tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-325579972024-03-07T17:34:52.053+13:00BrooksieJournal of my travels and adventures while living here in New Zealand.Kiwi Brooksiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04797337345019110934noreply@blogger.comBlogger145125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32557997.post-49716821014842262092010-03-27T00:54:00.000+13:002010-03-27T00:56:34.155+13:00More stand-up comedy!<object width="320" height="240" ><param name="allowfullscreen" value="true" /><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always" /><param name="movie" value="http://www.facebook.com/v/320578665304" /><embed src="http://www.facebook.com/v/320578665304" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="320" height="240"></embed></object>Kiwi Brooksiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04797337345019110934noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32557997.post-24303408424539326092009-09-19T09:59:00.009+12:002009-09-20T08:05:44.444+12:00Don't Hassle Me, I'm LocalIn the spirit of Random Acts of Kindness Day (which was a couple of weeks ago - evidently it was Procrastinator's Day as well), I bring you this post!<br /><br />I'm not sure what sort of criteria go into determining at what point you can truly call yourself a 'local', once you have moved to a new location.<br /><br />Sure, I've lived in the greater Wellington region for just over three years now, so on the surface of it I'm sure that is more than adequate 'time served' in terms of determining where I call home. Certainly, I still haven't affected (and probably never will) a proper Kiwi accent, although I have picked up many of their turns of phrase. As you do.<br /><br />I'm also bona fide in terms of my residency status here in New Zealand, being a <span style="font-style: italic;">de facto</span> citizen until that can finally be made official in a couple of years.<br /><br />But these seem to be merely crude, if not acceptable, measures of determining one's status in a place as a True Local. While I am not trying to be pretentious at all about this, as one might be while trying to claim status as a true resident of an exclusive neighbourhood (*cough* Beverly Hills *cough*), I feel a deep connection to Wellington somehow. Since moving here, then, I have gradually felt less and less like a tourist and more and more like a true Wellingtonian.<br /><br />So what is it that I have found that makes me confident enough to say '<span style="font-style: italic;">ich bin ein Wellingtonian</span>'?<br /><br />Why, it's having a flawless record at giving out directions!<br /><br />What better way to establish yourself as a local and prove your know-how of the area than by pointing lost souls in the right direction? What better way of proving you belong here because you <span style="font-style: italic;">know</span> the cool spots, and not all of them are on the beaten path?<br /><br />Again, I am not trying to sound egotistical at all about this, although I suspect I am failing in that regard. But please don't mistake my enthusiasm and pride for Wellington as arrogance. It is love! I just love it here, and it's moments like these when it comes shining through.<br /><br />I give you <span style="font-weight: bold;">Incident One</span>: Whilst strolling up Lambton Quay towards the city centre one evening, I was stopped by a man who bore a helpless look on his face.<br /><br />"Excuse me, where is Cable Car lane?" he asked, in an accent that I am going to guess was... Eastern European. (<span style="font-style: italic;">I'm nothing if not perceptive, no?</span>)<br /><br />Well, this was an easy one for me, as we were not only 300 yards* away from his destination, but the Cable Car's trademark sign (with the red cable car on it) was within our line of sight.<br /><br />So I happily pointed him in the right direction and, as soon as he noticed the sign, his eyes lit up and he thanked me.<br /><br />I continued on my way, chuffed at being able to solve someone's little dilemma and also feeling for the first time like a local. I felt a little self-conscious while I was giving him directions, as whenever I speak it is immediately obvious I am not from around here due to my American accent.<br /><br />But my successful direction-giving cancels out that one, I think!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Incident Two</span>: Whilst walking up Featherston Street, again late one evening, a harried-looking man accosted me. He asked me, in an accent I am going to guess was Scandinavian (<span style="font-style: italic;">I'm a regular linguistics expert, I tell you</span>), where he could find Hunter Street.<br /><br />This was pure kismet! For not 24 hours ago, I had been on Google Maps perusing downtown Wellington for a particular address, when I noticed where Hunter Street was in the process.<br /><br />And before we continue: Yes, I am aware that my admission to looking up directions may - at first glance - appear to weaken my case for being a local. Well, in response, I would say that even <span style="font-style: italic;">locals</span> have to look up directions from time to time! And who can resist the uber-awesomeness that is anything Google? They are the kings of data, man, so get off my case and go use one of their apps, already. They're genius.<br /><br />Back to our story. Hunter Street is a tricky one, for it is one of those streets that is initially called something else (Featherston, natch) which then takes a 90 degree turn and magically becomes another street - in this case, our Hunter Street! Had I not fortuitously looked at Google Maps the night before, this tourist would have stumped me with his directions request and my ambitions for True Local status would have suffered a serious setback.<br /><br />But good luck was on my side and since there isn't really much to Hunter Street, and this guy was from out of town, I am guessing his destination was the large hotel located there.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Incident Three</span>: While making my way across the scenic steps by Wellington Town Hall, a man with a distinctly Spanish accent (<span style="font-style: italic;">I am getting better</span>) was looking repeatedly from his copy of Lonely Planet to the street sign at an intersection. His wife/girlfriend seemed to be in a frustrated mood and they had the look of haggard tourists who were having a hard time finding their way.<br /><br />I cast a glance in their direction and smiled, and he jumped at this chance to ask somebody for directions.<br /><br />"Excuse me, do you know the way to the <a href="http://www.newzealand.com/travel/i-sites/newzealand/">iSite</a>?" he said, holding his copy of the Lonely Planet guide as if he would like to tear it in half like that guy did that one time with a phone book.**<br /><br />Again, this was a fastball down the middle of the plate for me and I, being a power hitter (baseball analogy), took this one out of the park.<br /><br />We were within spitting distance of his destination, as the iSite is part of the Town Hall building complex. And although it was very close by, this wasn't quite as easy as it sounds as it wasn't within line of sight and also the path to its door was an unmarked, covered sidewalk that curved away out of view. So this explained his confusion as, from any street map, it looks like you should be able to see the iSite from the spot we were standing on - yet you could not.<br /><br />Anyways, he seemed much relieved at my help and his girlfriend set a rapid pace that he shuffled to catch up with as they took off in the direction of the iSite. I can only think their day improved from there and once again I felt happy to help!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Incident Four</span>: This one is the most recent, and it happened while I was walking back from training with <a href="http://nzif.wit.org.nz/">W.I.T.</a> As I traversed Wakefield Street, I came to the intersection with Tory Street and stopped to wait for the little green man to appear and grant me permission to cross. As I stood there, I started to notice out of the corner of my eye that somebody was staring in my direction.<br /><br />I looked over, and this hulking dude was standing there with his girlfriend (who was SMOKING HOT, by the way). He glanced away when I looked over, then he looked back and asked if I could give him directions somewhere. His accent sounded Russian to me, although as I found out later he and his girl were from the Ukraine. (<span style="font-style: italic;">I was close on that one, at least!</span>)<br /><br />In this case they didn't have a specific destination in mind, but rather asked for a place to get a good steak.<br /><br />Aha! So the difficulty level on this request was increased above and beyond that of simple directions to an easy landmark. Now came a true test of my local knowledge!<br /><br />Once again, fate smiled upon me as not only did I have a good recommendation for him and his lovely partner, we were once again almost within line of sight of the place of interest.<br /><br />We were just around the corner from the Hog's Breath Café, which I had initially heard about having the best steak in town from a fellow traveler, and then experienced firsthand.<br /><br />As an aside here, my very first night in Wellington was three years ago when I was on a trip for my job interview. Once that was done I had decided to stay on for a couple of days to see the sights in town before heading back down south to Ashburton, where I lived at the time.<br /><br />While I was on line at Reading Cinemas at Courtenay (can't remember what movie I saw), I was reading my copy of one of Bill Bryson's books. It was a long line and, as I was by myself, this was a great way to pass the time. (And I was doing two Single Guy Dating Himself things at once, something that will be mentioned at greater length in a future post when the Guide is published).<br /><br />The guy standing in front of me in line noticed what I was reading and introduced himself. Turns out he was another American and he hailed from Iowa - Bill Bryson's home state! He was familiar with all of Bill's books and he even made a wry joke about having come from Des Moines as well, and said that Bryson is what they were best known for to the rest of the world. (I have to admit, Bryson was the very first thing I ever came to associate with that city!)<br /><br />Anyways, he said that he came through Wellington frequently on business, though for the life of me I can't remember his name or what line of work he was in. I remember being a little envious of him at the time, for I didn't know the status of my job interview yet (this, of course, had a happy ending!) and, not having spent 24 hours in Wellington yet, I was already in love with this city.<br /><br />Before we parted ways (his ticket was for a different film), he made it a point to tell me where the best place to find a steak in town was: the Hog's Breath Café - which was right next to the movie theatre, as luck would have it!<br /><br />And when a Midwesterner gives you advice on where to find a good steak, <span style="font-style: italic;">YOU TAKE IT!</span><br /><br />This I then did, although not on that night - and it really is great steak there. So I was confident in the recommendation I gave this bloke from the Ukraine. I lost a few points for having taken them the long way around, but then again maybe the scenic route is a little bit more fun. In chatting with him, he said he and his girlfriend came down to New Zealand frequently from the Ukraine as they loved it here, but they had never yet spent any time in Wellington. Turns out they were right off the plane almost, having just freshened up in their hotel before running into me. When I asked him about what line of work he was in, he became suddenly inscrutable, mumbling something about the shipping business and giving me a sideways glance.<br /><br />I (wisely) let it go at that and found something else to talk about until we got to the stairwell leading up to the Hog's Breath.<br /><br />So I wonder if any of these tourists were confused by the smiley local with the American accent who seemed to know his way around Wellington? Did they feel like they had just encountered another tourist who maybe had done his homework a little better than they had? Or perhaps he had better maps? Or a superior travel agent?<br /><br />Well, it was 'None of the above'! For they had just encountered Brooksie: mild-mannered vet by day, master of directions and timing by night.<br /><br />Oh good lord, I didn't just type that, did I? Is this to be my lame superpower? Expert directions-giver and steak-recommender?<br /><br />Well, I call it a case of being in the right place, at the right time. I really enjoy being able to help people, and not just on Random Act of Kindness Day either!<br /><br />And tomorrow be a fine day as well, me buckos! For then, it'll be <a href="http://talklikeapirate.com/piratehome.html">International Talk Like A Pirate Day</a>!<br />--------------------------------------------------------------------------<br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:78%;">* Metres? I dunno...<br />** <a href="http://www.wikihow.com/Rip-a-Phonebook-in-Half">True story</a>.</span></span>Kiwi Brooksiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04797337345019110934noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32557997.post-59681125967557626062009-09-13T21:26:00.001+12:002009-09-13T23:29:00.820+12:00Obligatory Mid-Life Crisis Cliché<object width="320" height="240" ><param name="allowfullscreen" value="true" /><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always" /><param name="movie" value="http://www.facebook.com/v/276588320304" /><embed src="http://www.facebook.com/v/276588320304" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="320" height="240"></embed></object>Kiwi Brooksiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04797337345019110934noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32557997.post-1953805948748499552009-07-20T23:51:00.006+12:002009-07-21T00:10:24.021+12:00"Oh my god! I have to get to a cave RIGHT NOW!"<object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/XkL9ULwCR-0&hl=en&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/XkL9ULwCR-0&hl=en&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /><br />Please watch the short snippet above from that excellent film, <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0088794/"><span style="font-style: italic;">Better Off Dead</span></a>, and then I'll take it from there.<br /><br />Why is this quote relevant? Why is Lane's freak-out involving his upcoming race with Stalin the headline of this post?<br /><br />Because I'm freakin' out man!<br /><br />No, I'm not racing Stalin tomorrow. I don't even have a pair of skis. And while there are no shortage of caves in New Zealand, I am not so desperate as to be searching for one to hermit myself away in. Yet.<br /><br />But watch this space. Why? Because tonight, after going out on the town to support some friends doing stand-up comedy (and good shows tonight Woody, Robbie and Nat), I somehow managed to volunteer myself to do a set in an upcoming "<a href="http://www.thefringebar.org/">Raw Meat Monday</a>". And I hadn't even been drinking!<br /><br />Oh sure, I've toyed with the idea of trying my hand at a bit of stand-up comedy one day. <span style="font-style: italic;">One day</span>. You know, far off in the future. Preferably via telecast from beyond the grave, so if I bomb I'll be dead and won't really care. But even then...<br /><br />Seriously! Do you want your first act in the afterlife to be a case of serious flop sweat? I don't know where I'm going after this world, but I'm sure there will be crickets! And they can chirp just as loudly as here!<br /><br />Ah, what am I saying. Probably everybody who's done stand-up before had felt this way right after agreeing or deciding to try it. It's only natural to feel this anxiety. I admit, there is a bit of a rush in there. Somewhere in there, mixed in with the <span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">stark terror</span>.<br /><br />But the crowds here in Wellington are very supportive and this particular scenario, the Raw Meat Monday format, as off-putting as it sounds is really the perfect time and place for anyone who has ever wanted to try stand-up to finally get off their duff and do it.<br /><br />Yes, when you've finally completely lost your mind, and decided you'd like to single-handedly entertain a room fool of strangers with your own personal brand of comedy, well then Raw Meat Mondays is the place for you!<br /><br />No really I am looking forward to this. I was going to get up there and try it once for sure, I just wasn't sure when. So when Derek fixed me with his imploring gaze this evening after the show and kept repeating, "So can I pencil you in for the 31st?", I just couldn't say no. Well, I <span style="font-style: italic;">did</span> say no. Like five times at least. But I finally caved.<br /><br />Haha, 'cave', get it? No?<br /><br />Uh-oh.<br /><br />Anyways, I'm glad I did! I guess I'm enough of a stage hog that the concept of improvised comedy wasn't enough so I decided to get all greedy and book myself for some stand-up comedy as well. Lots of friends of mine in W.I.T. perform stand-up so I'll be turning to them for advice and asking them to come support me.<br /><br />But I'll be asking them to leave any and all recording devices at home.<br /><br />See you on the night of Monday, August 31st Wellington!<span style="font-style: italic;"></span>Kiwi Brooksiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04797337345019110934noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32557997.post-3495919053914442052009-07-14T09:55:00.001+12:002009-07-14T12:43:36.228+12:00All Moggies Great and Small<div>While I sit here and recover from the swine flu, I finally have no excuse to keep procrastinating regarding my blog. In the three months since I last wrote, I've been busy doing stuff, mainly things with W.I.T. I am happy to say. The most exciting thing there is our second annual New Zealand Improvisation Festival, which this year is taking place in early October. We'll host the <a href="http://www.theatresports.co.nz/">Con Artists</a> from Auckland, the <a href="http://www.courtjesters.co.nz/">Court Jesters</a> from Christchurch, our neighbours <a href="http://home.xtra.co.nz/hosts/theimprovisors/">The Improvisors </a>from right here in Wellington, and - making this an international affair for the first time - some crew from <a href="http://www.impromelbourne.com.au/">Impro Melbourne</a>. This will include a workshop run by Patti Stiles, the Artistic Director for Impro Melbourne.<br /><br />What should coincide with the Festival is the unveiling of our new website, which is currently being overhauled. This is a project being spearheaded by our new Secretary, Jen Mason, and from what she's told us, our new presence on the web sounds like it will be really exciting.<br /><br />There is also a good chance I'll be performing in my first W.I.T. show either next month or in September, so I'm looking forward to that. We are having two months of Micetro-style shows, an improvised comedy format that is friendly to beginners like me. I'm also working on developing a format of my own, and hope to finish the details soon and take it to Tuesday Training one week and foist it upon my unsuspecting impro comrades!<br /><br />What I've been wanting to post about lately, though, isn't impro-related. It's more in the vein of a James Herriot-style story - or rather, stories - that have been happening here in Aotearoa these past few months. Periodically I like to try my hand at writing about cats or dogs I've seen in the past and the amazing things that they get up to, just as our dear departed Mr. Herriot once did. However, these four stories all wrote themselves and don't require any sort of re-telling from me.<br /><br />OK they were written by professional journalists and I can't tell them better than they've already been told, so I'll just point you in the direction of the stories. They all involve cats in New Zealand and these stories actually got on or near the front page of the newspaper on the day they were published. I found it heartening and amusing to read about New Zealanders' pet moggies on the front page instead of the usual doom and gloom that greets me there.<br /><br />I'll post a link to the story, then offer my own comments after that link (assuming you'll want to folow the link - go on, the stories are quite short!). Please feel free to chime in by commenting on this post, and at the very least I hope these stories make you laugh as much as I did. The last one is kinda creepy, but in a very cool way, and is funny in its own right as well.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.stuff.co.nz/life-style/cutestuff/2470280/Owner-struggles-to-solve-Rubiks-cruise"><span style="font-weight: bold;">1. Owner struggles to solve Rubiks' cruise</span><br /></a><br />This is one of those stories that makes you laugh and also makes you cringe. He's certainly an intrepid little cat, this Rubiks, and he's getting the utmost out of his outdoor existence. Yet you do worry about a cat that likes to wander so much, especially as the traffic in the areas he's chosen to visit can literally be murder for a cat.<br /><br />But what really floored me is that this cat made it all the way to the Hutt Valley! Between Mt. Cook in Wellington (lower left on the map), where he began his sojourn, to the Hutt Valley (upper right of the map) where he was found is basically all motorway. Check it out:<br /><br /><iframe marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" src="http://maps.google.co.nz/?ie=UTF8&ll=-41.263614,174.837112&spn=0.153036,0.363579&z=12&output=embed" width="425" frameborder="0" height="350" scrolling="no"></iframe><br /><small><a href="http://maps.google.co.nz/?ie=UTF8&ll=-41.263614,174.837112&spn=0.153036,0.363579&z=12&source=embed" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 255); text-align: left;">View Larger Map</a></small><br /><br />There's hardly any room at all for a little cat there, and certainly very off-putting to any would-be travelers who'd dare come this way. Between the high-speed motorway and the waters of the harbour (which splash very close to the road) is a railway, so it's a very daunting prospect indeed. My guess is he made his travels well after midnight, when the trains weren't running and the traffic was next to nil. Cats are nocturnal anyways, so this fits his <span style="font-style: italic;">modus operandi</span> quite well.<br /><br />Unfortunately, I wasn't called in on the case to question Rubiks, so we may never know the hows and whys of his errant ways. At least, for now, he's back patrolling his home territory, although I'd be a fool if I thought this most recent trip of his was his final one, if not his greatest. It has been over three months since the story broke, so in all likelihood he's wandered off somewhere again!<br /><br /><a href="http://www.stuff.co.nz/the-press/news/christchurch/2497112/Would-be-stowaway-saved-by-a-whisker"><span style="font-weight: bold;">2. Would-be stowaway saved by a whisker</span></a><br /><br />This story about Dr. Chicken the cat (can Kiwis come up with great cat names or what!) is another heartwarming one. This kitty definitely dodged a bullet, and while I've heard of animals surviving very long periods of time without food and water, I'm not so sure Dr. Chicken would have survived 8 days in a shipping container. Unless, like Tom Hanks' blind luck in the movie <span style="font-style: italic;">Castaway</span>, Dr. Chicken happened to be fortuitously stowed away in a shipping container filled with cat food, a leaky water bottle, and a volleyball (everybody needs a Wilson), she was going to probably have spent all 9 of her lives right there.<br /><br />But I really like how the shipping container company was sincerely and immediately helpful, especially given how daunting the task was of finding which container was the right one!