Riddle Me This

Forget rugby or cricket, New Zealand's true national pastime is trivia. Kiwis eat it up. Every written publication contains a quiz, and every bar has a weekly quiz night. Every morning around 10:15, my department gathers for "morning tea" to complete the quiz from the Wellington Dominion Post newspaper. It is serious business. The answers, which are already printed upside down, are further concealed to prevent cheating. The question is read aloud. We debate. We settle on an answer and move to question #2. This continues for 10 questions. We check the answers. The reader gives clues and "sounds like" hints for any questions we missed. The whole process takes about 35 minutes, and then it is almost time for my lunch break. The Kiwis are a hard-working and productive people.

The Kiwis are well-rounded, but I am good for only one thing. I am the office expert for American trivia. You don't know pressure until you have 10 sets of Kiwi eyes staring you down. I feel like their opinion of the US as a whole is dependent on my perceived intelligence. I don't feel smart when I answer the questions; I just feel relieved. To be honest, quiz time makes me feel stupid because I have such a narrow frame of reference. Their knowledge of America far surpasses my knowledge of any other country.

In any case, I'm the only one who knew the answer to these (pretty easy) American questions: What does UCLA stand for? What city's transportation system is known as BART? What political couple was implicated in Whitewater? What is John McCain's home state? What author lived at Walden Pond? What state is abbreviated MT?

It's no coincidence that New Zealand has a gaming addiction. The anti-gambling PSAs are outnumbered only by the pokies. Buy just about any item at just about any store and you'll automatically be "entered in the draw" to win some fabulous prize. Today at work, we placed bets on the Melbourne Cup. Keep in mind that New Zealand typically refuses to associate with Australia. Cross your fingers for my guy Gallopin! He's one of the only Kiwi horses in the race. I stand to win 50 big ones!

We Won!!!

Because Alex asked so nicely, I will dedicate a blog post to the World Champion Philadelphia Phillies. Woohoo!!! I was at work when the Phillies won. I learned of the victory via a post-it note placed on my computer by my young Kiwi male "baseball fan." It reminded me of when Berger broke up with Carrie, except my post-it note shared happy news.

The whole thing was a bit anti-climactic in New Zealand, but I know everyone at home is having lots of fun. A few of my Philly readers have described this as the best night of their lives. The one exception is the sad story of a reader who attended game 5 but missed out on witnessing history due to the 2 day rain delay. As the Kiwis would say... Bugger!

My sister and future brother-in-law (quite possibly the happiest man on earth right now... get a load of that smile!) shared some pictures from the game night celebration and Friday's victory parade. It wouldn't be a real Philly party without a beer bong and an idiot climbing on the signs.

World Series Update

While you were watching game 2 of the World Series on Thursday night, I was "working" on Friday afternoon. My co-worker continues to attempt to keep me informed about the games. He passes along updates from mlb.com. Sometimes they don't make sense.

Him: 4-2 in the bottom of the 9th.
Me: Good, the Phillies are winning.
Him: No, the Phillies are losing.
Me: I think the game is in Florida? There wouldn't be a bottom of the 9th if the Phillies were losing.
Him: Oh, well... um... let me check.
Me: Yeah, you do that.
Him: It's the top of the 9th. You were right.

Don't you forget it, young Kiwi male! The American girl is always right.

Another note about work on Friday -- I assumed work drinking would be canceled because it was NZ's Labour Day Weekend. Who wants to stay late at the office when a 3-day holiday weekend awaits? The Kiwis, that's who!! The office fridge was cleared out to make room for beer at 11:17am. I got nervous when 4:00 rolled around and no one had yet made a move, but the Kiwis didn't let me down. 12th Floor Drinkie Friday was in full swing by 4:30pm.

Go Phils!

It was a classic coming of age tale. I dedicated the summer of 1993 to following the Phillies on their road to the World Series. I knew every detail about every player. We subscribed to the pay-channel PRISM so I could watch all the games. I wanted to marry Darren Daulton, who has since completely lost his marbles (I can really pick 'em). The Blue Jays' Joe Carter robbed me of my childhood innocence when he hit that home run. I cried myself to sleep and woke up as a jaded adolescent. I dislike Canada to this day. Toronto is where dreams go to die.

