Queenstown Kiwi & Bird Life Center

Spent a lot of time here.

Unlike the Willow Bank reserve near Christchurch, this has less water - it is a Douglas Fir covered slope, and converted from a Queenstown refuse area. They give you self-guided headphones and it seems a bit impersonal at first.

But they have a fellow give a talk, and that was very nice.

Plus, watched the 2 kiwis, one in each house. As big as turkeys, they are.

Queenstown Shopping

Shop, shop, shop, shop!

This place reminds of Santa Fe in the tourist season, or, better yet, a hopelessly choked Colorado mountain town in full summer - Telluride, Leadville, Aspen, Vail.

Paragliders, or whatever they call them, fill the sky.

Queenstown

It's Monday, so we got up early and drove from Wanaka to Queenstown so Andrew could catch a plane back to Christchurch, for work.

So, starting today, I'm here in Queenstown, one of the world's great adventure capitals. White water rafting, bungy jumping, jet skis, four-wheeling, whatever you want, it's right here. (the label on the PC here at Global Gossip says " $10 free credit - just book your 15,000 ft skydive from the counter). The hills are full of condos and timeshares and traffic and people from every corner of the globe (except New Zealanders, who are spooked by all the tourists).

Nevertheless, after yesterday's hike and sunburn, and restless sleep last night (caffeine, plus almost no nighttime) I'm pretty dang tired. I'll prop my eyelid open and watch the daredevils instead of join them....The plan is to be in Dunedin tonight (but plans can change....)

Left: The Remarkables mountain range, as we approached the airport.

Hike To Peak Of Mount Rob Roy

Left: Is that Mt. Aspiring in the distance?


Happy summer solstice day! Longest day of the year (and it's really long at this high latitude (sunset about 9:30 p.m.; darkness around 10:30 p.m.)

Sunday dawned rather dubious weatherwise, but as the day got longer, the weather improved.

The unseasonable rainfall had brought snow to the peaks, and as we climbed the 1,342 or so meters from the valley floor to the top (roughly 4,000 feet), we entered a winter wonderland (but in summer!)

Left: Humans! Run away!
Left: Wanaka.
Left: Lake Wanaka, at the Glendhu area.
Left: Complicated geography featuring water, snow, ice, and glacial moraines.
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Pumpkin

Evening TV in New Zealand seems to feature a lot of dreadful American movies - crime movies full of violence, generally - but since I don't watch American TV, it's hard to say whether these are movies that have made the rounds of American TV already, or whether New Zealand TV people are just remarkably bad judges of what to choose from the American menu of entertainment.

On a rainy Saturday night, I watched a 2002 American movie with Christina Ricci called "Pumpkin",where she plays a sorority sister who falls in love in with a mentally and physically impaired boy. Actually a pretty good movie!

Perky, perfect Carolyn and her Alpha Omega Pi sisters plan to win Sorority of the Year by impressing the Greek Council with a killer charity: coaching mentally challenged athletes for the regional Challenged Games. When Carolyn's assigned to coach Pumpkin she's terrified at first, but soon sees in him something she's never seen before: a gentle humanity and honest clarity that touches her soul. To the horror of her friends and Pumpkin's overprotective mother, Carolyn falls in love, becoming an outcast in the process. As Carolyn's "perfect life" falls apart, Pumpkin teaches her that perfect isn't always perfect after all.

One strange movie, but interesting....

I liked this imdb comment:

As I watched the film "Pumpkin" recklessly and fearlessly go from somewhat absurd situation to complete and utter silliness, I got the sense that it was made with a sense of joy that few movies are made with these days. The fact that the film refuses to wink at the audience or play funny music during all the absurdity, makes it all the more impressive. Everything in this movie subverts itself - - in the big satiric moments, this is obvious (the car crash after which Kent's face is unscratched), but one must look closely at what seem to be serious or sentimental moments to realize that these are indeed hilarious and subversive moments as well (the romantic dialogue between Carolyn and Pumpkin is completely absurdist if you keep in mind Pumpkin's "problem.")

