Footballer Vs cleaning equipment.

I had a realisation today that it has been exactly 48 hrs since I have seen another human being. Don’t worry, don’t worry, I’ve not been caught up in a New Zealand Version of the Chilean mining disaster, I have simply been house-sitting for some friends that live in a particularly rural area, however its likely it's the first time in my life this has happened. Even bed ridden with illness, human contact was never far away, only a walk across the landing or a quick look out of the window. Now I don’t quite know whether this is a cause for concern or celebration, but being on my own, 15mins drive from the nearest road has been amazing!!! I say amazing, I’ve obviously had greater experiences in my life but what I’m getting at, is being alone in such a beautiful area, your mind suddenly becomes alive. To date I’ve had at least six arguments with myself, three of which were resolved amicably, one I agreed to differ, another was a damn full scale row, and the latest one I’m sat on the fence. I will let you in on it,

Would you rather:

A. Be a Manchester united supporter for your whole life (this means eternity..Look at their badge and manager it’s essentially a pact with the devil)

B. Be Wayne Rooney

C. Scrub your face off over a week with a brillo pad(the same brillo pad…even when holes start to appear and you have to use more elbow grease..no cheating now.)

At the minute my answer is taking shape like this….

Well A is out of the question right away, so its B or C. Now the way I see Wayne Rooney is thus, he seems to me like a sort of creature that the Evil one in Time Bandits dreamed up

(if you haven’t seen the film, enlighten yourself at the bottom of this post.)

I imagine it went something like this..

Evil one:

“Right… we will create the ugliest being on the planet, adorn him with hideous tattoos, he will age five years for every human year, until he becomes a replica of Onslow from keeping up appearances.”

Slave1:

“Yesssss..master hahahaha”

Evil one:

“ However Boris we will give him talent beyond measure”

Slave2:

“And money Sire”

Evil one:

“Yes, yes money as well, immeasurable amounts of wealth….good”

Slave1:

“Ha but what will he buy my lord..

zzzzzzaaaaaap

Slave 1 is vaporised

Slave 2

“ the brain of a gnu?”

He whispers wincing in the hope it’s an adequate suggestion.

Evil one:

“Excellent….yes he will be forced to toil through his whole life sleeping with aged hookers… and what is more, he will actually be Scottish, HAHAHAHAHA…yes Alex Ferguson’s love child forced to play for England…hahahahaha”

Slave 2

“HAAAAA forced into the line up …by ….by an Italian Manager sire…

ZZZZZZZaaaap.Slave 2 is reduced to a pile of molten baby sick.

“Now lets not be silly Charlie.”

So, I digress, Considering this is the deal, in my opinion the jury is out. Although I have come to the conclusion that if the brillo pad was of a worthy manufacturer and not from a pound shop, and providing you didn’t spend too long whittling down your nose then C might just be a winner. A’la Blind date voice over man, THE choice is yours…..

In all seriousness however the point of this is a poignant one, I can now see why the bloody monks got so much done and why Buddhists live in solitude. It’s the complete antithesis of the western world, a world where we are no longer forced to use our minds, everything is right there, done for us, our brains, bought by the mass media, are swallowed up in football results, Jordan’s tits and the X factor. Its getting to the stage where people can’t be bothered doing anything anymore, shall I put this cardboard in the recycling bin.

“Na, someone else will do it for me”

Shall I cook tonight?

Na, The microwave shall do it for me

Should I pro-create

“Na someone else will….”

You get my drift, quickly go and kill all your neighbours and live on your own for a while, its great! Maybe that’s a bit strong but seriously if there is anything creative you’ve got planned, in the back of your mind, that you fancy doing but haven’t the time. Do it now, do it this weekend. Because before long we will be plugging our brains into the wall and recharging them like a cheap, old, Nokia mobile.

Hobbits set to trim their hairy feet in New Zealand.