<br /><br /><a href="http://www.stuff.co.nz/dominion-post/news/2537023/Sinbad-a-mog-with-catitude"><span style="font-weight: bold;">3. Sinbad: a mog with catitude</span></a><br /><br />This one made me laugh the most. I know the poor fella has had more than his fair share of travesty (watch the interview if you want to hear more on this), but it's just the descriptions of his antics that got me laughing. Picturing this fat, tailless cat 'scrabbling' around in the toilet bowl he'd just splashed into is a mirthful image I can't let go of. Or Sinbad having 'burnt lips' after sucking (!) on the end of a weedkiller bottle. I thought only dogs did that kind of thing! Also, in typical understated Kiwi fashion, his owner describing him as being 'a bit wobbly' made me laugh as well.<br /><br />What got me most, however, was how he managed to topple his letterbox from perching his huge arse upon it every day. How sad that he can't do his daily greeting ritual anymore, though! After all he's been through, he's a real Lazarus all right, and I just hope Sinbad keeps ticking along for many more years yet.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.stuff.co.nz/taranaki-daily-news/news/2581139/Ghost-cat-couple-cop-flak"><span style="font-weight: bold;">4. Ghost cat couple cop flak</span></a><br /><br />I always enjoy a good ghost story, but particularly so when it involves the ghost of a cat! Definitely watch the attached video with this story, it's really pretty spooky. It's funny how this little 'ghost' is sort of behaving like a cat, isn't it? Sure it's moving a bit fast, but then again he's a ghost now, so he's got supernatural speed. I like how there is no reflection in the puddle, then right on cue here comes a real flesh and blood orange cat later on, who walks by the same puddle and casts a reflection. A nice bit of 'proof' in the same few moments of video footage, if you will, that the initial orange blur is something not-of-this-world.<br /><br />Hopefully there will be a follow-up story, not only after the experts have reviewed the tape to say that it's not been doctored, but also perhaps they will catch this little blighter on video again! Who knows? Maybe in the next one, he'll be trotting after that lazy orange cat that appears in this video, trying to get him to play.<br /><br />Well, that's all for this installment of "News For Cats". Trust me, if any dogs had made it into the news (or horses, wombats, etc.) I'd have mentioned them as well. This is, after all, an equal opportunity blog when it comes to our animal friends!<br /></div>Kiwi Brooksiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04797337345019110934noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32557997.post-58335636291442632272009-04-25T09:07:00.003+12:002009-04-25T12:15:43.065+12:00We will remember them.Today in New Zealand it is <a href="http://www.anzac.govt.nz/significance/index.html">ANZAC Day</a>, a national holiday. It is a day of remembrance for all those who have fought for the country, those who serve to protect it now and most especially those who went to fight for New Zealand and never returned.<br /><br />Although I have been here for two previous ANZAC Days, today was the first day I went to a dawn service. These happen <a href="http://www.stuff.co.nz/national/2363173/Thousands-attend-Anzac-ceremonies/">all across the country</a>, rain or shine. I turned up a little late (6:00 AM, the ceremony had begun at 5:45) but as the parade had gathered outside the Upper Hutt City Council building it was easy to filter into the crowd assembled on the street.<br /><br />As it was still pre-dawn, the skies were dark but the street was well-lit and I could see that at least hundreds of people were present, if not a thousand or more. There were some lovely speeches from a local priest, the president of the RSA (Returned and Services' Association) and the chief of staff of Joint Forces New Zealand.<br /><br />There was then a laying of wreaths accompanied by a somber number played on the bagpipes, followed by one minute's silence. Then came Reveille, which is listed in the program as "The sounding of Reveille proclaims our belief that the landing at ANZAC heralded the dawn of a brilliant era in the march to Nationhood of Australia and New Zealand."<br /><br />This references the Gallipoli campaign during World War I when the ANZAC company was directed to the wrong part of the shore to stage an assault that was designed to force the Turks to surrender. It was an ill-fated campaign and I refer you again to <a href="http://www.anzac.govt.nz/significance/index.html">this page</a> for a far better synopsis of its significance than I can provide.<br /><br />The parade then closed with a singing of the New Zealand national anthem and by now the sun had started to rise and cast its light over the cold Hutt Valley. Having never been to a dawn service before, I wasn't sure what to wear so I figured it'd be better to be over-dressed rather than under-dressed. My coat and tie proved to be a bit too formal as most people were dressed nicely but not to such a degree, so next year I will be a bit more relaxed in that department.<br /><br />In a way, I did come under-dressed after all, as the <a href="http://www.legion.ca/Poppy/campaign_e.cfm">poppy</a> I had received for making a donation to the RSA yesterday was still pinned to my smock at work. Most everyone around me had their poppies on display, but that being said I wasn't made to feel embarassed in the slightest. The New Zealanders present were, as ever, polite, introspective and friendly. I'm sure none of them noticed I wasn't wearing a poppy anyways - it just wouldn't bother them!<br /><br />I know I wasn't the only American in New Zealand turning out for ANZAC Day, either, as there were some U. S. Marines from the embassy's guard detachment handing out poppies at the railway station downtown. Secretary of State Hillary Clinton also issued <a href="http://www.state.gov/secretary/rm/2009a/04/122076.htm">a statement</a> of commemoration for ANZAC Day from Washington, DC.<br /><br />I'd love to get to the dawn service next year at the <a href="http://www.nationalwarmemorial.govt.nz/">War Memorial</a> in downtown Wellington, which I have visited in the past, but not on ANZAC Day.<br /><br />The last Monday in May is, of course, Memorial Day back in the States. It looks like, from past news items on its site, that there will be a service for this at the U. S. Embassy or somewhere nearby in Wellington. I'll be sure to get to this if I can this year, too, work schedule permitting.<br /><br />As for the rest of my day, I'll be repairing to Westpac Stadium later this evening with a friend to cheer on the Wellington Hurricanes in their match against the Brumbies from Canberra, Australia. I look forward to it, as always, but it will be a little more special today given the intertwined history of these two great countries that has been illustrated today.Kiwi Brooksiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04797337345019110934noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32557997.post-63716719573039191152009-04-06T21:59:00.000+12:002009-04-06T22:27:30.385+12:00Somebody stop that cat!So there I was, sitting on a bench by the side of the road, waiting for the mechanics' shop to open. The car was due in for its <a href="http://www.ltsa.govt.nz/vehicle-ownership/warrant.html">Warrant of Fitness</a>, and as I was a bit early for dropping off the <span style="font-style: italic;">cah</span> at the <span style="font-style: italic;">yahd</span>, I had no choice but to take a seat outside.<br /><br />It was a fine morning out, so I didn't mind one bit. Where I work is quite literally right around the corner from the mechanics' place. Sunlight beamed down all around me, bathing me in warm morning light. A few cars passed by, filled with people on their way to the workplace. Birds were chirping and flitting about. A small grey and white cat darted out into the street. A few people made their way --<br /><br />Hold the phone: what was that?! I held my breath for a moment, frozen by the sight of this cat running carelessly into the road as a car began to approach from around the corner. The little fella didn't seem to have his street smarts yet, as not only did he time his jaunt across the open road poorly, but right as he reached the middle he allowed himself to be momentarily distracted by a bird flying the other way across the street.<br /><br />He tracked it flawlessly with his gaze as he ran the other way, blindly into the lane where there was an oncoming car. I was about to leap to my feet to warn the driver, but they must've already seen this little air-headed kitty as they had already begun to slow down.<br /><br />As the cat disappeared behind a wooden partition, now safely on the other side of the road, I felt a wave of relief pass over me. I also realized why perhaps he was so determined to cross the road: I think on the other side of the partition lies a series of dumpsters, used by the large shopping mall there. He had probably penciled in a little dumpster diving to get his morning going right.<br /><br />So imagine my surprise when, later on that same day, I am in an exam room and I go to open the cardboard carrier that contained these young owners' newest cat - and out jumped my little jaywalking friend! Yes, it was the same little grey and white cat I had seen just a few hours previous as he made his way towards the seedy Dumpster District.<br /><br />I laughed and told the owners the story of how I had just seen him that morning, right around the corner. The couple seemed surprised he had wandered so far, but they had also just moved into a new flat so perhaps he was still figuring out the boundaries of his home turf. I pointed out that dumpsters were hard for cats to resist, and as this little guy had yet to be neutered, perhaps he'd settle down once that had been, ahem, arranged.<br /><br />Remembering this young couple from a few months back, I asked about their other cat and how he and the new guy (named "Casper", as I came to find out) were getting along. Sadly, their last cat had been hit by a car - something that very possibly could've happened to Casper that very morning!<br /><br />But, he was scheduled for the chop soon, so hopefully he'd learn to be more careful and we wouldn't have any more sad stories for these owners.<br /><br />Fast forward to a few days later, and after work I hit the supermarket to load up on groceries. As I often do, on the way home I decided to stop in at the BP for petrol. As I pull up next to the nearest open pump, I see Casper's male owner standing there. He works at BP, you see, so I often see him whenever I get petrol.<br /><br />As I got out of the car, I struggled to remember the little grey and white cat's name, but was keen to ask this guy how things were going nonetheless.<br /><br />"My cat ran away!"<br /><br />"WHAT??" I said, exasperated.<br /><br />"Yeah, that night, after we saw you. We let him outside after his dinner and we haven't seen him since."<br /><br />"Oh no. I am sorry to hear that," I said, remembering how he had just lost his previous cat not a few months ago, and now it was maybe happening again. I also felt absurdly guilty that the cat decided to do a runner the very night after I stuck him with a needle. Perhaps, with some sort of crooked feline logic, he had decided that humans who took him to other humans to be stabbed with needles were not to be trusted.<br /><br />I asked him if he had seen any sign of him at all, or if they had put up signs. He said they had put up posters and ads in all shelters and vet clinics, but he had not yet put an ad on <a href="http://www.petsonthenet.co.nz/">Pets on the Net</a>, which I strongly suggested he do. He also theorized that the cat had probably been picked up and kept by another owner, something he said happens a lot in Upper Hutt. I found this moderately disturbing and said as much.<br /><br />Well after talking to Casper's owner, I began to feel rather helpless about his situation. As I got back into my car, though, inspiration struck. I decided to drive around, looking for Casper, the melting ice cream from the supermarket be damned.<br /><br />After all, I had pretty good intelligence as to just where this little blighter might have run off to. The very spot where I had seen Casper run across the road a few days earlier was just a few hundred metres from this BP station. So I turned onto that street, slowed down and began to scan both sides of the street intently.<br /><br />The white wooden partition behind which the dumpsters lay came and went with no sight of Casper. I kept creeping along the road, looking everywhere, but didn't see any grey and white flashes anywhere.<br /><br />I did notice, however, that a guy who had been walking up the sidewalk towards me the entire time was looking at me oddly. He was a pretty big guy, wearing a black singlet and also a Yankees cap (something I'm not used to seeing round these parts). He probably wondered what in the world I was doing, driving so slowly and looking about in a crazy manner.<br /><br />But then I saw Casper! There he was, just off to the left of the shopping mall carpark. I had little time to act so, forgetting about the suspicious pedestrian, I flicked on the hazards, pulled over to the kerb and hopped out.<br /><br />The guy in the Yankee hat was definitely aloof now and I'm sure he saw that my car was filled with grocery bags. I didn't improve his opinions of my motives, I am sure, when I then knelt down on the sidewalk and began to make chattering noises and calling to Casper in that weird, high-pitched voice you reserve for use when trying to entice pets to approach you. You see the thing is, the guy never saw the cat, nor could he have seen him now as I called to it because it was hidden from view around the corner of the carpark!<br /><br />Well the guy kept walking on but Casper was frozen in place. He regarded me warily with conflicted emotions. Here was this stranger, talking nicely to him and wanting to pat him, yet this human was suddenly not so strange after all... He looked oddly familiar...<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Oh no! It's the guy who jabbed you with that needle the other day! RUN FOR IT!</span><br /><br />And so he ran, the moment I encroached upon Casper's 'flight zone'. He took off a good thirty metres down the sidewalk before stopping to turn and look at me again.<br /><br />Not wanting to completely throw in the towel on this attempted rescue - how cool would it have been to rock in to the BP, not five minutes after I had left, and be able to tell Casper's owner I had not only found his cat but that he was waiting in my car!<br /><br />Remembering my groceries, I had luckily that night decided to splurge and buy the cats some <a href="http://www.whiskas.com.au/WhiskasAU/en-AU/food/snacks/snacks_cravers/snacks_cravers.htm">treats</a> so I ran back to the car and fished them out. I could always buy more, and anyways my cats could certainly stand to miss a meal or two.*<br /><br />Shaking the bag and strolling confidently back towards Casper, I knew there was no way any cat could resist the sound of treats rattling around!<br /><br />Well, this cat could. Casper wasn't having a bar of it. I'm not sure if it was a sign of him finally getting some street smarts (<span style="font-style: italic;">Don't take candy from strangers!</span>) or his emerging memory that, in addition to jabbing him, I had also shoved a worm tablet down his throat.<br /><br />He kept his distance, so I decided to pour out a big pile of Cravers right there on the sidewalk. I figured if I couldn't win the battle, I'd try and win a war of attrition. Give him some treats today, I reasoned, and maybe when I returned the next day with some more treats, he'd be more trusting and then I could snatch him up.<br /><br />As I negotiated the roundabout to return to the BP station and let the guy know his cat was alive and well, I noticed that Casper was gorging heartily on the treats.<br /><br />I also noticed, as I crossed over the speed bumps leading back to the BP (Driving slowly again! And still with lots of groceries in the back seat!) that I was now passing the very same guy in the Yankees hat on the sidewalk again.<br /><br />I did my best to stare straight ahead but out of the corner of my eye I noticed him turn his head towards me sharply as I drove past. He must have been thinking, "What the hell...?"<br /><br />Well I let Casper's owner know about his status and he did seem a bit relieved to hear he was doing OK. He thought it was a bit cheeky Casper kept hanging around the same place I had seen him, and truth be told it was only a couple of streets away from where the guy now lived. So I told him this was likely becoming part of Casper's home turf, even though it wasn't very comforting as it is a very trafficky area.<br /><br />A couple of weeks later at work, I was heartened to see that Casper's name was on the surgery list for that morning. He was due to be neutered and have his final vaccine booster, so I knew he must have come home at last. Turns out the guy didn't have to go out and round him up from the dumpster area, Casper just came home on his own a day or so after I had seen him.<br /><br />I was the one who ended up performing Casper's surgery, and if he had any hard feelings about his last experience with me, he didn't seem to let on. In fact, he seemed non-plussed in general, so he probably forgot the pile of Cravers I fed him, too, the little ingrate!<br /><br />Nah, I could never be mad at Casper. After all, it's not hard to imagine why cats do love to dumpster dive so - especially when said dumpsters are used daily by the likes of Subway and KFC. Being an American, I am no stranger to the appeal of greasy take-away food! Just not the 'in-a-dumpster' kind of take-aways.<br /><br />Well, except for that one night in college, when we were all really bored. And drunk. And hungry. And we lived right next door to a Dunkin' Donuts...<br /><br />I better quit now, lest this posting degenerate into something disgusting! Yeah, it's probably too late for that, but I am glad that Casper's life on the streets hasn't lead to him being just another statistic.<br /><br />Stay cool, kitty.<br />----------------------------------------------------------------------------<br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:78%;">* Having fat pets is something we vets are loath to admit, but I tell you here freely, in the interests of full disclosure.</span></span>Kiwi Brooksiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04797337345019110934noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32557997.post-42332412642697219082009-04-05T20:34:00.018+12:002009-04-05T21:31:24.727+12:00Over The Hills and Far AwayThere aren't many things that could make me skip a night of training with WIT on Tuesdays, but the chance to see Jemaine Clement and Bret McKenzie perform as "Flight of the Conchords" sure is one of them.<br /><br />A friend I work with, Andrew, lives in Greytown, which is over the Rimutaka Hills and in the Wairarapa Valley. Jemaine grew up in the Wairarapa, in a town called Masterton which is just a little further north of Greytown. This bit of backstory is important as the Conchords had been taking a few weeks off here in New Zealand before embarking on their two-month tour of North America.<br /><br />During their visit, it came to light that Jemaine's childhood school in Masterton, one Makoura College, was having some dire funding difficulties. Rumours persisted that it might even be forced to close unless they had a quick infusion of cash, and upon hearing this the Conchords offered up their services free for a charity concert. Of course, Makoura College took them up on their generous offer, and as a result a lucky few of us got to see them live.<br /><br />Lucky in that, as far as I know, Bret and Jemaine hadn't scheduled to otherwise perform while they were here in New Zealand for these few weeks. And further fortunate in that tickets for this gig would first go on sale to residents of the Wairarapa Valley - which is where Andrew lives. My stalwart friend stood in line for a couple of hours. He noticed with increasing alarm that up to 10 tickets could be bought by one person. The closer he got to the head of the line, the smaller and smaller the roll of tickets for sale became. He worried they'd sell out just as he got to the front, as some people had been camping out from the night before, waiting for the tickets to go on sale.<br /><br />But of course he came through, and in only a short while, all of the available tickets had been sold in Masterton, never giving anyone a chance outside the Wairarapa to buy a ticket. There was even an American from Florida who was desperate to purchase a ticket to see this show! Either he can't make the dates they are playing in Florida or he's almost as obsessed with the Conchords as <a href="http://www.myspace.com/kristenschaal">Mel</a> is.<br /><br />The show was really great, it was everything I could have hoped it would be. Jemaine and Bret were just as they seem on television: witty, low-key and quite talented. A cellist friend of theirs named Nigel joined them on the stage for most of their songs, and the folk comedy duo (trio?) had a great rapport with the audience throughout the night.<br /><br />Bret was particularly appreciative of a guy down towards the front who had impeccable timing with the things he shouted out. At one point, Bret was thinking aloud about how he wasn't sure if they could pull off their next tune, as they had yet to play it live. This guy then shouted out the stock Rob Schneider quote, <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VZ2HcRl4wSk">"You can do it!"</a> and got a big laugh. He also won over Bret, who for the second time complimented him on his timing (earlier he had shouted out a song request at just the right moment), and Bret said he wished he could take the guy on tour with them to keep shouting out that phrase.<br /><br />While I wasn't the one who splashed out $6,000 in the charity auction for the guitar that had been autographed by the boys, I did my part for the school benefit by buying a T-shirt (in the picture below and, yes, I know I need to iron it). It was a real treat to be able to see these guys live and I'm not sure when I may have the chance to do so again. I liked how I also got to see them playing right in their backyard. They joked during the "Humans Are Dead" song that, in the distant future (the year 2000, as they wrote this song a long time ago, haha), Masterton had now become known as MasterTRON.<br /><br />Yeah, okay, well you had to be there I guess!<br /><br />This weekend I also bade farewell to my friend Emily, who leaves this Friday for her new life in Queenstown. She managed to work a transfer within her own company (she is an engineer) to arguably one of the loveliest spots to be in New Zealand. Given that there are heaps of nice places in this country, that is saying a lot.<br /><br />Her party had a jungle theme and I've included a picture of me in my "Dr. Livingstone" get-up below. Emily is on the far left, and between us are her friends Millie and Brett. I should point out he came as Slash from Guns 'N Roses as their song, "Welcome To The Jungle" qualifies his costume as in-theme! That and he managed to find a cool inflatable guitar on TradeMe for $3.50.<br /><br />Hmm, an inflatable guitar. It gives new meaning to the phrase 'air guitar'!<br /><br />Ugh, even I have to admit that one was bad. This is why I won't be doing the stand-up comedy like so many of my friends are now!<br /><br />And on that off-key note, I am outta here. Best of luck on the North American tour, Jemaine and Bret, and godspeed to you in Queenstown, Emily!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i89.photobucket.com/albums/k235/Brandonio17/Watership%20Down/FOTCMasterton31309001.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 1024px; height: 768px;" src="http://i89.photobucket.com/albums/k235/Brandonio17/Watership%20Down/FOTCMasterton31309001.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i89.photobucket.com/albums/k235/Brandonio17/Watership%20Down/029.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 1024px; height: 768px;" src="http://i89.photobucket.com/albums/k235/Brandonio17/Watership%20Down/029.