THE PEOPLE YOU MEET

Part of the fun of wandering around in small New Zealand towns is meeting with interesting characters. In a McDonalds restaurant I got into conversation with a senior local lady and her "pommy" husband who came out in the 60s from London and had not taken out NZ citizenship. Talk about Christchurch led to the revelation they were born again Christians and anticipating the inevitable invitation to come to Christ, I thought I would divert them by joking that the large number of churches destroyed and damaged(mainly because they were old 19th century buildings) might suggest that the devil was getting back at the building zeal of the original settlers.To my surprise they agreed and said that Christianity was not about churches-clearly a very evangelical duo and it required some skill in efecting a polite withdrawal when the lady gave me a pamphlet from her hand bag. They had a son somewher in Melbourne so I left them puzzled and wondering why I hoped he didn't live in St Kilda.
The other notable encounter was was with a former horse trader and now real estate agent in Cambridge. He had just popped into the pub on his way home from a meeting about mortgage interest rates. I discovered he had lived in and loved Adelaide when Donny Dunstan was in power and made friends with Australian Northern Territory cattle station owners ( some of whose properties were as big as European countries) They kept him drinking for two days such that he had to cancel all his other sales appointments. When he pointed this out to them and that he had lost busines, they said we just wanted to get to know you Alastair and as we like you, just buy the right kind of horses for us and send them up to us!!!
Then we got to rugby as it used to be played in amateur days and we discussed the great stars of the UK and NZ when I was at university. We agreed that one of the greatest games ever was NZ vThe Barbarians(invited players from all European national sides) at Twickenham. I was commenting on the side stepping skills of Welsh great(Phil Bennet) when my companion said "Guess who the mug was who was bamboozled by this move? It was me and the rest of the team never let me forget it!" Yes-he was a former ALL Black((no wonder the pub patrons were looking at us intently) who played in one of their great all conquering teams.After this revelation the conversation was fascinating with lots of inside information about what went on, on and off the field in those days. He is still very involved in International sport as two of his daughters represent NZ at Olympic level in rowing and cycling and his son in law is an America's cup sailor. He told me that Cambridge was expanding based on sport-they won a competition to build a new cycling velodrome-but against the strenuous ogjections of older, nimby Poms-who had come there along time ago, made big money out of NZ and put little back into the community and for the future of local youth. Good time to shake and leave.
Interesting the people you meet.

NORTH TO CAMBRIDGE WITHOUT SNOW

Day 10.The Islander crossing was smooth and I felt no sign of mal de mer. This was further aided by vigourous conversation wih South African, Scottish and English rugby followers of my vintage. Much debate about which players? and teams achieved what? in what year? and where?-good, harmless, cordial banter.
The drive along the narrow northern coastal highway in the rush hour was a bit hair-raising as speeding homeward bound local commuters dueled with campervan drivers from many nations with very varied driving styles. Hung out for a camp spot at least past Palmerston North and at about 8pm found another "informal" gem of a $15 site which had fixed vans, shacks and the odd overnight freight truck. Toilets and showers were clean and worked and it matters not what the ambience is like when you have your own mobile house.
The traffic reflected national team loyalties-Irish vans streaming south and English heading north-outside remote farms The Scottish Saltire fluttered in the wind above a sign asserting Scotland the Brave! another said Go Wales-no sign of English nor australian support. Kiwis are somewhat ambivalent about Aussies-they recognise the Anzac mateship but rather resent their "little brother status" and have very little love for the English. So I have been getting jibes and jokes on both counts.







An early start saw me re-crossing the high desert road in bright sunshine-no snow this time, except on the crest of the still active volcano-Mount Ruapehu. In Taupo I was able to collect remaining tickets for further matches and motor on to Cambridge-a beautiful small town which is a racehorse breeding centre.Typical of such towns parking is easy-no meters. The campsite would rival most sports grounds in size and lushness of grassed area.
No rugby tonight but for those fans starved of action the airwaves are saturated with speculative sports analysis. Will The Warriors win the NRL final in Sydney for the first time in 14 yrs? Will Scotland upset the Auld enemy by defeating England? Could Italy possibly end the Irish's dream run? What sort of Australian team will be fielded against Russia(some of the injured stars returning and challengers for top places will come out of the shadows)?
At least it drowns out the regular news-How can dairy farmers be persuaded to stop polluting water ways? Student protests about the end of compulsory student unionism. Should police get retrospective rights to use video surveillance since a high court judge ruled their use illegal, frustrating current serious crime investigations.? Should the SAS come back early from Afghanistan(fourth NZ soldier killed this week)? What to do about a large number of churches destroyed by the earthquake now that insuruers are withdrawing future cover anywhere in NZ and should different denominations share rebuilt churches to minimise costs? There is a general election in a week's time.
Despite the rugby withdrawal for one night. I enjoyed good beer and a traditional pork roast dinner in a smart hostelry and got on with drafting a blog posting when a large cheerful local spoke to me and started a very interesting conversation (see next post!!)
Bright sunny morning-about 18c in Auckland where I am now heading to return to the trotting track car park(temporary overspill rugby campervan parking-only portaloos, no water nor showers-better load on the deoderant before I leave.) Then to Eden park to see the clash of physical giants-Samoa v South Africa.