Indeed, most Americans are used to films cueing them as to when they are being serious and when they are being funny and audiences are trained to watch for this. Because "Pumpkin" doesn't do this, a lot of its humor probably goes over the heads of people not used to anything this "poker-faced" - - especially when done with such sweetness.

The reviews I've read try to condemn "Pumpkin" by pigeonholing it into one genre or another - - either the mean-spirited sharp satire of Todd Solondz or the over-the-top buffoonery of the Farrelly Brothers - - but "Pumpkin" is neither. Indeed, when you realize that "Pumpkin" fits in no box and, in effect, challenges our notion what a movie should be, you're set free and you begin to laugh at what is the funniest film I've seen in a long time.

Oh No, The Ceiling Has Collapsed!

Growing up in New Mexico, our adobe house had a flat roof. No matter how much tar paper we put on the roof, or how much tar, we risked leaks whenever heavy rains fell.

These days, in Sacramento, I worry when heavy rains fall, because it means water will enter the basement and cause trouble.

So, in the vacation home in Wanaka, when heavy rains started falling on Friday evening, I went to bed taking solace that New Zealanders didn't have to face these same worries, because they design for rain, as witnessed by the pitched roof of the vacation home, since it rains a lot more here than in the American Southwest.

Ha! Little did I know!

Saturday afternoon, we were dallying around, when we heard a big thud. "Did someone come in the downstairs door?" Andrew asked. So I went downstairs and saw a fearsome sight. In the downstairs bedroom, the ceiling had caved in, spilling water all over a bed, and waterlogging the carpet. "There's trouble down here!" I shouted.

Turned out, the downstairs bedroom had been converted from a garage space just a month previous, so it was brand new. Behind the kitchen, and unbeknownst to us, a gutter had broken, spilling large amounts of water on a small flat roof segment just above the bedroom. A weakness in the new roof channeled water right into the house.

We hurriedly tried to do what we could with bailing buckets, and a call to the owner, who was shopping in Dunedin. The builder came over in an hour and rigged a protective tarp.

On Sunday evening, the embarrassed owner came over and said something surprising: "Oh, it hardly ever rains in Wanaka!" Well, it certainly rains more in Wanaka than in New Mexico, but it's true, Wanaka sits in the rain shadow of the Southern Alps, and for New Zealand, Wanaka is relatively dry.

Beware the destructive power of water!

"Children of the Silk Road" (draft)

aka "Children of the Huang Shi".

Fine movie!:

Inspired by true events, THE CHILDREN OF HUANG SHI is a portrayal both sweeping and intimate of people who, thrown into an unexpected and desperate situation, discover their capacity for love and responsibility. It tells how a young Englishman, George Hogg (Jonathan Rhys Meyers) came to lead sixty orphaned boys on an extraordinary journey of almost a thousand perilous miles across the snow-bound Liu Pan Shan mountains to safety on the edge of the Mongolian desert. And of how, in doing so, he came to understand the true meaning of courage. During his journey, Hogg learns to rely on the support of Chen (Chow Yun Fat), the leader of a Chinese partisan group who becomes his closest friend. He soon finds himself falling in love with Lee (Radha Mitchell), a recklessly brave Australian adventurer whom war has turned into an unsentimental nurse on horseback. Along the way Hogg befriends Madame Wang (Michelle Yeoh), an aristocratic survivor who has also been displaced by war, who helps the young Englishman, his friends and their sixty war orphans make their way across awesome (and rarely filmed) mountain and desert regions to a place of safety near the western end of the Great Wall of China.

(Comments regarding movie)

Cinema Paradiso

After getting soaked on the (short) Eely Point Trail, what could we do to while away the Saturday afternoon? Let's go see a movie!

Cinema Paradiso is a unique little cinema in Wanaka. Every sits on sofas and comfy chair (beanbag chairs are available to those who wish to sit in front. The woman in front of me brought a blanket: others bring meals, or drinks, or whatever they wish.

