It Wasn't Supposed to End This Way

Speaking of Maori culture, I recently attended a Maori hangi and concert. It's basically a big show for tourists that involves traditional Maori food, song, dance, etc. To put it simply, it was all very "Disneyland" and not worth the money.

What was worth the money, however, were the 30 minute bus rides back and forth between the city and the Maori village. Our "driver guide John" (as he liked to call himself) was quite entertaining. Think "Murray" from Flight of the Conchords. On the way there, he was very adamant that we "use our imaginary" to travel back in time and turn our bus into a waka (Maori canoe). He stuck to the script very closely and made sure to announce when he was moving from the causal part of his speech to the formal part of his speech. He warned us many times: "You're about to experience a culture experience." We swerved off the road a few times and he'd say, "That's just your driver guide going into a ditch."

On the way home, the driver guides are apparently supposed to end this charade by giving special acknowledgment to home countries of all visitors. Each country was supposed to elect a representative to come to the front of the bus and lead his countrymen in the national anthem or some other native song. Sounds like fun, right? As driver guide John launched into his spiel, some people on the bus continued to talk. He asked them to be quiet and they continued to talk. The rest went something like this... he got increasingly frustrated with each reprimand.

John: "Oh I can't believe the Czech Republic is still talking.
John: "Czech Republic, you are being so disrespectful."
John: "Can the interpreter please take care of the loud men from the Czech Republic?"
John: "Czech Republic, can you please show some respect?"
John: "I'm just trying to shut down this cultural experience."
John: "I can't put an end to this cultural experience until the Czech Republic gets quiet."
John: "It wasn't supposed to end like this!"

Driver guide John then pulled over the bus to scold the entire Czech Republic. Just like your dad used to threaten on long car trips! Don't make me turn this bus around! I was biting my lip to stifle my laughter. Dawn, who was doing the same, said, "Don't even look at me." We couldn't contain ourselves.

Driver guide John had just about enough from those brutes. "If we were visiting your country, I can tell you we'd be very disresp... I mean... we would be very respectful. Because that's just how the Maori are." They finally shut up and driver guide John proceeded to shut down the cultural experience properly. When it was time for the Czech Republic to sing its national anthem, driver guide John yell out: "Come on Czech Republic! Now it's your turn to make some nooooiiiissse!!!" And that they did! The Czech Republic national anthem has about 5 verses and it sounds suspiciously like a drinking song. They're a very boisterous people.

As luck would have it, Dawn and I were the last 2 people on the bus to be dropped off. When it was just the 2 of us, driver guide John looked back at us in his rearview mirror. (To follow the rest of the story, you should know that there was a long delay when a USA rep was called for on the bus. We were debating on a good song... maybe the Oscar Mayer bologna song? In the meantime, another man got up and led the bus in a mangled version of the Star Spangled Banner.)

John: (he referred to people only by their country name) "Hey USA - do you know who that was who sang your national anthem? (long pause) He was a New Zealander... from New Plymouth."

His tone was hushed and disapproving. Think about when you pulled some antic and your parents would say, "I'm not angry; I'm just disappointed." Driver guide John was trying to shame us!! Now let me tell you something. The man who eventually volunteered to sing the Star Spangled Banner was overweight, wearing a Texas Roadhouse t-shirt, sweatpants, and a big fanny pack. I'm pretty damn sure he was an American.

East Cape

The section of NZ's north island known as the East Cape is one of the most isolated and least-visited parts of the country. There are no proper grocery stores; petrol stations are far and few between. In my opinion, it's also one of the most beautiful parts of the country, thanks in part to its remoteness. You can walk along the beach for miles without seeing another person; the roads are eerily quiet. There are no hotels or rowdy youth hostels. The only accommodation comes in the form of small home-stay style beach houses. No TVs, no computers, and it was great! These places started at as one-room baches (Kiwi beach house) and have slowly expanded over the years. They're usually owned and operated by the same Kiwi bloke who built the place 30 years ago. There were usually no more than 10 people staying at these houses - all ages and nationalities. We shared good conversation, good dessert, and good drink!

