Things I'll miss about New Zealand, Volume 4

17- Walking around barefoot: especially now that the weather is warming up and people are starting to do it around town.
18- Slices: One thing kiwis don't eat much (at least not as much as we Tim Horton's-dependant Canadians) is donuts.  They prefer their baked goods sans hole and pressed into a pan in the form of slices.  Basically, these generally consist of a biscuit base with either one or two layers of sugary topping.  In North America, I guess these would be our "squares" or "bars".  It's not that they're revolutionary over here, it's just that they're ubiquitous. Enter any bakery, café, or even petrol station and you'll find a slice or five just waiting to be eaten. I've even forayed into slice-making myself, trying my hand at (and succeeding quite well, I must say) making a nice ginger slice and an even better chocolate caramel one.  My next venture is likely to be a mocha concoction.  Stay tuned.

19-The flowery trees: Again, with spring here, it's especially difficult to think of leaving.  The buds are out, the willows down at the waterfront are already "en feuille" as we say in French, and a remarkable amount of trees are in bloom.  I remember being impressed in 2009 when I arrived to see how many trees here boast flowers.  I'm still impressed today.

Here's one now!

20-The rugby: rugby is awesome.  Canada should watch and play more of it.  It's as exciting and even more physical than hockey, and the dudes are tough.  And hot.  Here, rugby is undeniably, and rightly, king.

Snowboarding and other random pictures

I am happy to report that after being employed at a ski field for the better part of three months, dating a ski instructor for the same amount of time, and taking two lessons, I have reached one of my goals for the year.  I can finally say I'm comfortable skiing down some of the blue runs at Treble Cone (which would be considered black runs anywhere else. That mountain be STEEP).


Woohoo!


And, as of Tuesday, I acheived another goal -- I tried snowboarding.


Dave very kindly took time out of his work day up at the Cardrona ski resort where he works to show me how to board.  We went there cause it's a much easier mountain on which to learn anything thanks to its mercifully flat beginners' area and actual green runs (as mentioned above blue runs at Treble Cone = black elsewhere.  Same goes for the green run.  Green at TC = blue anywhere else).


It was a lot of fun, despite the multiple painful and embarassing spills and the inevitable mocking from my oh-so-helpful instructor (anyone who's ever tried to learn a new skill or teach a new skill to a romantic partner knows what I'm talking about). By late afternoon I managed to make it down the oh-so-flat slope once or twice without falling!  Go me!  Dave had to (begrudgingly) admit that I "turned out to be pretty average" after all.  Yay!  Mediocrity!


Though I am devastatingly without a camera at the moment, luckily Dave has one and has been very generous about my borowing it.  So, I have pictures!


Heading up the "magic carpet" (basically like an escalator in the snow).

After one of my many spills.



Still smiling though.  I'm a trouper.

We have motion! Look up Nadine.  Look up! 


I'm planning on taking another lesson on Monday or Tuesday up at Treble Cone, so hopefully I'll be able to actually make it down a run or two by then. 


In the meantime, I'm nursing sore muscles, limping, and groaning like an old lady.


Let's see, what else has been going on lately?


Dave and I went down to Invercargill again last week to watch a Rugby World Cup game between Scotland and Georgia.  It was fun, though expensive and the game itself was rather a snoozefest since not a single try (goal) was scored.  All the points were made thanks to penalty kicks.  Yawn.


Here are some photos.




Some sheep bedecked in the flags of the four nations that played games down in Invercargill.

A dude in a jaunty Scotish cap watches as the national anthems are sung before the match.

Heineken is sponsoring the RWC, so they're the only beer you can buy on the spot.  They come in these awful four packs, with environmentally unfriendly rings from which the beer is hard to extract (especially since they open the cans before selling them to you).  We ended up spending $72 on beer between the two of us.  That's for 12 beers.  Damn it.  As a result, I don't remember much of the second half of the match.

Unflattering shot of moi during the match.  Notice the be-mulleted man to my left (your right)?  He made a point of giving the finger to the TV camera every time it was pointed in his general direction.  Classy.  Also, it was raining, thus the hood.

Have I mentioned that Dave is also a volunteer fireman?  Pretty sweet eh?  Well two Saturdays ago there was an event to hand out plaques and stripes and pins and medals and such to various members of the Wanaka, Luggate and Hawea (three regions near here) fire brigade to recognize their years of service, and I got to go as Dave's date.


Not going to lie, the night was interminibly long what with the pomp and circumstance and the speaches and the awkward conversations.  It was like being at a high school graduation and a wedding where you know nobody all rolled into one.  On the plus side, I got to dress up and go somewhere with a man in uniform (awwwwww yeah!) and there was an open bar.  And you know I availed myself of that.