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>Kiwi Brooksiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04797337345019110934noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32557997.post-72563764655329618602009-03-31T14:05:00.016+13:002009-04-01T00:14:27.752+13:00A hobbit, an actor, and a vixen all walk into a bar ...Well I can just get this post in under the wire, and bookend the month of March nicely with a post on its first and last days. This wasn't intentional, mind you, as I've been wanting to post about many of the things I've got up to in these past few weeks. But, as with my growing stack of unread books (many of them borrowed from friends), so too has my progressively longer list of blog drafts (all original, none borrowed from friends) been ignored recently.<br /><br />So in rapid-fire procession, I'll rattle off a list of things I've found interesting or done that are newsworthy (heh) over the last few weeks, before getting down to the main topic of this post.<br /><br />Guillermo del Toro, director for the two upcoming <span style="font-style: italic;">Hobbit</span> films, <a href="http://www.stuff.co.nz/entertainment/2287048/Hobbit-director-feeds-comic-book-habit">arrived in town</a> just over a week ago. He was spotted in a local bookstore, buying up graphic novels, which are one of his passions. According to the article, Mr. del Toro has two homes in the Los Angeles area: one for living in, the other for storing his massive collection of graphic novels and other books. Suddenly, I don't feel so bad about my stacks of books which currently invade just the odd bit of free tabletop space in the flat! But I'll bet Guillermo is better about actually reading his books than I am, and he's got <span style="font-style: italic;">two</span> whole movies to direct ...<br /><br />Needless to say, I am excited about the prospect of experiencing life in New Zealand whilst they shoot the next two Middle Earth movies here. There's always the chance for a celebrity sighting anywhere in the Wellywood region. Odds-on favourite sites are: Molly Malone's, The Green Parrot Cafe and especially the Dom Post Ferry between downtown and Eastbourne, should Sir Ian McKellen decide to live out there again. But if/when I see any famous elves, hobbits, wizards, gollums or otherwise, I'll not gush and fawn all over them like some sort of tourist! I will, however, do my level best to get out to some of the shooting locations to see some of the sets - especially The Shire, once it's rebuilt.<br /><br />Speaking of celebrities, a personal favourite of mine is the British actor <a href="http://www.screenonline.org.uk/people/id/474398/">Peter Davison</a>. He'll be a guest of honour at this weekend's <a href="http://www.armageddonexpo.com/">Armageddon Expo</a>, which takes place here in Wellington after being in Christchurch last week. He earned his SciFi 'street cred' by playing one of many incarnations of "The Doctor" on the original series run of BBC's <span style="font-style: italic;">Doctor Who</span>. I knew him best as "Tristan Farnon" on the<span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"> <span style="font-style: italic;">All Creatures Great and Small</span></span></span> series, also from the BBC. I love SciFi cons and haven't been to one in a while, so if I can con (get it?) any of my geeky friends to go with me, it'd be fun to see Mr. Davison in person as well as see what else emerges from the woodwork.<br /><br />In other news, I am now officially a <a href="http://www.wit.org.nz/">WIT</a> member and, although I haven't had my official stage debut in any shows yet, I am happy to finally be able to partake in Tuesday Training and continue to learn all I can about this most enthralling way to entertain and be entertained. I have also been elected to the post of Treasurer for WIT, in which my first official act was to declare myself ineligible to be Treasurer! It's a long story, but once elected into the post I soon realized, in going over WIT's bank records and membership rosters, that I had never in fact been voted in to the club nor paid any membership fee. I blew the whistle on myself, was then briefly stood down, hastily granted membership by the committee, seconded into the role of Acting Treasurer, and finally then as an official WITster I was re-voted into the position of Treasurer in a second general meeting!<br /><br />Yeah, I know, I'm sure Hollywood is all over that story for the official screenplay rights (I'd like to request that Ethan Hawke play my role). But that experience, combined with my 'unofficial' and truly impromptu stage debut with WIT in last year's New Zealand Improvisation Festival, has made for a very interesting start for my life in WIT!<br /><br />What I wanted to write about most, though, was the opera I saw last Friday night. It's called <span style="font-style: italic;">The Cunning Little Vixen</span>, written by Leoš Janácek. A friend of mine from WIT, Robbie, did the lighting design for this production so that's how I heard about this opera. The other two operas I've seen here in Wellington were both at the St. James Theatre so of course I was surprised to find out there was another opera company in town, known as <a href="http://www.nimbyopera.org.nz/show-vixen.html">Nimby</a>. The theatre they use for performances is a building called the Salvation Army Citadel, which sounds like some sort of place where they, well... not fight to the death, as it's the <span style="font-style: italic;">Salvation</span> Army! Perhaps it's a place where they give until it hurts?<br /><br />Anyways, it's a building I've driven by dozens of times - even parked outside it once or twice, but I've always failed to take a good look at it. It turned out to be a wonderful venue for this opera, as the acoustics were great where I was sitting, which was the back row of the balcony section. There was a nice little stage and there was a 5-piece chamber orchestra playing for this production of <span style="font-style: italic;">Vixen</span>. I'm not sure if that's a function of the piece itself or is a reflection of the fact that this is a smaller, up-and-coming operatic company that is working out of a littler theatre.<br /><br />The cast were all brilliant, especially the female lead, one Kate Lineham. She channelled the spirit of the title role expertly, and it didn't hurt that the cast's costumes were really bright and original. There was some animated art that was woven in seamlessly with the production and it served to really enchant the place and enhance the experience of this opera. I also thought the supporting women in the cast were particularly strong, and their positive energy and quirky characterisations meant they stole lots of scenes.<br /><br />I had never taken in an opera prior to moving to Wellington, largely because it was something that never interested me. But after <a href="http://kiwibrooksie.blogspot.com/2007/10/turandot.html">seeing <span style="font-style: italic;">Turandot</span></a>, my first opera, I became instantly hooked, as did my friend Karen who attended with me, also at her first opera. Now that I have experienced one of Nimby's productions as well, I know that we in Wellington are spoilt for choice when it comes to great opera, and I'll certainly be in the audience again!Kiwi Brooksiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04797337345019110934noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32557997.post-24312654900425515812009-03-01T19:57:00.001+13:002009-03-19T22:31:37.230+13:00Arthur, King of the Sauna"G'day!" the cheery old man called out as he joined me in the sauna, now doubling its current population.<br /><br />"How are ya?" I replied, American aphorisms still being the default greeting responses hard-wired into my brain. Maybe after a few more years of Kiwi seasoning, I'll begin to reply with my own "G'day!" in kind.<br /><br />I had been in the sauna for only two minutes but it felt more like twenty as I'd only recently begun doing the sauna with any regularity.<br /><br />I've found that one way to keep your mind off of the fact that you are sitting in a boiling-hot room, slowly melting to become one with the humidity, is to strike up a conversation with the other masochistic denizens of the sauna (if there are any). The subject of said conversation is immaterial, as no matter how banal it is, its sole purpose is to try and get you to last as long as possible while your brain keeps firing increasingly shrill messages at you.<br /><br />These messages start out as, "<span style="font-style: italic;">Boy, it's awfully muggy in here,</span>" from when you first cross the threshold into the boggy environs.<br /><br />They then progress to, "<span style="font-style: italic;">OK I know the Wikipedia entry on saunas talked about how beneficial they were for your health, but you're now in</span> serious <span style="font-style: italic;">danger of passing out. You can't even take a deep breath!</span>"<br /><br />Next comes, "<span style="font-style: italic;">You idiot! Unless you have an intravenous catheter and a bag of crystalloids handy, you are not lasting one more minute in this place! Initiating blackout mode.</span>"<br /><br />Finally, it's just a never-ending repetition of the phrase, "<span style="font-style: italic;">Get out!</span>" which increases in both volume and frequency with every second you remain inside that hot wooden box.<br /><br />But, boy, what a great feeling you have when you do emerge! My personal best in a sauna is twenty minutes, but this pales in comparison to the times I have seen some people spend in there. They must have an iguana somewhere in their family tree in order to have survived in there for as long as they did.<br /><br />Or maybe they've just mastered the art of small talk, which brings me back to my original point (/tangent).<br /><br />This gentleman and I turned to that infallible staple of small talk, The Weather. He brought it up, but after a moment he became self-aware and started questioning the point of ever discussing the weather.<br /><br />"I mean, unless you're a farmer or a fisherman, why should it matter to you? It won't change anything for you and there's nothing you can do about it anyway!" he said.<br /><br />Seeing the wisdom in this, I had to agree.<br /><br />Interrupting our discourse on the unpredictability of Wellington's weather were two older women who threw open the door to the sauna and, in quite a demanding fashion, gestured for the old man to quit the sauna.<br /><br />"Come on, get out of there!" they each said to the man, more or less in unison.<br /><br />I made a half-step to go as well, they had such a commanding air. I figured they might not want any men in the sauna with them, but then I remembered it was a 'co-ed' sauna after all. I then saw that they were just having him on a bit.<br /><br />Well, sort of. Turns out this gentleman (whose name is Arthur, as I came to find out) had not five months ago survived a life-threatening bout of heart failure. He was telling me about how great the health care workers were at the Wellington and Hutt Hospitals. His condition had deteriorated to the point where his doctor called his family to the hospital ASAP as Arthur had taken a sudden turn for the worse and didn't seem to have very long at all.<br /><br />His one son, now living in Australia, had already come home to be by his side during his time in hospital, but his daughter lived in Scotland and was still in the process of getting underway. So, the family reasoned, at least she'd be here for Arthur's funeral if she couldn't be there to see him before he passed.<br /><br />Apparently the doctor tried one last desperate treatment, not expecting it to work. Very clearly it did, or I would not have had the chance to meet Arthur that morning in the sauna.<br /><br />This recent experience of Arthur cheating death is also why his two friends came and tried to roust him out of the sauna. Apparently it has long been one of his favourite things to do but, since his bout of heart failure, he has lower blood pressure than normal. So sitting for any length of time in a sauna, which dilates all of the blood vessels in your skin thus lowering your blood pressure, is a potential recipe for disaster for Arthur.<br /><br />But it was I who eventually rousted us out of the sauna. The women gave up and Arthur continued to spin his tale, seeming quite content to stay in the sauna indefinitely. For a moment I half expected his two vigilant friends to return and haul him out of there bodily, but they were nowhere to be seen now.<br /><br />I was rapidly approaching my limit of sauna tolerance. Secretly, I yearned for the elderly women to return and redouble their efforts to extract Arthur from the sauna.<br /><br />"<span style="font-style: italic;">...getoutgetoutgetoutgetoutGETOUT....</span>" my brain was now yammering at me.<br /><br />I'm pretty sure my body took over at this point, as I suddenly found myself bolting upright and lurching for the door. Yes, an elderly man who has a heart condition and had recently cheated death outlasted me in the sauna!<br /><br />Graciously, Arthur could see that I had had enough (of the sauna, not his story) and he came through with me. We stood and chatted for a few more moments. He said he felt bad for his daughter, who eventually got here but not until a couple of days after Arthur had turned the corner and been transferred back to Hutt Hospital. The reason Arthur felt bad, he says, was that when his daughter left she was told he was not going to be alive when she got to New Zealand. Yet there he was, grinning up at her from his hospital bed. So he told her he was sorry to disappoint her that there would be no funeral!<br /><br />I had to laugh as I really enjoy the Kiwi senses of humility and self-deprecation. I told him I was sure his daughter saw it differently and that he looked great, which he truly did.<br /><br />Anyways I'm sure I'll be seeing Arthur again, now that I'm swimming regularly and following that up with a brief session in the sauna. We'll see if I can outlast him in there next time, though, as it was I who was in danger of low blood pressure on that day and not him!<br /><br />I must practice my small talk skills about the weather, that is the secret.<br /><br />So, a bit muggy out today, wasn't it?Kiwi Brooksiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04797337345019110934noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32557997.post-1962792434065275782009-02-26T17:09:00.022+13:002009-02-26T19:07:33.718+13:00I'm in love... with a cityLloyd Dobler: "I got a question. If you guys know so much about women, then how come you're here at, like, a Gas 'n Sip on a Saturday night, completely alone, drinking beers, with no women anywhere?"<br /><br />(A long pause.)<br /><br />Joe: "By choice, man!"<br /><br />Denny: "That's right, man, it's a conscious choice!"<br /><br />Mark: "Yeah, we're choosin' it!"<br /><br />So went the replies of his mates to the inimitable Lloyd Dobler's probing question in the movie <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0098258/"><span style="font-style: italic;">Say Anything</span></a>.*<br /><br />You (or Lloyd) might ask me something similar, such as, "If you like New Zealand so much and came over here partly for all the tramping, then why is it you're spending over half of your two week vacation here in Wellington, completely alone, with no tramps in sight?"<br /><br />To which I would also reply, "By choice, man!"<br /><br />Yeah, I'm choosin' it.<br /><br />OK, so I cannot completely ascribe my motives to a deep sense of attachment to this wonderful place, this city that just kicks so much ass. Part of the reason I am here for much of my time off is financial. In the <span style="font-weight: bold;">'This Just In'</span> department, economic times are tough, especially here in Kiwi-land where the New Zealand dollar has fallen right down to half the US dollar's value - with continued tumbling still very likely.<br /><br />Yeah I could have easily whacked some expenses onto the credit card and spent 5-7 days tramping along one of New Zealand's many gorgeous tracks. But, come to that, I did actively choose to spend most of my time round these parts. I have become the worst kind of 'homer' since moving here - but with good reasons!<br /><br />The walks along Wellington's harbour and the accompanying views really just cannot be beaten. They provide me with much more than just visual splendor: I derive a genuine sense of calm just being down amongst it all. This feeling comes in spite of the fact that I have usually downed anywhere from 1-3 mochas before I hit the waterfront for an extended stroll.<br /><br />I just love this city. I really would rather be here than anywhere else right now - vacation be damned!<br /><br />OK. So if you waved a bunch of money at me and gave me an all-expenses-paid trip to Vegas or Orlando, I'd jump at it. After all, I can still spend my one weekday off here in town, not to mention the weekends I'm not working.<br /><br />But even thinking about planning such a trip away from Welly would incite a real sort of, I don't know, <span style="font-style: italic;">anxiety</span> in me. It's this mixture of irrational emotions that I feel. Like, I'm selfish with any and all free time I have in regards to town - if I have time off, almost invariably I'm going to want to spend it there. I also am, on an unconscious and illogical level, a bit paranoid that if I leave I somehow may not come back. These sensations are exaggerated exponentially if the concept involves travelling overseas.<br /><br />See what I mean? Irrational. I am completely in the tank for Wellington. I feel really good about this city, almost protective of it.<br /><br />Wellington has been very kind to me. It's given me a good and steady job in this country, allowing me to stay on in New Zealand - and in its best city (in my opinion) at that.<br /><br />Aside from my employment and the waterfront along the harbour, I love lots of other things about this city. Just knowing that, on the other side of the CBD, there awaits a collection of meandering, beautiful bays along the Cook Strait is something I find immeasurably comforting. Even adjacent to downtown is a nice long stretch of sandy beach. You might even get to see the occasional dolphin at play out in the harbour as he travels through the bay on some kind of underwater OE**.<br /><br />The seemingly endless collection of cafes, restaurants, hidden eccentric clubs like the Watusi and pubs galore make the prospect of spending time in town bristle with opportunity. It's a big city, yes, but it has a small-town feel to it. Just as the porridge that Goldilocks eventually ate was just right - not too hot, not too cold - Wellington is similarly 'just right'.<br /><br />OK so I just compared my favourite place to live in the whole wide world to a bowl of oats and warm milk, but work with me here, people!<br /><br />The arts are avidly supported here, and while not all entertainment is first-rate, at least there is a lot of it and at all levels: from free street performers to finely-produced operas. There is even a collection of Monet's impressionist art visiting Te Papa at the moment, and never you mind that the <a href="http://www.stuff.co.nz/4856890a14297.html">roof was leaking</a> right near the artworks! None of it got wet, so no harm no foul.<br /><br />Most of all, though, I've finally been able to get involved with acting again, now that I have joined the Wellington Improvisation Troupe. And to continue with my questionable analogy above, if Wellington is the porridge, then all of these great fun things to see and do around here are the brown sugar and cinnamon that make it taste so great.<br /><br />Yeah, let me tack this boat a little better.<br /><br />I'll illustrate this city's charms further with an anecdote. One day I was walking up Victoria Street by the excellent Lido Cafe, approaching the intersection with Manners Mall. The sidewalk was crowded at that point as it was lunchtime. A small work van was parked half on the sidewalk and half on the road. Ostensibly the guy was in the middle of some kind of job in the area, but as it was lunchtime he was holed up inside the van and having his lunch.<br /><br />But he was also blasting his stereo at what must have been full volume, for even with the windows on the van rolled up, all who walked within 30 metres of the van could hear Survivor's "Eye Of The Tiger" blasting through.<br /><br />He must have been really keen for this song - and it is suitably inspiring - so perhaps he was getting psyched up for the second half of his workday.<br /><br />But it got several of the rest of us caught up in its positive energy as well. Initially, as I was walking by the van, I couldn't help but bob my head in time with the plodding bass line of the song. I had to fight the urge to start shadow-boxing right there in the street. Nobody else seemed to be reacting to the music in a way other than sort of darting their eyes around and smirking nervously at everyone else as if to say, "Hah, this guy has his music up loud, aye?"<br /><br />But then two girls walking in front of me were overcome by the music as well and, right along with the chorus, began to pump their fists in the air and wail "It's the... EYE OF THE TIGER! It's the thrill of the fight... Rising up to the challenge of our rival!" and so on, but by that time we had all walked past the van and so the sound waves began to diminish.<br /><br />The two girls had noticed I was also bobbing my head in sync with the beat, and after they sang the lyrics we all shared a laugh. Then, just like that, this spontaneous moment of karaoke theatre was over and we all kept walking our separate paths.<br /><br />But to this day, every time I approach that corner of Manners Mall, this song springs unbidden into my mind and I start looking around for work vans with stereos blasting loudly.<br /><br />Of course it was a moment that shall never be repeated, and is one of many that make me see again and again the happy side of this city. I know that kind of thing could maybe have occurred anywhere, but I like to think it's the mindset and general vibe of Wellington that allows such moments to happen.<br /><br />On that note, I'm off to watch a novel play involving a few W.I.T. friends of mine. It's called <a href="http://www.scoop.co.nz/stories/CU0901/S00199.htm"><span style="font-style: italic;">The Frogs Under The Waterfront</span></a> and is a modern adaptation of an ancient Greek comedy called - wait for it - <span style="font-style: italic;">The Frogs</span>, and it was originally written by Aristophanes.<br /><br />I'm pretty sure there's no Survivor soundtrack, but I do know the experience will add to my ever-growing stockpile of fond adventures in this city!<br />-------------------------------------------------------------------------<br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >* All quotes here used without permission from this excellent film. I suggest you go and rent it right now!<br /><br />** <a href="http://www.nzherald.co.nz/nz/news/article.cfm?c_id=1&objectid=9006005">Overseas Experience</a>. It's a Kiwi thing, and a pretty cool tradition too.</span>Kiwi Brooksiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04797337345019110934noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32557997.post-13291133597287476142009-01-26T17:17:00.014+13:002009-01-26T17:17:00.995+13:00Kiwi-English Dictionary 5: TOP SECRET II: THE SEQUEL<span style="font-style: italic;">See also!</span><br /><br /><a href="http://kiwibrooksie.blogspot.com/2006/11/kiwenglish.html">Kiwi-English Dictionary the First</a><br /><br /><a href="http://kiwibrooksie.blogspot.com/2007/03/kiwi-english-dictionary-collegiate.html">Kiwi-English Dictionary, Collegiate Edition</a><br /><br /><a href="http://kiwibrooksie.blogspot.com/2008/02/kiwi-english-dictionary-3-in-3-d.html">Kiwi-English Dictionary 3: In 3-D!</a><br /><br /><a href="http://kiwibrooksie.blogspot.com/2008/06/kiwi-english-dictionary-4-final-chapter.html">Kiwi-English Dictionary 4: The Final Chapter of The Return of the Dream Master</a><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">SATELLITE FEED RESUMED</span><br /><br />18. “Hey, thanks again for cooking dinner. You bought a lot of food, you sure I can’t help you pay for any of this?”