She'll Be Right

There is a giant bungy chair ride in the heart of Wellington's nightlife district. I haven't seen it in action, but I imagine it would launch you directly into the building in the background. Why put a deathtrap so close to the pubs? Correct... because this is New Zealand. (You're starting to catch on, dear readers!) I call this an accident waiting to happen. The Kiwis call this Saturday night.

Newsflash, Part XXIII

All of a sudden, New Zealand is concerned that its "she'll be right" attitude is killing its kids. Kiwis, I've been telling you this for months! "She'll be right" is a common expression that reflects the Kiwis' laid-back/reckless attitude. It means: don't worry; it's okay; surely my child won't plummet to his death. I am amazed by the number of backyard trampolines in this country. Remember that Wellington backyards are mountainsides.

If you need further evidence that New Zealand is out of touch with its childrens' needs, read about this calendar of naked doctors. "In retrospect, we have realised this calendar is not the right initiative to raise money for a children's charity."

2009 is just around the corner. Buy your calendars here. Show us your bits, young Kiwi male!

Gluteus Maximus

If you think Dawn and I will ever run out of bad jokes about "going up Butt Street," you are sorely mistaken, my friend! (Pun intended.)

The street name is very apropos. I know it is hard to believe, but I promise you that every street in Wellington is uphill both ways. I have not grown accustomed to this. I am exhausted; the lactic acid is coursing through my muscles. Even the brief "downhill" periods are steep and taxing. You really have to engage the quads so as to avoid tumbling head over heels down the hills. I initially thought this mountain-climbing would make me trim, but I now think it is building up a badonkadonk that doesn't want to fit in my pants. Well, that and all the TimTams I've been eating...

I would hate to turn into a stereotype. Consider this conversation I was peripherally involved in about a co-worker's body (like I said, nothing is off-limits at the office).

Girl: J. is hot.

Boy: She is pretty, but she has such a big ass.

Girl: Yeah, she does have a big American ass.

Boy: I can't believe you said that! Maureen is American!

Girl: You know what I mean... a big black American ass.

Boy: That's not any better! I'm practically black! [He is Indian] And Maureen voted for Obama!

Girl: It's okay. I'm half and half.

Boy: But you're not half black! Or half American!

Today at work, I was asked to sort 6 cases of chocolate bars (don't even ask) and someone commented that the only person who could eat 6 cases of chocolate bars in one sitting would be an American. Cool it, Kiwis! You're gonna give a girl a complex!

The pictures below show a variety of steep staircases and paths that make the buns burn. You'll notice that some resourceful/lazy Wellingtonians have installed cable cars leading from the street to their homes. I'm a little jealous of these cable cars, but a closer look reveals their dangers. There is no mistaking the international symbol for "this thing will crush you."

Paralysis Park

I continue to make interesting discoveries about New Zealand's playgrounds. Kiwis do not discriminate when it comes to adventure sports. This swing is designed especially for wheelchair users! I've never seen such a thing. The handicapped will not be denied an adrenaline rush! I suspect this "devil may care" attitude is what landed them in a wheelchair in the first place.

The Kiwi children also have a need for speed. Check out this super-sized slide. Not an overprotective parent in sight! Undoubtedly, some of these kids will be riding the wheelchair swing in a few years.

Brooklyn, NZ

Forever envious of New York, Wellington has its own suburb named Brooklyn with a Central Park. (I even saw a girl wearing an "I heart NY" t-shirt.) Brooklyn is known for having New Zealand's first wind turbine. The idea is to convert the wind, a natural and abundant resource, into energy. Read more about wind power in NZ here.

On a rare sunny day, I decided it was high time to do something outdoorsy and visit the turbine. What did you say? I'm the least outdoorsy person you know? New Zealand; New Maureen! (I only have 6 TV channels.) I left the house and a bird promptly crapped on my pinkie finger. Maybe Old Maureen was right.

Located on top of a mountain, the wind turbine is visible from many parts of the city, so I thought we could simply walk towards it. Many hours and miles later, a sweaty young Kiwi male jogger pointed us in the right direction. I was dismayed to learn this involved an actual hiking trail. I was neither properly dressed nor hydrated. It was steep. It was rocky. It was hard work. My only sustenance was a Willy Wonka Fabulicious Sherbert Fizz (soft raspberry licorice tube with a chewy pixy stix-like middle) found at the bottom of my purse. It was all very Don Quixote... deliriously fighting against phantom windmills.

The view from the top was beautiful... but equivalent to that seen from our couch. The wind turbine is big (32 meters tall) and noisy. When you look straight up at it, you get dizzy and feel like you'll fall off the mountain. Interesting to see once, but not worth a repeat visit.

The first sign of trouble

On the trail

Turbine in sight

I almost died.Views from the top

Tile in Brooklyn sidewalks

Flying Fox

Perhaps Ashland's Higher Ups Park has improved since my last visit in the 80s, but believe me, it has nothing on New Zealand. The playgrounds here are sweet as! (This is common slang, meaning cool or awesome. "Sweet as what?," you might ask. I don't know. That's the full expression; Kiwis aren't clever enough to complete the similie.)

The Kiwis' obsession with adventure sports starts early. Consider the Flying Fox, a zipline-like ride at a local park. You climb up the ramp, grab the rope, take a running start from the back of the platform, jump onto the little discus seat, and let 'er go! You zoom down the track until you collide with some rubber tires, which send you flying high up into the air and shoot you halfway back down the track. The pictures are blurry because I'm moving at lightening speed.

It is so much fun!! But is it safe for small children? I have my doubts. The instruction placard reads: "If this is your first time on the Flying Fox, watch it in action before you give it a go." That's all- not even a warning to hold on tight.

