the kayak.  No snapper for you, pretty girl!  Do not fool the fish.  They function like men: always looking for something to eat,  to procreate, or to avoid being eaten by something bigger than themselves.













The Coromandel Peninsula extends north from Themes and is surrounded by the Firth of Thames and the Pacific Ocean.  Small bays and sandy beaches meet each other.







      Dawn and Peter Willis arrived to amplify the laughter.  Having completed a bike ride through the Hauraki Plains and Karangahake Gorge, they had to soak in Sauvignon Blanc to loosen the expected stiffness.  They recovered at Tom and Cheryl's Bed and Breakfast.  Stories told.  The veteran New Zealanders guided the novice explorers to new possibilities of sights, sounds, smells, tastes, and mischief.  Maps were studied.  Time tables analyzed.  New plans formulated.
      Dawn and Peter illustrate the circular nature of existence.  Dawn, formally of the Wehrkamp clan of Sioux Falls, met a young New Zealand man a few years ago in New York City.  Moonbeams struck and presto...Aroha (love in Maori).  Fast forward a few frantic, fruitful years to where Tom and Cheryl meet Bill and Nancy Wehrkamp through Our Saviors Lutheran Church.  Bill and Nancy have not been able to effectively shake free since then.  Dawn and Peter return to Sioux Falls in the winter of 2008 to visit family for the Holidays.  Tom and Cheryl, always looking for someone's party, showed up early to another set of most excellent friends...Steve and Lisa Jervik.  The Steve and Lisa extraordinaire Christmas party was prime feeding grounds and one not to miss.  Tom and Cheryl's daughter, Molly  came along.  Molly, a card carrying Bohemian was in search of another adventure.  Conversations ensued.  A month later Molly is in New Zealand living with Dawn and Peter in Hastings.  Now Molly's parents enjoy the graciousness of the people south of the equator.  And so, the circle.



      Rotorua lies 2:15 hours south of Thames.  About 180 km, who cares?  Known for geysers, hot mud pools and sulfuric springs, Rotorua hosted the Midland Cardiology meeting which included the Waikato District.  An invitation arrived shortly after the doctor began his job. A party was included.  A dress-up party.  It was too much for the blonde woman.  She was overwhelmed with anticipation.  Problem:  the closet full of dress-up attire was still in Sioux Falls.  Time for innovation.  The doctor and the blonde woman packed the non-essentials and made the trip.
      Physicians from Taranaki, Gisbourne, Rotorua, Thames, Tauranga, and Hamilton filled the seats and drank the required allotment of caffeine.  Topics identical to those in the USA lulled the attendees.  How best to utilize the health care resources?  Same questions, different hemisphere.
     Then the party.  Should be noted, again, that it was dress-up.  In 6 weeks of life in NZ, the doctor and the blonde woman have attended 3 significant social gatherings, 2 involving costumes.  Kiwi's love to dress-up.  The blonde woman loves to dress-up. The midland cardiologists love to dress up.  A rock and roll band consisting of 4 of the doctors stepped forward and played most of the notes to Pink Floyd and other British rock standards.  They drove the crowd into arrhythmias and hypertension.  Dancing women in pink monkey pajamas, French artisans, cleavaged gypsies, NASA spacesuits;  men as cross-dressing Amsterdam whores, Irish leprechauns, and more French artisans.  The band's  volume challenged table talk along with an array of English accents.  The two Americans have developed the art of nodding, smiling, and toasting when incomprehensible speech addresses them.  The blonde woman will throw in a "I just love New Zealand" exclamation to keep the conversation going when she is totally unaware of the topic discussed.  The crowd settled down by morning when the conference restarted with a few red faces.

      Prior to leaving Rotorua, an afternoon of geographic investigation lead to the local redwood forest, the hot pools of bubbling mud, and the bush canopy.



Always looking for the fountain of youth, mud baths or mud packs may be an option.  Not only did the pools of bubbling mud look prehistoric, it smelled like gas for Hades.

Multiple pools of hot mud speckled the landscape around Rotorua and apparently served as a center of early Maori life.










Cheryl led the group through the Redwood forest a short distance out of Rotorua.  The scent of the forest was a welcome change from the sulfuric vapor emitted from the thermal mud pools and springs.

The walk was short, but information gathered for future visits.

Legs were stretched in preparation for the next challenge.  Tom and Cheryl, along with Nick and Kari, decided to view the bush from the top.  Arrangements had been made to participate in the "Canopy Tours", an eco-adventure flying through the bush on zip lines.  Tom remained unaware of the nature of the process until the plastic card went through the machine and another monetary deduction occurred.









The New Zealand Bush....a magical place where people search for the meaning of the universe.  Tom's altitude neurosis kicked into full throttle when he was strapped into a harness and attached to a wire by a pulley system 20-30 meters above the bush floor.  Platforms built on huge trees had steps that ended in a potential fall to that floor, but the system would launch a person 100-200 meters to the next platform.  The neurosis disappeared by the end of the day.  The beauty of the topography wore the anxiety away.

           Walking from one platform to the next for the zip line experience about 50 ft above the Bush floor.  Tree tops yet towered another 50 ft. above.  Not another group within hearing nor seeing distance.

                       Cheryl continues to out perform the male member of the dual.  Hanging out above          

                 the Bush, she pushes the adrenalin switch on high.  Feeling like she is a 20-something.

                                              What is she thinking?  Too much adrenalin
                                              can be  risky behavior.  No risky behaviors.
                                              Another fascinating perspective on the world.