A Meeting with Bob

About three weeks ago, I received an email from a friend in England telling of an event coming up in Auckland. An internet link to an English newspaper's website provided more substance to the story. It would seem that on 25th August, a number of pornstars would ride topless through the centre of Auckland's business district. The reason? A promotional parade for an annual erotica exhibition that has become affectionately known as the 'Boobs on Bikes' parade.

The most surprising thing about this was the fact someone the other side of the planet was the first to talk about it. But then he did have The Sun newspaper, reknowned for professional & informative journalism, keeping him abreast with world affairs.

As B-Day approached, the amount of local news coverage intensified, largely due to the adamant opposition that the Mayor was mounting against it occurring. I doubt he anticipated the massive amount of free publicity he was generating for the organisers. The end result was that the council decided the event could go on and the mayor was left a little red in the face. He did promise to keep a very close eye on the proceedings though.

On the morning of the penultimate day, an email swept through the office advising the estimated time of arrival, and everyone with a Y chromosome began to type away on their computers. The next sound was of a few dozen computers confirming the diary entry of an external meeting with B.O.B. The business district had just declared mysterious fellow known only as Bob, the most important person in town.

The strength of the crowds gathered on Queen Street was a strong argument that not everyone shared the same beliefs as the mayor. However, without official police assistance, traffic was locked in tighter than the contents of Pamela Anderson's
swimsuit, and the parade was struggling to reach the fans. The wait was obviously too much for some to take, but the majority remained resilient. There must have been a lot of motorbike enthusiasts in Auckland that day.

For some unfathomable reason, the cold nip to the air wasn't enough to dissuade an estimated 20,000 people lining the streets to take a peep. It was later said that the actual number may have been much higher than this but it was hard to gauge a precise figure. I can only guess that the person in charge kept losing his count.

To add a comparison to this number, it is worth noting that 15,000 people attended the recent funeral for the Maori queen. By adding this, I am not insinuating anything but am simply adding it for everyone else to draw their own conclusions about what is important to the New Zealand population.

News reports that evening, presented local's comments voicing both sides of the argument for the event continuing. One avenue of investigation they didn't pursue was the impact the parade had on the businesses of the city centre. What damage to the economy had this caused? When a blackout occurred a couple of months ago, news stations were quick to estimate to the dollar, exactly how much it had cost the businesses. Presumably on this case, any negative effect of mass temporay office absence was later counteracted by increase morale and subsequent productivity. Or maybe the assigned investigative reporter never saw beyond the tit of the ice-berg. My only comment would have to be that it was an all round impressive display that required a lot of front considering the opposition they were up against.

Pitch Black

You don’t need to come to New Zealand to know how passionate the people are about their Rugby team. And for good reason – the All Blacks are recognised as one of the most respected and revered teams in the world today. Other countries look forward to playing them as much as they fear them; a tough match is always guaranteed and limits will definitely be pushed.

The infinite respect and adulation for The All Blacks is undeniable in New Zealand. Every other television advert either has a member of the squad endorsing the product, or the item is influenced by the team in some way. Competition prizes all seem to be related to ‘All Blacks’ merchandise and most companies seem to have an ‘All Black’ inspired product. But it goes beyond selling; The ‘All Blacks’ seem to be virtually an institution that people have pledged their allegiance to. They are spoken about like super heroes and are role models to everyone. One advert for a credit card company seemed to sum up how New Zealanders feel, when it showed various people bleeding black blood (one example was a shaving cut before anyone imagines the worst scenarios for this). It’s an annoying cliché but very true that if you cut a New Zealander in half, they bleed black. One company went to the extreme of suggesting they had used actual blood samples from the team to create clothing articles bonded with their DNA. This seemed like a pretty sick idea, but then successful advertising often beds with the controversial.

The effect of this bombardment of sports worship stirred my curiosity enough to not hesitate in grabbing the first opportunity to see them play. As luck would have it, this just happened to be against the Wallabies in the Tri-Nations series and Bledisloe Cup match. In keeping with all sports appreciation across the globe, the pre-match warm-up involved a few beers and the regurgitation of statistics spewed out of television sets and newspapers in the days leading up to the match. By the time we arrived at the stadium the beer had established itself as a dominant aspect of the event and our first port of call was to the bar to purchase enough amber nectar to get through the first half.