<br /><br />“Nah, you get <span style="font-weight: bold;">mates rates</span>.”<br /><br />“Oh, okay, well thanks again then.”<br /><br />Said conversation took place with a Kiwi counterpart in the New Zealand linguistic underground effort. Had not encountered the phrase prior to this conversation, however given this was the final in a series of rebuffed efforts to help pay for dinner it became clear through established context that ‘mates rates’ must equal ‘free’.<br /><br />If not, then yours truly is a deadbeat who missed the boat. But at least he did the dishes afterwards ...<br /><br />19. “<span style="font-weight: bold;">Might be an idea</span> to get the washing in before it rains.”<br /><br />“I reckon you’re right.”<br /><br />In typical understated Kiwi fashion, something that ‘might be an idea’ would on the surface seem to be a feeble suggestion. It is, however, nothing other than a politely worded command or, if referencing a concept instead of action, an idea that the speaker feels really ought to be taken on board.<br /><br />As in, “It might be an idea to wear something besides your Wallabies shirt if you're coming with me to the pub tonight.”<br /><br />20. “Just bring lots of bug spray. The <span style="font-weight: bold;">mossies</span> will eat you alive down there.”<br /><br />Sage advice given to me by a Kiwi when discussing a pending trip to the south island’s west coast, which although stunningly beautiful is a haven for the pest known as the mossie - what yanks refer to in full as a ‘mosquito’, or as a ‘skeeter’ if they are rednecks. Given the choice, I’ll use mossie, thank you very much.<br /><br />The fact that the nickname for this annoying, blood-sucking little pest sounds an awful lot like ‘Aussie’ has not escaped my notice.<br /><br />21. “We thought things were going well, everything was set up. But then we talked to the advisors last week and they had <span style="font-weight: bold;">moved the goalposts</span> on us again.”<br /><br />At risk of insubordination, this is something I’ve experienced within my own secret agent profession although I had never heard the phenomenon expressed in this way before. Obviously it derives from sport and can refer to goals in really anything, from health care to finance to personal sales targets.<br /><br />I could’ve used this phrase when discussing my future with another agent, for example.<br /><br />“So, Brooksie, have they given you the Kiwis yet? You must’ve put in for that assignment, what, five years ago?”<br /><br />“Nah, <span style="font-size:85%;">NAME REDACTED</span>, they moved the goalposts on me again. Now I need another hundred new definitions before they’ll reconsider my transfer.”<br /><br />At the time, I was reduced to using the term ‘screwed’ along with other more colourful, less-printable words to describe my predicament.<br /><br />Happily, the coveted assignment obviously came to pass.<br /><br />22. “I told the cops my speedometer was out of tune so I had no real concept of how fast I was going, but they <span style="font-weight: bold;">weren’t having a bar of it</span>.”<br /><br />To <span style="font-weight: bold;">not have a bar of</span> something obviously means to either not believe the speaker or to not care about their plight. Unsure as to the origins, however it sounds musical given the mention of ‘bar’ and to not even have a bar of music would indeed mean having little interest in the song or, in this case, the perceived fib being told.<br /><br />23. “So I’ll just <span style="font-weight: bold;">rock in</span> to the Ticketek office, grab our tickets, and then meet you guys at the gate.”<br /><br />“Choice.”<br /><br />To ‘rock in’ somewhere is often heard when describing either something that is done in the midst of a long list of things to do, or to elevate the status of the person doing the ‘rocking in’.<br /><br />It’s describing you as if you are surrounded by such an aura of coolness or importance that, like a rock star, you crash a scene and cause a stir simply by your presence. Even if it’s just something as innocuous and unglamorous as, you know, hitting the laundrette.<br /><br />24. Oh, that's another one! <span style="font-weight: bold;">Laundrette</span>. It's easy, though, as we/you* Americans call this a 'laundromat', although my first go round with the yellow pages here was making me panic. Not able to find any 'laundromats' listed, I was beginning to think I'd have no choice but to keep buying new clothes.<br /><br />25. "Had Christmas with the <span style="font-weight: bold;">rellies</span>, then spent Boxing Day with my daughter at the beach."<br /><br />As is probably obvious to all readers, 'relly' is short for 'relative'. Much like '<span style="font-weight: bold;">telly</span>', short for 'television', relly is not known to be part of the present American lexicon.<br /><br />26. “So there we were, in three metre swells, unable to fish for anything and still in sight of the coast!”<br /><br />“<span style="font-weight: bold;">Shivers</span>!”<br /><br />“Yeah but things got better when wiser heads prevailed and we sailed back into the harbour.”<br /><br />At first the only person heard to utter the word ‘shivers’ was the, um, girl who cuts my hair. It’s obviously in the spirit of other such exclamations, like ‘Gosh!’ or ‘Whoa!’ but to illustrate all similar such words is way beyond the scope of this entry.<br /><br />Given that the girl was British in origin, it was initially thought that it was only fashionable to say this back in the UK. But have since heard it spoken by two other confirmed Kiwis who do not, to this agent’s knowledge, know his hairdresser.<br /><br />So am lead to conclude that either, A) my hairdresser has a truly globe-spanning influence with her vocabulary (they do meet lots of people in their line of work, after all) or B) while it is a favourite phrase of hers it is overall an uncommon one and thus took a little longer than usual to corroborate.<br /><br />Hmm. Just saw my reflection in the mirror, and shivers! It’s time for another haircut.<br /><br />27. ‘Australian coach <span style="font-weight: bold;">spits the dummy</span> after Kiwis claim Rugby League World Cup title’.<br /><br />That or something similar was how the headline ran in one of the papers the day after New Zealand’s boys <a href="http://www.stuff.co.nz/4795889a1823.html">did that very thing</a>.<br /><br />Curious as to the meaning of this phrase that had certainly never fallen on these ears (or eyes) back in the States, I have come to find that it describes when someone is so riled up about something they get carried away in a pique of whining, name-calling and blaming – much as the Aussie coach did after his side was humbled by the indomitable Kiwis.<br /><br />Without getting into a sidelong discussion about the match, suffice to say it is never good to 'spit the dummy'. A dummy, and I believe this term is Australian in origin, refers to an infant’s binky or pacifier. To ‘spit’ it describes what usually precedes a crying jag or temper tantrum or both. While this is something we have all done as infants, on numerous occasions, it is bad form to grump about on this level as an adult.<br /><br />Assuming, of course, that the individual in question can be considered an ‘adult’, as some people just never grow up.<br /><br />28. “They can’t expect us to keep paying such high prices for petrol when their own costs per barrel have plummeted, can they? <span style="font-weight: bold;">Surely not</span>.”<br /><br />Another elegant turn of phrase, ‘surely not’ is by no means anything remarkably unique. It is just a refreshing alternative to heavy hitters like ‘absolutely not’ or ‘hell no’.<br /><br />29. “I mean, who gives a toss if she’s at your party? It must be nice to have all that money and always go to posh gigs and be seen <span style="font-weight: bold;">swanning about</span>. Won’t someone just end her?”<br /><br />OK so there are a few good ones in there, but ‘swanning about’ really just nails it when describing someone vapid and vain, doing what they do in their high society ways.<br /><br />No bitterness from this agent here! I mean, if it weren’t for my undercover status... well, I still couldn’t swan about because I couldn’t afford to.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Sigh.</span><br /><br />On to the next one.<br /><br />30. “All he has is a small biscuit for his breakfast, then he goes for a long walk in the afternoon before I give him his <span style="font-weight: bold;">tea</span> at night.”<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">A pause.</span><br /><br />“You feed him <span style="font-style: italic;">tea</span>?”<br /><br />“Well of course I feed him tea! He’s got to eat sometime, doesn’t he? When do you think I should feed him instead? In the mornings?”<br /><br />Discussion regarding a client’s pet dog, during which it finally dawned on me that ‘tea’ is a synonym for dinner – dog, human or otherwise.<br /><br />Not sure of the origins, probably British of course, but that’s one more little mystery solved.<br /><br />31. “Let me just put it all in a <span style="font-weight: bold;">wee</span> bag for you, dear.”<br /><br />As you might imagine, something ‘wee’ is something small. Also used to describe a person, often a ‘wee lass’ or a ‘wee little chap’.<br /><br />The very same word also describes urine or the act of making it, but I have yet to hear anyone say they’ve got to excuse themselves for a ‘wee wee’.<br /><br />32. “Phone your order in today for your Rugby Sevens tickets and <span style="font-weight: bold;">whack it on</span> the plastic!”<br /><br />Akin to the short, violent motion used to slide a credit card through that stubborn magnetic strip reader, to ‘whack’ something on there is suitably descriptive. I say this because, whenever I do this, I also envision my credit rating taking a big ‘whack’.<br /><br />Savings account? What savings account?<br /><br />33. “Meanwhile, we're down here doing all the hard <span style="font-weight: bold;">yakka</span>, and they’re the ones reaping all the benefits!”<br /><br />Cannot recall the original conversation, but does it matter? I hold this definition to be self-evident.<br /><br />Speaking of yakka, or <span style="font-weight: bold;">hard yards</span>, you’ve done quite a lot of it just to get this far in this report! Good on ya.<br /><br />34. “It was a real <span style="font-weight: bold;">yakker</span>!”<br /><br />Enthusiastically spoken as Zimbabwean agent Danie described, with not a little fondness, his memories of the time he got on a party bus in Christchurch.<br /><br />He was actually referring to the scene at each of the pubs they would stop at. They would ‘bowl in’, have a drink or two, then get back onto the bus to be driven to the next pub in a series of about, oh, two dozen.<br /><br />Very often, the population of the bus at the end of the night would be quite different from the one that set out on the bus earlier in the day. It was quite normal to lose a few passengers at each pub, only to then pick up replacements along the way. Drinking was allowed on the bus as well, so there really was no need to miss out on one second of the merriment.<br /><br />I’d be shocked to learn if these things still happen, but if they do then consider this sentence this agent’s formal request for a transfer to the Christchurch branch, Party Bus Division.<br /><br />Certainly the regulars on those buses must have a set of lingo all their own, different again from the rest of New Zealand’s? Would you want this now-seasoned agent to miss out on such a golden opportunity?<br /><br />Surely not.<br />----------------------------------------------------------------<br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:78%;">* Identity crisis? What identity crisis? I'm undercover, man!</span></span>Kiwi Brooksiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04797337345019110934noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32557997.post-36493467550221142792009-01-24T17:17:00.013+13:002009-01-25T23:14:33.958+13:00Kiwi-English Dictionary 5: TOP SECRET<span style="font-weight: bold;"></span>Attn: Home Office<br /><br />From: Linguistic Agent Brooksie<br /><br />I have now reached Day 929 in deep Down Undercover here in the land of the Kiwis. I apologise for the delay in this latest dispatch but as it is now the New Zealand summer I have had increased pressure to maintain my cover. While day after day of barbies, bachs and lazing by the pool have been nothing short of stellar, it has left me very little time in which to compose my intelligence reports lest I attract too much unwanted attention. While these Kiwis certainly know how to work hard and play hard, it would look mighty suspicious were I to be caught using my satellite phone in the middle of a paddock while all the other guys are crowded round the barbie.<br /><br />As it is, I nearly blew it when I said I couldn’t find my ‘flip flops’ earlier. It was quite an awkward pause, let me tell you, as the entire room seemed to stop and hold its breath. At first I was unaware of my verbal transgression until Hamish corrected me by saying, “You mean you’ve lost your jandals, mate?”<br /><br />Only years of top-notch dialect training and acting lessons let yours truly off the hook. I cannot afford any more such slip-ups or they will be on to me. The less said about the time I neglected to serve out chocolate fish with everybody’s flat whites that one Sunday morning, the better!<br /><br />My time is short, the kebabs are nearly done, and it’s a long sprint back to the bach (in jandals no less), so it is without further delay that I give you my latest insights into that addictive, quirky linguistic curiosity that is<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" >KIWI ENGLISH</span><br /><br /><i>This time given with more context clues from actual conversations so as to better define the terms or phrases. Wherein the author must hazard a guess as to the true origins of a phrase or even as to its true meaning, he maintains a full sense of plausible deniability in the modern parlance of our times. Nothing but denials will be given by the author even under the duress of torture, yada yada and all the other standard boilerplate disclaimer language you can think of applies here as well.</i><br /><br />1. “We’re all out of blue top.” (Blue top milk is whole milk, while green top is skim).<br /><br />“Who wants to run to the dairy to get some more?”<br /><br />“<span style="font-weight: bold;">Bags not</span>!” This phrase was uttered by everyone at morning tea save for me, and was accompanied by the touching of an index finger to the nose.<br /><br />Whereupon they all realised I was the only one not to say this phrase (and/or touch my nose in a similar manner), I played off my mystification as simple surprise and realised I had just failed at a common Kiwi ritual in getting out of doing something. Proclaiming 'bags not' is akin to the universal practice of ‘calling it’, under which the well-known ‘shotgun’ rule applies when setting off for a trip in the car with multiple passengers.<br /><br />Needless to say, yours truly went to get the blue top, only all too happily as another valuable phrase can now be added to the Home Office’s ever-growing lexicon. Cover was maintained in this instance, and only just.<br /><br />2. “My, you look as if you’ve <span style="font-weight: bold;">been in the wars</span>, chap!”<br /><br />Spoken by a Kiwi pet owner as they regarded a cat in a cage neighbouring their own cat’s in the hospital. The ‘in the wars’ cat had been in hospital for two weeks and had just finished fighting off an upper respiratory infection as well as a blocked bladder. His skinny demeanour, two shaved front legs and snotty nose attested to his ‘war-torn’ look.<br /><br />3. "Nah, you can just <span style="font-weight: bold;">biff</span> all your old tax records, mate. No need to keep so many dusty boxes around, ay?"<br /><br />To 'biff', in any other country, means to hit someone or something. Which makes sense, as I can just see it now, appearing inside a word balloon that pops up during one of those fight scenes in the old Batman TV episodes. But here and only here in New Zealand, 'biffing' something means throwing it away or, as we might say in the States, 'chucking it out'.<br /><br />4. “I’m really exhausted, ay? Think I’m just going to <span style="font-weight: bold;">blob out</span> on the couch tonight and watch a movie.”<br /><br />Rather self-explanatory. Heard when someone was asked if they wanted to go out for coffees with the group after class. Was tempted to offer up an observation as to how similar this was to the American expression to ‘sack out’, which also usually takes place on the couch, but did not want to draw undue attention.<br /><br />In this report, however, such comparisons can be drawn without fear of breaking cover.<br /><br />5. I am still working on this one, but after repeated observation and listening, I have started to form a clearer picture of what is regarded as a true Kiwi ‘<span style="font-weight: bold;">bloke</span>’.<br /><br />It’s a man who is a bit rough around the edges and mostly hangs out with his mates. He will often engage in DIY projects, has a local pub at which he downs pints with the boys, and he goes for sport. Possesses a rugged charm and works hard for the money. Would give the shirt off his back to his mates and probably to those he doesn't even know, if they are in a bind. Is equally at home discussing economics as well as the virtues of heavy machinery. Not so much into the arts or café culture. To be referred to as 'a good bloke' is high praise indeed.<br /><br />As bloke is not in the American vocabulary, might I suggest someone at Mission Control look into finding the equivalent descriptive term, if such a thing exists?<br /><br />6. “He’s not going to just <span style="font-weight: bold;">cark it</span> when he goes under anaesthesia, is he?”<br /><br />Asked of me by a very concerned owner at the undercover job regarding a Boxer who needed an eye operation. Had to stifle a laugh as it is one of the more wonderfully descriptive, if not grim, phrases this agent has yet encountered.<br /><br />And no, the Boxer in question did not, in fact, cark it.<br /><br />7. Speaking of the animals, a <span style="font-weight: bold;">chook</span> refers to an adult chicken. Make room for this one right now in the Home Dictionary. What a great farm word. Also seems to double as a term of endearment, although so far only heard when referring to pets.<br /><br />8. There are no specific recollections of this next phrase turning up in conversation (read: my Sony Memory Stick was full), so it will just be mentioned that to ‘<span style="font-weight: bold;">come a cropper</span>’ means to die. To snuff it. Shuffle off this mortal coil, and so on.<br /><br />Suspiciously British in origin. I don’t know why I write that. But it is suspected that to be a ‘cropper’ means one’s corpse is now nothing more than mere compost for the gardens.<br /><br />Here is a sample sentence to illustrate:<br /><br />“If you don’t stop eating pies and cut out the smoking, you’re going to come a cropper, mate.”<br /><br />9. “So I really don’t need to tip in any of the restaurants, then?”<br /><br />“<span style="font-weight: bold;">Dead right</span>, mate. Dead right.”<br /><br />From a conversation with a fellow linguistics agent from Zimbabwe upon first entering the country. ‘Dead right’ is, as Americans might say, ‘Exactly.’<br /><br />10. “I was visiting one of my girlfriends in Noosa, and I ran into Ang there. I hadn’t seen her <span style="font-weight: bold;">in donkey’s years</span>!”<br /><br />Spoken by a female co-worker. It is assumed that donkeys must live very long lives but as livestock are not this agent’s expertise, it is left to Mission Control to corroborate or further elucidate the origins of this phrase.<br /><br />11. “Simon! We don’t have time to go up Ngauruhoe today. Let’s just skip it and move on.”<br /><br />“<span style="font-weight: bold;">Don’t stress</span>. We’ll be fine.”<br /><br />Obvious meaning, however a phrase that is exclusive to the Kiwis as compared to the Americans. Our equivalent might be ‘chill out’ or similar.<br /><br />Stress was averted and the mountain was climbed, incidentally.<br /><br />12. “<span style="font-weight: bold;">Egg</span>.”<br /><br />“Ay?”<br /><br />“You’re an egg.”<br /><br />“Ah, I’m not familiar with that one!”<br /><br />Was free to admit ignorance on this one, as was speaking with one of our Kiwi liaisons in the Secret Linguistic Service, so cover was not an issue.<br /><br />‘Egg’ refers to someone who is a bit of a geek with regards to their sense of humour, if not a little obnoxious. Being called an egg is a mild if not affectionate type of insult.<br /><br />I am one, apparently.<br /><br />13. “Yeah we’ve been going <span style="font-weight: bold;">flat tack</span> since last month.”<br /><br />Used to describe how busy things have become at work this summer. Probably has origins in sailing terminology as maritime recreation has a strong history here in New Zealand.<br /><br />14. “But $1800 includes everything involved with the trip, <span style="font-weight: bold;">full stop</span>. Registration, airfare, hotel. The lot.”<br /><br />Heard when discussing the prospect of an advanced learning course with a co-worker. Probably also nautical in origin.<br /><br />15. “So how’s he doing these days?”<br /><br />“Oh, he’s as <span style="font-weight: bold;">happy as Larry</span> since we brought him inside! Spends his days curled up beside the fire. Sleeps on his bed. No problems.”<br /><br />Spoken by a client when asked how their older, arthritic dog was coping with a recent blast of cold weather. Unclear as to who the original Larry was, but must have been one happy bloke.<br /><br />16. “Yeah, we’ve got to bring him in for his <span style="font-weight: bold;">jabs</span>. What’ll that cost, you reckon?”<br /><br />Asked of me by friends (real ones, not ones provided by the Agency) when discussing their dog and not, as it may sound, a boxer in training.<br /><br />(And by boxer I mean <span style="font-style: italic;">professional fighter</span>, not the dog breed.)<br /><br />(God, this job can get confusing!)<br /><br />17. "Do you want to come have a look at his bandage? Where his paw is sticking out looks all <span style="font-weight: bold;">manky</span>."<br /><br />Another word that just sounds so much like what it describes, when something is said to be 'manky' it is usually a combination of greasy, smelly and general nastiness. Have also heard this used to describe another person's hair, on more than one occasion (not mine).<br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">SATELLITE FEED INTERRUPTED<br /><br />STAND BY TO RECEIVE REST OF COPY<br /></span>-------------------------------------------------------------------<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">See also!</span><br /><br /><a href="http://kiwibrooksie.blogspot.com/2006/11/kiwenglish.html">Kiwi-English Dictionary the First</a><br /><br /><a href="http://kiwibrooksie.blogspot.com/2007/03/kiwi-english-dictionary-collegiate.html">Kiwi-English Dictionary, Collegiate Edition</a><br /><br /><a href="http://kiwibrooksie.blogspot.com/2008/02/kiwi-english-dictionary-3-in-3-d.html">Kiwi-English Dictionary 3: In 3-D!</a><br /><br /><a href="http://kiwibrooksie.blogspot.com/2008/06/kiwi-english-dictionary-4-final-chapter.html">Kiwi-English Dictionary 4: The Final Chapter of The Return of the Dream Master</a>Kiwi Brooksiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04797337345019110934noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32557997.post-81358048634958154012009-01-20T20:22:00.028+13:002009-01-20T21:13:02.515+13:00Not overheard at Café AstoriaOr, Hypothetical Conversation That Took Place During One of Brooksie's Many Visits to <a style="font-style: italic;" href="http://www.teara.govt.nz/NewZealandInBrief/SportsAndLeisure/1/ENZ-Resources/Standard/4/3/en">Café Astoria</a>*<br /><br /><span style="font-size:100%;">"Oh my God, here he comes again."<br /><br />"Who?"