MOUNTAINS SNOW AND SURF

KAIKOURA SEA FRONT VIEW

Day 10. Need to head north today to catch tomorrows afternoon Inter-island ferry to Wellington and the the long haul drive up to Auckland in time for the SA v Samoa match on Friday night. First back into Christchurch to see if the Museum can help me with my novel cover Photos. Alas the photographic archive was still closed as a result of the Earthquake and so they could only suggest website references to NZ general archives and a good book about WW1 nurses with plenty of photos. So will explore when have next wi-fi access and try the Auckland militart museum in person.
Easy two hour drive along thr north road until burst out by the sea-very similar to the great Ocean Road in Victoria with the added excitement of individual lane tunnels through rocky outcrops. Kaikoura seemed a good place to stay the night , avoid the Islander passenger scrum in Picton and with an early start easily make the afternoon sailing.


I knew that Kaikoura was renown for Whale watching but otherwise I was ignorant of its charms. it seems to have two parts-a long sweeping bay front with majestic mountain views across the water.It was as dead as the Glenelg and Brighton waterfronts in Adelaide on a cooling spring mid-week night. The other is a more tawdry strip of pubs,gear shops to satisfy the needs of surfy drop-outs.
Feared I would not find a campsite when one came up suddenly as I turned a bend-it was a classic backpacker, rundown motel cum campsite-It was run by a Japanese who asked whether $15 was ok to park my van for the night on a powered site?-you get the picture. Mostly bikes and tents. Still, they will tolerate grandpa.
Walked to town and had a beer watching Japan draw in a thriller with Canada. The bar was a tawdry pool hall style affair-so grubby that flies spiralled lazily in the air-more akin to a far-outback pub than one in a pretty cool NZ seaside resort. Decided against a half lobster(reduced from $85 to $59) at a cafe that seemed to serve only lobsters.





The Monteith's pub was a great improvement on the other and I was happy tp command the end of a bench table facing the TV and wait 40mins for a pie that would be fresh from the oven. Many of my fellow watchers (USA v Italy)are Irish on their way south for Ireland's last game. they confirmed that the mass of Irish youth on the road are working in Australia and have not come directly from Ireland. So they are a sort of economic migrant without recourse to Julia's boats.Had an interesting talk with a young Brazilian on holiday from Sydney-he was a bit bemused by the rugby fever and an American,drinking pints with Whisky chasers(a Scottish habit) asked me how many umpires were on the field.

TRANZALPINE TO GREYMOUTH

Day 9. Fortunately when I awoke, thinking it was 5:45am, I was listening to my radio and heard it was in fact 6:45 am and the bus to take me to the train was due at 7:15. The holiday must be having a good effect in that I was oblivious, all the preceding day, of the fact that the clocks had gone forward one hour on Sunday am. So that's why the Scotland game appeared to be an hour late last night.
It was -1c andi rugged up suitably, despite the forecast of fine sunny weather for the rest of the day. The Tranzalpine carriages were smarter and more comfortable than I had expected and I even had a seat to my self, both ways.
It was not super slick in any way, even the commentary was homespun in style but it delivered more value for money in terms of comfort and magnificence of scenery than some really pricey offerings-although not comparable in terms of distance and mystery, it delivers more interesting scenery to the Kilometre than I saw on the Trans Siberian.







An unseasonable, heavy fall of snow had occurred overnight which made the high peaks and valleys enchanting and even more so as they struggled to break out of the mist. The whole route is a triumph of 19th Century railway engineering and bridge building across dangerous gorges.




There were stories of gold fossikers, the men who ran the Cobb and Co stage before the railway was done, the pub owned by 1870s Scottish migrants which offered beds abd possum pies. Then there was coal-in the 1890s-64 men and boys were killed in a mine explosion (of course there was an even more recent disaster due to gas, down near Greymouth) and today 10 trains a day comprising 30 x50 ton trucks of coal take loads to Christchurch for export as far as USA and Asia.
The trip took 4.5 hrs each way with just a one hour turn around in Greymouth-a sad little town. Reminded me of Cessnock in the Hunter Valley in the 1960s. Coming back the scenery was so different-warm afternoon sun had melted the low level snow and burned off the mist.