Thank God or Gandalf or whoever, that's over!( for now.) The filming of the Lord of the rings prequel, The Hobbit, looks set to be filmed on New Zealand shores, the ensuing debacle, over will it wont it, has dragged on longer than Legolas trimming his glorious elven pubes. Its interesting though after two days of "crisis" talks that the good old PM still cops it between the legs. Whether its because I'm looking through Union Jack tinted spectacles here, in that, In the UK we have been fucked over by expenses swindling politicians since the pre Cambrian era. In a way I 'm trying to say I feel a bit sorry for John Key, If (like in the UK) he had let the hobbit go and be filmed by a former porn director in Poland, in exchange for a signed copy and an international arms treaty then he deservedly would have got the flack. Instead he did a deal which kept the shoot in its rightful home...and still got a big kick in the Nazguls. Ultimately I think there is some strength to the argument that dropping the tax threshold for a film is below the belt, and in the end the NZ tax payer are the ones who will pick up the bill. But from an outside point of view it seems like a good call, the earning potential of The Hobbit in spin offs will be massive and as far as I can see will nicely fill the tourism/merchandise vacuum that next years rugby world cup will surely create. In short kiwi's, think yourself lucky that your not shelling out for EU commissioners marble baths or elaborate duck furniture, but something rather cool and hopefully another proud icon made in Aotearoa. 

Previously I mentioned about the theory of Culture Shock, I’m sure now a month in I’ve moved on from the honeymoon stage and am now starting to pick fault with my new adopted culture. The first and finest example came yesterday, after a cracking morning’s fishing in Paihia.

(For you none fisher folk I will describe this trip later)

I made my way back to Keri and called in the local supermarket for a few bits, namely a six pack of mac’s sassy red!

Mac's beer NZ

As I got to the counter a young man, and I’m being kind here, he could have been no older than 14! Asked me for ID, now I can’t blame this chap, he was merely doing his job but what I am about to blame is not only the shit supermarket policy but the arse of a manager that accompanied it. I duly whipped out my Driving licence only for the bulldog sucking a nettle faced mangeress to exclaim,

“I’m sorry we can’t accept this, its foreign”

“ok” I replied 

“what else would you like to see”

In her Android like tone

“Passport / NZ driving licences only”

"Well’ I’m sorry but I only have this and my passport is back at my lodgings surely you as the manager can use your discretion?”

Pointing at my face as I stood there in fishing attire, woolly jumper et al, and the best beard I could muster.

“evidently I’m not 17!”

 “Passport / NZ driving licences only….. sir”

(sir oooooh doesn’t that piss you right off)

“Ok I see your point but like I said this is all I have and has been accepted bef…”

She broke me off

 “Sorry you can’t have heard me…. Passport / NZ driving licences ONLY”

All sincerity went out of the window now..the queue behind was starting to build and murmur, it was labour weekend, Bank holiday Saturday, the place was packed with a crowd dying to get to the beach!

“look love( a nice touché for the sir bit!) I can legally drive a motor vehicle in this country, with this piece of plastic, it has my face AND date of birth on it, what more do you need”

“it’s a foreign licence”

“A FOREIGN LICENCE I am practically in the uk, I could understand if it was a screwed up paper licence from Burkina Faso or somewhere, but surely all the info you require, to buy six beers is here.” 

She was having none of it but by this time the entire population of KeriKeri was being held up by this moaning POHM at the till, It was great. I then played the trump card..

..”are you the highest manager on duty..”

“well er no but I can..

(I cut her off)

“I want to see the BOSS”

“Ok well could you just move to one side so that these people could be served.”

“No I don’t think so, I want to get cracking as well. how long will the manager be, the shops only 5 tills long?”

By this time I think the young chap serving, had gone out the back to hang himself, or was taking copious amounts of drugs as he withered with embarrassment under the till seat.

She marched up with an equally sourfaced manager, barging around like the two fat slags from Viz.

“my collegue has explained the problem to me and unfortunately I cannot serve you alcohol with this ID.”

“forget the ID, now as the general manager surely it is down to your discretion….

At this point, the queue behind were agreeing with me, I not only had an audience but supporters!

“give him his beer”          "you tell her son"             "let the pohm have his drink"

“YEA.. Just let him buy his piss and let’s all go home”

Bob Dylan had arrived and set up a small protest movement in the car park…Ok well maybe not …

“I’m sorry, them's the rules" she said.....