The vast majority of residents on the East Cape are Maori. In fact, this is NZ's largest concentration of Maori people. It's not uncommon to hear the language spoken in the street or see a sign in the corner shop written in Maori. Driving along the coast, you see more maraes (Maori meeting houses, community centers) than homes or businesses. These structures are easily identified by their beautiful bright red wooden carvings. The communities here are very tight-knit and proud of their heritage. There was a time not very long ago when it wasn't popular to be Maori, but they've recently started "taking back" the culture. The old custom of facial tattooing (moko) has been revived. For men, this involves the full face. For women, the tattoo is usually limited to the lower lip and chin. These designs are incredibly intricate and eye-catching, but I'm not sure if it polite to stare at someone's face.

The Maori people may be concentrated in the East Cape, but their influence reaches much further. Maori art and myth are a BIG part of NZ culture. Heck, the All Blacks do the haka before every game! It also plays a prominent role in tourism. The Maori are certainly afforded more respect and recognition than the Native Americans of the US. However, nothing is perfect. Maybe I'm a cynic, but I've tried to politely ask/observe whether all this "inclusion" is a sign of true respect for Maori culture or whether it is a bunch of politically correct BS. A lot of people say it's half and half.

The truth is that there is still a lot of racism and inequality. I'm not sure that this would be apparent to a short-term visitor. The longer I'm here, the more I pick up on this... whether it be a racist joke, rude comment, etc. Maoris make up 17% of the NZ population, but over 50% of the prison population. Their income is below the national average. Something is wrong there. I wonder what kind of job opportunities an East Cape resident has? There is nothing there. And what other resources/services are available to the community? Obesity, an important public health issue, disproportionately affects the Maoris.

Sure, those tight-knit communities on the East Cape seem to live in relative harmony, but it kind of feels like segregation. They don't always welcome white (pakeha) visitors and white visitors (Kiwi and foreign) don't always want to go there. The East Cape is said to have some of NZ's best surfing, but I've been told that Kiwis don't vacation there very often. One person told me a story about accidentally offending a man by calling him Kiwi. He sternly explained, "I'm not Kiwi. I'm Maori."

I'm certainly no expert on the matter, but I've been very intrigued by Maori culture and its place in today's New Zealand. Of course, these are just my personal observations and I'm sure many people would disagree. I think NZ has done a lot of things right, but I don't think it's the racial/cultural utopia it sometimes portrays itself as to visitors. There are lots of questions, but I don't know the answers. As the Kiwis would say, it's something to "have a think" about.

Horse Trek

Horse is still a common mode of transportation on the East Cape of NZ. It reminded me a little bit of Corolla in the Outer Banks. I saw the horses running along the beach and thought, "This looks like fun." I was wrong. The 2-hour moonlight ride turned out to be very nervewracking.

As Dawn and her horse galloped past me, she asked, "Did you tell this guy we've never done this before?" I had, but that doesn't matter in NZ. We received minimal instruction. I was basically boosted onto the horse, told to pull the reins to stop him, and kick him to make him go. Helmets were optional. I chose to wear one, but it was too small for my large head/hair and caused more pain than a head injury would have.

The sunset was beautiful, but it quickly turned very dark. There was a full moon, but it was still impossible at times to see the horses/riders ahead of me. They weren't overly concerned with keeping the group together.

The horse was having no part of my instructions. It wanted to go very slow or run. I pictured myself being launched headfirst a la Christopher Reeve. At times, I would let him gallop to keep up with the group, but that was strategy was simply too painful to maintain. Let's just say the saddle was less than comfortable, and I required a cushioned chair for the next 24 hours. My back was also very sore from having to sit so straight and rigid. (Note to self: work on posture.) I was able to relieve some of the pain by pushing my feet further into the stirrups. That way, I could my feet to support some of my weight. The next day, I learned that the one piece of advice the instructor gave Dawn was: "Do not push your feet all the way into the stirrups." Apparently, your foot can get stuck and you will be dragged along like a ragdoll if the horse bolts. Who knew?!