Sheep and lambs were evrywhere(there is a marketing push to sell Higher altitude bred Merino meat at a premium because it is more tastyl than the lowland variety. Some of the stations up here carry up to 13000 sheep. The Scottish pioneers must have really enjoyed this bounty compared with their politicallly adverse Highland homes. Passed a herd of Belted Galloway cattle to further confirm the Scottish link.
Back in Christchurch by 6pm-a trip I wholeheartedly recommend.

HANMER SPRINGS AND CHRISTCHURCH

WALLABY WELCOME IN HANMER TODAY


HANMER SPRINGS AND CHRISTCHURCH
Day 8.Enjoyed later start and spent the day shopping in some of the craft venues-replaced my crumbling dinner place mats with green foliage paterned one by an NZ artist and as there was no free wi-fi, communicated with friends by traditional snail-mail post cards.



Hanmer Springs is more of a spa town than a ski centre but it looks very much like the more modern ones I have been through in Colorado. The pools are in the centre and next door is the former hospital, now closed.





Once it was a Swiss style Alpine convalescence centre, then a recuperation hospital fot the damaged minds and shattered bodies of returning Gallipoli and WW2 veterans. Couldn't think of a calmer place to come after that hell of war.

On the heights of Chunuk Bair at Gallipoli which the Kiwis gained for a brief time, there is a monument to the "men who came from the far side of the world"-the small memorial in the central park records that five such men came from this peaceful haven and did not return.





In the afternoon the weather turned threatening-fierce wind and forecasts of snow-good time for a siesta and early Indian dinner before the evening games- England slaughtering Roumania(to thunderous applause of flag waving supporters in one pub) and the ABs comfortably overcoming a French team playing a strange style of slow-motion en masse rugby(to even more adulation from the packed Kiwi fans in another pub).
Day 9. Amongst the first into the basic spa pools. Warm, sulphurous and relaxing but otherwise nothing to write home about and not worth the $18 +$5 for towel fee. It's probably more stylish and certainly more pricey in the massage and therapies section but all in all I was much more impressed and indulged at the Daylesford spa back home(which is a lot more expensive and exclusive).




Easy and relatively flat run down into Christchurch and booked two nights at first campervan park I passed going into town-as well I did as I got one of the last sites. Seems that many football following vanners are paying tribute to the wounded city. I was also fortunate to book one of the last seats on tomorrow's Tranzalpine classic train trip through the mountains to Greymouth on the west coast(where the mining fatalities occurred) and back. Will be a welcome change from driving.
On the way into the centre of town, soon came up against the steel fences that quarantine the shattered CBD. This is being treated as a holy of holies and even the ABs declined the offer of a special tour inside, out of respect-which was well received. From my car I took a discrete shot of a gutted church and even further out there were signs of considerable damage to houses and motels.

WOUNDED HEART IN THE CBD




In the early evening I approached the sealed off CBD on foot-at 5pm on a Saturday night all roads, including streets and roads within and just outside the fences, were without vehicle and foot traffic.







It had that "after the bomb" eery feeling. Both modern towers and period buildings such as the Museum and Arts Centre had suffered varying degrees of damage from cracks and broken windows to whole walls and roofs torn away.







There were signs of corrugating of asphalt footpaths and fading marking where there had been gas leaks.By a number of churches and the arts centre the "decapitated " spires rested on pallets beside their buildings-like the mythical Elizabethan ghost who haunted the bloody tower,with 'is ead tucked under neath 'is arm'






On a wall a graffito(?) of hope in the shape of a policeman hugging and comforting a distressed woman. In a local auction of art works for the city charity more than 20 attributed to Banksy were included.




Having been here last on glorious sunny summer days with festive groups of people everywhere about and the trams weaving through the streets, my overwhelming feeling was of sadness. I can say no more and will let the pictures tell the story.


OLD AND NEW BUILDINGS SUFFERED


EVEN SUPER-MODERN COUNCIL TOWER AFFECTED

ALPS AND THE THERMAL SPAS

ALPS AND THERMAL SPAS
Day 7. Easy start. Welshmen blocked my way out for a while as they tried to empty various unpleasant substances from their van's waste tanks-quite funny as they had to resort to communicating in Welsh to complete the operation(must come from the rural and more nationalistic north)-a translation would have been priceless, judging by the frustrated gestures. Once more unto McDonalds to send my broker further advice on purchase of shares for my super fund in case the dire predictions of NZBC, based on overnight statements of possible doom from the IMF(La Garde hitting her straps) and the World Bank(former US Trade Commissioner and now bank President, Robert Zoellich), create quality blue chip buying opportunities(BHP, Wesfarmers etc).