The rivalry between New Zealand and Australia is legendary so I expected a degree of tension to the game. Then when I saw a few Aussie fans sitting amongst the Kiwi supporters, I thought trouble was a certainty. But there was nothing. No more aggression than telling one pissed Australian (another light-weight doing his country proud) to sit down and let the people behind see the game. Sure comments were thrown back and forth, but it was all taken in good fun and generally involved language less colourful than an apartment block in Belgrade.

Now, I’m not much of a sports fanatic. I love playing sports and consider myself a sporty person, but I’ve never held much enthusiasm for watching others play. I don’t feel the connection that so many others so desperately hold onto when their team wins or loses. I suppose I feel quite disassociated from it as it wasn’t ingrained into my persona from a young age. For me, unless I have a direct interest in the result of the game such as money riding on it, it doesn’t really interest me. However, if it isn’t the excitement on the pitch that grabs you, it is the pre-match ‘haka’ which commands the attention of even the least enthusiastic sports fan. It is a synchronised Maori war-dance: a combination of vicious body movements, loud war-like chanting, and facial expressions only assimilated by normal people when attempted a post-vindaloo movement. The effect is mesmerising as it pulls all eyes onto the pitch and sets the expectation of wow for the game. There was some talk of a new haka being used for this game in honour of the recently deceased Maori queen, Te Arikinui Dame Te Atairangikaahu, but in the end, the Kapa o pango haka, was used which is reserved for special events.

The game turned out to be full of action. The Wallabies took an early lead and held onto it as the first half drew to a close. I began to think that my presence was going to be the cursing factor that would end winning streak against the Wallabies at Eden Park that stretches back to 1986. Thankfully the men in black had plenty more to offer in the 2nd half. Or perhaps the alcohol in my system was diminishing the power of my curse. The All Blacks went from being behind 11 points to 20 at half time, to winning the game 34 – 27. Of course this prompted further beerage and I eventually made it back to the apartment sometime around midnight….I think.

It was a great game with cracking atmosphere and a surprisingly friendly crowd. A couple dressed in Wallaby shirts sat in front of me, holding their baby wearing an All Blacks jersey. Apparently he was born in New Zealand and his allegiance has thus been determined by birth not, blood. Even with all the booze being consumed there was absolutely no hint of trouble. Not even after the game as the crowds flowed out onto the streets. It’s true that the atmosphere was particularly good at this game due to the team they were playing and the events of the game itself, but it gave me a taste, and I’m definitely going back for more.

Working Easy

It had been over 10 months since I last did a day’s work. 44 weeks between leaving one office and entering a new one. In that time I had seen some of the most spectacular things in my life and had many amazing experiences. It will come as no surprise then, that it was quite a shock to be back in an office environment and getting up for work 5 out of every 7 days. I think after the first few days, my mind and body expected a vacation. But no; this was definitely my life for the foreseeable future.

On the plus side, my choice in employer was partially attributed to the required commute (my employer is located in the bottom right corner of the picture below, and my apartment building is in the centre). I timed it on the first day (I feel it’s important to know such information for emergencies and well, generally knowing your limits). From leaving my front door to arriving at my desk takes a grand total of 7 minutes 38 seconds. Since this first timing, I have discovered that if I walk faster, time the road crossings right, and have good luck with the elevators in my building and at work, I can do the monumental commute in just over 4 minutes. So far, I haven’t needed to add running into the equation.

Thankfully my new manager seemed sympathetic to my new disposition in life and advised me to take it easy for my first couple of weeks. The standard working hours are 8:30 til 5:30 but he didn’t think it was worth me pushing beyond a 9 to 5 pattern for the first two weeks. Since then I have discovered that most people leave around 5 each evening and rarely does anyone actually arrive by 8:30 in the morning. This was not a firm of clock watches. But, where trust is given, results are expected.

The first couple of weeks have been a very steep learning curve. It was daunting enough just meeting the managers of the 100 staff on my floor, let alone trying to remember their names or even those of some of the consultants I’d been introduced to. The office seemed to grow every day as I saw another face I didn’t recognise or was introduced to one more manager. To combat this, everyone has been very welcoming and are all doing their best in making make me feel comfortable.

I’m recruiting in a new sector now – Financial Services – so have had to learn all the intricacies of a new industry. It’s strange to be starting fresh again after working so hard to establish a reputation and forge relationships in my previous position. But, perhaps that’s what I needed - a new challenge; a new start; something to keep the interest there.