Newsflash, Part XXXVIII

Just like in the US, malls in New Zealand are being overrun by teenage hoons. In response, a Christchurch mall will begin playing the tunes of crooner Barry Manilow. This will hopefully drive away the kids and attract a more desirable demographic... middle-aged mothers. I dedicate this blog post to my mom, who recently attended a Barry Manilow concert. No joke!

* Special thanks to Candice for sniffing out this Kiwi news story all the way from Brooklyn!

Napier, NZ

I write to you from Napier, NZ, which was destroyed by an earthquake in 1931. That earthquake was the best thing that ever happened in the town. Art deco was all the rage when the town was being rebuilt, so they took the fad and ran with it! Napier now has one of the largest collections of art deco buildings in the world. There are heaps of cute retro-looking pastel shops and hotels. It's all very Miami Vice. This chic town is gaining a reputation as "the new Auckland" because it is filled with snobs who care about art and fashion. These aint' no gumboot-wearing bogans!

Tongariro Crossing

Is New Zealand's most beautiful day hike still beautiful if you can't see it? My left contact lens ripped on the way to the Tongariro National Park, so I didn't get the full experience. But what I saw was absolutely amazing... worth every hour of grueling uphill climbing. More than 24 hours later, I am very sore and still exhausted.

The 18.5 kilometer Tongariro Alpine crossing is considered to be NZ's best day tramp (Kiwispeak for hiking... please no tramp jokes. I've heard them all before). It is also consistently ranked as one of the top ten day tramps in the world. You climb up mountains, around an active volcano crater, turquoise lakes, steam spouting forth from the ground. In addition to the photos above, you can see some of the spectacular views at this website.

Keep On Keepin' On

Fear not, dear readers. I am still alive and well in New Zealand. I am on the road again after conquering the south island and spending a week in my adopted hometown of Wellington. The great Kiwi road trip continues for one more month in the north island! Time flies.

I am trying to travel a little bit lighter at each stage of this journey. If you know me, you will understand how difficult that is. At this point, I made the gut-wrenching decision to leave my laptop in Wellington. That 2003 model is just too big and heavy to lug around. Unfortunately, this means the blogging may get even slower and picture-less. I will do my best to keep you updated from internet cafes (while I'm surrounded by Asian teenage boys playing computer games).

The Oscars

Did you watch the Academy Awards on Sunday? I did not, but if I'm to believe the local media, the ceremony revolved around New Zealand. Did you also come away with that impression?

Host Hugh Jackman, star of the major motion picture Australia, joked: "Because of the recession, everything is being downsized. Next year, I'll be starring in a movie called New Zealand." I might consider that an insult, but the Kiwis embraced it. Thrilled to be included in the spotlight, they printed the joke on the front page of the newspaper. There's no such thing as bad publicity!

The front page story also pointed out that Best Actress winner Kate Winslet thanked Kiwi Peter Jackson in her acceptance speech because he directed her in her first movie.

Where would Hollywood be without New Zealand?

Buck Nekkid

And to think that one short week ago my biggest worry was barefoot Kiwis...

That is the least of my concerns after spending 2 nights at a "clothing optional" campground. I imagined this meant a small section of the beach would allow topless sunbathing. Ok, I can deal with that. But I was not prepared for a full-on nudist camp. You see, the thing about nudists is... they're NUDE. Everything you have heard is true. These are not the people you want to see naked. Gravity and time have taken their toll. It is very awkward and you don't know where to direct your eyes. I saw only one attractive man at this camp. Sadly, he was fully clothed.

The nudist camp's damage to my eyesight was offset by the boost to my self-esteem. If you're having body image issues, I highly recommend a trip to a nudist camp. You'll feel more young and perky and desirable than ever. I PROMISE.

I heard some people complaining that the camp had put too many restrictions on nudity in recent years. Apparently, it used to be all naked, all the time. Now you have to wear a towel or sarong when moving to and from your campsite, the pool, or the beach. I've never seen such tiny or loosely draped towels. One man's version of "wearing" a towel involved putting it over his shoulder and letting it hang just low enough to cover his business. A woman walked into the kitchen wearing a button-down shirt that was hiked up to here and unbutonned down to there. In a sudden showing of modesty, she held up a slice of bread in an attempt to cover her bosom. Honey, you're going to need a whole loaf! I also saw a lot of cheesy silk robes. I'm surprised there weren't more mustaches.