<br /><br />"It's that guy, remember him from last time? He always carries that black satchel with him."<br /><br />"Oh yeah, I've seen him before. He's not been in for a while though, ay?"<br /><br />"Nah, mate. You don't remember what happened the last time he was here?"<br /><br />"Well he always seems to be typing something on that little keyboard of his that he carries around everywhere."<br /><br />"I know, strange isn't it? Yeah, no, that's not what I'm talking about, though."<br /><br />"Oh wait! Now I remember. He's the one that went to the loo as soon as his food had arrived. And he was sitting outside. Bloody unfortunate, that was."<br /><br />"Yeah. Those pigeons made a hash of his food, didn't they?"<br /><br />"Yep. They dove into his coffee, too, if memory serves."<br /><br />"They really go for those marshmallows."<br /><br />"At least he apologised for it. He felt really bad about it, actually."<br /><br />"I know. Kept trying to pay for the replacement mocha and peach shortcake we brought out to him."<br /><br />"Yeah. Poor bugger. Must've been so embarrassed! It was right during peak lunchtime. He was surrounded by pigeons and onlookers."<br /><br />"Well, if it bothered him, he didn't let it show. Kept right on typing, once he got settled in. He sure seems to like the atmosphere here."<br /><br />"You don't think he ever writes about us, do you?"<br /><br />"No!" he said, in that long, drawn-out Kiwi version of the word that sounds more like "Naaooww!" It is a more powerful version of the word that is used when expressing serious doubt. "No, I don't know what he writes about on that keyboard of his. Must be taking classes or something."<br /><br />"He looks a bit old to be at uni, doesn't he? Perhaps he's a teacher."<br /><br />"Mmm, maybe. But any proper teacher would have a laptop, wouldn't he? What do you call that piece of black plastic he's got?"<br /><br />"It's surely not a laptop, I can tell you that much. So you don't think he's a restaurant critic or anything?"<br /><br />"No, mate. He does tell us he really likes our coffee, and he's always trying different things on the menu. I've even seen him in here with different friends on occasion as well. But, if he is a critic, he doesn't write for any of the papers or websites that I read through. And I check them all."<br /><br />"Dead right, mate, you had better check them all! You're the owner of this place."<br /><br />"Yeah, yeah."<br /><br />The sudden sound of breaking glass came from a small table situated at the center of the restaurant, at which was seated a lone figure in front of a small black keyboard. He had been attempting to slide an empty plate across the table, however an empty ceramic yoghurt cup that had been precariously balanced upon the plate's edge came invariably tumbling down and shattered into fragments on the hardwood floor. Small streamers of white yoghurt sprayed out from the crash site, forming a crude starburst pattern.<br /><br />"He's at it again, mate. You got this one?"<br /><br />"Yep, I'll get it. Look, he's already starting to clean it up himself. Poor bastard."<br /><br />"At least there are no pigeons this time," laughed the owner.<br /><br />"Aye, well, if we don't get that yoghurt up in a hurry, there will be pigeons, mate!"</span><br />--------------------------------------------------------------------------<br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:85%;">*While none of the conversation in this <strike>review</strike> entry is real (it is hoped), the events described therein may or may not be true. What is true, however, is that the food, coffee and most especially the atmosphere at Café Astoria are what make it a favourite stop for this author.<br /><br />Everything but the pigeons, of course.<br /></span></span>Kiwi Brooksiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04797337345019110934noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32557997.post-48389797213612335472009-01-03T16:00:00.012+13:002009-01-03T23:58:56.517+13:00Apropos of nothing ...As I was walking past the Paramount Theatre on Courtenay Place this afternoon I noticed on their chalkboard marquee that "North By Northwest" was playing. And I said to myself, "Self, what a great movie to see on the Big Screen again!"<br /><br />Which got me to thinking about what <span style="font-style: italic;">other</span> films aside from this great one of Hitchcock's I might enjoy seeing in a proper movie theatre again.<br /><br />Oh yes, and Happy New Year everybody. May 2009 bring you all that you hope for and more. Look under "Beautiful Photos" to the right or click <a href="http://s89.photobucket.com/albums/k235/Brandonio17/Hawkes%20Bay%20NYE%202008/">here</a> to see an album containing 50 pictures from my New Year's camping trip to Hawke's Bay, if you're interested. Had a great time with my friends Sarah, Simon and Monica. They taught me how to say 'water' like a proper Kiwi, and it sounds remarkably similar to how New Yorkers pronounce it!<br /><br />Back on topic. Here, in no particular order, are the 7* movies I'd like to see re-screened on the, uh, Big Screen. So with that in mind, pop the popcorn, dim the lights way down, kill the mobile phones and cue <a href="http://www.thx.com/cinema/trailers/wmv/broadway.wmv">that cool "The Audience Is Listening" theme from THX</a>!<br /><br />1. "North By Northwest" (1959) ~ Well, duh, seeing as how I just mentioned this film, let's cover it first. The primary reason for this one being on the list is that epic chase sequence at the end of the film that has the protagonist running across Mount Rushmore. This is a gripping thriller involving a case of mistaken identity and another reason I'd like to see it again is I have forgotten nearly all details of the plot so it'd be like <span style="font-style: italic;">déja vu</span> all over again. And as it first came out on the Big Screen in 1959, it was well before I was born so I've never really had the chance to see it. Until now - thank you, Paramount Theatre!<br /><br />2. "Conan The Barbarian" (1982) ~ This film is one of my top five favourites of all time, and though you may scoff at that selection allow me to justify it. First and foremost I love how the producer was convinced to drop the crap soundtrack he'd intended to use (apparently he got his wish for the sequel, "Conan The Destroyer", which is <span style="font-style: italic;">not</span> anywhere near my top 100 favourite films list). Instead, the director was able to get Basil Poledouris to compose a score befitting this epic tale. All of the instruments used by his orchestra were of a technology and type found in medieval times so this film to me is a rare marriage of sound and vision. Second, there are some great lines from this film, ranging from the simple yet effective "Crom!" to "Dinner for wolf?" to this classic exchange:<br /><br />MONGOL GENERAL: "Conan! What is best in life?"<br /><br />CONAN: "To crush your enemies! See them driven before you! And to hear the lamentations of the women."<br /><br />MONGOL GENERAL: "That is good."<br /><br />3. "Raiders Of The Lost Ark" (1981) ~ This is my Number One Favourite Movie Of All Time, and it never fails to cause a stir. I admit with some sheepishness that this film not only inspired me to a future choice of career (which I abandoned, once I grew up and realised that archaeology is not, in fact, the glorified tomb robbing you see in these films), but it also affected my wardrobe at the time. I wasn't the flashest of dressers in high school, but I had very kind parents who indulged me and I did have a kick-ass leather bomber jacket from the original, cool Banana Republic before they turned all vanilla. I also had a hat very much like Indy's, only unlike Harrison Ford I wasn't able to pull this one off with anywhere near the rugged sexiness that he displayed. Shocking, I know. In fact, I looked rather absurd in it, so it spent far more time looking cool on the hat rack in the foyer than it ever did on top of my head.<br /><br />This is also the kind of movie that's just <span style="font-style: italic;">made</span> for the Big Screen, although admittedly these days with home theatre technology being what it is, justice can be done to it there. Even so, it still only approximates the experience of seeing this film in a proper movie theatre. Also I cannot afford such a magnificent home setup, so for that reason among many others, bring back Indy, Sallah (the Monarch of the Sea), feisty Marion, the idol, the whip and that rolling boulder!<br /><br />4. "Gladiator" (2000) ~ While not my most favourite film of all time, it ranks right up there on my list and it is perhaps the one I long to see the most on the Big Screen again. I saw it three times when it was first released, and what kept me coming back was that intense opening scene. It gave me goosebumps every time. Such an engrossing battle, what with all the flaming arrows and the camera angles used to show them taking flight. Maximus' pre-battle speech to his troops made me want to man one of the ballistae or, hell, to pick up a sword and charge in there myself and slash at a few Germanics. His rallying cry of "Hold the line!" during the battle was just awesome. This was also one of Oliver Reed's very last films before he died, and while I'd only seen him in one other film, he gave a memorable performance as Proximo in this film.<br /><br />5. "Blade Runner" (1982) ~ Still my favourite adaptation of one of Philip K. Dick's stories (<span style="font-style: italic;">Do Androids Dream Of Electric Sheep?</span>) and a superb film in every way. Roy Batty is one of the most compelling characters portrayed on screen to date and is my favourite performance of Rutger Hauer's. I fell in love with Sean Young (yes, in spite of that weird hairdo) as probably did every other teenage boy who saw this film. Leon's chilling "Time to die!" scared me witless back then and still gives me a chill today, although it does make for one hell of a good movie quote. I'll never forget that plastic raincoat Zhora was wearing (<span style="font-style: italic;">Rrrrowwwrrr!</span>) and Edward James Olmos' acting was outstanding in the role of Gaff. Another great line, this one his: "It's too bad she won't live! Then again, who does?"<br /><br />I have also yet to see the Director's Cut of this, which I really must do, so it's another perfect reason for a local theatre to screen that very edition for me. You do read this blog over there at <a href="http://www.deluxe.co.nz/">Embassy Theatre</a>, right guys?<br /><br />I don't know why, but I have a sinking feeling somebody is going to try and remake "Blade Runner" sometime in the next decade. Wait, I <span style="font-style: italic;">do</span> know why: Hollywood can't seem to help itself when it comes to robbing its own graveyard. Some films ought not be touched! This is one of them. I won't even check IMDb.com to see if a remake is in the pipeline. Ignorance is bliss!<br /><br />6. "Heavy Metal" (1981) ~ All right, so obviously animated films have come a <span style="font-style: italic;">long</span> way from this benchmark film, but you still just can't substitute anything for this movie. It features six stories from the magazine weaved together into one overall cohesive seventh tale, some of which feature sex and all of which have lots of violence. Throw in a killer soundtrack and even more memorable lines (these are big with me), such as, "And if you refuse: you die, she dies, <span style="font-style: italic;">everybody</span> dies." John Candy did a voice or two, along with some of his buddies from SCTV such as Eugene Levy, Harold Ramis and Joe Flaherty. My favourite segment was "B-17" - pure evil!<br /><br />7. "The Lord Of The Rings Trilogy" (2001-2003) ~ Trilogy Tuesday is something I'll never forget, and I nearly missed out on it. It was in 2003 and was the lead-up to the first official screening of "Return Of The King" in the States. In fact, while other popular films would make their debut at the stroke of midnight the night before the official studio release date, those of us fortunate (and dedicated) (um, and <span style="font-style: italic;">nerdy</span>) enough to be present for Trilogy Tuesday would get to see it at 10:00 PM. Two full hours ahead of the rest of the suckers who'd have to wait to see 'just' "Return" at midnight. Yes, it was fan-boy heaven all right, but it was so much fun to be a part of it all. The first two films in the trilogy were also shown in their full four-hour states as well, with all the bells and whistles Peter Jackson had originally intended to be in there. We were served hot dogs during the first intermission, and pizza during the second. Plus we got to take home a cel from one of the movies, encased in plastic, as well as a few other memorable trinkets.<br /><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Nerd Alert!</span></span></span></span><br /><br />So why, after spending 14 hours watching these three movies in the theatre once already, would I want to repeat the experience? Well, aside from the explanatory text in red above, the version of "Return Of The King" we saw was not the extended one! So that could be rectified. Plus in a perfect world they would be shown at the Embassy Theatre right here in <strike>Middle Earth</strike> Wellington, where world premieres for all three films took place.<br /><br />Honourable Mentions: The original "Star Wars" trilogy (Episodes 4-6) and "Grease". They are merely listed here because I've already seen them in Big Screen re-release, but of course I wouldn't mind seeing them up there again. I'd only want to see "Grease" in the company of a bunch of friends who wouldn't mind making dicks of themselves like I would in singing almost every song (and doing the dance moves to "We Go Together"). And, while we're at it, please put "A New Hope" right by having Han shoot Greedo first, m'kay? Thanks.<br /><br />So I'm curious! What are some films you'd like to see again on the Big Screen? I know I've left out a few that I'm sure I'd enjoy going to the movies again to experience.<br /><br />----------------------------------------------------------------------------<br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:78%;" >* Why 7? Because it's all I can think of right now!</span>Kiwi Brooksiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04797337345019110934noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32557997.post-13391166806345704912008-12-28T18:50:00.017+13:002008-12-28T20:22:25.605+13:00Christmas in Palmy - Young Heart, Easy LivingAs per usual, I was the first one awake on Christmas morning. Not that I bolted awake at the first hint of light to race downstairs and see what Santa had put under the tree.* No, it was probably because the night before I really pounded the water at bedtime in a vain attempt to head off my hangover at the pass. Now my bladder was forcing me awake, its complaints mixing uneasily with the first pangs of a headache, announcing itself in a self-righteous manner, as if to say 'See, I told you so!'.<br /><br />Bloody keg beer. Apparently, it's all that carbon dioxide keeping the beer nice and foamy that makes you more prone to having a wicked hangover when you consume beer from a keg. Not that knowing the exact mechanism of the culprit helped to make it go away any faster.<br /><br />I shambled into the kitchen of my friend Sarah's home and fixed myself a tall glass of cool clear water. After downing that and pouring myself another, I helped myself to the toaster and began putting together a little breakfast.<br /><br />Soon enough, Sarah's stepfather, Peter, joined me in the kitchen making us the only two having arisen in the household thus far. He reminded me again as they had told me the night before to make myself at home and to make full use of the kitchen. He then set the jug to boil and I realised caffeine would also be a nice thing to throw at my headache.<br /><br />You see, once again, my friends Sarah and Simon came to my rescue. Last time, it was on the slopes of Mount Doom (I mean, <a href="http://www.visitruapehu.com/exec/113082/4338/">Ngauruhoe</a>) when they helped egg me on all the way to the top, Simon graciously taking my pack off my hands. My friend Iain gets the assist here as well, for he and Si <a href="http://kiwibrooksie.blogspot.com/2007/05/on-slopes-of-mount-doom.html">would not take no for an answer</a> when it came to me giving in!<br /><br />This time around, Sarah and Simon extended an invitation to spend Christmas with them and their family in a little town to the north called, well, Palmerston North (hereinafter referred to affectionately as 'Palmy').<br /><br />(There <span style="font-style: italic;">is</span> a Palmerston and it's on the south island but that's another story for another time.)<br /><br />This is where they got married back on November 1st so it was nice to be returning to such a lovely setting. Having moved out of Wellington a couple of weeks ago now, Sarah and Simon were living at her childhood home in Palmy with her mum, Sue, and her stepdad, Peter. They were all such generous hosts, making me feel right at home the entire time and when they offered me to stay even longer than I already had (three days, two nights), I was sorely tempted to take them up on it.<br /><br />Sarah and Si won't be around these parts much longer, as they take off for England for a couple of years then likely another year after that spent somewhere else, perhaps Aussie. Eventually they will return to New Zealand and hopefully the lower North Island (hint, hint), but for now anytime I can see them is a bonus. I was also shown every courtesy while staying with them for the Christmas holiday, and now that I'm a holiday orphan it really is quite overwhelming to be invited in to other people's homes at this time of year.<br /><br />The Kiwis in general would never see this as an imposition as they are a happy, social and sharing lot. Yet to me it means a great deal as I am able to not only soothe the homesickness that comes naturally at these times but to also experience a holiday in the style of another country. Admittedly, it's not like I'm having to speak through a translator or take malaria sickness pills just to be here, but they do things a little differently down here for Christmas.<br /><br />For starters, it's summertime right now. I realise that in Texas and Florida and other generally sunny and warm climes in the States this is part and parcel to their Christmas holidays (pun intended). But for me, coming from southwest Virginia where we're used to cold if not white Christmases, it's a new experience. I still feel like it's time for fireworks and not mistletoe at this time of year but I'll come around eventually!<br /><br />They also have the delectable Christmas pavlova, Boxing Day, Christmas crackers (although I remember them becoming more and more commonplace back in the States), some bubbly and of course they fire up the barbie if the weather's decent outside, which it usually is. I've covered some of this already in <a href="http://kiwibrooksie.blogspot.com/2006/12/boxing-day-musings.html">my post about my first Christmas here</a> in New Zealand, so I won't rehash it all here.<br /><br />After I chatted with Pete a bit over some toast and coffee, I poured a second cup of joe and left him to check his email while I wandered out towards the big living room at the front of the house. Still not another soul besides us was stirring, so I gazed through the large bay window out onto Dahlia Street.<br /><br />There was a little girl, probably all of 8 or 9 years old, riding around on what appeared to be a flash new scooter. It had pink bows near the top and she seemed to be quite happy with her now toy as she rode up and down the deserted street in front of her house. But that wasn't all she was doing - she was also talking on a little pink cell phone!<br /><br />I barked a laugh and realised how the times have changed. It was all of 8:30 in the morning and here was this kid: up, dressed, outside playing and not with her friends but talking to them on a cell phone. As I thought about it, I figured <span style="font-style: italic;">of course</span> she's up right now - she's a kid and it's Christmas morning!<br /><br />And who doesn't have a cell phone these days? Not only that, who doesn't have a Bebo/Facebook/Myspace page? I'm fairly certain she had probably already uploaded pictures of her new scooter to whichever page she has active and may have been making a comment on her 'Status' via Facebook Mobile.<br /><br />I'm pretty sure this little girl wasn't making day trades. I mean, it was Christmas Day, all the markets were closed!<br />---------------------------------------------------------------------------<br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:78%;">* I mean, I'm not a naive little kid anymore or anything! There really was no downstairs where I was staying. The rest is all real, though. ISN"T IT?!</span></span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i89.photobucket.com/albums/k235/Brandonio17/Watership%20Down/Christmas2008003.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 1024px; height: 768px;" src="http://i89.photobucket.com/albums/k235/Brandonio17/Watership%20Down/Christmas2008003.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>Kiwi Brooksiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04797337345019110934noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32557997.post-58014486615781373742008-12-09T19:03:00.006+13:002008-12-09T22:50:42.196+13:00"I am waiting for Vizzini."Wow, has it really been over two months since I've written here?<br /><br />That was a rhetorical question, since I can see clearly from here the time and date stamp on my last post. Sorry 'bout that.<br /><br />I <span style="font-style: italic;">do</span> have an excuse, however: I've been really busy. And in a good way!<br /><br />So what have I been up to, exactly?<br /><br />To quote my good friend Inigo Montoya from <span style="font-style: italic;">The Princess Bride</span>, "Let me 'splain. No, there is too much. Let me sum up."<br /><br />I was fortunate enough to be comped a one-night stay at a flash hotel in Auckland (<a href="http://www.skycityauckland.co.nz/skycity/auckland/hotels/skycity-grand-hotel/grand_new_home.cfm">Sky City Grand</a>) by the drug company Pfizer. They have a new, long-acting injectible antibiotic due out early next year and they were giving out free vials for us to 'test drive' before the product launch. So they paid airfare, hotel and had an open wet bar on the night plus a full catered dinner.<br /><br />Our plane was late taking off from Wellington due to mechanical problems, so we missed our shuttle to the hotel when we finally arrived in Auckland. I met up with two other lost souls headed to the same meeting, one of whom turned out to be a long-lost friend from the south island. This was Katy, a vet originally from Romania, who now lives in Blenheim with her husband Raz. I blogged about meeting them in one of my very first posts <a href="http://kiwibrooksie.blogspot.com/2006/06/new-friends.html">here</a>.<br /><br />So we all got to the hotel, and with the Pfizer meeting already 30 minutes gone, we agreed to quickly freshen up then meet back in the lobby. This we then did, and when we got to the right room for the meeting, most of the dinner tables were full up and the talk was in full swing. I skulked along until I mercifully came to the lone table in the back with any spare seats. Quickly and quietly, I took my seat, turned my chair sideways in a lurching but silent manner, and had a squizz at the menu.<br /><br />Deciding upon what I'd have to eat (the scallops, of course!), I then looked up from the menu placard to behold, sitting directly across from me, my first boss from the south island! I'm sure she was as surprised to see me as I was to see her. How funny and cruel fate can be sometimes. But, New Zealand is a small country and the veterinary population an even smaller subset within it, so I should not have been shocked to have seen her again at such a big meeting.<br /><br />She smiled pleasantly at me and said hello, and for this I was much relieved as when we last parted things were rather <a href="http://kiwibrooksie.blogspot.com/2006/07/meh.html">tense</a>. I smiled and said hello back and it was actually quite an unexpected relief to have seen her and have it gone so well after all this time.