Trials of Line-Drying

Ugh.

Does this alone not justify the use of automatic dryers?

Please excuse me while I go start an unplanned wash cycle.

Thank Goodness for Cricket

This year, Jeremy spent his Thanksgiving feeling thankful for the exhilarating sport of cricket. Jeremy was first indoctrinated into cricket while we visited my great aunt and uncle in England several years ago. "Are you keen on cricket?" Uncle Peter asked him pointedly. And they spent the next couple days bonding in front of the TV set. Jeremy has enjoyed it ever since.

For those of you who are uninitiated, this is the only sport in which the players wear sweater vests and take lunch and tea breaks. Oh, they also take bedtime breaks, because the matches can last from one to FIVE days. Really.

Earlier in the week, Jeremy informed me that he had bought a ticket for Thursday's segment of the New Zealand vs. Pakistan match here in Dunedin. (I had temporarily forgotten about the modest length of cricket matches.)

"Oh, are you going by yourself, or with Russell?" I asked.

"By myself."

"You know, I don't mind going to a sporting event with you every now and then," I returned. ...pause... "How long is it?"

"Eight hours or so."

So Jeremy went by himself.

The only problem with this little plan was that I had to drop him off at the field and later pick him up again. Remember how I told you that driving on the left side in the countryside is a cinch? Well, driving in town is different. I can't remember feeling that scared before. I think my heart actually crunched up into a little ball.

Almost immediately after Jeremy exited the car, I made a right turn without checking the oncoming traffic. Later, coming back to retrieve him, I messed up in the traffic circle and had to turn around and come back through it. Jeremy later informed me that I didn't need to go into the traffic circle at all. Twice for nothing! Eight hours of cricket might have been preferred.

Jeremy would like to share the following photos with you from his big day:

Shane Bond bowling to the Pakistani batsman

Chris Martin bowls in Pakistan's first innings

Lunch break allows spectators out on the pitch

Daniel Vettori bowls in the evening of day 2

The Woodshed

Feeling the chill? Head on down to The Woodshed. They've got wood...

And lots of it.

A friendly mate in a blue union suit (matches the trucks) will hand you some feed sacks, and you can go to town.

They have the smooth roundy kind...

And the rough shreddy kind.

And if coal is more your thing...they've got that too.

It's all here, at The Woodshed.

Karitane Beach

Took these a couple weeks ago. Karitane Beach was a ten-minute drive up the Coast Road from our house in Warrington. The geography is a peninsula between the ocean and bay, with a sharp point that juts out into the ocean with signature erosive features. Jeremy would ride his bike from our house to this beach a couple times a week.

Approaching the point, ocean side

Heading up, past the archway

Not feeling comfortable to walk any further along the ridge

Looking back

Looking toward land

Following the bay side

Old Hobbit Estate

Remains of old whaling station along the bay

Back to the ocean side

Moved In

Hi, Everyone.

We got moved in yesterday, and we're purchasing the necessities to make the house functional and learning how to use a woodstove to keep warm. Jeremy is busy getting his 37 electronic devices in working order. (The function of some of these items I have not yet discerned.) And I am busy making really long lists of really important items I must buy to make this house feel like our new home. (Jeremy peeks at these lists and makes small gasping sounds.)

Here are a few shots.

"Central Heat"

We visited The Woodshed today for firewood. More on that later.

Forest and Sea

Grace and Strength

Against the Wind

A Guiding Light

Constant and True

Tricked you. Jeremy took these photos in San Francisco during our layover coming out here.

America, beautiful from sea to shining sea.

Veterans' Day honors to all combat veterans, past and present.

US Marines, Iwo Jima, 1945

photo source: Encyclopedia Britannica

Lost Gypsy Gallery

Heading south on Route 1, you pass through Papatowai, NZ, and this sign. Could you possibly drive past?

We had actually seen this place on TV during our first week here and decided to drive down and find it. A Free Spirit sits in this converted bus and creates mechanical and electric gadgets and gizmos. Some are for sale; some are for display.

This entranceway is attached to the back of the bus.

He also has a garden gallery behind the bus, which you can walk through if you pay him $5, so Jeremy bought tickets for two and we had a funky date.

The garden is full of larger toys--most involving native sea shells in some fashion.

Jeremy checks out a circuit of gadgets in this dark room.

Meet the New Neighbors

Background

The owner's of the house we'll be moving into one week from tomorrow are preparing to leave their neighborhood of six years. They are Cemil and Sharlene Carki, plus children Melissa (2 yrs) and Emma (5 mos).

Sharlene and Baby Emma

Cemil was born in Istanbul and met Sharlene, a Kiwi, while she was working as a nanny in Turkey. He says Istanbul is the best city in the world, but he also loves Dunedin. He did, however, raise an eyebrow when his new father-in-law first showed him an "old" Dunedin building from 1850.

We will rent the Carki's home for a year, after which they will likely sell it.