" but you can still buy your other things”

"No thanks," I replied

"Your policy is a farce and I won’t shop here again, thank you for your time.”

Twenty minutes had gone by and I Ieft the neatly stacked bags right on the till,  I passed Miss Trunchbull and headed out of the door.

I left with a feeling of smugness and slight regret, The fact that I had held up their day, and had given them something to talk about in the canteen maybe, but a slight regret, in the fact that I am almost certainly turning into my dad!!!

I crossed the road to the liquor store where amazingly I picked up the said beers for a special offer price! What’s even better was as I stopped at the small grocery shop next door, I was greated with great service and a choice of ‘out of date’ veg at rock bottom price. In far better condition, may I add, than the ones on sale that day in the NEW WORLD(shitty supermarket, just for good measure) outlet.

(I will now commence with a slightly boring description of a fishing trip, If that doesn’t float your boat or if you would not like to know the results look away now.”)

 It was a cracking morning In the bay of Islands for my first ever boat fishing trip at sea, flat calm. It took me some time to work out which was bluer the sea or the sky! We set out, only myself and an older Aussie guy Jim on board. As the skipper and his mate baited our rods, I daydreamed over a monster of the deep grabbing the line… I cast out hoping for at least,the first fish of the day. Within minutes Fabian the deck hand was in, then me, then Jim as quick as that, working our way round the boat,  a couple of nice fish for tea and a few to go back. We had a slack hour or so but I was pleased with the four fish I had caught, Jim however scooped the fish of the day, a wonderful snapper and a decent couple of Porae to go with it. It had been a great morning’s fishing and I have to thank John at the Marlin Court motel, Paihia, for organising me a place on board. Not only that but for his sage advice, as regards to KIWI driving…but that’s for another day.

Cape Brett and the top of the top bit!

When George Orwell wrote 1984 he buggered off to the remote Scottish island of Jura, and described it as a pretty “unget-at- able” place. New Zealand’s Northland and most likely the whole of the South Island share this unget-at-ability, so this week I put my hand into my deep Yorkshire pockets and shelled out for a car that was built when I was still in nappies!

“She’s not a great lookers but she can still move”…No not a description of Madonna’s latest piece of visual diarrhoea, but the words of top gear magazine….or more accurately the guy that flogged me this beast of a machine.

With the motor packed and raring to add to the 200,876 miles on the clock, my new found friend and road trip compadre Konrad headed for Opua and more precisely the vehicle ferry that would take us to a point on the Cape Brett track. To start this tale I should rewind a little, Konrad had sold me the idea of this “walk” a few days earlier not mentioning any length in time or distance just a gentle meander if you will, to a famous landmark in NZ… the hole in the rock. No problem I exclaimed I have done many walks in the UK…blah blah. To fast forward then, there we were, looking out over Paihia, and the whole area of the beautiful bay of islands. We stopped casually for pictures, I had no bag only a light rain jacket and my camera……Around 2 ½ hours in, I had started to contemplate the idea of where the endpoint may be, Konrad who had bounded off like fucking Ben Fogle on one of those ridiculous programmes, where he invites uninteresting members of the public to trek all over the world, and then, up some sodding mountain in Peru exclaims to the camera man 

“Sue is really struggling today…it must be due to her worrying about her sons diabetes” 

Piss off Fogle its because she sits in a crappy office all day while you get paid to look after yourself and prance around the bloody Alps or gorp at animals on a posh farm.

Anyway enough of my distain for talentless Class Z celebs, time was ticking by, it was around 3 in the afternoon when we passed a sign…hole in the rock 4 hrs.

“Konrad..how long do you think is left?”

 “….maybe over zi next ill”….

The next ill came and went and another, we finally reached the end and after around four and a half hours walking didn’t feel so bad..If a little thirsty. We turned back.. Night fall was at 8 and we wanted to be well out of the bush by this point, so we packed away the camera’s and got cracking.