<br /><br />So that happened. The meeting went well, there was much hobnobbing and the trip back to Welly went much more smoothly.<br /><br />A funny thing occurred whilst I waited at my gate in Auckland for the flight back home. I had arrived fairly early so I grabbed one of the few remaining seats, snapped open that morning's paper and began to digest all the news inside.<br /><br />After about fifteen minutes or so, the woman to my left very meekly asked me a question.<br /><br />"Excuse me, sir? Can I ask you a big favour?" she said in an American accent with a southern twang.<br /><br />"Hmm?" I said, looking up from my paper at her. "Oh, sure. What did you need?" I was mildly curious as to what the favour could be, as she must have been agonising over this request for some time, given how long she had been sitting next to me in silence.<br /><br />She then went on to tell me how she had just gotten in from the States, had been traveling for close to 36 hours now and was due to fly out to Christchurch next (this was starting to sound <a href="http://kiwibrooksie.blogspot.com/2006/06/trip-over.html">familiar</a>...). The woman, whose name turned out to be Joanie, said she was so tired she was having a hard time thinking straight but she was getting concerned about her son, whom she was on her way to see. She hadn't heard from him before she left Texas, which was unusual because he usually called, and now that she had been airborne for so long she was not able to contact him at all. Being in New Zealand now, she was unable to ring him on her American mobile phone as they did not have any service towers leased in this country.<br /><br />Joanie really needed to get in touch with her son, she said, because she had a voucher for a free shuttle ride to her hotel so she wanted to tell him to meet her at the hotel and not the airport, where he was currently expecting to find her. At least, so she hoped, as she hadn't heard back from him since emailing him these instructions!<br /><br />"So, do you mind if I use your cell phone to try and call him?" Joanie asked me.<br /><br />"Well of course I don't mind!" I said as I handed my <a href="http://skbargain.com/library/NOKIA-5190.jpg">Nokia brick</a> over. I was touched by her predicament, as I had been in a similar situation a couple of years ago regarding the long travel and sudden lack of contact options. (But that's where the comparison ends. I don't have any sons living in New Zealand). She reminded me of my own mum in that she loved her son very much and missed him, yet she wasn't in a state of panic about her current state. Just moderate distress.<br /><br />I noticed with some alarm that I had exactly one bar (out of like ten) remaining on the power for my phone. What a dick! I knew I should've charged the phone before I left Wellington.<br /><br />Joanie tried in vain a few times to raise her son on the phone, but her calls weren't even going through. I knew they should, since she was now using a New Zealand mobile to try and call a New Zealand landline. After some fumbling around on my part (hey, it was early) I finally got through... to her son's voicemail!<br /><br />I quickly handed Joanie back the receiver before my battery died and she left him a message letting her know she had arrived safely and was due in Christchurch soon and about her change in plans. Before she broke the connection I told her to tell him my number in case he got the message and wanted to call back. This she then did, and I could see she felt a lot better and I was only too glad I could help - weak battery and lack of common sense notwithstanding.<br /><br />We chatted a bit and it turns out she has three boys, two of whom run a sheep ranch in Montana, having grown up on a sheep ranch themselves in Texas. Joanie's youngest son, the one in New Zealand, decided to strike out here after college and do something a little different from his older brothers's plans. He knew he could always go back to the States and be a successful rancher on either farm, but he wanted to pursue a little world travel first while he still could. I'd say he picked about the best country he could have, and he did me one better as he was living and working in <a href="http://www.queenstown-nz.co.nz/">Queenstown</a>!<br /><br />Joanie mentioned how two of her sons had graduated from the University of Texas, while she herself and her youngest son, the one here in New Zealand, had gone to Texas Tech. The very next day, both schools were due to play in an epic college football game and we joked how no matter the result, either way she'd be on the winning side. (Tech won that game, for those of you keeping score at home).<br /><br />It was about that time that my phone rang, and seeing the number I handed the phone to Joanie as it was her son calling back. She was thrilled to finally talk to him and hear that he was well. After singing my praises about the 'very nice man at the airport' she hung up with him and handed the phone back to me. Even though Joanie looked tired, gone now was the weary look she wore when we first started talking.<br /><br />Right after that, Air New Zealand announced over the gate's intercom that my flight was now boarding. So I said my goodbyes to Joanie, wished her all the best on this her first visit to New Zealand, and I knew that the next three weeks for her would be awesome. She purposefully didn't learn any of her son's plans for their trips around the country, wanting to be surprised wherever they went.<br /><br />She bade me a very sincere and grateful goodbye, and with that our serendipitous little meeting was at an end. So, Joanie from Texas, you will have been to New Zealand and gone back by now, and I hope your trip here was an unforgettable one!<br /><br />I've got more to report but this post has become dangerously long (so much for the 'summing up'). So 'well done' to you if you've made it this far, and thanks for reading! More to come later.Kiwi Brooksiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04797337345019110934noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32557997.post-38707594223891271982008-09-24T22:45:00.013+12:002008-10-04T00:34:18.254+13:00Did this ever happen to James Herriot?Once before, when I was more overweight than I am now, there was a rather amusing incident that took place while I was at work. In fact, although I was able to laugh at myself at the time, this one occurrence served as a catalyst for me to finally get to work on losing some weight. The happy ending here is that I finally did get to where I wanted to be, which was after about 15 months I had gone from 238 pounds down to 184. It took a disciplined combination of regular exercise (swimming) with making dietary changes. Namely, I cut out soft drinks and started paying attention to my daily caloric intake. Having to think about each thing I ate and how many calories it contained really put things into perspective.<br /><br />It's a few years on from that and I find myself needing to lose a bit of weight again, thankfully not nearly as much as before. I just hope that, unlike last time, I don't end up with another story like this.<br /><br />It all started out as a routine veterinary consult. There was a rather large dog, a Siberian Husky I think, that had come in to have a certain lump on his belly checked. So I greeted the Husky and his attractive female owner in the consult room at the end of the hall. These rooms were set up in such a way that you come in through a door opposite to where the owner comes in, and between the two of you is the exam table.<br /><br />So this dog, let's call him Lance for I have no recollection of his or the owner's actual names, is sitting on the floor on the opposite side of the exam table from me, behind which I am standing. As per usual, before looking at the dog, I got a good start on the nature of the complaint and the dog's history with the owner, which helps me sort out what the problem might be and also so that I don't miss any other important details.<br /><br />After a few brief moments of this, I finished talking to Lance's owner. I then grabbed a needle and syringe and went around to Lance's side of the table.<br /><br />Setting said instruments on the exam table, I asked the owner if she could get Lance to lie down on his side so I could better see and feel the mass and then, ultimately, aspirate it with the needle.<br /><br />This she then did, and what happened next I found to be quite embarrassing. Mortifying, in fact.<br /><br />I was wearing a favourite pair of work slacks which I owned from the time before I had ballooned out to 238 pounds. So they had been through quite a lot of strain over the years, not only from the routine wear and tear of working in a vet practice, but also lately through the additional strain of covering a huskier pair of hips and thighs.<br /><br />As I went to kneel down beside the now-prone Lance, there was a very loud 'POW!' that startled all three of us, most especially the owner.<br /><br />Both the owner and I shot upright, she asking in a bewildered state, "Oh my God! What was that?" There was a look of genuine surprise on her face.<br /><br />I, feeling a sudden chill breeze blowing on my backside, immediately knew why but didn't know quite how to explain it. My pants had finally given out on their oppressive owner with a vindictive and thunderous retort.<br /><br />Sheepishly, I started backing around the table, never turning away from the owner. As I fumbled behind me for the door latch, I offered some lame explanation that everything was fine, and I'd be right back.<br /><br />Backing through the door and never showing her my (now-exposed) backside, she seemed less terrified but still wore a befuddled expression.<br /><br />Once on the other side of the door, I thought I'd be safe but I realised my trials and tribulations were only beginning. Here I was, wearing a pair of pants that had split entirely from the base of the zipper right round and all the way up the back to the level of the belt loops. My boxer shorts and the backs of my legs were completely exposed as my pants had quite literally exploded off of me. So great was the strain on the stitching, under duress these many months, that it finally gave way with an apocalyptic rending. I never knew pants could or would do this, especially so loudly.<br /><br />I was a long way from the office where any spare pants might be, so rather than stroll down the hallways in my exposed state, I decided to call for help.<br /><br />I think it was Megan who was just around the corner in the lab who heard me first, and she came running. When she got to me, I explained why it was I was holding the door shut and not moving an inch.<br /><br />She started to laugh, clearly making an effort not to laugh even harder, and then went off to search the office for a replacement pair of pants for me.<br /><br />Thankfully Megan returned in due time, but by now others had become aware of the situation. There was a pants-less doctor in the hallway and this sort of low comedy was definitely not missed by my clever co-workers. As chagrined as I was, I couldn't help but laugh along with them but I still had a sticky situation with Lance's owner. She must have been wondering why I backed out of the room in such a hasty and red-faced manner.<br /><br />Well, when I returned, she immediately knew why. The only pair of pants in the hospital that were clean were some of my boss's purple surgical scrub pants. I am taller and also broader of hip than Andy is, so the fact that I could get them up around my waist at all was an accomplishment. But they were so tight I could barely move my legs forward and back, so that when moving I walked like one of those poor Chinese women from ancient times who bound her own feet.<br /><br />Shuffling back towards the door to the exam room, I realised another distressing detail: not only were these purple pants high-waters, thus exposing my black work socks, I had also chosen on that day to wear my purple scrub top. So now I was clad all in purple.<br /><br />This detail was also not missed by the expert staff of crack comedians working at the hospital, as the very next day there was a picture of Barney the Dinosaur taped to the shelf above my desk.<br /><br />Pushing back through the door to confront my embarrassing situation with Lance's owner, I could see that she was relieved to see me again and that I was all right. Almost immediately, though, her eyes shot down to inspect my new choice of leggings, and I could see a grin flash across her face that was quickly suppressed.<br /><br />Awkwardly, I realised she now knew exactly what the 'big bang' was and why I had backed out of the room in the manner that I did. So I just tried to play it straight as if nothing untoward was going on here, and got on with the job of aspirating Lance's tummy mass. It wasn't easy, because as I knelt down again by his side to check the lump, a flash of panic ran through me. Yes I was wearing new pants but they were tighter on me than the ones I was wearing before. What if these pants exploded too? I'd not only have to go through the whole shameful experience as before but this time there was no hope of a third pair of pants without going home!<br /><br />Thankfully somehow I managed to kneel down and aspirate the lump and tell Lance's owner that it was just a benign fatty mass (no irony there) and not worth any real concern.<br /><br />There was very little said between us after that, as I think the owner was too busy stifling the urge to laugh and any attempt to speak would cause the dam to burst, so to speak. She thanked me and retreated with Lance back to the reception area. I noticed she had been blushing the entire time since my return.<br /><br />At least for the rest of the evening I never had to back out of any more rooms as the undersize purple pants held true for me. But they probably made more than one client wonder at my fashion sense - let alone why I was walking so funny.<br /><br />Weeks later, three of my good friends took me out to a small birthday dinner after work. I was presented with a small wrapped present. As I opened it, I beheld a very useful gift that could only have one meaning: it was a miniature emergency sewing kit, such as one might need for those times when a button is lost.<br /><br />Or, more precisely, for when one must deal with the humiliation of an exploding pair of pants.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i89.photobucket.com/albums/k235/Brandonio17/Watership%20Down/medium_barney.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://i89.photobucket.com/albums/k235/Brandonio17/Watership%20Down/medium_barney.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>Kiwi Brooksiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04797337345019110934noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32557997.post-16014987107887556422008-09-18T19:32:00.018+12:002008-09-18T20:24:16.348+12:00A very Brooksie updateOnce again it's been a while since I've penned an entry for this blog of mine. I blame the enthralling fortnight-plus that was the Beijing Olympics for getting me off track here.<br /><br />OK so I'm not one for excuses, but watching those events really was an attention-grabbing, time-sucking experience as I'm sure it was for the rest of you who enjoy that sort of thing. My routine was such that I'd watch the main broadcast on TVNZ and when they'd either go to commercial or to an event I wasn't quite keen on, I'd swivel around 180 degrees in my chair and focus on the computer. There, I had TVNZ's website loaded up where they had four different channels streaming events not on the main television broadcast. Between the two mediums of internet and television, I was pretty well unable to focus on anything but the Olympics. Often, before I knew it, it would be well-past midnight on a work night!<br /><br />Now that a sense of normalcy has returned to my life, lately I've been trying to go to as many improv shows as I can, since I am unable to join <a href="http://www.wit.org.nz/">the Troupe</a> for training until probably next year. If I'm not at one of WIT's shows on a Wednesday night I'm in yet another acting class I've signed up for on Monday nights. I've taken all of the improv acting classes WIT has to offer, so I've found another set of night classes offered through the Wellington Performing Arts Centre. These are mostly dance classes but they also have a few levels of theatrical and screen acting on offer. We are nearing the end of the First Level of the 10-week course, with our last class slated for this coming Monday night. It's been a good experience and luckily I'm able to continue with it for a second 10-week session, as we are all about to become 'Level Two' actors.<br /><br />Sweet! Get me Spielberg on the phone. I think that's what Level Two must mean, right?<br /><br />Yeah, right.<br /><br />For our next block of classes, and I think all of us are staying on for it except for my Dutch friend Dana who is sadly leaving New Zealand, we are going to go about it with the goal of putting together a scene or a short one-act play at the end of it. This is rather ambitious, given that we only meet once a week and even then for only 90 minutes. But we will see how it goes and I'm sure we'll learn a lot along the way. As with the other classes I've taken since moving to Wellington, this one is filled with people of several different nationalities. There are about a dozen of us regulars, and amongst our lot we can count two Irish girls, a Dutch girl, a Chinese guy, a British girl and I am the only American this time around. The rest are all Kiwis and at the beginning we had a guy from South Africa but he decided not to stay with the program.<br /><br />For the next part of this update, please take sixty seconds to watch this here clip from <span style="font-style: italic;">3rd Rock From The Sun</span>:<br /><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/wwpiqcXvcVE&hl=en&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/wwpiqcXvcVE&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /><br />Lately I've become a little too much like Dick Solomon in that clip. Unlike Dick at the end of the episode, I'd like to fit better in my pants again by actually losing the weight and not just buying bigger pants, as he did. Wish me luck. I know it's going to take a while but I've gotten into a good routine lately. What with daylight savings on the way here soon, I'll be able to walk up Cannon Point again after work without having to bring along a headlamp, flashlight and walking stick just to try and avoid massive injury. I want to exercise but I don't want to risk life and limb in the process!<br /><br />There are no more operas or symphonies for me the rest of this year, but I will certainly be a supporter of the <a href="http://www.nzopera.com/">New Zealand Opera</a> again next year. I'm looking forward to seeing Chris Brown (from <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tappahannock,_Virginia">Tappahannock</a>, yo!) and Rihanna in concert together at the end of October. Should be a great show and tickets for that sold out very fast so I was lucky to get them when I did.<br /><br />My friends Sarah and Simon are getting married the weekend after that concert and soon after that they're off to England for an OE (Overseas Experience - it's a Kiwi thing) for a couple of years. Although I've not seen them much lately as Simon's been working in Aussie the past few months I will certainly miss their company when they go, and we'll miss Sarah at work for sure. But they promise they are coming back and, hopefully, they'll decide to come back to Wellington. We'll see.<br /><br />Well that's it really. Nothing terribly exciting but life is good and interesting and I have absolutely no complaints. I've also been Warcraft-free for almost a year now, so that is also a good thing. Great game, but it demands far too much of your free time so that it becomes your so-called social life as you will have no time for a proper one outside of the game. If many of your 'real-life' friends play and enjoy it, then by all means sign up! As nobody I know here plays Warcraft, and as there are far more engaging things out there for me than a computer game, I have relegated the game discs to 'coaster' status and it's nothing but an anxious memory for me.<br /><br />All right, I'm gonna go see if I can find some free dance lessons on YouTube or something. I don't want to make a complete jackass out of myself at Sarah's wedding reception, so I need to be able to 'bust' at least two or three moves to maintain a respectable presence on the dance floor. I could dance OK back in college but that's been an uncomfortably long while ago, and what with all the acting classes lately it's left precious little time in the schedule for dance lessons. So I need to brush up on my coordination, preferably in the privacy of my own home behind drawn curtains. Maybe I can improve my abilities (such as they are) from 'Frighteningly Bad' to 'Mildly Humourous' on the dance floor. I am hoping for lots of strobe lights, as they make everyone come up aces out on the floor. A good crowd into which I can blend myself would be a welcome bonus, too.<br /><br />God help us if they have a karaoke machine at this reception.Kiwi Brooksiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04797337345019110934noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32557997.post-21808186386661205362008-08-09T11:29:00.006+12:002008-08-09T14:19:54.516+12:00Going for Gold in Men's InsomniaI stayed up until nearly 5 AM New Zealand time last night (today!) to catch the opening ceremonies of the <a href="http://en.beijing2008.cn/">Olympics in Beijing</a>. I nearly ignored the alarm that went off at 11 PM in order to stay in bed as sleep, once it takes hold, is hard to give up.<br /><br />But I'm so glad I didn't!<br /><br />Like many of you I was blown away by the entire spectacle. They made the fireworks look so great and so easy to do but I guess it should come more naturally to the culture that invented gunpowder. My favourite touch regarding the fireworks was the set of 28 footprints leading up to the Bird's Nest Stadium, representing all of the Games to come before this one. It's only too bad the people in the stadium could not get the full effect of that, although they sure got an overload of other amazing things.<br /><br />The final torch-bearer's run (Li Ning) across the inner rim of the roof was spectacular and I just couldn't get over how BIG the freakin' torch was! For a brief moment, I thought the flames were going to engulf the poor guy as well, it went up in such a roar. The continuing theme of the unraveling scroll throughout was a nice touch, especially how they carried off that special effect. The painters who laid down the initial sketch of a mountainous skyline, coupled with all of the athletes' footprints finishing the work, was an exceptionally nice touch. England have their hands full trying to top this opening ceremony, especially the torch. Wow.<br /><br />It was a thrill to finally see the American contingent emerge once all of the nations' athletes began to take center stage. It was nice to hear them get such a warm reception from the Chinese crowd, too. I thought the American uniforms were interesting, as everyone seems to have just left the yacht club in order to come to the Games. I half expected to see Spalding from <em>Caddyshack</em> walk in front of the camera, bitching about how he wants a hamburger, no a hot dog, and a milkshake...<br /><br />Anyways, I always love it when the Olympics are on, even more than when the soccer World Cup is going. China (Beijing, anyways) is only four hours behind us, which is good because most stuff won't be on time-delay for us here in New Zealand. The bad thing is, event coverage will go until 4 AM most nights, so I am going to be sleep-deprived for the next fortnight! But I don't mind in the least, the Olympics for me are always something to savour. I especially enjoy these Games more than the Winter Olympics, although they are great fun as well.