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'