A Fan of Sports Fans

I’m not afraid to admit that I am not, nor have I ever been, a sports fan. And no it is not my extreme lack of physical coordination that puts me off, nor the guilt from single handedly bringing down any team unfortunate to have me join them… as I am never able to catch a football (sorry Dariusz), throw a Frisbee (sorry Hana), hit with a cricket bat (sorry Dean), or know which direction I should be running in (sorry to all 3). I’m sure if I put in ¾ teaspoon of effort, I could begin to make sense of all the peculiar rules associated with the different games… but it doesn’t interest me, so I don’t. However, what I do find interesting is the fans themselves. Whether it’s a group of people packed into a pub with a pint in hand and eyes fixated on the screen in the corner, or the masses congregating to a stadium to witness the battlefield firsthand, the energy and enthusiasm is incredible and very entertaining to watch. Last weekend, I was fortunate enough to be a spectator of this fervor in full force, but whether it was all for the love of the game is questionable…

Sports and nationalism are, of course, greatly intertwined. A sports match provides a venue for symbolic competition, and the passionate cheering that resounds at a game serves to demonstrate a collective pride in this important aspect of a country’s identity. As it is well known, Rugby is to New Zealand as basketball is to Canada (Dr. James Naismith. Cut a hole in that basket. A Part of our Heritage… okay, I know, I meant Hockey). It is embedded in the national psyche, and is a key element of their culture. Or so they say. When I went to watch one of the biggest international Rugby competitions here in Wellington, it was a very different scene. By different I mean I have never experienced a craziness like it before, but I don’t think it had anything to do with the Rugby.

The event I’m talking about is the Rugby Sevens, a variant on the game where there are seven players on each side instead of the usual 15, making for shorter, more intense matches. The excitement leading up to it descends upon Wellington like climate change critics on a flawed IPCC report. But the excitement isn’t necessarily to watch some of the world’s top Rugby teams (yes Canada was there!!) compete for glory. No no no. It is for the insane awesome party that will claim the city streets and leave ruin in its wake. Now the most important aspect of this party is the costumes, or what they call here Fancy Dress. People will work on gathering their friends, and creating their costumes for months beforehand… it puts our Halloween celebrations and efforts to shame. There were dozens of Buzz Lightyears, I can’t count how many Spartans and Avatars, and one group dressed up as 101 Dalmatians! I had received free tickets to the match on the starting day and so didn’t have any time to make up a costume, which I didn’t think would be a problem…. It was. It’s a strange thing to have a man wearing a bikini, feather boa and heels, walking with his friend Spiderman, make a snarky judging remark about how you’re dressed, and feel deeply embarrassed.

Oh and then there’s the drinking. As I was walking to work at 9:00 on the Friday morning, there were people out on patios with pitchers of beer, and in the case of what appeared to be a meeting of butchers… several bottles of wine. I thought I had somehow got my time zones mixed up and was REALLY late for work. Nope. That’s when it starts… and it doesn’t end until 2 days later. It’s alcoholism under the guise of Rugby obsession. So I suppose what I’m saying is that they are not a nation enamoured with watching men built like trees tackle each other over a ball… they just look for any excuse to throw a crazy party, which is just as commendable a cultural trait as any in my opinion.

This has been brought to you by the letter W....

Did I mention I moved to Wellington? I have been living (by whatever definition it means to have lived somewhere) in the country’s capital for nearly two months now, and have settled in quite nicely to the ups, downs and blustery turnarounds of this funky, vibrant city. There have been highs and lows, I laughed and cried, and Peter Jackson made a cameo (as per usual when one moves to a new place). Here are a few of the main characteristics of life in a windy, dynamic town.

When I say this city is windy, I don’t mean a light sea breeze or an afternoon zephyr. Somewhere in the world a butterfly is flapping its wings constantly, and chaos theory is concentrating its effects on Wellington. This is no average turn-your-umbrella-upside-down sort of strong wind. This blowing air will take whatever sanity and stability on earth you thought you had and send it left! Then right! Then up and ... gone! I wish I could say I was exaggerating (but I’m not capable of it), and I really don’t mind it…. Truth be told I know I’m going to be blown off a hillside into oblivion on one of those days that I’m walking to work with a patio umbrella, but it’s how I always wanted to go.