The Party

Liz and Russell are the Carki's next-door neighbors and are not altogether pleased to be loosing them. In fact, it seems the neighborhood is in uproar, considering the Carki's host Friday night drinks and BBQ, rent out two of their rooms to Asian exchange students, and look after six-year old Hazel after school. How will we live up?

Anyway, to help ease the transition, the Carki's decided to throw one last Friday night BBQ and invite us and all their neighbors and friends. I daresay, it was a bit nerve-wracking to be brought over for inspection before a pack of angry neighbors, but I brought a huge pot of Texas chili, along with a bouquet of flowers, and mustered up my best charms.

It took about 37 seconds for me to feel at home. As I staggered in with my steel pot, I was swallowed into the kitchen full of bustling people. Sharlene placed my flowers into a carved wooden vase that Cemil had brought back from Turkey that morning.

Next I wandered outside where more people were sitting around an outdoor heater. Having been tricked by the sunny day, I had only a light cardigan, and Sharlene had to wrap me in her full-length thick black wool sweater.

Jeremy talks to Martin, another neighbor.

Russell (the next-door neighbor) is Australian, and has the energy level of a kangaroo. I tried to keep up with his comedy routine through the evening, but toward the end, I think he had me cross-eyed with a frozen half-cocked laugh on my face. Here he is running around barefoot holding a child while simultaneously photographing a toddler with one hand. This was typical for the evening.

UAPs (Unidentified Animal Parts) on a Grill
(Actually, it was pretty good.)

Cemil photos Russell slicing links, while Bob looks on.

Melissa, Maya, Hazel

After dinner, there were toasts and stories, speeches and hugs. The last toast involved Johnny Walker, and I had the misfortune of being seated next to Russell and his shot glasses. I agreed to taste it. "Yes, exactly, taste it," he nodded, as he filled my glass to the rim. So I tasted it--wet my tongue on it would be a better description--shook my head, and handed it straight back. Something between fermented tree bark and rust of paint can. Hopefully he wasn't too offended. Just then, young Melissa toddled past, sipping a small glass of amber fluid. Robin, sitting on my other side, nearly had a heart attack before leaping up to grab the glass from Melissa, until Sharlene calmly informed her it was apple juice.

Russell was the inspiration for most of the eloquent apologies offered to us throughout the evening. "If you find him sitting on your front porch when you come home," Sharlene advised, "just ignore him. ...In fact, we were thinking: if we could rig up a rope ladder for you on the other side of the house, you might climb in unnoticed." However, Russell insists that all the world's problems are solved sitting with Cemil on the porch gazing out over the bay, and Jeremy is looking forward to assuming this role. In actuality, we both quite liked Russell, and we know we're lucky to have such friendly neighbors and such a welcome. Liz, his wife, is very sweet and is a nurse. Apparently she's also a legendary cook, and we've already agreed that Jeremy will fix her computer problems, and she will cook.

The chili was a big hit, by the way; although, they couldn't quite understand that you would eat this out of a bowl, and not over rice.

Remember Remember the Fifth of November

Many of you have asked what New Zealanders do for Halloween. Since we opted to go hiking that day, I didn't have much to report. However, I think you'll enjoy learning about Guy Fawkes Night! I first heard of this tradition when we were in England a few years ago, but I had forgotten until we turned on the news this evening. No wonder everything seemed to be on fire today...

The night of November 5th, celebrated in the UK and certain former British colonies, marks something that happened in London during the wee hours of that day in the year 1605. An ambitious fellow named Guy Fawkes, along with 13 of his friends, decided to take action against the anti-Catholic laws and practices at work in Britain. Using 36 barrels of gun powder, they planned to blow up parliament, along with His Majesty King James I. The plan--called the Gunpowder Plot--was foiled, however, and the conspirators executed.

Guy Himself

Villagers, learning that their king had been saved, lit bonfires in celebration. Commemoration of this event was mandated by British law until 1859 and still continues today. Modern traditions include setting off fireworks, lighting bonfires and tossing a Guy effigy on top, singing songs, and eating treats. Guys Fawkes Night was even celebrated in Colonial America until our own gracious George Washington banned the practice due to its anti-Catholic sentiment (well, ok, the pro-British part too).

However, as I sit typing and watching fireworks explode over the tree tops, I suspect the rambunctious youth lighting them below are pondering neither Catholicism nor Britain, but only the sheer pyromaniac ecstasy shared by all boys around the world.

Great photo from wikipedia, showing a boy with his Guy effigy

paddy patterson from Ayr, Scotland

Remember, remember the Fifth of November,

The Gunpowder Treason and Plot,

I know of no reason

Why the Gunpowder Treason

Should ever be forgot.

Guy Fawkes, Guy Fawkes, t'was his intent

To blow up the King and Parli'ment.

Three-score barrels of powder below

To prove old England's overthrow;

By God's providence he was catch'd (or by God's mercy)

With a dark lantern and burning match.

Holloa boys, holloa boys, let the bells ring. (Holla)

Holloa boys, holloa boys, God save the King!