Now I’m not the most unfit chap in the world nor am I Haile Gebrselassie, but I consider that as an average Guinness drinking 24 year old goes I don’t do too bad. Within 90mins of heading on the long drag back I felt bloody awful, nearly all the water had been drunk and I was dragging my self along like a child who had been playing football on a long summers evening, and could now hear his mother calling him home! I don’t know what happened but the air seemed hotter, the sweat that poured down my neck wasn’t wet enough to cool me but damp enough to catch the breeze and make me shiver. Konrad who seemed unchanged from the first five minutes continued on. By 3 hours into the trek back I was starting to feel like Vanessa Feltz hauling myself over hills made of treacle. I had to take a break, I felt dizzy and my mouth was now unbelievably dry.  After a short while we reached a water butt that caught rain water, what had looked a slightly risky and unattractive place to fill the water bottles before, now was a necessity, I drank 1.5 litres without thinking. It felt like all the hangovers I have ever had, had all come at once. When we got to the car I was done, I flopped into the seat, polished off more water and looked down at the front tyre, it was four inches into the mud. Even though at this point my brain knew we were stuck I didn’t give a monkeys I just sat there staring at this piece of rubber and the sopping mud and grass all around it. If this day could get any worse it had…..

…..Yes  I had to be towed out. And yes all the local Maori kids had a good laugh at the stupid tourist who had parked in the lowest point of the field, when there were 400acres of fucking dry,arid,solid, better than tarmac ..Kiwi earth to park on. It seems we English can’t even beat the Germans at parking cars in fields or the most basic of Human tasks..Walking up a hill, and not even one high enough for Jack and Jill to write home about. I got back, ate, and suitably humiliated went to bed.

http://www.greatoutdoors.com/blogs/peterp/20071109/new-zealand-hikes-cape-brett-hike

"The theory is you throw this bit of shiny metal into the sea and a fish bites hold of it
....its just a theory"

Flynn-Cam

I'll take the head end please pal.

New born...name suggestions on a postcard to p.o box.....

Robinson Crusoe....more like Robinson fruit juice!

Up in the weka!

Tane Mahuta
http://www.doc.govt.nz/parks-and-recreation/tracks-and-walks/northland/kauri-coast/tane-mahuta-track/

Current accommodation!

Hot stuff

Koutu boulders at sunset
http://www.hokiangatourism.org.nz/listings/koutu.html

Girls out on the town!

A FORTNIGHT OF FIRSTS..

Helped a sheep give birth.
Planted native plants.
Saw the largest tree in NZ.
Used a 'weed wakker.'
Ate the hottest chilli sauce in NZ.
learned the meaning of..
Eierschalensollbruchstellenverursacher.
(learned to say it....just)
(saw a picture of one!)
went to a protest about poo!
saw a stingray.
cut down a pine tree.
pulled half of it over with a quad.
..learned to ride a quad bike!
bought my first car.
waited for a library to open!

Few weeks off...

I've had a bit of a media blackout over the past few weeks, the internet hasn't been as accessible as I thought it would be in New Zealand, or maybe I should rephrase that, I've not been so Internet accessible. My Travels have taken me from the landing sites of the first European settlers right over to the birthplace of the nation, in the Mauri tradition, the landing site of the great traveller Kupe. It has been a mad couple of weeks and to condense it all into an A4 page would be not only ridiculous but pointless..I think its time for another list and maybe a visual day to day account! Moreover I've only got twenty minute left in the library so better get cracking. As I mentioned before its easier to get hold of some handmade possum underwear than get decent Internet access in Northland, for example, this morning I walked into a nice (expensive) coffee shop, a reasonable place I assumed, to ask for internet access. When I mentioned the phrase WIFI the bloke looked at me like I'd just pissed on his kids or if he had the Piper Alpha oil platform rigged up as a museum display out the back!...moreover he charged to look at the newspapers. I made a beeline for the door and was informed free internet was available in all public libraries in NZ, I can honestly say its the first time in my life I've sat outside a Library on a sunday morning waiting for it to open. "morning" the lady said as she turned the key to open up, I'd been sat on the cold step 20mins and lept up..."your keen" she exclaimed,  I must have looked like some human JONNY 5, racing into the library to read everything on the shelves on a quiet grey Sunday morning, I knew better than to mention the dreaded wifi phrase.