And no, I'm not too old for playgrounds, so don't even go there...

Love, Pacific Style

Wellington’s small size can make it too close for comfort. I recently ran into my online suitor GeOff. I did what any mature adult would do in this situation – crossed the street and pretended not to see him. How can one be expected to play the field when she keeps encountering the same players? The same “I play ice hockey in a country that lacks ice” players…

Regretfully, I’m beginning to believe the NZ man drought is a reality. This article provides an update on the man drought I alerted you to a few weeks ago. The young Kiwi male strikes back, complaining that Kiwi women are bossy, demanding, ball-breaking fatties. Stop being so picky! (I’d offer myself up as an exotic American alternative, but 3 of those 4 insults are often hurled at me.) Honestly, the young Kiwi male has nothing to whine about because New Zealand has the most promiscuous women in the world. To further support that claim, I present exhibit #1 – a stray brassiere I recently found on sidewalk. Maybe the Kiwis could learn something about romance from their neighbors across the Tasman. I hear the Aussies are getting along just fine! Review this article, then take the following reading comprehension quiz.

Oral sex is:
a) The new black
b) The new abstinence
c) Contraceptively advantageous
d) An inappropriate topic for a family newspaper
e) All of the above

Correct answer: E. The media here are much more open in covering topics that would be taboo in puritanical America. Can you imagine that prude Ted Koppel discussing America’s “sexual repertoire?” Gross – let’s leave it to Australia. The upside to all this “openness” is that I encounter plenty of nudity on network TV. Score!

One Year Better

I am SO impressed with those of you who had the foresight to factor the 16-hour time difference into your greetings. The other 98% of you left me feeling like New Zealand's Molly Ringwald. No worries though. Your belated well-wishes gave me the perfect excuse to have a 2-day party. I celebrated New Zealand's 16th and America's 16th, extending into New Zealand's 18th. I'm told I had a lot of fun.

Funny... two birthdays in one year, yet I haven't aged a day. Joke's on you, 27!!

All Shook Up

I experienced my very first earthquake at 9:25pm on Sunday! I've sort of been looking forward to this, but it wasn't too exciting. We survived with nary a broken glass. I felt a rumble, but I wasn't dumped off the couch or anything.

Home Gym

Dawn and I find an apartment in the Hataitai region of Wellington with a 3rd roommate. Hataitai is on the side of Mount Victoria. The reward for climbing the mountain is a beautiful panoramic view of Evans Bay, Lyall Bay, and the Miramar peninsula. This picture is looking out the living room window.

I am sore for days after lugging furniture up this godforsaken mountain. The man who delivers my bed asks if anyone is available to help. "Well it's just me so... no." But I don't have an alternative. My legs are covered in bruises because whenever it gets too heavy (which is every 5 seconds), I stop and rest all the weight on my thighs.

I'm in reasonable shape, but the 10 minute walk home from the bus stop leaves me in the same condition as a 1 hour spinning class. Pedestrian walkways allow you to avoid the zig-zag roads and their hairpin turns. Depending on which bus stop I choose, this "shortcut" involves either 151 stairs or a vertical pavement. Momentum forces you to trot, not walk, down the shortcut. The journey up the shortcut is grueling. I'm huffing and puffing; my heart is pounding; my hamstrings are burning. With every step, I repeat to myself, "tight ass, tight ass, tight ass." All this hard work better leave me with something good to show.

After the shortcut, you continue uphill for a few minutes. A brief reprieve of flat road then gives you just enough time to catch your breath before reaching our front step. Don't get too excited - you still have to climb 61 more steps to the front door. And those 61 steps are interspersed with ramps. Most of the walkway is fenced in, but not all. This picture shows me at the path's narrowest section, about 1 foot wide. On one side is a drop off to the road 20 feet below. On the other side is overgrown bush that invades your 12 inches of personal space, threatening to knock you over. This strikes me as a legitimate danger, but the Kiwis take it all in stride. Our landlady observes, "I see there's been a bit of a slip" (pronounced: beet of a sleep). A bit of a slip? She means a landslide. As in, the earth supporting the walkway is crumbling away. These barricaded "sleeps" are a common sight around Hataitai.

Click here for a pictorial tour of our apartment and neighborhood.

My First Adventure

It is day 2 in New Zealand, the extreme sports capital of the world, and I decide it is high time to do something crazy. Auckland is very urban, but you can easily find adventure. I do a sky jump, which is a base jump by wire off the Sky Tower, the tallest building in the southern hemisphere. I am told this is good preparation for bungee jumping. If I hadn't suited up and paid on the ground level, I may have changed my mind during the glass elevator ride up to the platform. I am so scared that I walk into a glass wall that I mistook for an open doorway. I walk the plank, lean forward with my toes over the edge and grip the handles on either side of me. You're supposed to leap when the countdown ends, but my response is more like a reluctant release of the handles. The view is amazing, the rush is intense, and it is over in a split second.

Click here for more pictures from the Sky Tower and the rest of our week in Auckland.

Arrival in Auckland

My first impression - the Auckland airport is 100 times nicer than LAX. It takes 2 hours to get through immigration and customs. No one checks any documentation required for my visa. Throughout the airport, there are many signs warning of the stiff penalties for bringing food into the country. I ignore this and assume "food" refers only to produce. They are also very strict about inspecting boots and camping equipment for foreign soil. The warning signs increase in frequency the further I progress through customs. At the last minute, I get really nervous. I'm packing and I can't find a trash can. When asked point blank if I have any food, I crumble. "Well, I might have a granola bar in my checked baggage." The customs officer says, "Oh I don't think you do," and waves me through. Thus, I have successfully smuggled 3 Nature Valley oats n' honey granola bars across international waters. Badass.