Gorgeous sunny morning-I was very comfortable in a T shirt(bought a classy one in black with silver fern and the word's New Zealand-definitely no reference to All Black-just due deference to the country and the ANZ bank teller, although unable to transfer funds between Australian accounts was only too happy to let me use her more secure system than the wi-fi in Maccas, to move funds in case my broker buys today. Another example of the easy going helpful style here. Must come back and set up for a while to do a spot of writing. A rented apartment and a mountain bike would suffice for a month or so.The German wurst caravan is for sale-I wonder could a Mancunian/Melburnian pass as a Prussian-maybe in NZ??

Long drive to Henman springs across a snow-topped mountain range via Lewis pass, on the way to Christchurch. The photos tell the grandeur of that drive.


Very tired of driving on arrival(about equivalent of Melbourne-Adelaide + alpine roads) So, booked for 2 nights in a very well run campsite-will watch all Blacks v France Saturday night game in the less crowded atmosphere of a pub here than I could hope for in Christchurch-assuming any pubs with character survived the quake-and cruise down there on Sunday.


Checked out a Monteith's pub which served exceptional-rare-cannon of lamb with delectable veg and roast spuds(walked there despite knee locked up after so much sitting and driving.) Expect it will be pretty cool overnight at this altitude-will need my big doona(duvet)-Snow-capped peaks all around.Will try a hot pool spa tomorrow. My body feels the need.
Here comes Australia v USA on TV-will the wallabies redeem their Irish debacle? Sort of!!??
Good night.

NO CHANGE IN NELSON

BRITISH SETTLERS LANDING IN NELSON

Day 6-Was it a Greek philosopher or a Christian saint who said-"You can't step into the same river twice?" My second arrival in Nelson proved it not to be the case. Everything I liked about it the first time in (I think)2004 delighted me again and if there was any change it seemed to be for the better.
Its smarter suburbs are terraced down the hillside backing the city(houses fetch NZ$1m+ in the best streets and its centre is small and compact. It is lively rather than busy. Not only do motorists(and even cyclists) give way to you on zebra crossings but they do so voluntarily even if you intend crossing the large "traffic calmers"(England) "speed bumps"(Australia). Parking is easy,even with a campervan and free within a few streets of the central grid. It should be an ideal university town but is mostly served in this regard by what in Melbourne we would call a TAFE (technical and further education) college-at least its graduates are likely to get a job


It was founded and populated in the 1840s by staunch Anglicans and its many striking churches and commanding Christ Church cathedral testify to the settlement's success in that regard. Of special interest to me was the first school,founded by Bishop Selwyn after whom the university college I attended was named.
The rugby matches played here were at the 'minnow' level but they caused the citizens to be no less excited and welcoming of foreigners as those in the larger cities.







Many cafes and shops even displayed welcoming posters in the languages of visiting teams and spectators from Russia, Italy, USA and Australia (plus those ubiquitous Irish-has there been another potato blight? or is it not the English's fault this time? Maybe that well known "Celto-file" Thomas keneally will write another book about the GFC Emigrants)
Shop keepers told me they were doing a brisk trade and one delightful lady who said I was not fat but just more cuddly, "sold" me a pair of "stretch" jeans(I left mine hanging behind my bedroom door) and had them shortened in an hour-no extra charge and no exploited Vietnamese seamstresses in the back room either. The toy shop had excellent 1000 piece jigsaws that were discounted and the exchange rate makes things really cheap for Australians.
No kebab shops here-real German style wurst(and Sauerkraut) stall on one street corner opposite another selling hot spuds. No veils, hejabs or mosques in obvious sight. Seems I got out of Wellington just in time as controversy has broken out about the display by an Anglican clergyman of an Icon style painting of a fair haired All Black, which proves that if Christ came again in NZ he would definitely make the team. It's quite sure that win or lose a tsunami of prayers will be released after the final whistle of the tournament.
At the museum, a lady with Maori face tattooing answered my question about the large horn being blown before each game by a Maori warrior and she demonstrated by blowing on a smaller one.The lady on the desk was a keen researcher on my behalf in search of out of copyright and inexpensive(Canberra war museum charges almost $300 per copy) photos of first world war soldiers(one Australian preferably with Light Horse emu-feathered hat and British Tommy in tin hat(A sapper) and a military nurse and female ambulance driver, to represent the heros and heroines of my first novel in a cover collage.She found some leads I may be able to follow up in Christchurch as the museum has just reopend after the earthquake( they had another tremor last week??)



The local arts and crafts festival combines with the blossoming of some luscious trees. Colourful strands of knitted woolen patterns are wrapped around trees, coat a garden bench and envelop a water fountain.


Even the usually grim war memorial is centred in a beautiful floral display.Its McDonalds is the largest and cleanest I have experienced. A chap with a deformed arm works from 9-6 and leaves nothing to chance with respect to table mess and dropped packaging-it was always spotless and they are much more generous with free wI-fI time than I found with Starbucks in Barcelona and Berlin.
To cap it all-the pubs serve Monteith's Black ale on tap!! Need I say more about this veritable Eden at the far side of the world.
Off to Hanmer springs, alpine cosseting and healing center,tomorrow to get to grips with my excessively, self-indulgently cuddly body.

