What child is this?

'Tis summer here in Auckland.  People are walking to the beach in their togs (swimsuits) and towels, the city is quieter because the locals have packed off on vacation, and the ice cream truck is touring our neighbourhood more frequently.  It's a franchise of the Mr Whippy chain, which serves soft serve ice cream out of a window in the side of an orange, pink and white van.  Most towns in America no longer have an ice cream truck, let alone a rolling soft-serve stand on wheels.  My only recollection of any ice cream truck from my youth is from re-runs of old '50's TV shows.  In my day we had to hoof it down to the A&W for our cones of summer.

This particular van is a bit different from those of the Beaver's day in that it plays religious tunes.  Well, one Christian tune in particular.  "What child is this?", aka "Greensleeves", beeps mechanically through Pohutukawa and ferns from a Midi track, rolls across laws and in through our windows.  I have no idea if any kids, or adults for that matter, go to the curb to give it business.  The thing drives down the street daily now, and the music occasionally stops, which leads me to think that it's worth somebody's time to troll our neighbourhood.

We laughed at the choice of music when we first moved into our apartment.  "What kind of song is that?" we asked each other, and as non-religious people refused to rush to the curb on sheer principle.  It does make us chuckle, though.  What child is this / who comes to call / when Whippy comes along tinkling?  I guess it is December and the Holiday season, but to play the thing year round?  Really?

This is a typical Mr Whippy van (the photo was taken from the internet; we have no idea who the guy is).  They're a New Zealand icon and can be seen at pretty much every tourist beach.  The ice cream's not bad, either, and come with sprinkles, wafers, strawberry sauce, dipped and all of the standard trimmings.

Gliding at Whenuapai

We recently met some awesome, fellow former residents of Cascadia. Roberta is an urban planner, and Adam is an IT security guy with a number of cool hobbies including gliding. Last weekend, he offered to take me up in a glider and I jumped on the opportunity. Here are some pictures, unsorted, from the day.

Also, I'll try to figure out how to attach a Google Earth data file of the flight, as Adam is super tech-savvy and captured full GPS data.

The eye twitch

I am now on day 7 of a persistent eye twitch.  It's probably caused by stress, though the optometrist says that there isn't much data on what actually causes the buggers.  I'm thinking that lots of long days and nights at the office staring down student handwriting has something to do with it.  My nose now sports new glasses (time for an upgrade, anyway) and I'm trying to read less, though I'm not having much success on that front.

How long have eye twitches lasted for y'all out there?  Any record holders, or am I setting a new record?

The changing of the guard

This post is political in nature and is not intended to offend.  It is intended, however, to add to the reasons for everyone to vote in this General Election, whether you agree with the content or not.  I speak only for myself here, despite the fact that this is a family blog, and would enjoy hearing what our family and friends have to say on the topic.  

With the elections within spitting distance I can't help but think about the reasons for why I'm voting from so far away.  Part of this is due to my bone-deep frustration with what the Bush administration has done to America's rights to privacy, intellectual legacy and respect in the global community.  After all, it is still and always will be home for me.  The biggest reason for expatriates to vote, I have found, is to protect what's left of America's reputation and place within the world.

I very much still feel American.  I bargain hunt, appreciate my TV shows on a familial level and hold freedom of speech deep at heart.  (I and a Canadian co-worker just successfully dismantled the office Swear Box, an evil contraption meant to punish those who swore in the office by taking their money in amounts linked to the severity of the swear word.  People should be able to shout at the permanently busted copy machine, damnit, without the propriety police judging them.)  Most of all, I'm beginning to understand a fundamental truth that seems to have become lost on many an American official and citizen: America is and always will be one member within the wider global community.  Her actions are felt across broad expanses of water and her inaction has the same ability to offend as a person on the street has for not helping an accident victim.  America is a part of the world, and because I feel like a part of the world all the way down here in little 'ol New Zealand, I feel an obligation to make my voice and experience count in every way I can.  Mahatma Gandhi had it right when he said to "be the change you want to see in the world."  This is all very fine and well for individuals but it goes for nations as well.

When we first moved down here the first question my students always asked was, "Did you vote for President Bush?"  The middle-school kids were mostly curious; high schoolers tended to frost their words with a bit more indignation.  Most adult Kiwis avoided this pointed and personal question, rather opting for variations on what Americans thought about what Bush Co. Ltd. were doing to Iraq.  We had plenty of interesting conversations but nonetheless felt a bit tired and battered by the end of our first 6 months here.  This social/political grilling wasn't what we signed up for when we moved here, nor was it what we were prepared to endure for the duration of our time here.  Our only recourse was to sigh and develop a handful of strategies for changing the conversation.  Only once did I play the political refugee card; it felt hollow and cheap, so I didn't touch it again.

Perhaps we've blended in or we now have a consistent social circle, but these questions seem to have changed in the last year or so.  It feels like the rest of the world has realised that Bush Co. Ltd. will close up shop and another President will move into his place.  There seems to be less quiet bitterness about things and a curiosity and optimism that things will change.  We are frequently asked what we think of the candidates. When asked who we are voting for, and we say "Obama/Biden", people nod and relax a little...and then they ask if Palin is for real.  We nod, and then they shake their heads.  And I don't feel the guilt that I felt at this time nearly three years ago.  Kiwi's don't despise these candidates the way that they despise Bush, although they are more leery of the McCain/Palin ticket than of the other candidates.  This hatred that the current administration seems to have drawn out of people gets spit out on us expats indirectly and it's rather tiring.

