Monday, January 28, 2008
Sailing the Bay of Islands (north New Zealand)
Thursday, January 24, 2008
It's safer in China/India/Mexico/Mars/(insert any place here) to cross the street.
This morning, I was about halfway across the street when I got a "HONK" from the 60 year-old-ish gentleman in a small station wagon who was taking a left turn off a main street onto a side street. You might think he was getting fresh with me. No. It was another of those friendly reminders to get the H off the road if you are on foot. About 10 seconds later, a bicyclist rode by and offered a word of sympathy (I hope anyway) for the rude Aucklander behind the wheel.
There is no place in this town where you are safe crossing the street. Even yesterday, I was crossing at a raised pedestrian walk with white striped lines and 4 circles signs in front of a primary school, only to nearly be plowed down by a navy minivan! However, I am not giving up on my walking habit. I refuse to drive to work and then pay to go to a room and walk or run on a machine. Instead, I am on the lookout for full-body armor for my walk to work. I figure also that will help build up muscles as I will be carrying around and extra 100 pounds or so of metal. Please email me if you find any suits of armor for sale or perhaps you have one in your basement?
A WARM FUZZY FOLLOW UP TO THE HONKING INCIDENT:
I was on my way to the coffee shop Kokako when "the incident" (horn-honk) happened. Every morning I set my alarm for 6:30 so I can be to the coffee shop at 7ish to read the paper and partake in my "Short Black" which is really an organic espresso with maybe a touch of water.
The second time I went to the place, my barista asked me, "Will you have the same as last time?" (Even though my previous visit had been about 5 days before.) After 10 years in Portland, no coffee shop was ever this friendly. They seem genuinely happy to be there. This morning, I got there and they had built a new table in the window. The two of them were both so proud of it, they came over separately and asked if I liked it, one of them offering to move the bouquet of hydrangeas out of the way if it was bothering me.
Today I asked the barista how long he'd been working there. (Because he seems so good and friendly.)
His answer:
"Two weeks, but this is my first full time job in 6 years. I'm working hard for a year to save money, then I'm going on a big trip, overseas I hope. You don't need much, just clothes and food. I get food here [the coffee shop/organic cafe]. Once you get things, you just want more, like you get an Ipod, then you want the next model. I have all I need. My parents were hippies, sort of. One time, I lived for 6 months in a tent."
I thought, AMEN. That's exactly what I needed to hear. That's why I'm here. To slow down, take it easy, figure out the meaning of life. (Not that we ever do, but at least I can reflect on it. And not take my life for granted since I risk it every day walking.)
There is no place in this town where you are safe crossing the street. Even yesterday, I was crossing at a raised pedestrian walk with white striped lines and 4 circles signs in front of a primary school, only to nearly be plowed down by a navy minivan! However, I am not giving up on my walking habit. I refuse to drive to work and then pay to go to a room and walk or run on a machine. Instead, I am on the lookout for full-body armor for my walk to work. I figure also that will help build up muscles as I will be carrying around and extra 100 pounds or so of metal. Please email me if you find any suits of armor for sale or perhaps you have one in your basement?
A WARM FUZZY FOLLOW UP TO THE HONKING INCIDENT:
I was on my way to the coffee shop Kokako when "the incident" (horn-honk) happened. Every morning I set my alarm for 6:30 so I can be to the coffee shop at 7ish to read the paper and partake in my "Short Black" which is really an organic espresso with maybe a touch of water.
The second time I went to the place, my barista asked me, "Will you have the same as last time?" (Even though my previous visit had been about 5 days before.) After 10 years in Portland, no coffee shop was ever this friendly. They seem genuinely happy to be there. This morning, I got there and they had built a new table in the window. The two of them were both so proud of it, they came over separately and asked if I liked it, one of them offering to move the bouquet of hydrangeas out of the way if it was bothering me.
Today I asked the barista how long he'd been working there. (Because he seems so good and friendly.)
His answer:
"Two weeks, but this is my first full time job in 6 years. I'm working hard for a year to save money, then I'm going on a big trip, overseas I hope. You don't need much, just clothes and food. I get food here [the coffee shop/organic cafe]. Once you get things, you just want more, like you get an Ipod, then you want the next model. I have all I need. My parents were hippies, sort of. One time, I lived for 6 months in a tent."
I thought, AMEN. That's exactly what I needed to hear. That's why I'm here. To slow down, take it easy, figure out the meaning of life. (Not that we ever do, but at least I can reflect on it. And not take my life for granted since I risk it every day walking.)
Monday, January 21, 2008
Sir Edmund
One of New Zealand’s national heroes died right after I moved here. Sir Edmund Hillary. The first man to summit Everest. A man of legends, and he lived in the neighborhood where I have moved. He was rumored to be humble and willing to meet anyone.
The church where he was lying in state was on my walk home. So I went in. Ave Maria played overhead as New Zealanders shuffled past their beloved, stopping in the center of the stage to nod at the casket draped in a New Zealand flag, yellow scarf and flowers. At the foot of the casket lay his medals. To the right was a portrait of him right after his Everest climb and a small gold bowl with flowers and candles, a mark of his connections to Nepal and India.
I didn’t know this man. Still, I could feel the hot lump in my throat and the tears behind my lids as I walked along the ropes.
I passed a pair of old men who looked like Sir Edmund. I smiled. I figured it was a good time to sit in the pink-covered chairs and reflect. Surprised that I was so emotional. I closed my eyes and thought about life.
I hope we can all can aspire to greatness without arrogance.
The church where he was lying in state was on my walk home. So I went in. Ave Maria played overhead as New Zealanders shuffled past their beloved, stopping in the center of the stage to nod at the casket draped in a New Zealand flag, yellow scarf and flowers. At the foot of the casket lay his medals. To the right was a portrait of him right after his Everest climb and a small gold bowl with flowers and candles, a mark of his connections to Nepal and India.
I didn’t know this man. Still, I could feel the hot lump in my throat and the tears behind my lids as I walked along the ropes.
I passed a pair of old men who looked like Sir Edmund. I smiled. I figured it was a good time to sit in the pink-covered chairs and reflect. Surprised that I was so emotional. I closed my eyes and thought about life.
I hope we can all can aspire to greatness without arrogance.
Labels:
Auckland,
funeral,
sir edmund hillary
Sunday, January 20, 2008
Trip around Coromandel
We tried to take a scenic road trip on Sunday, but ended up with piles of rain and fog...
Here's Ursula and Nick at the scenic outlook. And the Blue van who was always just ahead or just behind us. Not to miss the very scary-looking police station, where you might get cookies with your booking. (There was actually a yellow VW bug in the driveway that I missed in the photo!)
Labels:
coromandel,
new zealand,
roadtrip
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