Me in a dress for the first time in months, and Dave in his fancy fireman suit for the first time ever.




Dave and some fellow brigaderes (not sure if that's a word, but I like it anyway) line up for some official welcome thing.  He's the fourth from the left.

 And I've had a few fun nights out with people from work.  Often I don't have a camera with me, but this particular night I did.


Me and the blondies: Jade, Jenny and Amber at Amber's house.



Amber and I looking as happy as we were (notice the glass).

 And Dave and I went to the old mining town of Arrowtown one day last week too.  He used to work at one of the resorts there and brought me on a little tour. It was quaint.



Me near the waterfall beside the Millbrook Resort.



Very likely the highlight of the week -- This is around where they filmed the Ford of Bruinen scenes in Fellowship of the Ring.  You know, the scene with the horses and the river.  I annoyed Dave with quotes from the movie for a good ten minutes after this ("Give us the halfling She Elf!"  "If you want him, come and claim him!").  Ahhhhh. Now that I look at it though, I think I should have gone another few hundred metres upriver.  Oh well.  Close enough.

And of course, in my jobless state, I've been spending a lot of time with a furry and barky creature.  He's taken to following me around wherever I go during the day on the off-chance that I might bring him for a walk (I do take him out once or twice a day).  Poor Scruff.




Scruffle Ruffle!  Happy to be out on a walk.



Speaking of Scruff, I really should bring him out.  He's been ever so patient all morning. Toodleloo!

Crouch. Touch. Pause. Engage! * (Rugby and other stuff in Invercargill)

Can you believe I've been here eleven and a half months?  Unbelievable.  What's even more unbelievable, is that during those eleven and a half months I had never seen a rugby match. 


How un-kiwi of me.


You see, rugby is to New Zealanders what hockey is to Canadians; it's basically a religion, and I am a bit of a convert. 


I've never understood why soccer is such a big deal in most of the world.  I think The Simpsons summed my feelings up rather well: "High kicking! Low Scoring!  And ties? You betcha!!" Not to mention the ridiculous fake dives some of the players take to try and get penalties awarded to the other team (tossers).


And North American football?  Gag me.


Now rugby, on the other hand...wow.  These guys are as hard as nails.  They head out there with nothing but a cup, a pair of (tight!) shorts and a (tight!) t-shirt to protect their gorgeous manliness (you really must check out their thighs.  And torsos. They're a sight to behold. Here, let me help. And again! and since I'm so generous, another! And if you're inclined towards the lads, I strongly suggest you google "hot men rugby" Yowsa!) Phew! Where was I?  Ah yes.  So these scantilly clad, well-shaped men get knocked around, pulled to the ground, tackled mercilessly, and jumped on.  If one of them gets hurt, more often than not, he'll wipe away the blood, pop his broken nose back into place, and head straight back out onto the field.  Hard. As. Nails.


I won't pretend I understand all the nitty gritty details of the game, but essentially the goal is to get the ball over the line at your end of the field and touch it to the ground (so you can't just carry it over, or fall over onto your back holding the ball, the ball has to make firm and direct contact with the earth) to score 5 points (they call that a "try").  To get it there, players can pass the ball to each other, but only to players behind them.  They can kick the ball forward, but I think there's some rule about when you can or can't kick it (offside rule, I presume). You can also get 3 points through penalty kicks and simply kicking the ball through the goal posts (that kind of look like the ones used in N.A. football).


So all that to say, I like rugby, and up until last week, I had yet to see a match.  When Dave suggested we head on down to Invercargill, NZ's Southernmost city, to catch a Ranfurlly Shield match between the Southland Stags and Taranaki, I very happily agreed.


It was really great to see.  Unfortunately for the hometown crowd (and Dave) the Stags lost the match 12-15, and not a single try was scored all match. So not the most exciting game in terms of runs or action, but still fantastic.  There are some pictures on Dave's camera, but I don't have it with me, so you'll have to go without for now.  I'll try and post them in the coming days!




*For the uninitiated, those first four words of the title of this post are how a rugby scrum gets going. 


The players huddle together in an organized mass, facing the oposing team.  The ref tells them to "Crouch", they do so.  He tells them to "touch", which basically means the guys on the outer sides of the front line jab the oposing player in the arm (apparently, this is to prove that the players are in fact supporting their own body weight and not leaning on the others...not sure how it does though.)


Then there's the very brief "Pause" portion of the scrum which, again, serves to prove the players aren't leaning forward too much.  Finally, we get the all important "Engage!" where the players surge forward with a big, meaty, muscly, grunty crunch into the players in front of them.  Somehow, a ball gets thrown into the middle of this mess and comes out on one of the two sides, thus determining who has posession of it.


Wow.  Explaining that (and likely explaining it wrong) took about ten times as long as the actual process.