It never ceases to disappoint me that Kiwis are more curious about us than America is of the rest of the world.  With any luck, the next President will encourage people to cross American borders by making border security more humane; maybe my co-workers won't complain so much about having to take a longer route back to the UK through Singapore because they refuse to be insulted by the TSA again.  Maybe the Kyoto Protocol will gain traction with lawmakers as a positive thing, and diplomacy and inter-national conversation will take top priority. 

This is why I am submitting an Overseas ballot.  Not because I hope to live in the US in the future, or because my family still lives there and I want a better place for them to live.  I vote because American policies are having a direct effect on our community down here in NZ.  Just the other day there was a story in the New Zealand Herald about Kiwi troops that are being targeted by militants in a relatively quiet area in Afghanistan.  There aren't any complaints about Kiwi soldiers doing their part to help communities overseas; there are conversations, though, about when they will be able to come home and get on with things, as they say.  Kiwis don't like treading water.

This weekend we are sending our ballots to the Missoula County Elections Office, as that was the last place we voted, and we wear our bumper stickers with pride.  And we're planning on staying up November 5th in the hopes of seeing competent leadership return to the White House.

How to sled on a volcano

About a month ago I was talking to my friend Sarah and we decided that we missed snow.  She's originally from New York and is having the same problem that Peter and I have: winter just doesn't feel like winter down here.   Since winter was coming to a close we decided to go find snow, since it will never snow in Auckland.  Ever.  This is how you go about sledding on the north island of New Zealand, much of which is technically in the subtropics and mostly sits close to sea level.

Step 1: Find some snow.

The central plateau in the centre of the North Island and has a couple of free-standing active volcanoes that accumulate snow during the winter.  They're beautiful, steep, free of fences and trees (a must-have if you're used to sledding in Montana) and the snow is deep enough to cover the rocks.  This last requirement is one of my biggies, as I now have a deformed tailbone thanks to a poorly chosen sledding run when I was a kid.  Mt Ruapehu in Tongariro National Park has all of these required elements. Yes, this is where they shot the Mordor scenes for Lord of the Rings.  The volcano on the left is Mt Doom, also known as Mt Ngauruhoe to us locals.  Just had to get that out of the way.  And no, we didn't see any orcs, just tourists.

Step 2: Be prepared to drive.

Unfortunately, the closest sledding mountain sits about a 4-hour drive south of Auckland.  We wanted maximum quality time on the slopes, so we packed up our gear in the van and took off Friday after work.  This wasn't a bad idea, as the weather report predicted the first rain-free weekend for 8 weeks.  This was a bad idea, though, because everyone and their dogs were heading out of town for the rain-free weekend, too.  Auckland traffic is notoriously slow and prone to clogs, so be sure to have an iPod and an iTrip.  If you can manage it, get stuck behind a camper van with a 12 year old boy in the back who is prone to exhibitionism.  This helps to pass the time.

Step 3: Find someplace to stay with a fireplace in the lobby.

After a few phone calls before we took off we found what probably were the last two rooms in the neighbouring township of National Park.  There was plenty of parking by the time we rolled in at 11:30 pm.  One room was tiny with a train-sized bathroom but came with the standard-issue water kettle, cups and tea/instant coffee set; the toilet paper holder fell off the wall upon first use but was of otherwise of impeccable design.  

The second room was a dorm room with a train-sized bathroom and came with the standard-issue drunken youngsters who try to climb into bed with you at 1:30 in the morning.  They were drunk enough to be harmless, so Sarah had an easy enough time kicking one of them into submission and, subsequently, his own bed. Have I mentioned that Sarah and Mark are freakishly nice friends for giving us the private room?

Needless to say, the fireplace in the lobby, nestled comfortably between the bar and a coffee cart, made the stay for us.  

Step 4: Find some snow pants, gloves, sleds and sun cream.

Most of the businesses in National Park cater to people like us: they know enough about frolicking in the snow to be inclined to get the proper gear, but don't use the stuff enough to actually own it.  A super-waxed toboggan, snow pants and gloves will cost you a grand total of $40, which is the price of dinner for two out if you don't get something to drink.  Not a bad deal.  The people who worked at the particular shop we visited were friendly ski bums who came from all over, including Canada and the US.  Don't worry about having to rent stuff when you want to play in the snow here.  You'll be well looked after and will be given the best and most waxed sleds they have.  Do slather on the sun cream frequently.  If you think goggle face is bad in the US, try sledding under that hole in the ozone.  And wear your sun glasses.

Step 5: Make sure you fit in by looking cool and cruising the lift areas.  Carry your sled with pride.

After a shuttle ride up to the lifts because the only parking was down below the snow line, we were ready to go.  The reception area close to the shuttle drop-off swept past the building where you could buy lift tickets and rent gear if you didn't already have it.  This is also where you stock up on ego, so we got a little before getting to the snow.  One must strut if one expects to be taken seriously.

Step 6: Stake out your own place on the mountain.

Whether you have to climb up the mountain under the lift because you're too tough to buy a pass, or you get forced off of the groomed sledding hill by paramedics dragging the corpses of tourists away, find some open space.  This will allow you to establish your dominance on the mountain and practice your more daring tricks.  Sarah and I are working our way up to the Women's Doubles Tobogganing event for the 2010 Winter Olympics in Vancouver.  Mark is the king of the spinning descent and Peter proved to have ultimate control.  We clearly still had what it took even after all of this time.

Step 7: Avoid the guy on the ski-bike; his cronies look like paramedic bait.

Step 8: Stop for martinis at a chateau reminiscent of The Shining.  

Just don't visit room 237.  Go back to your backpackers (hostel) and dry your boots and feet out by the fire.