Fifteen years later and half a world away, I am once again the authority on the Phillies and their quest for the World Series championship. My life has come full circle! Nevermind that I haven't watched a game all season. The Kiwis don't know sh*t about baseball and they think I'm from Philadelphia, so I'm regarded as the resident expert.

This guy at work makes a serious effort to talk to to me about the Phillies and the playoffs everyday. This must be what the kids call "flirting," right? I've been known to misinterpret these things, but I see no other explanation in this case because you have to go out of your way to find baseball news/scores from New Zealand. He confuses the American League and the National League, which I find endearing. He uses fancy terms like "runs batted in," which I suspect he learned on the internet. "A" for effort, young Kiwi male! Clearly, this man is madly in love with me.

Thank you, Chase Utley, for bringing me closer to the young Kiwi male. You're pretty easy on the eyes yourself! And Chase - one more thing - do me a solid and please, please, please drag this series out to a full 7 games. My future depends on it.

Special note to Philly readers: I'm relying on you to share insider info on these games so I can continue to impress the Kiwis.

Tweet

Everyone in New Zealand seems to do something. They are not as work-obsessed as Americans. For instance, my adult co-workers participate in the following activities: netball, cricket, soccer, surf lifesaving, gardening, running, motorbiking, etc. A Kiwi is more likely to inquire about your extracurricular activities than your career. This is probably a good attitude, but it makes me feel lazy. How can I respond? "In my previous life, I grew to like indoor spinning classes while you rode a real bike through the majestic mountains of New Zealand." Or maybe: "I write a blog that mocks your culture." Now that the winter is drawing to a close, I'm going to start telling the Kiwis that I ski.

Even the animals have hobbies! In his spare time, this unidentified black bird enjoys watching sailboat races.

Ranfurly Shield Victory Parade

A few weeks ago, I accidentally attended the victory parade for the Wellington Phoenix rugby team. For the first time since 1981, Wellington is in possession of the coveted Ranfurly Shield. The championship was even more meaningful becuase the Phoenix beat Auckland in the finals. All Kiwis who don't live in Auckland hate Auckland. The city's residents are affectionately known as JAFAs (just another f-ing Aucklander).

The parade lasted less than 10 mintues and the crowd was in the tens. Compare this to the 2002 New England Patriots superbowl victory parade, where I was nearly trampled to death. But hey, I won't complain about a truckload of young Kiwi males.

Talking Shop

The more things change, the more they stay the same. Office conversations in New Zealand naturally divide along gender lines. The women talk about weight gain and various body image issues. The men talk about sport (singular). It's universal! Guess which topic (or which group of people) interests me more?

I can only fake it for so long in a conversation about cricket. The men notice me floundering and begin asking questions about American sports (plural). Guy #1 tells me his brother-in-law used to play "gridiron" for the Tennessee Vols. Guy #2 engages me in a conversation about the "BoSox" and Fenway Park - not because I've lived in Boston, but because it is the only team he knows. I don't have the heart to tell him that no one in Red Sox Nation actually uses the term "BoSox." He makes a snide remark about the Sox having won "YOUR world series." Kiwis love to rib America for calling its baseball championship the world series. I see their point.

Guy #1 asks us to explain Fenway's green monster. During the course of my tutorial, it becomes evident that he's unfamiliar with the concept of a home run. Like any man, he pretends he knows what he's talking about, but I see right through him. Silly young Kiwi male, do I have to teach you everything?? You exhaust me.

All Black, All Mine

Do you need a pick-me-up on Monday morning? Ladies, this is my gift to you.

Don't know anything about rugby? Don't care about rugby? Don't matter!! Feast your eyes upon NZ's newest All Blacks' player, Richard Kahui. Unlike most young Kiwi males, he's even more appealing when he opens his mouth.

To fully appreciate Richard's "talents," you must watch this video. Rewind. Repeat. Rejoice.

The Dating Game - Middle

My foray into the world of online dating is all well and good until it is actually time for my first Kiwi date. Why am I doing this? What are we going to talk about? I remember that it’s not 1955 and people don’t go on “dates” anymore.