Which reminds me of work. It’s nice to have a work to walk to. Let’s just say that finding a job in Wellington was about as difficult as finding Nemo, the ring… or meaning in a Pauly Shore movie. We moved here at a time when all the students were finishing up at school and were fully available to their current employers, leaving us working holiday makers on a very low budget holiday. Now some of us (Mike and Janelle) have practical degrees, and already had jobs lined up at the hospital. Hana was able to use her luck and charm to get a job quite quickly at a funky Cuban Café… which left the rest of us unemployable. Fortunately, there were a few leftover job scraps and I just so happened to score a position as a flyer hander outer for Butler’s Chocolate Shop. Luckily for my other jobless friends, Evelyn and Jeb, I utilized my excellent networking skills to get them jobs as well working alongside me in the gutter, I mean sidewalk. For 3 hours a day I would stand there offering people a coupon for a dollar off a hot drink and my dignity which they took quite readily. Now I know I sound disparaging and bitter, but I didn’t mention that it paid $12.50 an hour, and we received our choice of hot beverage at the end! And they say you can’t put a price on pride…

(Situation has changed and we all now have real jobs that we are actually happy in! Just so you know. But that could change too. Sigh.)

Now if I can put away the complaining stick for just a moment, I have to say that aside from the wind and the work woes, Wellington is absolutely wonderful. It’s walkable, whimsical, and wicked as. We go rock climbing frequently, attend Trivia nights regularly (they take Trivia very seriously here and the Guelph team could clean up!), and witness World Unicycling Championships on occasion (They’re on right now! So many people on one wheel! Too much to handle!…or none at all he he). It is a great place to be if you don’t mind the occasional earthquake, and like ukuleles (yes there is an international Wellington Ukulele Orchestra).

The Good, The Bad, and the Undecideds...

New Zealand is a country of contrasts and quirks. It is fascinating and frustrating, beautiful and backwards, instilling a sense of wonderment in its beholders, while evoking exasperation as well. Of course it has a great deal to offer; National Geographic Traveller magazine doesn’t bestow the title of top travel destination 2009 without guaranteeing its well-deserved (unless of course they’ve been bribed…. with sheep. Have you read some of their articles? There’s a lot of fluff in there! Booo…. Or should I say baaaa), but the National Geographic panel of judges may have been so overwhelmed by this country’s marvellous attributes (or drunk off the wine) that they failed to notice some of the less appealing features. First I will try to sell you on a trip here, then state the reasons you should demand some sort of discount, followed by a few points that make you feel Swiss on the matter…

The Good:

1) Have you seen Lord of the Rings?! Sorry to play that card and I’m sure I will be beat up for it later (most likely by Hana), but it must be done. The landscape is breathtaking. Whether on the coast, surrounded by forest, or gazing at mountains, there seems to be an unlimited supply of "Wow!s" to be pulled out of your word bag and thrown forcefully at the person standing next to you. Pictures don’t do it justice. It’s wicked as.

2) 2) There is a gastronomically delightful experience to be had by everyone. Whether you are sugar-free, gluten-free, lactose-free, cruelty-free, does-not-cast-a-shadow, or even just one of those strange unenlightened ‘normies’ you will ask and it will be deliciously given. Kiwis take pride in their food and wine and rightfully so. I could go on for a while about this… and probably will in another note.

3) Festivals. On every corner, weekend, and interest. Music fests with amazing international and local acts, food and wine events, art and film festivals from different nations, extreme sports, unicycles, sheep shearing, Haka dance competitions, you name it, it’s taking place in festival form somewhere in the country right now….