MUSSELS AND FIORDS

MUSSELS AND FIORDS
Day 5.Crossing from Wellington to Picton was smooth as silk-I dozed most of the way-interspersed with replay highlights of last weekend's AFL finals (change from wall to wall rugby)
A journey of reminiscence along the winding road that flanks Queen Charlotte's Sound. The beauty of the Fiords here defies my descriptive powers. Just accomplished a steep trek to a lookout and now, having stopped in Havelock-The green-lip mussel capital of the world-you will forgive me if I lunch on mussels in a garlic-cream bisque with the accompaniment of a glass of local Sauvignon Blanc(the range of cooking methods and sauces on offer is unique)


The waitress at the Mussel Pot said 90% of people in the town are employed in the industry and so full is employment that anyone attempting to sign on for the dole, is referred to the nearest Vineyard(do you hear Australia??) Should I? I shouldn't! But what the hell. To complete my NZ fayre-dairy ice cream with berry topping. Next stop Nelson.
The rest of the way was on a good, reasonably fast road-even when it climbed steeply and descended precipitately.Cruising along the coast in the late afternoon sunshine,I could see the hillside suburbs of Nelson reflecting its glow. The town was all a bustle and according to the receptionist at the campsite, just recovering from last nights drama-Italian and Russian supporters had flocked in to support their teams.
Maccas was packed with parents taking their young kids(or was it the other way round) for a 4pm snack and tribes of senior uniformed high school boys and girls staking out their afternoon gang territories. Does this happen in Australia too or is this just an NZ thing?
Glad to have stopped driving.The campsite is right in town so will just mooch around tomorrow-Richmond style-to catch my breath. There is a train that runs from Greymouth(scene of the mining tragedy) on the West coast to Christchurch. I may take the day return trip on Friday.
Now for the pub counter tea and to-night's game on TV features Tonga v Japan from Hamilton.

PUT YOUR ROUND BALLS IN THE BIN

End of Day 4. I am writing this posting in a temporary campervan park right on the Wellington waterfront, after a very trying day of travel.At least I am replete with good food and beer(Leffe) from a Belgian pub and am sipping a consoling dram of Laphroaig before I tuck myself in.
The drive from Raglan involved many miles of sub-standard single carriageway roads in middling state of repair which big trucks and farmers utes treated like the Le mans circuit. But the real challenge was gale force wind from the South. On several occasions I was almost blown into the roadside ditch and into oncoming traffic-a high, light-weight vehicle is not to be recommended under such conditions.
Thanks to several toilet and replenishment stops at Wi-fi capable McDonalds I was able to keep up with some correspondence and bill paying. No matter how remote a farm the Black flag with silver fern badge confirmed All Black territory but also accompanied by flags of the other nations-even the French tricoleur-they must have forgiven the Rainbow Warrior sinking. Whilst the Maori have a treaty which establishes their rights-The game from a remote English school still holds them in its thrall and the management of the national team and some key players names confirm their Scottish ancestry. Rugby has seduced them completely. As devout protestants they love to play the game they play in heaven(but for some of them,never on a Sunday)
As in Australia the population is of many nations but most unifying and assimilative is the pressure/obligation to support the All Blacks.To some extent AFL achieves the same in Melbourne and perhaps soon in Western Sydney. Outside one hamlet was a prominent poster with a picture of an All Black player and the cautionary caption.
"Before entering......leave all your round balls in the bin provided!" (you heard guys).
Just before I turned off to cross a high national park road that connects with the main North-South highway, another sign announced proudly that the next town was the home of Colin "Pinetree" Meads ( for the uninitiated he is the greatest living captain of the NZ Rugby team.)

The next challenge was the high desert road which despite being sign-posted open and snow free was soon blotted out by a horizontal snow flurry.On the summit was an army camp and military museum.


Out of the mist loomed tanks on display and as the road descended, various armoured cars and other fighting vehicles, came on heading,no doubt, for a testing time on the army range.

My tech savvy friends will be impressed that I was able to book a campervan space on the Quayside in Wellington and my Inter-Island ferry ticket from a Maccas 200klms north of the capital. When I found the unmanned spot and parked the van I was required to insert a code from my computer booking confirmation into a wall mounted touch screen, which spat out a ticket with the access code for toilets and showers. Before realising this and being desperate for a pee, I begged help from a man who had just left a toilet. he was French but I was relieved to find the Trois Trois,Cinque Cinque,Trois Trois-did the trick and saving me from wetting my pants.Sometimes school French has its usues
The pool game between Italy and Russia accompanied my meal-what an improbale set of opponents-result? Italian flair outdid Russian grit and muscle. Speaking of which, another excellent casserole dish full of mussels and a real French waitress to serve them.Even at the end of the earth there are standards to uphold.

