A day of rest… well sort of. I decided to hang around Paihia for church this morning, catch up on some planning/e-mails then see the giant Maori trees used for making enourmous war canoes.
Church was a riot. I went to the only local one I could find, an Episcopal parish. My attendance brought the total number to about twelve. During the service I couldn’t help thinking, “This could make a great Monte Python sketch.”
The service was led by a very well meaning octogenarian woman, which matched perfectly with the first two hymns. The melody was so high that even the ladies were squeaking out the tune. To give you some sense of the musical stratosphere, after the first two notes the tune jumped up to a “d” and shortly there after hung around “f” for what seemed like forever. The tune didn’t break “b” until the end. To make it really fun, there were six versus. Yikes. Right on que, standing behind the carved eagle podium, she began with “Well let’s see… where to start?” and then promptly dropped all her papers in a flurry of bits and pages. Not a soul reacted. The congregation must either be quite used to the antics or have been asleep.
A lay person gave the sermon which was the story of the “young rich ruler” and Jesus’ famous “eye of a needle” statement. The other point of hilarity, at least from a British satire perspective, was after the congregation had experienced communion the organist played while our fearless leader straightened up the alter table. She looked into the communion cup. Seeing that it was not empty, with a quick head cock, “bam” the communion chug was born. This may be a common practice, to finish the wine, but to witness the practice in this way made it seem like the action belonged more in “Three Weddings and a Funeral” than a very quite Sunday morning in Paihia.
After church I caught up on e-mails and left for west coast, which is home to a forest of some of the largest trees in New Zealand and probably the world. The roads are windy at best, extra fun remembering to stay left, with one lane in each direction the norm. (Picture driving to Pt. Reyes, every where you go.) However, because of this the drivers are really quite excellent. Sixty miles per hour is not uncommon and slower drivers eagerly move out of the way when ever possible. There simply is no fast lane so absent minded drivers who in the states would sit out in the fast lane barely making the speed limit don’t exist. Every driver appears to be fully engaged and conscious of other vehicles. The first time I came up on another slower car going my direction it wasn’t immediately obvious why he kept veering onto the shoulder while keeping the speed limit. He in return was probably wondering why I refused to pass. This practice of providing space for others to pass, even if fully achieving the speed limit appears to be common. Imagine such a driving etiquette change from the personally indignant US style of road ownership, with the phrase “They’ll just have to learn to be patient” ringing in my ears.
The people in New Zealand are amazingly clean and helpful. This is truly the land of the spotless public toilette. Almost every little berg or hamlet has public restrooms that would exceed most private baths at home for cleanliness. The Kiwi’s also appear to be fastidious with litter. Next to none is visible and was probably distributed by a tourist.
If traveling in New Zealand, there simply isn’t enough to be said about the “i” sites which are offices in most towns that will literally get you information and/or book travel and tours for the local area or the entire country. Amazing. Tourism is an industry source of pride and definitive focus.
Making my way down the west coast towards Auckland I simply ran out of daylight and passed through the city after dark. The target was a campground south of Auckland on the way to Rotorua.
Without a clue of where the campground lay and the time approaching 11pm I happened across a security guard in his car. He was happy to help with directions but only after a speech lesson. The road I was looking for was of Mauri origins and had two (r)’s. So instead of jumping right to directions we literally spent two or three minutes say “arrrr” back and forth. He would correct me and say “No, put your tongue in the top of your mouth.” So, I would try again, “arrdth”. Finally, with a little frustration he gave up and said, “You say your (r)’s like an Englishman.” Apparently that was the price of directions because he happily pulled out the New Zealand equivalent of the Thomas’ guide and showed me the general approach to travel.
This did some good, as it got me within a 10 sq. kilometer range of the campground. However, given that it was pitch black and the countryside, all the roads looked extremely similar and many were unmarked. After another half hour of seeking and not finding, I stumbled across a closed Motel and bar. Fortunately for me the owner was still having a drink with some friends and was willing to rent me a room despite being after hours. This place was scary on a pitch dark night with a howling wind. Walking into the room my thoughts were, “It sure would be nice if there were more customers spending the night besides me and a worn looking semi-truck rig outside.” Needless to say, sleeping was accomplished on top of the bed in my sleeping bag and with my camping pillow. The fewer direct contact points with the fixtures of the room the better.
(It rained all night, so this mishap of not being able to find the camping site was very fortunate. There is not much worse than packing up a soggy tent and gear. In the day light the motel was much better than the night suggested, but still just as desolate. Leaving to find the freeway, guess what was literally a country block away after turning right?)
Random Knowledge
The Maori influence is still strong in New Zealand with a dedicated television station and the “All Blacks” national rugby team does a traditional war chant/dance prior to each match, especially with Australia.
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