<br /><br />Say what you will about China, they got the spirit of the Olympics right last night. Maybe I've been reading the newspaper too much lately, which is usually full of mostly bad news, but the world needs this shot in the arm every once in a while of goodwill and humanity.<br /><br /><em>Citius, Altius, Fortius.</em>Kiwi Brooksiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04797337345019110934noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32557997.post-57287904903031800542008-08-08T03:30:00.004+12:002008-08-08T19:39:31.669+12:00HBO moots Brooksie as Casting Director for new series!*Everyone has their favourites in life, in categories like movies, food, music, celebrities, and destinations, among others. Sure, you might have your 'Top Ten' favourites and, depending on the category, sometimes it's hard to flesh out the list whilst at other times it's very hard to whittle it down to just ten, let alone set the order straight.<br /><br />But sometimes, not necessarily in every category, there is one thing that goes beyond being merely a 'favourite'. It so completely blows away the rest of your list that it is in a class all by itself. I'm not sure what to call this exalted level of favouritism, except perhaps 'Unhealthy Obsession' or maybe 'To Die For'. Not to get too carried away with this, but sometimes you just experience something that has such a profound influence on you that you forever make it a part of your life, however small.<br /><br />It could be a song that really clicks with you, either on some philosophical level or more likely for sentimental reasons. Maybe it's a movie that just had everything right that you look for in a film. Or maybe you actually have a life and are right now feeling a little sorry for me and perhaps a little amused that I could be so esoteric about elements of pop culture.<br /><br />But that's OK! You see, I am so excited about what I am about to tell you that I am beyond caring how much of a 'fanboy' I look at the moment.<br /><br />The category in question here is books; specifically, a series of novels currently being written by <a href="http://www.georgerrmartin.com/">George R. R. Martin</a>. Collectively, they are known as <em>A Song of Ice and Fire (ASoIaF)</em> and at present there are four published books in the series. The fifth is on its way (hopefully by mid-2009) and Martin presumes there will be about seven total books when the series is completed.<br /><br />This is a series of books that are the best I've ever read, bar none. They are written from several different characters' points of view as the story is advanced, and without giving too much away the cast of characters telling the story changes somewhat in each novel. There is much intrigue amidst a vastly developed history. This world is filled with polarizing, fascinatingly complex characters that are downright addictive. Martin has some experience writing horror so this is not your typical fantasy series. It is tinged with a dark and ominous feeling as the ever-present threat that 'Winter is coming' serves to heighten the sense of dread and doom as the books progress.<br /><br />Still, there is enough of a positive thread going here that it is not entirely without hope. While I am at pains to remain patient while waiting for the fifth instalment in this brilliant series, this post is not about the next eagerly awaited novel in the <em>ASoIaF</em> series. No, I have much more of a jones for <em>this</em>:<br /><br /><strong><a href="http://www.variety.com/article/VR1117957532.html?categoryid=14&cs=1">HBO turns 'Fire' into fantasy series</a></strong><br /><br />I know, it's very old news judging from the date of that posting, and of course the prolonged writers' strike earlier in the year put everything on hold including this project. But I was so thrilled to read about this! You see, I feel we fantasy aficionados were really fortunate to be treated to the fine work Peter Jackson <em>et. al.</em> did on the <em>Lord of the Rings</em> trilogy. The films did justice to a series of books that are highly difficult to treat right on the big screen, and they were a major success in everything from casting, writing, costumes, setting to all the little touches.<br /><br />If you're like me, when you read a really good book, you often wonder how it would translate to the big screen. Who would they cast as the main character? How are they going to film this scene? What the hell kind of budget are they going to need to do this right? Things like that. Well I certainly thought about that a lot with the <em>ASoIaF</em> novels, but these thoughts were always laced with the certain knowledge that these books could never be made into movies. They are simply too long and involved (kind of like this post, you have my apologies) to be practically shown on the big screen. The <em>LOTR</em> films were a stretch even with just three books 'condensed' into just over three hours each, with the extended editions on DVD clocking in at four hours apiece. Even with that, they had to eliminate certain parts of the story and even merge two characters into one, in some cases.<br /><br />While I have no problem with that, most of the movie-going public, even fans of Martin's books, would not have the stomach for a six-hour film for just one book. Especially since just to get all the material from one book into six hours, you'd have to edit a lot. I'd rather not see them butcher these novels just for the sake of getting them on the big screen.<br /><br />Enter <a href="http://www.hbo.com/">HBO</a>. In all their awesomeness, they decided to greenlight production of the <em>ASoIaF</em> novels in the only format they ever could have: televised serial episodes. This is brilliant because in my opinion HBO is the only network that could have done this. They have an obviously lavish budget for their series, almost all of which have been exceptionally well done on every level. You may not like all of their shows (I know I don't like them all), but you have to admit they all are expertly crafted shows.<br /><br />It looks like Martin is going to get about 23 one-hour episodes per book/season, which is perfect as it will allow them to explore all the nuances of the complicated plot as well as the many unique and blemished characters that tell the story. Martin himself may write 1-2 episodes per season, something which will be easy for him as he <a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0552333/">cut his teeth as a writer </a>working on "The Twilight Zone" and "Beauty and the Beast" television shows.<br /><br />Now if you enjoy a good book as much as I do, you will know that if they ever decide to put it on the big (or small!) screen, they simply <strong>must</strong> get the casting and plot right! There is much truth to the axiom that, 'The book is always better than the movie,' in my opinion, but this does not mean that they cannot keep the faith with the gist of all the major plotlines.<br /><br />Equally important to me is who they decide to cast in the film, for a poor or tragic casting choice can really make or break the whole project. Just as much as deciding to shitcan a significant part of the plot can make a dog's breakfast of it all, so too can casting somebody completely wrong.<br /><br />I am confident that HBO will do a great job on both counts, and am hoping that more than a few of the major parts cast will go to new and mostly unfamiliar actors. This will serve to keep everything fresh and new and allow me to enjoy these books all over again in this format without being too biased towards who is playing what role.<br /><br />That being said, I hereby offer my humble suggestions for just a few of the parts, with a few other notes as well.<br /><br /><em>Sandor Clegane, "The Hound":</em> I'd love to see <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Adam_Baldwin">Adam Baldwin</a> in this role. He's got the physique for it and is familiar with playing brutish, anti-social characters. The Hound, like everyone else in <em>ASoIaF</em>, is complex and quite compelling and is one of my favourite characters in the series. I am encouraged by <a href="http://forums.gametrailers.com/showthread.php?p=10393774">how well</a> the special effects/makeup departments did with the Harvey "Two-Face" Dent's look in <em>The Dark Knight</em>, so they should be able to make Sandor look scary and threatening with ease as one side of his face and skull are horribly burnt from a childhood incident.<br /><br /><em>Arya Stark:</em> My favourite character in the series, which is a hard choice since so many of them are great. But only until recently I had nobody in mind for her role until I saw <em>Juno</em>, and I realized <a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0680983/">Ellen Page</a> would be great in this role, even though she's not 'horse-faced' like Arya is described in the books.<br /><br /><em>Robert Baratheon:</em> It was hard not to picture <a href="http://aimagents.com/actors/brbl.htm">Brian Blessed</a> in this role, but he may be getting a bit on in years for this, especially since this whole project seems to still be in the 'concept' phase.<br /><br /><em>Jaime Lannister:</em> I have always pictured <a href="http://kattforum.proboards82.com/">William Katt</a> here, but as my friend Pete put it, 'he's a bit long in the tooth for it' now. I just can't think of any other blonde curly-haired actors who would fit this role!<br /><br /><em>Tyrion Lannister:</em> <a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0227759/">Peter Dinklage</a> seems to be a pretty universal choice for this excellent role, one of the best characters I've ever encountered in a book. Mr. Dinklage would certainly be great as this character, I do hope he gets the nod when this goes to production. By the way, I've always thought that Tyrion must be quite similar to the author. I just get the feeling that there is far more of Martin in this character than any other of his that he's created. Wouldn't it be awesome if he cast himself in this role?<br /><br /><em>Eddard Stark:</em> <a href="http://www.geocities.com/Hollywood/Bungalow/8474/">Michael Biehn</a> would fit this brooding, dour persona best, but really this role could be easily cast.<br /><br /><em>Catelyn Stark:</em> <a href="http://julianne-moore.org/">Julianne Moore</a> would certainly be great for this role. She could carry off the noble haughtiness and tough inner resolve, which are two of Lady Cat's more defining qualities.<br /><br /><em>Qyburn: </em>I am jumping all over the place with these suggestions but I only pictured a few established actors as these characters when reading the books. Given that this dark soul has necromantic tendencies, I feel that none other than <a href="http://www.jeffreycombs.com/main/">Jeffrey Combs</a> of <em>Re-Animator</em> fame (infamy) should or could play this role. Of course it's a smaller role but it'd be so cool if they managed to cast this guy here.<br /><br /><em>Margaery Tyrell:</em> While Martin's description of this princess as 'doe-eyed' and 'beautiful' with her long tresses of dark brown hair makes her an obvious fit, I hope you don't think I'm gratuitously including <a href="http://www.jenniferlovehewittonline.com/">Jennifer Love Hewitt</a> here just because I think she is one of the hottest actresses! Call me crazy, you wouldn't be the first, but I stand by this choice.<br /><br />And a final poignant mention of the late <a href="http://www.heathledger.net/">Heath Ledger</a>. All through the books I pictured him as <em>Ser Loras Tyrell</em>, Margaery's valiant and arrogant older brother. He would have made a great Knight of Flowers but, like so many other great roles we will never enjoy seeing Mr. Ledger play, this is one that will have to go to someone else.<br /><br />I realize this post is probably long-winded and about something to which you cannot relate, but I've been wanting to post about this HBO project for some time since I'm so excited about it. My friend Chris got me hooked on these books about ten years ago, and since then I've gotten two other friends madly hooked on them, and have discovered quite a few fellow fans along the way.<br /><br />I can wholeheartedly recommend these books to you, whether you read fantasy or not. They are gritty and dark at times but I have not found a more wonderfully, completely crafted fantasy series than <em>A Song of Ice and Fire.</em> Though George R. R. Martin makes all of us wait for years in between novels, our one consolation is that at least there are several more novels still to come.<br /><br />And now maybe a kick-ass TV series on HBO to boot!<br />-------------------------------------------------------------------------<br /><span style="font-size:78%;"><em>*Yeah, right. I wish!</em></span>Kiwi Brooksiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04797337345019110934noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32557997.post-37044109664886757002008-08-02T00:01:00.006+12:002008-08-02T15:13:34.995+12:00A truly technicolour yawn"Brandon, these people are here with a puppy they think ate some lead pencils," Liz said as I was finishing up with another client.<br /><br />"Oh, okay," I said. "I'll see them next, just a second."<br /><br />Normally we are appointment-only, however for things that obviously cannot wait to be seen, such as potential toxin ingestions or other emergencies, we will of course clear the decks.<br /><br />I'm still pretty new to New Zealand, but I couldn't remember the last time I used any lead-containing pencils in the States. Well, okay, I <span style="font-style: italic;">could</span> remember using them way back in like second grade but we're talking the mid-1970's here. Lead had long since been banished from most commercial things like paints and petrol, and certainly things that little kids might handle such as pencils.<br /><br />But I knew it would not be smart to assume (is it ever smart to assume?) that there is no possible way this puppy could have gotten hold of a pencil with lead in it. To wait until she showed symptoms would be foolish as lead certainly can be life-threatening in more than one way. Also, if given the opportunity to prevent further absorption of a toxin - and the timing does not always work out like this - then by all means you have to take it.<br /><br />In most cases, this usually involves making your patient vomit.<br /><br />Yes, normally I'm trying to stop my patients from vomiting any way I can, but in these cases it can help them out tremendously. Just as long as you can, you know, <span style="font-style: italic;">stop</span> them from vomiting once they've gotten everything out they need to.<br /><br />So I head out into the waiting area and there, surrounded by about eight girls ranging in age from five to, oh, fourteen, is an adult woman looking a little discombobulated. One of the girls is holding onto a little mixed-breed terrier with long spiky light brown and black hair. Somewhere under all that poofed-out hair was a dog, I assumed, so I asked them all to follow me into the exam room.<br /><br />The ten of us now in the little exam room, all of the girls watched me intently as I took the puppy from the little girl who was carrying it. "Kaylee" was the pup's name, and sure enough under all of that fur was a pair of shiny black eyes and a smiling face. There were several suspicious pink smudges along the puppy's upper lip and jaw, and she gave a little wag of her tail as I picked her up.<br /><br />The woman whose job it was to shepherd all of these girls and their sick puppy placed the chewed-up remnants of three coloured pencils on the exam table. They were all various shades of pink. "Here. That's what we found with her when we got home. Actually I'm not the owner; this girl's mother is still at work so they called me."<br /><br />"Ah," I said. "Well that is just fine, you did good getting her in here quickly like you did." I knew the girl from whom I took the pup was the dog's owner, but as far as her relationship to the other girls I never knew for sure, or even if the woman there was the mother to any of the other girls.<br /><br />It was no matter, and I asked them if they saw her actually chewing on the pencils. They said that they did, they caught her doing it soon after they got in from school that afternoon. I asked if there were any other things they saw her chewing or that looked as if they may have been chewed by her, and they said there weren't. Apparently most of the coloured pencils in the collection survived desolation in this puppy's jaws, but given enough time I'm sure she would have moved on from pink to some other tasty colour.<br /><br />I examined the pencil fragments more closely, looking for anything emblazoned down the side that might indicate that these contained lead. There was nothing of the sort (it's never <span style="font-style: italic;">that</span> easy), so I still didn't know for sure. Also, I remember most pencils used for writing used to contain lead but I was never sure of the coloured pencils. Did they ever contain lead? If they did, did they somehow escape the moratorium on lead in all 'normal' black pencils?<br /><br />Kaylee seemed in perfectly good nick, aside from the pink smudges on her face giving her up as a pencil-chewer, but lead takes a while to work its damage. Among other things it causes the destruction of the body's red blood cells and also can have neurological effects, such as seizures. Not wanting to wait for any of these things as proof, I told my assembled crowd that it was now time to make Kaylee vomit.<br /><br />There were a variety of reactions but mostly they seemed actually pretty keen to see this happen! One girl I remember held her ears as I said this, and I'm not exactly sure what she was expecting because vomiting isn't usually a deafening occurrence, but she seemed a little bit distressed. Nonetheless they all followed me to the courtyard, where I told them I'd return with Kaylee once I'd given her something to make her vomit.<br /><br />There are several options for inducing vomiting in a dog or a cat (dunno about you human types, but too much alcohol has always worked for me). My favourite over the years for getting a dog to yak has been good old hydrogen peroxide. One or two tablespoons of this, combined with a brisk walk around the yard, has given me the most successful results. There is a drug called apomorphine that most other vets swear by, but it has let me down more often than I have found it to work.<br /><br />With one of the nurses holding on to Kaylee, I gave the pup a couple of teaspoons of peroxide and she took it like a champ. It also helped to scrub away the pink smudges on her fur, which made her look as if she had tried to apply some lipstick during an earthquake.<br /><br />We returned outside where the girls eagerly awaited some results and the nurse walked Kaylee in brisk little circles around the yard. Kaylee was having the time of her life, getting all this attention and exercise. After five minutes with no results, I decided to give the peroxide one last go. After that, I'd move on to the apomorphine or perhaps some washing soda, as I really did want to make her vomit since she'd just ingested these bits of pencil.<br /><br />After too much longer, it'd be too late to try vomiting as a treatment and I'd have to make a decision about treating her with an expensive antidote. A heavy metal chelator, succimer is quite good at what it does, but at a couple hundred dollars a pop, it was an expensive insurance policy compared to the cheap wonders of hydrogen peroxide.<br /><br />So Kaylee bravely downed ten more milliliters of hydrogen peroxide (bravely, hell - she had no choice!) and we returned to the outside. Within a minute of her touching the ground, she started to make those initial motions involved in upchucking. Her tiny belly contracting, her neck extending, she finally managed to disgorge a slimy pile of mucus, kibble... and pink smudges of chewed up pencil!<br /><br />Several of the girls let out a collective "Yay!" and I was pleased to see that Kaylee finally vomited. She horked up about another seven or eight progressively smaller piles of pink-coloured goo until finally she stopped bringing anything up and then stopped retching altogether, all in the span of about ten minutes. Perfect!<br /><br />Poison control didn't seem to be too worried about these coloured pencils containing any lead, unless they were several decades old. The woman had no clue but the little girl who owned Kaylee said they bought them this year, so I felt relieved that they were probably free of harmful toxins. Still, I educated the girl and her chaperon about signs of lead toxicity and to keep a close eye on Kaylee.<br /><br />And to pick up all remaining pencils, coloured or otherwise! For that matter, to try and puppy-proof in general as best they could, for as any dog owners know, anything that's not bolted down (and even then ...) is fair game for a dog to chew on, doubly so for a puppy who's curious and teething.<br /><br />After cleaning the slobber off of Kaylee's face and noting that the vomitus had served to re-colour her whiskers with a tinge of pink, we handed her back over to the girl and they all left happily.<br /><br />The next day, the girl's mother stopped by to settle the account and let us all know that Kaylee was fine. The woman was quite happy we worked them in at a moment's notice, especially while she was away at work and unable to attend or pay straight away. I told her the pleasure was all ours and Kaylee was a very sweet puppy.<br /><br />After all, it's not that often that you can make a little girl happy to see her puppy vomit! Except when it's pink and potentially toxic, I guess.Kiwi Brooksiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04797337345019110934noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32557997.post-38664185486215543002008-07-20T14:00:00.004+12:002008-07-20T16:08:00.780+12:00One Walk To Rule Them AllToday I am blogging to you while standing up. This isn't because I'm trying to set some obscure new Guinness World Record or anything (although, now that I mention it, perhaps I should look into it ...). No, it's out of necessity. I've got a bad lower back, thanks mainly due to my being blithely unaware that my back was <em>not</em> indestructible when I was younger.<br /><br />Things aren't all that bad. I'm only able to stand or lie down right now, as sitting down causes the muscles to spasm further, but in spite of this bad back I've done fairly well. I can still move around, which is good and means I don't have to call out of work any more since that bad first day. I can rehab it with stretching exercises once I'm a bit better, so that maybe this doesn't ever happen again. I even managed to climb <a href="http://kiwibrooksie.blogspot.com/2007/05/on-slopes-of-mount-doom.html">Ngauruhoe</a> last year, albeit with much mental coaching and a hell of a lot of patience on the parts of Iain and Simon, not to mention the rest of the group!<br /><br />Standing while writing is also appropriate to this particular entry, as I came across an article in yesterday's Dominion Post regarding something cool about which I had forgotten. It is the <a href="http://www.teararoa.org.nz/">Te Araroa</a> (meaning 'The Long Pathway' in te reo Maori) project, which aims to finish the gigantic walkway that would link the very tip of New Zealand's north island at Cape Reinga with Bluff near the very bottom of the south island. Slope Point is technically the southerly-most point of the south island but it's not by much and it's a fair bit east of Bluff, which is a much more logical destination for this pathway as it's just south of Invercargill and the convergence of two major roads through the bottom of the south island.<br /><br />Cape Reinga is a destination that's high on my list of places to go while living here in New Zealand. Apart from the fact that it would satisfy that curious traveler's notion to stand at the extremes when visiting various locations (<em>The northernmost part of the country! The exact centre of the country! The very intersection of FOUR whole states! The highest point in all the world!</em> You get the idea ...), <a href="http://www.jameswiseman.com/farnorth.php">Cape Reinga</a> also has much spiritual value to the Maori. Reinga means 'Underworld' in te reo and it is from here that they believed the spirits of the dead departed for the underworld. If you follow the link above you can glimpse some of the beauty of this part of New Zealand.