We saw the excellent movie, I believe entitled "Children of the Silk Road".

Left: There is a little car inside the cinema that seats three

Rainy Saturday


Left: Uh Oh! A deep low moves across New Zealand from the Tasman Sea. That means rain, rain, rain, rain, rain, rain, rain, rain, rain, rain, rain, rain, rain, rain, rain, rain, rain, rain, rain, rain, rain, rain, rain, rain, rain, rain, rain, rain, rain, rain!

This happens a lot in the mid-latitudes where New Zealand sits, even in summer!



Left: A sculpture at the shore of Lake Wanaka.

Left: A catamaran at Lake Wanaka.

Left: Runoff jetting across the Eely Point foot trail.

Vacation Home In Wanaka

Surprisingly large!

The Road To Wanaka

Left: Rain clouds close in, and the clouds descend, as we enter Otago.

M: This place sort of reminds me of Colorado.

A: This place reminds me of Wales.

M: Wales? Really?

A.: Yes.

M: Now it's dried out a bit. I swear we are on the road to Phoenix, from Payson, AZ. In fact, in one or two k's, there will be saguaro cactus on the roadsides.

A: That brilliant green in the meadows reminds me of Hilo, Hawaii.

Left: Pretty flowers near the shore of Lake Tekapo.

Left: Statue of the sheep herder's favorite dog, a collie, near the Church of the Good Shepherd, on the shore of Lake Tekapo.

Left: Statue in the town of Fairlie of James MacKenzie, noted sheep thief.

Christmas Shopping Time In Christchurch

Left: "Real People" at the Bus X-Change

Left: Ballantyne's Department Store.

Friday Means Travel Later Today

In contrast to yesterday's glorious day, today is rainy and overcast (that's life in the mid-latitudes!)

Nevertheless, after Andrew gets off work, we are heading to a holiday cabin weekend in Wanaka, where we hope to do some hiking (weather permitting, or not). We'll also visit Queenstown, one of the Xtreme sporting capitals of the world (where bungee jumping may be passe, for all I know).

Andrew will return by plane on Monday, and I'll keep the rent-a-car, bumbling around the South Island for a day or two, until returning to Christchurch. Then, the race to the airport, to return to the U.S.!

"La Cage Aux Folles" - Court Theatre, Christchurch

When I saw an advertisement for "La Cage Aux Folles" in "Older But Bolder" (despite its promising title, basically a newspaper for retirement homes) I said 'I've GOT to see that!' I became very fond of the show when DMTC did it aout a year ago.

The Court Theatre is apparently one of New Zealand's few fully professional theaters, and many talented performers come to perform there.

The 350-or-so person house was packed to capacity when I arrived (6 p.m. show, Dec. 18). I sat directly at stage-side (center section, stage left, right at the inner corner). Ordinarily, this might be a bad seat, because of the overwhelming aspect of being almost on-stage, but since I knew the show already, this was the next best thing to being where I really wanted to be (which was on-stage). An interesting theater - set pieces can be brought on and off stage by rail.

Here are excerpts from a preview by reviewer Lindsay Clark:

Director Sandra Rasmussen cast many performers from 2007's smash hit THE PRODUCERS and recruited veteran performers including Rima Te Wiata, Paul Barrett and recent Arts Foundation of New Zealand Laureate George Henare to create a company she describes as "one of the best musical casts in the country."

...Musical Director Richard Marrett has a high regard for LA CAGE AUX FOLLES' music. "Jerry Herman (who also composed the scores for Mame and Hello, Dolly!) has an unparalleled gift for melody that shines through in this show" says Marrett. The Court's production uses a mixture of live and pre-recorded local musicians to match live performance and create the "big sound" essential for production numbers. The result is "the best of both worlds" according to Marrett.