At the end of my first week, I discovered another aspect of the better working lifestyle in New Zealand. At 16:30 every Friday, everyone is free to convene in the meeting room and start consuming as much as they want of red & white wine, and a selection of beers. There are also a few platters laid out with cheese, biscuits, bread, and dips. Few booze & food? I feel better about working again, already.

Also this month (in blogging terms, not calendrical), Lucie celebrated her 23rd birthday and I celebrated my 26th. I’m now closer to being 30 than 20, and feel the pressure looming of all those greater responsibilities in life. However, I’m still being optimistic and hope a lottery win will make them a little easier to face … or at least avoid a little longer. I think for both of us, having a birthday away from friends and family made it hit home how far away we really are, and how few people we actually know here. Yeah, I admit it, I felt a little sad when reading the messages on my cards but I’ll see them again someday.

Another cause for celebration this month was our one year anniversary. I doubt many people wouldn’t put money on this celebration occurring considering when we met, what we’ve been through, and what it took to get us together again, but we did it. We celebrated by going to the Observatory Restaurant in the Sky Tower. At 328 metres in height, it is the tallest tower in the Southern Hemisphere and with the restaurant being just below the viewing level, we had a spectacular backdrop to dinner. The meal was a seafood buffet, and taking after my father, I was determined to get my money’s worth. When we left the restaurant I had consumed 1 soup, 1 starter, 4 main courses, and 3 desserts. Sure, I felt slightly sick afterwards, but it was worth it.

Chairman of the 'Board

The flight from Auckland to Queenstown covered almost the entire length of New Zealand and provided a passing glimpse of the diversity of landscape we would encounter during our time here. Although this was an exciting thought, the only terrain I was interested in at the moment were glorious mountain peaks glazed with snow. As this wasn't exactly a long flight (at just under two hours in total), it didn't take long before my vision was full of this beauty. I felt like I was being reunited with a friend I'd missed for far too long.

When the plane neared Queenstown, the view opened up to include stunning lakes and patches of lower lying terrain that offered more earthly shades of colour. Despite the cliche, I have to mention that it was hard to escape thoughts of 'The Lord of the Rings' as we swept over the land.


After a short walk through an airport reminiscent in size to those on Mediterranean islands, we were picked up by Sarah, a fellow boarder and member of the "Goneboarding" community. On the way to our modest accommodation, Sarah and her friend filled our heads with accounts of the runs and conditions at the resorts of the area. My excitement was ready to burst out of my chest.

With this in mind, we completed the formalities at the hostel, shed our backpacks in the blink of an eye, and made our way into town to pick up some hire gear. It's an unfortunate truth of the world that you truly "get what you pay for", and as such the cheapest hire options were often either of poor quality, or beaten beyond recognition of their former selves. Nevertheless, we shopped around and managed to find some equipment of adequate quality and moderate price. As we'd sorted the lift passes and transport tickets out at the hostel, all that was left to do was grab some food and an early night. We followed a resident's recommendation and grabbed a couple of monumental burgers from "Fergburger". The digestive effort required to break these monsters down was all the impetus we needed to reach the land of 'Nod' (the fictional children's place of dreaming, not the land Cain was banished to - in case you were confused).


We soon discovered that trying to get a full night's sleep before something as exciting as this was as likely as discovering Santa Clause was the real leader of A-Qaeda. So, once light was on the land, we assumed full boarding gear and made our way to Coronet Park, courtesy of a lift from Sarah. Our mission for the day was for me to teach Lucie to snowboard, and for her to not kill me in the process. We knew this was a potentially explosive situation that would only normally be braved by the naïve and stupid, but there is a third category; the economically challenged. Yeah, to save a few pennies we put our relationship on the line and tackled this task without professional counselling. Thankfully, I still remembered a lot of what I was taught by my friend Jo, in England (a long time ago), and Lucie was eternally patient. So that I would ride at a more beginner level, I decided to ride switch (opposite foot forward than normal) the whole time while with Lucie, and it wasn't long before she first overtook me on a run. She did extremely well and it was one of the best moments of the week when I saw her complete her first run using linked turns all the way. I would've shouted out my congratulations but any outburst like this would surely only be met with catastrophe.

The next day we got the shuttle bus over to The Remarkables ski area, on the other side of Queenstown from Coronet Peak. The road to the resort is notorious in the region as it is unsealed, steep & narrow, and without crash barriers. Presumably the possibility of seeing a mangled wreckage of a bus and 30+ tourists covering the mountainside doesn't justify a few unsightly barriers.