<br /><br />Bluff, up until very recently, was home to among other things the famous paua shell house. I know after my mum's visit here she'd have loved to see something like this, given her instant fascination with the pretty, iridescent shells. Sadly it was removed last year from Bluff, but its legacy <a href="http://www.odt.co.nz/the-regions/south-otago/12174/paua-shell-house-display-canterbury-museum">lives on</a> in the Canterbury Museum in Christchurch.<br /><br />To have these two extremes of New Zealand connected by a walkway (which doesn't cross Cook Strait, obviously, although I guess a real purist would swim the Strait between legs of the pathway!) would be an awesome opportunity for tourists, tramping enthusiasts and native New Zealanders alike. It is very nearly done, too, with a goal of December 2010 as a completion date. Apparently the trail is about 94% complete, as constituted, but it's the other 6% that is proving to be the most difficult. These scattered stretches of desired potential walkway belong to private landowners, from whom permission must currently be granted to cross their land at all let alone to have a permanent and public walkway created through it.<br /><br />While many of the landowners' concerns are real, from worries about their livestock being distressed or abused, to intrusions on personal privacy and even fears of vandalism and theft, the people behind the construction of Te Araroa are trying to assuage all of these doubts. They say, quite rightly, that most hoons (thugs) couldn't be arsed to hike even a few hundred metres just to commit a bit of petty crime, beautiful and alluring though the track may be. Also pains will be taken to ensure that these trails are not blazed right in the owners' backyards in full view of the bedroom and bathroom windows.<br /><br />The lovely Shania Twain herself owns a bit of land on the south island and <a href="http://www.stuff.co.nz/southlandtimes/4438429a6570.html">she not only agreed</a> to let a significant portion of Te Araroa - including two huts - be built on her property, she also paid out a significant sum of her own money to help in its development. Hopefully all other landowners involved in Te Araroa's planned route will follow Ms. Twain's gracious example, if not financially then at least in spirit.<br /><br />I've been on a fair number of trails so far in New Zealand and many of them at some point cut through some benevolent landowner's property and I'm immensely grateful for it. So I hope that Te Araroa is able to be completed, and I think that it will be but there are concerns that December 2010 may not be doable. Even so, it is possible to tramp a great majority of this glorious walkway already as about two-thirds of it is considered 'good walking track' and the other legal 24-odd percent is a mixture of roads and unblazed trail.<br /><br />I have yet to pore over the specific portions of Te Araroa outside our immediate region, but if what they have planned for the route between Wellington and Porirua is any indication of the tramp's eventual beauty, it is going to be quite alluring indeed. Part of this route includes the Karehana Scenic Bay Reserve, which is billed as 'tiny' and 'gorgeous'. It sits on the west side of the lower north island and apparently there are lots of tui birds that nest there in the kohekohe trees.<br /><br />So I know that Te Araroa is going to be an exciting and exemplary way to not only show off much of New Zealand's inner beauty, but also a way to be physically out among it all and enjoy it to the fullest. I'm so glad this is a walkway and not a parkway. I certainly have plans to hike portions of it, if not all of it - but not all at once of course. It puts me in mind of America's own Appalachian Trail, given its breadth and grandeur. I know the length of Te Araroa will certainly rival that of the AT, and I'm just now noticing the odd symmetry there: we being the opposite hemisphere our version of the AT is, naturally, the TA.<br /><br />Perhaps Bill Bryson himself might even venture here to walk it one day and write yet another excellent book about his travels, as he did regarding the Appalachian Trail in <em>A Walk In The Woods.</em> Or perhaps I can attempt to be an antipodean Bryson and hit the trail myself and pen my own version, but I think I'll leave that sort of thing to the pros.<br /><br />Also, New Zealand already has its nine <a href="http://www.doc.govt.nz/templates/CustomSummary.aspx?id=42468">Great Walks</a> but once Te Araroa is completed, what shall it be referred to as? THE Great Walk? The Granddaddy of the Great Walks? Or shall it be known as the only Great Walk and the others shall become known as The Decent Walks?<br /><br />No, that wouldn't do, as I've done one of them already (the Tongariro Crossing) and it's far beyond just 'decent'. I'll offer up my own suggestion while resisting the urge to note the obvious one that leapt off the page at me as I read about Te Araroa: Nine Great Walks and One Walk To Rule Them All.<br /><br />I shouldn't have to give that one any context! OK so there were <a href="http://www.glyphweb.com/arda/r/ringsofpower.html">more than just nine</a> Rings of Power in Tolkien's Middle Earth, but since nine of them went to 'Mortal Men' (we humans), my analogy still stands.<br /><br />How about... New Zealand's Nine Great Walks and One Really Kick-ass Walk?<br /><br />Yeah, I agree. I think 'Te Araroa' is just fine.Kiwi Brooksiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04797337345019110934noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32557997.post-41267427495357019792008-07-10T20:48:00.012+12:002008-07-10T22:07:05.175+12:00A little comedy, a little W.I.T., and a lot of fun<div>I was walking up Cuba Street one night last week, on my way to see a friend from my Improvisation class take her first stab at stand-up comedy. The cool night air made for a pleasant walk up Cuba, a part of town that seems to never be lacking in people or great places to eat or get a cup of coffee.<br /><br />As I traversed this largely pedestrian-only street, I passed by many people enjoying their pints of beer or glasses of wine out on the sidewalk seats in front of the various restaurants and bistros. The night was just cool enough for me to enjoy the warmth emanating from the propane-powered heaters as I walked amongst the outdoor drinkers. The thought of a glass of beer, consumed slowly while basking in the welcoming heat, was almost enough to make me stop and join the crowd.<br /><br />But I didn't stop, for I did not want to be late for Danni's act. As I continued my stroll up Cuba, I saw something written on the sidewalk with chalk in various colours. It mentioned the "Rookie Comedy Night", complete with an orange arrow pointing inside an open doorway. This was the <a href="http://www.sfbh.co.nz/">San Francisco Bathhouse</a> and it would be my first time going to this particular place. It reminded me a lot of the Mighty Mighty, further down Cuba, as it too was on the second floor and was deceptively small from the outside but once inside I could see how long and far back the club went. An outdoor patio at the front was a smoker's haven, not to mention a great spot to people watch as folks went up and down Cuba Street. A long bar was up against the far wall, and the back half of the room was dominated by a large stage.<br /><br />There were a couple of rows of leather sofas at the very foot of the stage, followed by small round tables lit romantically with little white floating candles. Behind these tables were some larger ones, and then a back row of barstools completed the main seating area for the stage. Opposite the bar itself in the front half of the room were many more tables and chairs, and I could easily see how the entire room if cleared out would be a great dance hall or a venue for a rock concert.<br /><br />As I purchased my ticket and ponied up to the bar, I listened to the one-man acoustic band on stage. He wasn't bad, but he wasn't the reason I was there. While waiting for my pint of <a href="http://www.macs.co.nz/Default.aspx">Mac's Gold</a>, I spied Danni sitting with her boyfriend at a table across from the bar. I went over and said hello, wishing her luck (which, in the performance business, you do by saying "Break a leg!" and never "Good luck!"). She was quite nervous, and I felt a mix of emotions for her. I knew from class how funny she was and how versatile she was with improvisation.<br /><br />But stand-up comedy has got to be one of the toughest and most terrifying things you can attempt and on top of that this was her very first time. Still, it was billed as an amateur night, so the expectations couldn't be too high for these brave souls who dared to take the stage to try and make us all laugh.<br /><br />I've heard other comics talk about how difficult it is to craft a solid 45-minute act, saying it takes hours and hours of performing, re-writing and honing just to get it right. And then you still have to deal with hecklers sometimes, something which would almost certainly unnerve me no matter how well my jokes were going over with the crowd.<br /><br />I felt a little nervous for Danni because as the hosts busily prepared the stage I could not tell if there were any other comics in the joint except for her! She seemed to be the only one the hosts were interacting with, so I knew if she was truly going it alone up there that would only make her more nervous.<br /><a href="http://i89.photobucket.com/albums/k235/Brandonio17/Improvables/n661610927_1371526_1452.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://i89.photobucket.com/albums/k235/Brandonio17/Improvables/n661610927_1371526_1452.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Well, it turns out there were at least ten different acts that night, and Danni was the first of them all. The female comic who was emceeing that night did a great job of warming up the crowd, and I thought it particularly ironic that the very first person in the crowd she chose to pick on was none other than Danni's boyfriend! He handled it very well and I took this as a good sign for Danni, figuring that the Comedy Gods were on her side that night.<br /><br />They sure were, because I thought her act was great. You could tell she was nervous on stage but it was never close to hindering her performance. In fact I thought she mastered her emotions very well, as right off the bat she had to deal with a difficult microphone stand and she managed to improvise and make a couple of funny remarks as she fiddled with it in vain.<br /><br />Turns out Danni is from the UK and much of her humour is in the 'observational' style. Being an immigrant myself, I could appreciate the context of everything she said, and the crowd - which was not a full house but pretty close - bought into her style of comedy too.<br /><br />She did great and the only hitch was that she forgot completely what her last bit was about as she got lost in the transition. Luckily her boyfriend provided her with a prompt and Danni finished on a good note.<br /><br />She says she'll do stand-up again and already has more material for her next show, so I think it's great that she was able to break through like she did on the first try.<br /><br />As for our Improv class, well it finished up this past weekend and it was bittersweet. Sweet because the entire day and mainly the show itself went really well for all of us. It's like after eight weeks of struggling with energy levels, spontaneity and confidence we managed to sort most of it out as we trained during the day. So the performance was a lot of fun for all of us and it is probably the quickest 90 minutes of my life. I couldn't believe it was all over so fast!<br /><br />The bitter part is that, even though I am now qualified to join W.I.T. (<a href="http://www.wit.org.nz/">Wellington Improvisation Troupe</a>), I cannot do so for some time. They train on the one night a week where I work late and I am too far away to make it on time for anything. But most of the folks in our class have already gone to the first W.I.T. training session and I think several of them will stick with it. A couple are moving away from New Zealand later in the year, and one or two others may decide they've had all the improv they can handle for now and just move on.<br /><br />As for me, I've already discussed changing my schedule with my boss, because this is the most fun I've had doing something outside of work since I graduated from vet school. That's eleven years of pining for something 'extra-curricular' and fun to do in my free time since my school days, so I aim to keep this opportunity to continue to perform improv firmly in my sights.<br /><br />W.I.T. will be around for a while to be sure, and my instructor Simon knows of my current predicament and he assures me the door will still be open for me to join once I am able to free up my schedule.<br /><br />So until then and until my first performance with W.I.T. out in public, I'll leave you with that and <a href="http://s89.photobucket.com/albums/k235/Brandonio17/Improvables/">a few pictures</a> of our training the day of our show. Be sure to read the descriptions to understand just what the hell it is you are looking at! Most of it is probably 'you had to be there' kind of material, but we had a blast and I was very glad to have my friend Holly show up to see us perform. She brought along her 'posse' so it was nice to have some friends in the crowd as well as in the show.<br /><br />My only regret? That Clyde and I didn't get to perform our "Bird's Eye View" job interview scene for the show, only in practice!</div><br /><a href="http://i89.photobucket.com/albums/k235/Brandonio17/Improvables/n661610927_1371551_275.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://i89.photobucket.com/albums/k235/Brandonio17/Improvables/n661610927_1371551_275.jpg" border="0" /></a>Kiwi Brooksiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04797337345019110934noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32557997.post-48229701233500374312008-06-21T21:56:00.020+12:002008-06-21T22:33:39.806+12:00The Wellington Routine v2.0*Well since moving to Wellington, I've developed a routine of sorts on my days off in town. Usually I divide my time between haunting any of three or four different cafes and time spent outside (weather permitting), walking around town or along the waterfront, sometimes stopping to sit on a bench and bask in the sunlight.<br /><br />The good thing about this is that it frees my mind up from having to constantly wonder where I'm going or what I'm doing next. I can just sort of pleasurably amble between and amongst these favourite 'nodes' of mine and just relax and focus on my book, writing, texting (in order to pester my friends that are trapped working) or sometimes taking pictures. I've also come to know the staff in these places on a quasi-friendly level, so it's always nice to be welcomed as a regular.<br /><br />Such is the conceit of the Day Off: I don't get too worked up about always trying to find something new to see or do and I can enjoy my favourite places out of all the ones I have so far visited.<br /><br />That being said (written), there is far more to experience here in Wellington than I can shake a program flyer at, so I'm always open to new happenings that grab my attention. As much as I love my routine, I don't want it to become stale and boring. Because then, by extension, <em>I</em> would become stale and boring (no comments from the peanut gallery, please!). If that happened I would have to turn to a life of crime out of sheer desperation. As much as <em>that</em> might spice things up around here, I don't fancy the prospect of writing this blog from behind bars. I hear Internet privileges are rather difficult to come by 'inside'. While there may be 'cooking' and 'laundry' details for well-behaved prisoners, I seriously doubt there is a 'blogging' detail.<br /><br />Anyways, I digress. Not that this is shocking, for it's now become a trademark move of mine. But now that I've got it out of the way, let me finally come to my point.<br /><br />Last week one of my friends from Improv class last year, Lucy, invited me to an event via Facebook. Once a month there is a tradition called "The Six O'Clock Swill" (SOS) held at one of the coolest places in Wellington, called The Mighty Mighty. I had yet to go there, so I was doubly intrigued by this invitation.<br /><br /><br /><em></em><a href="http://i89.photobucket.com/albums/k235/Brandonio17/Watership%20Down/003.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://i89.photobucket.com/albums/k235/Brandonio17/Watership%20Down/003.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Mighty Mighty sits on Cuba Street, as do many of the coolest hangouts in Wellington. It is an upstairs bar with high ceilings and a ranging, rectangular floor bisected roughly in the middle by a large retractable black curtain. The 'back half' of the building is dominated by a long bar against one wall, while the other side has some tables, barstools and a pinball machine or two. The front half of the bar is where the stage is, all the way at the front by the big windows overlooking Cuba Street.<br /><br />Whenever there is a show on, which includes things like bands, one-act plays, stand-up comics and improv troupes, the curtain is drawn between the two halves of the bar. Actually the curtain may not be drawn for a band, but I have yet to catch a band at the Mighty Mighty.<br /><br />There are many tables scattered in front of the stage, and the walls are adorned with a variety of eclectic items such as a stuffed stag's head, an anatomy poster cribbed from some medical school, various black and white photos, and some paintings. A large chandelier dominates the centre of the room and the stage is illuminated by a singular bank of <a href="http://science.howstuffworks.com/question244.htm">Fresnel</a> lights. The sound system is truly mighty - perhaps <em>too</em> mighty - as I chose a seat right at the front. As good a view as this afforded of the stage, unfortunately for my tympanic membranes I was also right next to the speakers.<br /><br />SOS is dubbed as 'pint-sized theatre' which is a cute but apt description of what is on offer. There are several acts but they are short and sweet, and I was struck by the inclusive and friendly atmosphere of everyone involved. As Kelsey Grammer (as Dr. Frasier Crane) once said, there really is nothing like the collaborative spirit of theatre, which here is summed up best by this quote from the back of SOS's programme:<br /><br /><em>“We are always on the lookout for actors, directors, writers, producers, technicians and other creative practitioners to get involved with the Swill.”</em><br /><br />Performing first tonight was Steve Wrigley, one of New Zealand's best comedians and also one of Lucy's best friends. Next up was Lucy herself with, I believe, an American actor named Gene. They would be performing a brief scene from <em>On Intimacy</em>, a play by American playwright Lori Leigh. The one-line description of this scene in the programme read, "Have you ever woken up next to a stranger?" The final segment of this particular SOS was an improv troupe, which contained at least one Wellington Improvisation Troupe member, who would be performing another instalment in their ongoing improv series called "Magnum: The Lost Episodes". In this edition, they were inside Magnum's mind as he struggled in a coma, and in this bizarro world Magnum was played by a woman. They did totally open scenes with no audience input so it was raw improvisation and they had a lot of fun with it. The audience enjoyed it but this act, too, was very short.<br /><br />Lucy was great in her scene, which was also disappointingly short. I say disappointing because it was really neat to see her perform outside of an improvised setting and she did really well with it.<br /><br />When Lucy and Gene were done with their scene (the laddie reckons himself a poet!) rather than strike their set (which was basically a big inflatable mattress), they left it on stage. The improv troupe made often comical use of this prop but they were careful not to be careless and damage it. It would have been far too awkward to try and deflate the thing offstage while the improv troupe was performing, as the stage area is tiny and 'offstage' is really nothing more than 'Stage Left' concealed behind a folding screen. It would never do to be upstaged by a prop, let alone one not even on stage!<br /><br />Although I wish there had been more time spent by all three of the acts, there is truth to the theatrical adage, "Always leave them wanting more." They certainly did leave me wanting more and I know I'll now try and make The Swill a regular part of my Wellington Routine, which is now dubbed Wellington Routine 2.0! SOS is a monthly affair on two consecutive nights including my day off so it's very doable for me.<br /><br />In a way I was glad that the shows weren't too long because I was worried it would clash with the beginning of a WIT show later that same evening. It was the first of their eight weekly instalments of a new show, "The Young & The Witless". This format of improv revolves around eight characters in a soap opera set aboard the fictional New Zealand ferry, the <em>SS Blake</em>. It's a great vehicle (Hah! Get it?) for exploring the character and narrative aspects of improv, and my teacher Simon is one of the eight people in the cast. Y&W is being performed at the Blue Note Cafe, a jazz bar just one click north of the Mighty Mighty on Cuba Street.<br /><br />The show was great fun, and <a href="http://texture.co.nz/blogs/reviews/archive/2008/06/15/the-young-and-the-witless-11th-june-bluenote.aspx">here</a> is a linkie to a review of the show and here is <a href="http://www.wit.org.nz/">WIT's own page</a> about the event and the people involved. For tonight's performance I'll be buying a season pass because <s>I'm such a groupie</s> this also gives me something new to do on my days off.<br /><br />I do love my work schedule, in that having Wednesdays off breaks the week into manageable halves. It's quite a comfortable work week. The only problem I am having with it at the moment is that, once I complete this second half of improvisation classes next month, all of us in the class will be invited to attend WIT's weekly training sessions. That is fantastic, but unfortunately they meet on Tuesday nights - the very night I work late. So there is no way I could be a part of WIT, wit my current work schedule (heh). I have mentioned this to my boss and stated that I am quite keen to change my schedule so that I can attend training. Much as I am loath to give up my Wednesdays off, the chance to perform wit WIT (wheee) far outweighs what day of the week is off for me.<br /><br />My friend and co-worker Sarah is sadly leaving us soon, and the only silver lining to this is that she has Tuesdays off. It is then a natural time for me to switch to her schedule and have our new hire take over mine. Sorted! But this is not a definite thing so I shall have to wait and see. At the very least, there won't be any changes for several months so training is not an option this year no matter what.<br /><br />So I'll be soaking up as much improv as I can in the interim, so that I don't lose that edge that you get with repeated improvisation. As Derek, one of the WIT trainers, says, improv talent is a muscle that needs to be worked out frequently or it just atrophies away. So improvisation ain't exactly like riding a bike; it's more like ... pumping iron!<br /><br />I might even sign up for the Monday night beginners' improv class again, just to keep a hand in, and I'll try and see as many WIT shows as I can until I can train.<br /><br />What can I say? I'm a <s>slavering fan-boy</s> devoted student of improv!<br /><br /><em><span style="font-size:78%;">*I arrived here in New Zealand exactly two years ago today! Nice symmetry, ay? Two years today, Wellington Routine v2.0! Yeah, yeah, I know. Shaddap.</span></em>Kiwi Brooksiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04797337345019110934noreply@blogger.com4