There are of course many more goods, but we need to leave some room for…

The Bads:

1) The housing: Don’t get me wrong, there is some very cool home design around these parts, but the interiors can be lacking in the sense that there is no insulation! What the function? It’s not as though colder temperatures are a recent occurrence. No no, its been cool during winter and spring for a while here, and they’ve seen what’s out there. So use it! Oh and they have two faucets in every bathroom sink, as in one hot tap and one cold tap, which makes about as much sense as tetraneutrons (the first person to write me as to why this doesn't make sense receives a prize in the mail). Scalding hot or freezing cold, these are the only two options for washing your face.

2) Overpriced, terribly slow internet.

3) Overpriced lots of things. Zucchinis, bike parts, shoes, books, contact solution (good thing I don’t wear them :)

4) Very, very, very poor customer service (not in all circumstances, but a lot)

5) Newspapers… or information about the world outside New Zealand, which wouldn’t be so bad if the internet wasn’t so overpriced and terribly slow….

There are of course more bads, but maybe you think they’re in the following category…

The Undecideds

1) No shoes? No problem. You can go barefoot everywhere in the country. Grocery stores, shopping malls, fancy cellar doors for wine tasting, there is always someone exercising their right to let their toes run wild and free.

2) Prostitution is legal.

3) Not wearing a bike helmet on the other hand is illegal (not sure how I feel about this one, studies have shown mandatory helmets are related to increases in bike accidents. The law causes ridership to drop, which leads to motorists being less cautious of cyclists…hmm)

4) Possum culling. Invasive species that has destroyed native flora so they bump off the little guys when/wherever they can. Both make me a sad panda.

5) Marshmallows.

Well that’s it for now. Hopefully, I was able to sell you on a trip to come visit me! The deal is I throw in a free pickup from the airport and a place to sleep…. If you’re still not satisfied, I can offer some sort of daily compliment or clever proverb. You decide.

No shame caves here....

When you visit a country for the first time, someone along the way will pose the question “So what’s the best thing you’ve seen/done/experienced so far?” (The answer to all three is Fried Green Tomatoes) I typically struggle with finding a response to this one. If you’ve constantly been on the go, there can be any number of extraordinary things you’ve experienced, and it can be difficult to find one that truly topped the list as most exceptional. Not so this time.

A few weeks ago, while Hana and I were still nomads, we found ourselves driving through a place called Waitomo, and thought it a good idea to go caving. Okay it really wasn’t that spontaneous. When we first met up in Auckland, there were three serious decisions that were made; Buy a car, drive around in it, and go caving in Waitomo. We employed a number of unique decision-making tactics and analyzed cost-benefit ratios to reach these decisions, so if anyone would like strategy advice let us know.

There are a number of different adventure companies that operate in the area, each one owning the rights to a different cave system and offering various approaches to experiencing them. Abseiling, black water rafting, glow worms, stalagmites and stalactites (know which is which?) were among them. Now in order to address our issues with heights (Hana) and small confined spaces (me… I trace it back to being born), we thought we’d go for something that had everything. We joined a group of six, which included an awesome Canadian couple in their sixties, and two awkward Germans. It was lead by a hilarious kiwi with a sharp tongue and low tolerance for stupidity, and a handsome young apprentice starting out on his first day of work as a cave guide. We only lost half the group that afternoon.

Thus began one of the most incredible things I’ve ever done. Does everyone remember the episode of Caves on Planet Earth where they abseil 30 meters down into the limestone caves and the ceilings are covered in glow worms? That’s where we went. Hana and I spelunked all over that subterranean world. We crawled through tiny rock crevasses, fought our way through rapids, and turned off our headlamps to follow a path that was only lit by millions of (hungry) living stars. All that was missing was the delightful commentary of David Attenborough who I wish narrated my every move. No, I take that back…..

The awesomeness of the day actually did not end there. In asking our cave guide for advice on where we could park our car overnight to sleep, we somehow ended up at his home where we met his wonderful family who welcomed us in, offered us dinner, a place to sleep, and a tour of the largest private collection of chainsaws in the southern hemisphere. It was amazing, both him and his family, and the chainsaws. Best. Episode. Ever.

Now if only we had taken his father’s advice on Wellington…. And the wind. My god, the wind. We can’t say we weren’t warned….