Scotland, NZ

This Thursday, people started asking whether I would attend NOSH on Friday. I assumed this was some type of important meeting. Wrong. National Office Social Hour.

Last weeks' Drinkie Friday was only for my department; NOSH is a fortnightly event for the whole office. Departments take turns planning the NOSH and selecting a theme. Yes, it is a theme party! This week was "Scotland." At 3:45pm, people began sneaking off to the bathroom to change into kilts and tartan scarves. We moved down to the large 7th floor conference room at 4pm.

I wish you could have been there, dear readers! This is as close as I will ever get to a Dunder-Mifflin office party. The conference room houses a true bar. Drinks are $3 (a real bar charges ~$7), or you can buy a laminated hole-punch NOSH card that gets you 10 drinks for $25. The concept is similar to Schrute Bucks and Stanley Nickels.

Rugby jerseys hung from a makeshift clothesline. Tea towels and various other pictures of Scotland were taped to the windows. The walls were plastered with low-resolution photos of famous Scots, such as Annie Lennox, Billy Connelly and... Ronald McDonald. (Isn't he a red-blooded American??) Fat Bastard was conspicuously absent from this collage, so I've pictured him here. There was a 2 page print-out of Scottish facts. Someone had circled a "fact" about the coat of arms and handwritten "WRONG" across the page. That was all the entertainment I needed, but then the bagpiper showed up! And the haggis was presented! And the winner of the costume contest was awarded a bottle of Scottish whiskey!

Everyone is pretty loose at these official work functions; no boundaries between work life/social life. Someone spilled red wine on my white purse. Also, they wouldn't know an inappropriate comment if walked right up and stroked their arm. I surely have grounds for a sexual harassment lawsuit, if only their New Zealand dollars were worth something.

The Kiwis stormed the bar when NOSH announced last call at 7pm. As if there aren't 50 places within walking distance that will be open until 5am...

Newsflash, Part XII

New Zealand should hire me as its life coach. Yesterday, I wrote about Parlysis Park and expressed concern for the health and safety of Kiwi kids. Today, I read about "Children Hurt in Horror Side Show Ride." Am I good or am I good?

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.

Home Is Where The Heart Is

When you are from a place as small as New Zealand, you cannot afford to know about only your own country. I'm impressed by the depth of the Kiwis' international knowledge. They are worldly, well-travelled, and know much more about foreign affairs than Americans.

When the Kiwis ask where you are from, they expect an answer more specific than "United States." This has been a process of trial and error. I began by saying "New York," but this caused confusion because people assumed Manhattan. "Upstate New York" brought up too much talk about Canada. Insulting! Also, that felt like a lie. Even after 3 years, I do not at all think of myself as being from New York. I still more closely identify with Boston, but I can't very well say I'm from there anymore.

I'm comfortable with my now standard answer of "Pennsylvania." Most people don't dig deeper, although someone asked if I was from coal country or steel country. He wanted to talk about the Amish and the movie October Sky. The "BoSox" guy from work asked me the name of Philadelphia's baseball team. (Are the fightin' Phils really 1 win away from the World Series?!) A cab driver informed me of - and sang! - a song called "Pennsylvania 5000" that his jazz band plays. I was ashamed that a Kiwi knew something about my home state that I didn't. My self-esteem rebounded when when further conversation revealed the cabbie thought Pennsylvania was a city in the Midwest. (Subsequent internet investigation leads me to believe the true name of this song is actually "Pennsylvania 6-5000.")

Reader Homework - I suggest you listen to Bruce, Billy, and Bon Jovi for inspiration while you contemplate the emotionally-charged question: Where are you from?

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.

Good To The Last Drop

Oh, you Cheeky Little Sav! You make momma feel so good.

Te Kopahou Reserve

We took advantage of a beautiful Saturday (finally!) by visiting the Te Kopahou Reserve. There is a trail along the Owhiro Bay coast leading to Sinclair's Head, which hosts a bachelor fur seal colony from May to October. Up to 150 seals hang out here during the winter to fatten up for mating season. The seals are difficult to find because they blend in with the rocks and barely move. Seals are pretty lazy.

I overheard this conversation between 2 brothers. There is nothing cuter than a kid with a Kiwi accent.

Boy 1: Look! There's a seal!

Boy 2: Where?

Boy 1: There.

Boy 2: Where?

Boy 1: There.

Boy 2: WHERE?

Boy 1: THERE! Onthe rock.

Boy 2: That's not a rock! That's a seal!

Boy 1: I've spotted 7 so far.

Boy 2: I've spotted 8.

Boy 1: Well... I've spotted 8 too.

Kiwi kids have super-human vision (or lie) becuse I only found 3. This low number ends up being ok with me because the seals stink to the high heavens.

On a clear day, you can see the South Island mountains across the Cook Strait.
The sand remdinded me a bit of coal dirt.

Devil's Gate - passage to seal colonySpot the seals.

Red Rocks - result of underwater volcanic eruptionsWe bravely faced the hazards.

Newsflash, Part XI

Kiwis, the quality of your journalism continues to impress me. Consider this headline: "Police Legwork Solves Amputation Case." Need I say more?

As would be done in a New Zealand newspaper, I'm spicing up this blog post with a picture that is completed unrelated to the text. This is a colorful corner in an Island Bay neighborhood.

Kiwi Canines

New Zealand has a love/hate relationship with its dogs. As you can see from this sign, they are prohibited from certain sections of the city, including many beaches. However, the grocery store has an extensive selection of chilled dog food to suit the tastes of your pampered pooch. This is the same country that can't manage to produce a gel deodorant.

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.

Quack

New Zealand has cute little ducklings!