Based on Jean Poiret's 1973 play, the musical's debut production in 1983 - staged during "the last great Broadway season", according to theatre historian John Kenrick - overcame strong competition to win six Tony Awards including Best Musical, Best Score and Best Book. A 2004 revival earned LA CAGE AUX FOLLES another two Tonys. One of the show's songs enjoyed mainstream success when a single of I Am What I Am by Gloria Gaynor became a commercial hit and pride anthem.

"When the musical was released AIDS was a major issue and homosexuality much more marginalised, so LA CAGE was very brave," says Rasmussen. "In a 'post-Priscilla' world I want to show the cracks in the make-up - glimpses into darker aspects of the world LA CAGE portrays". The costumes, designed by Elizabeth Whiting and constructed by a team of ten wardrobe staff, promise a visual spectacle rarely seen on stage.

Rasmussen is quick to point out that "beneath the frills and feathers, this is a love story about a relationship that anyone would want to have." In LA CAGE AUX FOLLES, Georges (Paul Barrett) and Albin (George Henare) have lived happily together for years as the proprietors of the titular cabaret club, with Albin performing nightly as Zaza, the star drag act. When Georges' son, Jean-Michel (Jonathan Martin), announces his engagement to Anne (Zara Cormack) - the daughter of a politician and moral crusader who wants to shut down their club - the efforts by Georges to "play it straight" leads to farcical comedy with a message: that "we are what we are and what we are needs no excuses".

Here are excerpts from the opening night review by Lindsay Clark:

It is very tempting to launch directly into a catalogue of superlatives for this production - 'fabulous' and 'ravishing' come straight from the show itself. The Court's annual launch into lush musical theatre for the holiday season, sponsored by The Press, has become a highlight of the year's entertainment for the city.

Applause will be long and heartfelt for this choice if the standing ovation that erupted on the opening night is anything to go by. The team of Rasmussen and Marrett has done it again, with a cherry on top!

The plot line has not moved far from the original play, though there is less surprise at seeing a homosexual relationship at the heart of the story. La Cage is a nightclub in the South of France where gorgeous transvestites light up the works. Its manager, Georges and his long term partner, its star, Albin, find their world seriously threatened when 'their' son Jean-Michel becomes engaged to the daughter of a bigwig in the Traditional Family Morality Party, who with his wife in tow comes to visit.

...The Court's creative team, especially indefatigable Tony Geddes, responsible for the multi-functioning set, and Elizabeth Whiting, creator of glorious costumes, are called on to support a large, diverse cast and their collective imagination is irresistible. The vibrant studio orchestra matches them all the way.

...In the focal pair, as Georges and Albin, the experience, art and musical instincts of Paul Barrett and George Henare are a joy to witness. The relationship is beautifully established to underpin developments without sacrificing the razzmatazz or, for that matter, the wash of sentiment we expect and enjoy in musicals. Henare has truly moving moments of triumphant defiance and vulnerability which catch the breath before the smile can start.

Jonathan Martin as the cataclysmic son goes from strength to strength on this stage and Keith Adams has all the physicality and style to endow Jacob (who wants to dress up for real on the stage as well as behind the scenes, with more than comic function.

I enjoyed the show very much. Paul Barrett and George Henare make an excellent Georges and Albin. Jonathan Martin as Jean-Michel has a wonderful voice and Keith Adams makes a superb Jacob - dark, alluring, tall, shapely, physical - just excellent!

The stage is rather small however, and thus the dancing extravaganza that "La Cage" should be at its best had to be pared down for the space available. Significant sections of dancing were cut altogether, and the approach that the dancers make to the audience was cut as well.

Some things I like very much. The dancers hold screens and placards in "Mascara" to make a set of curls, eyelashes, and eyes: a face!

Getting the sensibility right for shock value is important in this show. The rude gesture with the feather duster in the sequence "Thees for me and THAT for you, and papa gets the best parts!" worked very well. Georges' body gesture in "And I'll be behind you with a broomstick all the way" was unnecessary and works better if understated, and not gestured.