I simply don't understand the appeal of being a nudist. Perhaps you want to avoid those pesky tan lines? Fine, but why do you have to read the newspaper naked? And why do you have to eat breakfast naked? Any why, for the love of god, do you have to put up or take down a tent naked? That activity requires a lot of stretching and bending. And if I was a nudist, I think I'd want to be around only other like-minded people; not next to some prudish American girl who is going to blog about my jiggling thighs. But these people really don't care. Inhibitions be damned!

The big question of course is - did I get naked? Yes I did! In the shower. Hold up... you may not realize what a rebellious action that is at a nudist camp. Signs posted outside the bathroom said: "Please do not wear clothing or togs (swimsuit) in the shower." Really?! Am I to understand that these nudists walk around in their birthday suit all day and then slip into some clothing for their showers?? Everything is backwards in the southern hemishpere.

I leave you with this piece of lyrical advice from Jermaine Stewart: We don't have to take our clothes off to have a good time, oh no.

Newsflash, Part XXXVII

The reader poll in Tuesday's edition of the Wellington's Dominion Post newspaper asked: Do you think an H should be added to Wanganui's (north island town) name?

About 70% of readers said "no" and I agree. Why change it now? However, the poll may not be as silly as it seems on the surface. Changing the town name to Whanganui would change the pronunciation and be a more accurate reflection of its Maori heritage. The Maori "wh" is pronounced like "f."

In addition to English, Maori is an official language of NZ. I rarely hear the language spoken on the street, but Maori was used in all official communications in my government job and it figures prominently in the names of NZ locations.

Take the town of Whakatane for example. Here, you can quickly separate the Kiwis from the wannabes. The tourists refer to this place as "wok-a-tain." However, any true Kiwi (or N to the Zed reader) knows that the correct pronunciation is "fok-a-taw-nee."

Now you know!

That's Life!

I've previously mentioned that American "name brand" magazines can cost about $20 in NZ. Even the Australian or British Vogue costs over $10. To address this problem, the NZ publishing world produces a few genuine Kiwi magazines. They sell for about $3. My favorites are That's Life! and NZ Women's Weekly. They cover a little bit of everything - celebrity gossip, recipes, childcare, good housekeeping, human interest stories. (Remember I told you about this country's lack of specialization??)

From the cheesy pictures to the bad writing to the 4th grade word search puzzles, you will not regret spending the $3. They provide hours of entertainment. These magazines are like the newspapers I used to self-publish with markers and construction paper as a child.

The magazines tend to pilfer interviews from other publications and pass them off as their own. I'm pretty sure Michelle Obama did not grant an exclusive interview with That's Life! magazine. And I'm really sure she didn't refer to herself as Malia and Sasha's "mum" or discuss strategies for keeping off extra "kilos." Mom? Maybe. Pounds? Maybe. But you can't alter direct quotes to suit your audience! It makes me question the accuracy of the whole magazine. Maybe Becks hasn't left Posh after all?

Celeb storis are a big draw, but, ironically, That's Life! tends to mostly cover death. If your family has suffered a horrible tragedy, the magazine will pay you $800 for your story. These are honest-to-goodness article titles from the past few months:

• Kiwi Confession: I Ponged Out (stunk up) My Mate's Home
• NZ Exclusive: My Baby Girl was Killed on the Beach
• Mozzie (mosquito) Danger!
• NZ Funeral Fury: Bodysnatchers Stole my Aunt's Casket
• Kiwi Survivor Tale: Shipwrecked in Fiji
• Is this the Unluckiest Kiwi? Knocked out. Impaled. Electrocuted. Broken Nose. Car crashes.
• My Daughter Choked to Death on an Apple
• My Husband Cut Off My Lover's Penis (A fate worse than death! Oh wait... around paragraph 2, we learn that the husband also killed the lover. Minor detail.)

The Kiwis' respsonse to all this doom and gloom? Oh well, That's Life!
It goes hand-in-hand with the country's "she'll be right" attitude.