Thursday, December 27, 2007

Pining for the fjords

This is Polly Kea:



He is a New Zealand alpine parrot, living high in the Southern Alps.

He wants to eat parts of your car.



He is also pining for the fjords.

A fjord is is a long, narrow estuary with steep sides, created in a glacially carved valley that is filled by rising sea water levels. In En Zed, there are something like 17 fjords, or 'sounds', as they are misnomered.



We Temporary Kiwis visited two of these sounds: Doubtful and Milford. And there's really no way to describe them except: whoa.

Pictures can't do it justice because you don't understand the scale. You're on a boat that's maybe 50 feet high. The walls of the fjord, scraped out by glacial action thousands of years ago, tower over you for hundreds, and thousands of feet. The highest peaks rise 4500 feet above the waterline, not counting the 1200 or so feet of water below you.



And we kayaked through one of these. If you want to feel small, go kayaking in a fjord. Try not to think about how far you'd have to go for your feet to touch the bottom of the valley, or how high you'd have to reach to get to the sky. How isolated this area is, where roads inward were completed only half a century ago.

But think of the silence, of swimming with penguins in the waters, of the overwhelming hugeness of nature. Of the few sand beaches that disappear when the tide comes in, and potentially sweep your lunch out to sea. Of the wind that carries you sailing across the narrow valleys. Of fighting your way through the same wind, the breakers, trying to strike for the opposite side of a valley that's wider than it looks.



This is why Polly Kea pines for the fjords. This is why Pinky keeps screeching such a funny word. This is why everyone should visit Fiordland and just see what it's all about.



Perspective. And scale. And the thought: is that it?

Just don't get too close to the fur seals. They might try and eat you.

Sunday, December 23, 2007

Beginning to smell a lot like Christmas...

Pie crust is tucked away in the fridge, a pumpkin's roasting in the oven, we're about to run to the dairy to get more milk since I kind of used a lot of it for cereal this morning...



And when we put new batteries in our little fiber-optic tree, it glowed as bright as any that graced the Larson-Maloney households in the past. And hey, I found a camera in my stocking! (So that's where I put it...)



While we're far away and missing you all terribly, we're thinking of you, our family, and all the good memories of Christmases and holidays past. And we're keeping busy so that we don't cry into the pie crust again. (It was the onions I chopped last night, really.)



So Merry early Christmas Eve, Happy Holidays, and much Temporary Kiwi love to everyone from far away. We'll be with you next Christmas. And you'll probably hear from us repeatedly over the next few days...

Thursday, December 20, 2007

Don't worry, we survived the earthquake...

...in fact, we didn't even feel the earthquake, because it hit Gisborne, where Mrs. Kiwi's mum lives, and we're in Auckland, about 500 km away (about 350 miles, for the metrically-challenged).

At the time of the 6.8 earthquake last night, we were on our way home from dinner at Banzai, the really good Japanese place. So yeah, the earth rocked and rolled under our feet, and we on the Auckland volcanic bedrock didn't notice.

Other than that... CONGRATULATIONS TO MR. AND MRS. HENTGES! Okay, so you're getting married tomorrow, and your wedding gift is still sitting in a plastic bag on my table, but still. Best of luck and love to both of you, and you can both kick my ass when I get back.

And that's all. There isn't any more.

Wednesday, December 19, 2007

The season of arrival

Thing one: We saw Eric Idle's "Not the Messiah: He's a Very Naughty Boy" this weekend. It had sheep. It had hard hats. It had bagpipes. Nuff said. And here's proof we were three rows back from Eric Idle's nostrils:



Thing two: My ASU application has, according to the (crack-smoking) NZ Post, arrived where it's supposed to. We'll see how that works.

Thus, it's the season of arrivals.

Thursday, December 13, 2007

Countdown - ASU

Kara has officially submitted all of her application materials for a PhD program at ASU - Tempe. Countdown begins to April, when she'll (hopefully) hear an affirmative. We'll keep you posted...

Monday, December 10, 2007

We have come to journey's end...

We're pricing our way home, and right now, one way tickets to LAX from the land of En Zed are somewhere around $1000 US. But if we fly from Christchurch to Sydney to Honolulu to LAX, it's somewhere around $750 (and four flights later).

So yeah. We're still working on that coming home part. We still have two months before we actually have to book...

Thursday, December 6, 2007

The quest for tri-tip

If you were at Tim's birthday part two years ago, you had tri-tip. The mythical, mystical cut of meat that's coming into rage in California. Born in Santa Maria (so the legend says), tri-tip is the butt sirloin of the cow and, when prepared properly, is the most sumptuous cut of meat imaginable. Especially when dry-rubbed with garlic, parsley, pepper and salt, and when barbecued/slow roasted for 50 minutes over glowing coals, turning every ten minutes (this is a science, an art, people).

I am on a quest for tri-tip. Kiwi tradition says that we must barbecue for Christmas. With the help of our Kiwi family's shiny little red barbecue (as seen in such familiar pictures as Kara does Fourth of July), we will hopefully have something resembling the succulent tri-tip. Except that apparently Kiwis cut and quarter their cows differently (rump=butt), so the butcher had to do a rough approximation/guesstimate on where the tri-tip would be... I'm oven-roasting one tonight as an experiment to see if I achieve Dad's greatness. Stay tuned for the results...

And for Laurent, a picture of sheeps, most likely a pet, since it was just hanging out in someone's yard on Stewart Island:



ETA: Lo, and there was tri-tip, and it was good.

Monday, December 3, 2007

Small World


If you grew up in South Bay, or call yourself a resident of South Bay, you will recognize the significance of this picture...

What are the chances of meeting fellow SB residents on Stewart Island? (Population 390 Kiwis and 20,000 kiwis) Tim and I were eating dinner at Church Hill Cafe when I noticed a very familiar paper getting its picture taken...

Backety

There'd be a clever post, but I'm tired, and between yesterday and today, we've been on two buses, a boat and two planes. And the Airbus home, but who counts intercity transport? Anyway. We made it back from the South Island. We kayaked, we tramped, we rafted, we sailed (sometimes at the same time), we rode scooters and fell off scooters and quad bikes and rode horses and all kinds of things.

And due to health reasons, we didn't do the Routeburn. That's put off until late January when a: Kara's knee is better and b: there isn't snow on the Harris saddle (did you know the Routeburn crosses something like 47 avalanche paths?). With the weather being as butt-ass cold as it was in Te Anau and Stewart Island, we're looking forward to tramping with 6,000 of our dearest friends in late January.

Anyway. We're home. We'll call you tomorrow. Or something. And pictures eventually. Plus one of sheep, because both Gayle and Laurent asked for more pictures of sheeps.