The costuming was a bit strange (well, it IS a strange show), and I was puzzled by Georges' high collar, gloves, and boots. But I liked the idea of Georges in mostly black and Jean-Michel and Anne entirely in white. Alternating light and dark worked well, in general. I think the costumes should have been more glitzy, however.

And I was surprised by the (comparatively) light makeup (excepting Jacob, who got it about right). Glam it up folks, if at all possible! And Hanna, who looked halfway towards a Motley Crue or Van Halen sort of look - go with it!

The two featured women dancers were excellent. I liked Phaedra too. The cafe as a barrista's cart worked well (although the name was altered from the script).

There was slight updating of the script "Puffing pot and listening to rock-and-roll" became "Puffing pot and listening to heavy metal".

Altogether (apart from the cut dancing), a satisfying experience!

Fred And Myrtle's Paua Shell House

Kiwi kitsch!

Christchurch Art Gallery

Cathedral Square Scenes

Dumbledore, or whoever he is.....


Street comedian from Edinburgh, Scotland.

"Isn't my act worth at least a beer? Now for those of you who may be tourists, the cost of a beer in New Zealand is $50. And for you kiddies, if your parents don't give you at least $10 to give to the funny man, it means they don't love you."





Chess on the square....

"But I Don't WANT To Travel All Day On Buses!"

Living in Corrales, NM, back in high school days, we were at the farthest periphery of the Albuquerque bus system. If one walked 2.5 miles to the Corrales Center bus stop, one could theoretically ride the bus into town - IF the bus came (sometimes it didn't). I remember lots of fretfully long walks, back in those days.

The more things change......

Andrew is having a regular work week here in Christchurch, so I've been taking buses to get around town. He's offered his car, but I'm reluctant to accept, not only because of the ever-present danger of crashing his personal transportation, but also because urban driving on the left is unfamiliar (and sure to bring me against New Zealand's counter-intuitive and now-unique right-hand turn rule.

Nevertheless, the distances I'm traveling are pretty large, and bus travel is thus quite slow. Andrew lives in Diamond Harbour, a ferry ride across the bay from Lyttelton, itself on the far SE fringe of Christchurch. He works at Lincoln University, on the far SW fringe of Christchurch. And yesterday I was visiting Willowbank Wildlife Reserve, on the far northern fringe of Christchurch.

So, yesterday morning, Andrew caught a ride to work with his car pool as I took the ferry from Diamond Harbour to Lyttelton. Then I caught the #28 to the city's center. At first, I understood there was another bus, a tourist bus, to Willowbank, and there may in fact be one, but that's not the one I ended up on. Instead, I was directed to take the #11, and soon I was bouncing into the suburbs with the locals.

Returning from Willowbank, I got to the bus stop at 2:40 p.m. for the return trip. But then something ominous happened. The 2:50 bus didn't appear. Neither did the 3:20 bus. Indeed, the 2:50 bus didn't arrive until 3:45 p.m. By this time, I was loudly cursing the managers of the bus system and very worried. I had to rendezvous with Andrew at 5:00 p.m. in Lincoln to catch a ride back to Diamond Harbour with the car pool. There was sufficient give in the plan for one missed bus, but not for two missed buses in a row! And being in the suburbs, I couldn't cobble together an alternative: it was the #11 bus, or nothing. And I had forgotten to bring Andrew's phone number so I couldn't inform him (even if I had been able to locate a phone). And I had Andrew's ONLY house key! Like American bus systems, the NZ bus systems seem prone to unexpected failures. Wretched that it should happen now!

The bus driver of the very late bus was understanding, but said he didn't understand the tardiness himself, since his shift had just started, and the previous driver left no explanation. He thought it might be Lincoln University graduation choking the City Centre streets (the streets seemed OK once we got there, though).

So, off to Lincoln. #11 downtown, then the #81, crawling through rush hour traffic. Reached Lincoln at 5:30 p.m., but unfortunately, as I learned later, the car pool, having waited for me, ultimately departed for Diamond Harbour at 5:25 p.m. So, DAYM!