Up to this point, I’ve had exactly 2 honest-to-goodness legitimate “first dates” in my entire life. Date #1 was bad from the get-go. Date #2 seemed okay, but I never heard from the guy again. I was disappointed, not because I liked him, but because I couldn’t fathom why he wouldn’t like me. My mom suggested: “He’s not interested because you’re so much younger and you’re leaving the country in a few months.” Wait a minute – isn’t that every man’s dream?! Now I feel even worse! I resist the urge to track him down and break the news: “Listen, pal. You’re a 39-year-old bald bartender. I’m as good as it gets for you.”

Onto NZ bachelor #1 - The first young Kiwi male to have the pleasure of my company is Geoff. (But I dislike that spelling, so I’ll call him as Jeff.) Jeff and I meet for coffee after work. He offers to pay, then his first credit card is declined. Grrreat. He begins disrobing as soon as we sit down. Hold your horses, cowboy! My coffee doesn’t even have whiskey! The tie comes off, but the pants stay on.

The bigger problem is that I can’t understand a flipping word this guy says. I haven’t had much trouble with the Kiwi accent so far, but I also haven’t had long conversations in noisy environments. I smile a lot. I concentrate. Sustained eye contact is a good clue that he’s asked a question, not made a statement.

One of the first questions Jeff asks is, “How are you going to vote?” Point blank, out of nowhere! I kind of laugh, “How am I going to vote?! Um, Obama” (and I alert him to the personal nature of the question). Jeff replies, “No, I mean HOW are you going to vote? Like, what do you have to do?” Note to self: register for absentee ballot. He requests a tutorial about the American political process. Riveting. Half of what I say is probably inaccurate.

If he can ask such pragmatic questions about my country, I’ll do the same. “What’s the deal with 21st birthdays around here?” This has been weighing on me. The Kiwi 21st birthday is like the American Sweet 16, but the significance is a mystery because the drinking age is 18. I’ve perused the selection of 21st birthday cards, but they don’t betray any clues. Jeff says 21 is a milestone because you are considered a real “adult.” No new legal privileges. Much ado about nothing, if you ask me.

Jeff tells me he used to play on the national ice hockey team. I don’t know whether or not this is impressive. Probably not because I haven’t heard a word about ice hockey since arriving in New Zealand… and it is winter.

Continuing on the topic of sport (singular - Kiwis don’t say “sports”), Jeff makes some cockamamie claim about NZ having done better than the US in the Olympics. Obviously false (!), but I give him the benefit of the doubt and assume he is trying to initiate a flirty fight. However, I don't take the bait. I don't even bother to defend my homeland.

I’m sorry, America. He’s not worth our energy.

Newsflash, Part V

There are no fewer than 6 skateboard parks in Wellington. According to the city website, "Skateboarding is a popular urban sport with many young people in Wellington." Young people = emo teens with black jeans, canvas sneakers, and flat-ironed hair. (Embrace your curls, Kiwi kids! You're fighting a losing battle. I wish someone had imparted this wisdom to me when I was 14.)

The Waitangi Skatepark by the waterfront has a rock-climbing wall and designated graffiti walls, an open canvas for anyone with a can of spray paint. This gives kids a creative outlet, keeps them occupied and deters crime... except when it doesn't. Kiwi teens, like adolescents the world over, are hoodlums.

Note: I have no evidence that the perpetrators of this crime were skateboarders. I'm sure the emos are a gentle bunch.

Olympic Fever

I have always enjoyed the Olympics. I have always loved the Olympics. Okay, I have always been obsessed with the Olympics. Never was this obsession more apparent than during the 1994 winter games in Lillehammer.

• A poster of speedskater Dan Jansen hung on my bedroom wall. I recorded his races on VHS.
• I submitted a drawing of speedskater Bonnie Blair for publication in Sports Illustrated for Kids, and I can’t even draw.
• I wrote a play about the Nancy/Tonya figure skating scandal that I performed with my siblings. Four-year-old Michael played a very convincing Jeff Gillooly. I believe that role is what led him to pursue a degree in film studies.
• I developed my own Olympic sport. Deck Diving involved jumping into snow banks from our back deck. I took the gold of course. If I remember correctly, Nicole and Megan rounded out the medal count.
• My friends and I began a letter-writing campaign to the US Bobsled Federation to petition for the inclusion of women in the sport. Girl power! Maureen: adolescent activist. The very nice response informed me the nearest practice course was in Lake Placid, NY, and encouraged me to follow my dreams. And that is how I became the champion bobsledder I am today. In all seriousness, I was very proud when female bobsledding became an Olympic event in 2002. I watched from the couch, eating a bowl of ice cream.
• To summarize - I don't think I received enough stimulation in school.

