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Yesterday, Monday, I got my visitors visa. I can stay for a while. Will soon start working on finding a way to stay permanently.
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Wanted: Wife, platonic. Size and shape doesn't matter but must be citizen of New Zealand.
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I was asked: "You make it sound like Upper Hutt is a great place to live. But aren't there any problems or dis-advantages?
Well, yes, there are a few. As already mentioned, I had to make adjustments in my diet as there are no Cheez-Its or Vernor's ginger ale. And if there weren't enough, I have not been able to find a
pastrami sandwich anywhere in the whole town.
Coming Soon:
I fly a glider, and plan a trip to explore the entire length of both islands. After I get a better camera I
will take lots of pictures from Middle Earth and maybe even meet a Hobbit! (Yes, there are.)
Yes, after three months, I am still excited. And yes, sometimes I still wake up in the morning and
think: "Wow! I really am here". After almost 40 years, I am in New Zealand.
10 December.
Sometimes I am a little slow. Above, I mentioned the traffic circles, 'round-abouts'. It just dawned on me- they eliminate the need for traffic lights.
Thoughts, Hopes, Fears:
My friend Lance (the weird writer) and I were having a few pints at O'Riley's and he said, "Shannon, I
think it took a lot of courage to come here as you did."
As I did. A few thousand bucks in the bank and a small monthly income
Courage? Perhaps. But it is more a matter of not being able to take the situation I was in for much longer. Sometimes in our lives, change is necessary even if it means laying it all on the line. Even if it
means one beautiful year in New Zealand instead of many more years of secure misery. A year of life, of adventure, of excitement rather than the slow death I was experiencing in San Francisco.
Maybe I can survive as a writer. Maybe not. I did what I had to do.
To be continued...
17 February
A Trip to Wellington, a Missed Connection, Cricket 101 and a Happy Reunion
There is, according to a web site a group of American ex-pats that get together at JJ Murphy's Irish
what else Pub, once a month. So, my friend Lance drove me up there. We got there early and I wandered around looking to see if I could find them. I didn't see anyone who looked the part, and
while New Zealanders are a friendly easy going lot, somehow it didn't seem like a good idea to go round to tables full of half drunk yelling sports fans and ask if they were Yanks. So, I asked the
bartender who said he knew nothing about it but that I might try upstairs which I did. Nope. Not a bloomin Yank accent (Did I realy say that?!) to be heard.
While I was waiting for the people (who never showed up) I was sitting at a table with a giant TV
screen so I decided to watch for a while rather than move to the only other empty table which had a slightly smaller TV beside it. (Kiwis are really big on television).
What was on was a Cricket game.
Not having much interest in spectator sports, and of course having kicked TV many years ago, I had never seen this game. But I decided to watch. One day, if I apply for citizenship, there are sure to be
questions about Cricket and Rugby along with the different branches of government and other civic matters.
OK, there is this large stadium, quite a bit bigger than the TV screen, which is covered with what
looked like Astro-Turf. It has a sort of oval shaped layout in the center with what appears to be part of a Croquet set. The field is empty of people.
After 15 minutes or so, these two guys walk on to the field, dressed in funny looking uniforms with
those kind of hats that private investigators wore back in the forties. Jack Webb had one similar to it. They grin a lot and take their time, and when they get near the Croquet set, some other people wander along.
Most of them take up positions around the edge of the field except three who will be the pitcher,
catcher and batter, like in Yank baseball. They stand around and yack for a while, then take their positions at the ends of the Croquet field.
The "pitcher" is at one end and the "catcher" at the other and here it gets confusing. The third guy
who is the batter, is wearing the catcher's mask and white lipstick, steps up holding what looks like a cutting board borrowed from someone's kitchen but with a handle on it. Resembled a small version of
the paddle that Mrs. Thomas was always threatening us with in the third grade.
Now, the pitcher tries to throw the ball to the catcher. At first, I thought it was because of what one of
the two guys in the funny hats said- the pitcher appeared to get angry. He ran toward the batter like he was gonna attack, then hesitated and threw the ball onto the ground. So anyway, the ball bounces
and the batter tries to hit it anyway, which he does. It goes backwards like a Yank foul ball and the catcher (You wouldn't believe how fast that guy moves!) catches it. This is repeated, and I wonder;
either the pitcher is a try-out (was this a practice game for rookies?) or is too weak as he throws it on the ground again. And again the batter hits a foul ball which the catcher catches.
This is repeated a third time, then they get a new batter. Also wearing white lipstick. But this time, he
hits the ball forward. Someone catches it and then all the other people on the field start running around in some unorganized manner like they were playing tag without knowing who was "it".
A new batter comes on and hits the ball into the stands where the fans fight over it. Then one of the
guys with the hats walks over and does a little dance while waving his arms like he was making hieroglyphic symbols at which time the fan that has the ball tosses it to him.
The waitress brought my food and, as apparently I (still) looked confused, she explained that
bouncing the ball off the ground is how they play the game and I was gently admonished not to be saying out loud that I thought it was a weird game and at that point I lost interest and starting eating.
 I was also hoping to meet up with an old friend
from my high school days, Wes and his wife Bev. He was in Wellington but I wasn't here when he called and he wasn't checking Email when I told him about Murphys. Very disappointed. But the next day he called saying
that they would be in Upper Hutt about 2 PM.
About 4 PM he called. Lost. He had flagged down a local who asked me where it was we were to meet and then showed him how to drive there.
(He was like three blocks away at the time.) So, he managed to find the Logan Mall Food court in this thriving metropolis of 30,000 Kiwis and a handful of Yanks.
It is Human nature to remember the good old
days, even when they weren't so good, but in this case we had nothing but good memories. Wes was an actor at an open air theatre back in the midwest (Quite a ways Off Broadway) and
also back a few decades. They put on shows like Destry Rides Again, Guys and Dolls (The immortal Damon Runyan) and Paint Your Wagon.
I wasn't an actor but I worked back-stage moving scenery around. And after the last performance of a show we had what were called Strike Parties. People singing and dancing and getting shit-faced (to
the max!) before the term was even coined.
Yeah, the Good Old Days. We used to go on ham radio Field Day and to the coffee houses where there
was live folk music. Songs by The Immortal Kingston Trio, Chad Mitchell Trio, Josh White and (what Wes said he did to his guitar) Peter Paul and Mary and some Bawdy Songs and Sea Chanties (Barnacle Bill eg).
We had a couple hours of wonderful conversation and reminiscing and to my relief, he didn't mention
(had forgotten?) the swim trunks I borrowed and didn't return some 35 years ago.
Alas, they had to get going on their exploration of this beautiful country, so a hug and a hope that Wes
and Bev will return to Upper Hutt and buy the beer he promised me so we can rap on for many hours.
It was wonderful to see you again, my old friends.
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I stayed there for a week, taking the bus into downtown Auckland, a
bustling city alive with people who appear much like Yanks in San Francisco except for one strange thing: Most of them were not yacking on cell phones. Oh, of course they do have them here, but I
guess Kiwis aren't dependant on them.