So, back to the city centre again on the #81, then transfer to the #28 to Lyttelton, then the 7:30 p.m. ferry to Diamond Harbour. I finally trudged to Andrew's house at 8:10 p.m., 5.5 hours after I had started the journey, and having completely crossed the city, twice, on buses. As it fortunately turned out, Andrew had an extra key with him, so he hadn't been locked out. Still, despite the relief of arrival, I was exhausted.

But there was still an amusing moment to cherish on the journey....

Getting on the #28 bus to Lyttelton, the bus driver seemed perplexed about how the #11 bus driver had logged the Lincoln-to-Diamond Harbour trip on my Metro Card. The #11 driver had booked me as crossing three zones and he said that would make the ferry trip free, but she worried that might not be the case (As I age, and my memory for names fades, I have the creeping illusion that I nevertheless know everyone anyway, and she reminded me of a South Pacific version of DMTC's D.H.) She even delayed people from entering the bus, to try and puzzle it out.

At the trip's end, after I exited the bus, the #28 driver took up the chestnut again, and we starting conversing through the open bus door. She took almost a maternal interest in trying to get me a better deal on the bus sytem. "It may be better to use a Day Pass rather than the Metro Card," she said. "I can see from your card that you've been taking a lot of buses today. That's what you should do if you want to travel all day on buses!"

I plaintively wailed, "But I don't WANT to travel all day on buses!" She gave a sheepish, embarrassed, and amused smile, dismissed me with a big wave of her hand, shut the bus door, and took off down the road.

I've Heard A Lot About You!

I entered the little kiwi habitat at Willowbank Wildlife Reserve and let my eyes adjust to the artificial full moonlight. The guidebook warned me not to expect anything, since kiwis are reclusive and nocturnal, and would be sleeping right now. There was lots of noise on the roof, from birds hopping outside on the roof, and plant branches swishing in the wind against it. Altogether, a pretty noisy and altogether too well-lit place for shy little hermits.

Nevertheless, there was another noise too. At the crook in the footpath, just on the other side of the low wire fence, there was a clattering. Sure enough, it was a little brown kiwi, about the size of a chicken, clattering its beak against a PVC pipe as it dug a hole. Even though I was right next to it, the kiwi seemed completely oblivious to my presence. The kiwi's focus was on this excavation project. Was the kiwi trying to get to some water from the pipe? Apparently not: the little insomniac was digging a hole within which to place its head, to cut out the light and noise and try and get some well-earned sleep. I whispered, "I've heard a lot about you!" After a while, the kiwi stopped moving - sleep at last!

Against the far wall of the habitat I saw another kiwi secretively striding from one place to another, looking like a refugee from an Edward Gorey ink-drawing cartoon. And I saw a third kiwi against a wall, looking like a stone or a bowling ball, also with its beak pointed into a dark corner, trying to sleep.

The little brown kiwis are the most populous of the four kinds of kiwis. Once having numbered in the millions, with less than 50,000 left alive, mostly in zoos or natural preserves, I was lucky to have seen any kiwis at all.

Willowbank Wildlife Reserve

On Wednesday, I went to the Willowbank Wildlife Reserve in the northern suburbs of Christchurch. The place is ideal for children, and it functions both as a wildlife preserve and a zoo. It features both wild animals and familiar barnyard animals (albeit from rare breeds). Very nice place - not much land, though, so they have to find clever ways of using all the land to wedge as many animals as possible into the space.

Lots of ducks, geese, and water birds. Various birds too, including doves and parrots. A few Asian monkeys and apes too.

When I arrived, it was eel feeding time. I asked the man scooping food from a can, "Is that dog food, or is that eel food?" He replied, "Oh, it's dog food. These customers aren't so particular."

At one point, I saw two pretty women gingerly feeding pellets to two of the loudest, and by far the ugliest, pigs that I had ever seen. (Somehow the world works like this, doesn't it?) I told one woman, "You've made a friend!"