NO PLACE FOR LORDS

Day 3. Raining, cool and misty. Raglan doesn't resemble my memories of a November visit when it was much more equable. But good to overnight on a powered site and enjoy a warm shower. The camp site is situated between the harbour and the sea and must accommodate considerable numbers of caravanners in season. A few Welsh stragglers are on site along with a few French.
How does such a small, off the main track village get the name of Raglan-assume it is named after Lord Raglan, the English commander in the Crimean war and who bequeathed us those famous round shouldered sleeves?? Nothing very lordly about the place nor its inhabitants.
One of the main cafes that impressed me last time served up the knd of breakfast that really starts ones day( and probably contributes to the danger of latter day heart stopping) A latte was served in a cup(bowl) so big-I wondered aloud why Kiwis are not inspired to be swimming champions.Its only downside was the lack of free wi-fi, but then seeing the state of some of the backpackers outside this may have been the result of a deliberat strategy to repel the wrong kind of boarders.
In the library it was a diffferent matter and librarians had to keep tight control of seating on chairs(not on the floor) as demand outstripped supply. At last I caught up on AFL news-the Eagles stopped a late Carlton surge and have to face Geelong for a final berth. Go Eagles!!! I hope Father George Markotsis up in Brisbane, whose roar can be heard in Melbourne when Carlton is winning, has returned his heart rate to normal after the nail-biting finish. As expected the Aussie sports writers were less than forgiving of the feeble Wallaby performance. Otherwise the Tony and Julia show grinds on.
The weather continued unconducive to beach walking and at last, getting down to some planning for the next phase of my trip I realised that unless I set off for Christchurch tomorrow I will be unable to fit it in between games back in Auckland that I haveI have booked(now none will be played in Christchurch). So that's the end of the plan to do nothing for 4 days and I will set off in the wee smalls tomorrow down to Wellington and the inter-island ferry. I will have to defer a trip to Art Deco Napier until after the next Auckland match and maybe leave out Nelson( another of my favourites).
The Kiwis feel about Australians much as Aussies feel about the English. Only when the former play the latter do the Kiwis barrack for the Wallabies. So I am suffering double jeapordy and have confirmed the wisdom of getting out before the final because it might be uncomfortable, whether the All Blacks win or loose.
Early dinner in the pub-delightful Green Lip Mussel starter in a delicate chowder with a touch of chilli-no closed-shell servings here and only $11 NZ!!
Lamb shank and herb-crusted mash for mains,cooked quite differently to my mother's long ago Manchester sunday roasts with salt and pepper as the only spice and with mint in vinegar sauce. Dear Mam.
Now that novel one is in the hands of the publishers I am enjoying a change of pace by editing and planning the closing chapter of the second. If I can find some space between break-neck travelling, I may have it finished for my return. Then it's either the last of the trilogy or a start on Victoria's twins.
Early night planned and early morning fast start down the main south highway.

HOW TROPICAL IS MY VALLEY?

HOW TROPICAL IS MY VALLEY?

Day two.Slept very well and as I prepared to drive the van out to Hamilton for Sunday's Wales v Samoa match, the Irish were still up at 6am and in full voice, despite standing out in the teeming rain. The discarded booze boxes confirmed my assumptions about what was fueling their melodies. Good place for an Anglo-Australian to leave
The guard on the gate who was a Cornishman and former merchant sailor who had experienced celtic morning after fervour in many ports of the world, agreed with me and shared his secret short cut to the South bound motorway(yes they call them that here-no Americanisation of road names).
Hamilton,a sort of mini-Canberra type admin centre for a rich agricultural region. I have fond memories of the excellent Iguana bar and am sitting outside under the awning, writing this posting as the rain pours down and I ask passing dragon sporting Welsh followers how they are enjoying weather from the "Valleys". Unlike the Irish they are at least mature and mostly my vintage but spunky with it(especially the silver-haired ladies)-obviously spending their kid's inheritance.Cymru am Byth!


There is much local anticipation of Samoan power meeting Welsh guile-but I fear this weather may remind the Welsh of how their fathers used to win "very ugly" at Cardiff Arms Park, where the mud and rain made holding the ball nigh impossible and Cliff Morgan, wearing the only clean white shorts on the field, kicked for touch all afternoon(much restricted by contemporary rules) and converted the penalties by a Neanderthal pack straight out of the steel mills and coal mines(sans-teeth and bloodied as a badges of honour)


Rex and his mate from Paris, who put me on to Vaughantown language school, in Spain,will be joining me soon.