I overshare so you can understand the depth of my disappointment when I missed the first week of the Beijing Olympics due to lack of TV. I caught the second week though, and it was very interesting to see how the games are covered in a different country.

New Zealand won 9 medals in total, which was a great showing. This includes a gold medal in windsurfing – no surprise there. The Kiwis are so proud of their athletes! Even the silver and bronze winners get a lot of press coverage. The Kiwis vote online for their favorite NZ Olympian, who is awarded a new car. The winner was Mahe Drysdale, a rower who was a shoo-in for gold but only got bronze due to illness. He probably would have been kicked out of America. During the closing ceremony, the commentators paid tribute to all the Kiwi athletes who finished in 4th place. Losers.

Unlike the US, the Kiwis are interested in athletes from other countries. Michael Phelps was a big story. They kept repeating a clip in which he is asked about a visit to NZ. He says something like, “It is a beautiful country, but I think I was there during the rainy season.” I hear ya, Mike. There were also some grumblings about America. The most popular Olympic events occurred during the middle of the day when most Kiwis (not me!) were working. They blame the US, which has conspired with the IOC to ensure those events always coincide with American prime time.

We may have been streaming the BBC feed at times, so I can't attribute all this to the Kiwis, but the commentary was very blunt. They said things like: “He really blew that one.” “She’ll be watching the next round from the bench.” “Four years of hard work down the toilet.” The boxing commentary was especially entertaining: “He’s taking more shots than an alcoholic!” “He went all Tom Sizemore on him!” “Stiffer than a box of Viagra!”

New Zealand really sticks it to China. There was some problem in which a team of 6 athletes received only 4 medals. The Kiwi reporter said, “In a country known for its fakes, it shouldn’t be difficult to find replacements.”

All Blacks Pummel Australia

After hearing Colin's rugby stories, there is no way I'm going to miss the big NZ vs. Australia match. I plan to watch with some people I met this week. I'm under the impression our group will be mixed gender and mixed levels of sports knowledge, but it is just me, 3 British guys and 1 Kiwi guy who are very into rugby. We go to a hole-in-the-wall pub, Dog's Bollocks, and they immediately order whiskey. I wonder if this was a smart idea. I mentally re-trace the route home in case I need to leave. But I hold my own :) The pub quickly fills up, and everyone happily sings along to the national anthem. The All Blacks begin each match with the haka, a traditional Maori dance meant to intimidate the opponent. The crowd goes wild. The table next to us is filled with women in their 60s who are going through beer as fast as anyone else in the place.

After the match, we go to the clubs to celebrate NZ's victory. The Kiwis love their early 90s dance music. Then again, who doesn't enjoy a little C&C Music Factory once in a while? I stay out until 5am even though I have to catch a bus to Wellington at 8am. Ugh. As we part ways, one of the guys plays it real cool and asks, "So what are your plans for Christmas?" (It is August 2nd.) He wonders if I want to barbecue a chicken on the beach. Sure, mate.

Rugby School

We are the only 2 people at a Friday afternoon tour of the Red Lion Brewery in Auckland. The tour is supposed to end with a 20 minute taste test. This turns into an hour of drinking and chatting with Colin, a nice Kiwi gentleman who has retired from running his online wine shop and now gives brewery tours "5 times fortnightly." He is a bit quiet until I inquire about tomorrow's big match-up between the NZ All Blacks (national rugby team) and Australia. Although he claims not to be a big fan, he lights up and talks on and on about the sport. We learn about rugby's place in NZ culture, the rules of the game, how it compares with American football, and the inside scoop on tomorrow's match. There is some added drama because the Australian coach is a Kiwi who was denied the job of NZ All Blacks' head coach. Colin played rugby into his late 20s, at which point his wife warned him, "I think you ought to have a think about this." With 3 previous broken noses, the doctors said a 4th would require a bone graft from his hip. Colin's parting advice to us - beware of the young Kiwi male.

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.