Once again we played around on the green runs near the base while Lucie built her confidence and I took the occasional run through the park to play on the boxes and kickers. There were 4 boxes of different angle, length, width, and height in the park, and by the end of the day I was comfortably nailing all of them. Life has a way of building people up for falls.

We went back to Coronet Peak the next day, and Lucie moved her boarding up to using edge turning as she was going faster. I continued to improve riding switch. However, with this being our 3rd day and snowboarding being new to Lucie, I wasn't surprised that she wanted to finish earlier than the last lift (as on the previous days). While she took the bus home I went to the top of the mountain to stretch the legs and put some wind through my hair. After a couple of runs I looked at the time and saw that I had around 20 minutes to catch the next bus. The chairlift to the top took around 10 minutes, which would leave me 10 minutes to get to the bottom and board the bus. Time for a punk rock soundtrack and enough speed to make the ears bleed. This was the most exhilarating run of the day; I was stupidly quick and even had time to nail a box and kicker in the park before getting to the bottom in less than 7 minutes. When I reached the bus, there was only 1 space left and only couples waiting. That seat was mine.

We'd planned to go to Cardrona the next day, but the weather forecast predicted winds increasing to 70-100 knots in the afternoon. Lucie took this as a good reason to have a day off and I decided to head out early and local with Sarah. The wind seemed pretty strong on the higher runs but was pretty tame near the base and in the park. At least it was for the first couple of hours. After that, I was actually blown back up the slope at one point, when approaching a box. When the gusts came, everyone on the mountain seemed to just stop in their tracks, like the whole world went into a 'pause.'

After a while of God tormenting us like this, I uttered the forbidden words of "Shall we make this the last run?" Snowboarders are a superstitious bunch and injury is seen as inevitable to anyone that utters a phrase similar to this. It's not something that I normally believe in, but am certainly leaning that way after what happened next. The wind was really picking up, so after going over the first box, I avoided the next 2. As no-one was around the last one, I decided to just do that one and finish for the day. A 'frontside-boardslide' became a 'arseside-wristslide' and I bent the fingers back on my left hand to an impossible angle. Thankfully my wrist guard and some unusually flexible ligaments stopped anything snapping, but I certainly wouldn't be playing any Beethoven anytime soon. A quick trip to the First Aid centre confirmed my suspicions that no break had occurred, but the shock was playing havoc with my temperature control.

I admitted that I should have one day off to try and recover, but reasoned that if I could get my wrist guards on that evening, then I would be fit to go out the next day. It was only when I found it impossible to get the left wrist guard on that I noticed how badly I had bent it. I was suddenly very thankful I was wearing them. It also made me think twice about going back on the slopes too soon and risking further injury. As depressing as it was, I had to admit that my snowboarding was finished for the week, after only 4 days.

We tried to think of other things we could do in Queenstown (the capital of adventure sports) but everything required the use of both hands. Our choices were thus reduced to going to the cinema and making our way through the DVD collection at the hostel. On the brightside, I think we both needed a few days of rest after a hectic snowboarding introduction for Lucie, and reunion for me. On our last full day we took the gondola to the top of the mountain that overlooks Queenstown and watched various nutters jumping off a bungy platform and sailing through the air parapenting. This was a seriously cool town and I'm already looking forward to coming back here and sampling more of what is on offer.

We finished our time in Queenstown by watching a 'Rail Jam' in the town that evening. Mainly snowboarders but a couple of skiers also, were competing in a 'trick' competition on some purpose built stairs with a kinked box, hand rail, and a straight rail. Amazingly the best offerings came from one entrant who was said to have consumed 12 beers and had stripped down his top half to just the competition vest. As it was bloody freezing this was enough to convince me that he was definitely under the influence. The nutter then tried throwing his body in every way possible to complete various tricks and even tried a front flip dismount from the rail that ended in him causing a significant dent in the snow at the base with his back. Somehow booze had prevented serious injury, but I'm sure he'd feel the pain in the morning.

It was such a good feeling to be back in the mountains and on snow after a 15 month separation. The subjection of using hire gear has definitely got me looking for a new board and we're already planning our next trip - to the mountains on the north island. This time, I won't be trying anythiing new on the boxes and Lucie won't have to listen to my teachings. I can't wait. Are we there yet?