I am entertained by a passing convoy of Samoan flag wavers and, can you believe it, a tribe of sombrero wearing and maracca shaking "Mexicans" have just entered Iguana.


It's as well we have a table booked for after the game. Will we be eating Leeks or slow cooked Welsh missionaries??
Meanwhile, a Welsh Dragon and Druid have walked past arm in arm followed by the Alice Springs Rugby Team??? Yes, think about it-playing rugby in central Australia. They were suitably rude in response to my questions about the possibility of this.

EVEN MATCH COVERAGE IN THE URINAL-THIS IS SERIOUS BUSINESS INDEED


The stadium walk was a little taxing for my crook knee but inside I did not need to climb lots of stairs. Very different crowd atmosphere compared with the brash tribalism of Auckland. Very festive with both team's supporters showing respect to each other.

SAMOAN STYLE HAKA CHALLENGE




Samoan singing and dancing preceded the game followed by a warrior blowing what I presume is a war horn. The anthems were sung with fervour and exceptionally so by a middle-aged Welsh baritone whose voice soared above the crowd such that he was applauded.
The game was better than Friday night's but disappointing in that Samoan expansive rugby was defeated by their lack of discipline and structure. The Northern Irishman who managed the Aus v Italy game blew his whistle incessantly and hence reduced much of the scoring to a competiton of kicking artillery prowess.







Welsh attack and scores came mostly from Samoan errors.
It was not easy to get out of a stadium never intended to accommodate such a crowd and again the outside marshalls had no idea how to organise a crowd and the fleets of cars and buses trying to get away. Fortunately, the crowd was very relaxed and affable and there were no incidents of anger or impatience.






Dinner at the Iguana was as good as I remembered but I was disappointed to hear that the kilo of green-lipped mussels had sold out.The journey to Raglan was spiced by being pulled over by the local cops-I had changed lanes suddenly on a roundabout and cut off a patrol car. Once the cop ascertained I had not been drinking he was friendly and full of Rugby chat and rival jibes-if you're not for the Blacks you should not exist.
Reached Raglan by 9pm and having secured my berth in the campsite I just had time to enjoy a pint in the pub with a raucous anti-french crowd cheering on The canadians who played very well and certainly put more than one dent in La Gloire. Brief chat with an older(than me) couple who were in town for a brother's funeral-there is life and death apart from RUGBY!!!

WELSH DRUIDS SEND TRIUMPHAL RAINBOW

HOGGETS ARE ON TURNIPS

HOGGETS ARE ON TURNIPS
Drizzly misty morn-not a squeak from the sons of Erin-safe to walk to the porta loo in my polarfleece night shirt-just right for this purpose. Then for NZ radio news-the farming program-They were excited that lambing was in full swing and that Hoggets were on turnips! Even better Pommy tourists were equally challenging supplies of bangers and mash. then they got to Mike Tyndall's (Princess Anne's daughters new husband) hi-jinks in a Queenstown bar(nose rubbing in cleavages when the Maori greeting requires a mutual caress of noses)-caught on cc TV and sold to the media by a "morally righteous" bouncer. He(the bouncer) is on bail pending a court hearing(only in Queenstown-home of "extreme adventure"
Very desolate Sat morning suburban area-even Burger King not open until 8am!! and one can more easily get an Aussie paper in Barcelona than here. The local Sat broadsheet-clearly a Fairfax offshoot has rugby on page one and after that its murder and mayhem in the suburbs. A visiting English rugby big-wig was delighted to be in a country where rugby was on every front-page every day!!
My friend and former ACI colleague Rex picked me up and gave me a comprehensive tour of super beachside suburbs, where he played and ran free as achild, which now look like Balmoral/Vaucluse and real estate is priced accordingly.



ADVANCE AUSTRALIA WHERE???

About the evening game against the Irish-least said the better. Australia didn't seem to have come to play and it was down to a kicking duel that Wilkinson would have relished. The irish were at their usual unpredictable best but with northen hemisphere style stop start refereeing by an NZ official and so many Aussie errors it was more a matter of a supine Australia losing ugly than Ireland winning convincingly(it will be interesting to see how they fare against really "brutal" teams. Speaking of which -how the Boks destroyed Fiji!!
The roar from Irish supporters(suspect by the numbers there were more from Aus and NZ than Dublin) was as good as one would have expected at Croaig Park. A drunken Aussie would be cheer leader was reasoned with by giant Maori security guards and "volunteered" to leave before half time.
Australia's supposedly improved forwards played as though on mogadon, especially Samo who was at walking pace. How they missed the thrust of Digby Ione(broken finger) in the backs and Pocock around the scrum. The much vaunted Quade Cooper was all "flash without a pan" and as testified by the universal boos that greeted his every touch-his temperament and behaviour might better suit an NRL team.

EVEN PRAYER BEYOND WALLABIES





I was three tiers up in a very big stand and as I left I was grabbed by a concerned official, who had seen me coming up the many flights of stairs and admonishing my behaviour "at your age!!!!"guided me solicitously to a lift.I like that kind of unnecessary,Kiwi help.

FIRST DAY IN NZ

FIRST DAY IN NZ
4:30am at Tullamarine-never seen it so quiet. At least the service at the desk and Hungry Jacks was better than usual-food and coffee fresh and hot. Bag four kilos underweight,
Chatted on the plane with a man from Hamilton who works in the timber and Laminex areas for Fletcher Challenge. His elderly mother has just had her Christchurch house zoned red-which means demolition and compensation. She will take the money and leave.
Auckland airport as quiet as a cemetery-the immigration people almost "rucked" in order to process me and the guy who did, correctly deduced my 3o+day stay must have something to do with Rugby."Good on yer mate" was his endorsement/blessing? From baggage to door I was welcomed and accosted at every 10 paces by volunteer greeters who were as toey as Usain Bolt on the blocks to serve someone come hell or high water. When I veered towards the gents I feared one might even join me at the urinal to help me in case I faltered and to marvel at the NZ facility. Glad to say Laphroaig whisky was cheaper than the outrageous price in Melbourne duty free-$80 for 750clitres, Auckland $80(c/o exchange rate) for a Litre. Will keep the cold out on Southern nights. Auckland weather-sunny one minute then pelting rain and horizontal hail stones the next-glad I brought my full kit-Goretex coat and overtrousers(intended for wet rugby game watching but may need it on the streets)
Service slipped to Pacific Island charm-incompepence level with the charming and affable Fijian taxi driver who couldn't distinguish between Kingsford Smith Place(where my campervan was) and Kingsford place(a street of delapidated houses in the roughest of the Pacific Islander areas) To my relief the United office was bright and cheery, full of multi-lingual Europeans. My "hostess" was a very pretty and naive Dutch girl who had only been in NZ since April. She had not heard of Raglan but brightened when I told her it was full of pot smoking refugees from Amsterdam. She believed me!!
The van is great. Well appointed Toyota Hi-ace-big enough but not as awkward to handle and park as the four berth jobs. Only downside is the manual gear box. Had a few hill starts that terrified those behind (and me) before I recalled how to do it(much smoke and burning smells).

SIGN OUTSIDE CAMP SITE
It was hard to find the Trotting track whose carpark has been given over to rugby following campervanners.When I claimed my spot I was hailed as the only person from Australia amongst wall to wall (already celebrating hard at 2pm) Young Irishmen-all in their national and club colours.Everyone of them must be pining for their mothers milk judging by the number of bottles being brandished and sucked!! What with them and the harness racing being on to-night it should be a noisy and boisterous first night in NZ
Only "facilities" here are portaloos-no showers and no food-so fortunately it is next to a Burger King with clean loos and hot water(might have to wash in malt whisky??).Fascinating to see very casually dressed parents with their strictly uniformed offspring from surrounding private schools queuing for burgers etc at close of Friday school.

A tall, willowy teenage girl wore the interesting combination of black skirt to below her ankles but with huge thigh splits and topped with a no 12 rugby shirt-truly a tall black. Are they keen on rugby here?-menacing black BMWs race through town with silver fern All Black flags fluttering from front door windows, driven by genteel siver haired women. Houses along the way from the airport sported the flags of all the rugby nations here. Can't wait to see what the centre of town feels like-might go in by bus tonight and avoid "fraternising" with the Irish in their cups.

AUCKLAND STREET-BURGER VAN



Found a roof-top bar full of All-Black and Irish supporters and a disc jockey losing a competition with NZ v Japan on the several wall-mounted TVs. Great atmosphere-almost hysterical reverence when the blacks did the Haka. Only downside was the smokers taking advantage of it being open to the sky. My anonymity was soon blown by an intense, attractive Asian/Samoan who wanted to know all about my rugby allegiance and who said very complimentary things about Melbourne-as does everyone you meet here.
She and her set were not impressed when I left at half time-the game was a training run for the All Blacks and a cricket score looked likely. There were transport advisers everywhere-all either Indian or Islander/Maori-they were so eager to help-that one charming man took my arm amd escorted me two blocks to the bus stop-outside an all-night girlie bar which, judging by the girls and weird men coming out for a smoke, was more than raunchy. Although the helper was so caring he was not helpful(or at least encouraging) in that he didn't know whetehr this was the right stop for the right bus. Seems that on the previous Friday(WRC opening night) despite 4 years advance planning the rail system collapsed under the passenger load and even the mothers of two All Black players missed the match!! French-Veolia-runs the trains.
Soon off to sleep despite noise of nearby trotting meeting and Irish carousing.