Hi there
I'd always wanted to know my DNA background so I sent off for it. I hoped I would have fierce fighting Viking ancestors. Or proud Cherokee Nation. Or Maori warriors.
Nope. What has come back to me is:
53% Irish
24% English
19% Scottish
4% German/Swiss.
Ho-hum. Nice to know, but a bit boring ...
Hi there
I was talking to a younger guy at the beach. He'd read that we might have to carry a vaccination card around with us once we got our Covid jabs.
He was horrified when I told him that before travelling to England in 1965 I was required to have a smallpox vaccination and a certificate. I still had the small vaccination scar on my arm and showed it to him.
The vaccination caused many of us to feel slightly off, with an aching arm for a few days, but we world travellers never thought anything about it.
Smallpox was 'officially' eradicated.
Hi there
When I was down Queenstown, I went to posh restaurants. I got waited on like I was a Lady, or a Dame. The cutlery was arranged like smart soldiers each side of my plate. The decor was discrete, the bills were high, the background music was classical violin, and each course was quite small.
On my last day, I threw caution to the winds and rolled up at The Pig & Whistle Pub. I ordered a pie -
Hi there
Over the last few years, when I've been in Queenstown, I've often watched the Hydro Attack 'shark' on the lake.
The shark looks like a jet fighter without the wings. It sits the 'pilot' and a passenger. Across the water it has a top speed of 80 kms per hour. It dives down to 5ft under the water, going 50 kms per hour. And, oh, it jumps up to 18ft out of the water, rearing up onto its tail. The shark was invented by a New Zealander, it's sold to very rich overseas people and before Covid-19 lockdowns, several resorts around the world were offering the ride to the public.
"I'm interested," I said timidly to the guys behind the counter at the wharf. I had many worries: Would I have a heart attack? Would I faint? Get claustrophobic? Die?
It took a while, about twenty minutes of my going and returning to the counter, trying to make a decision, but in the end I handed over my $129 for the maybe-twenty five minute experience.
My young pilot led me to the wharf edge and I peered down into the cockpit of the shark. It was so cramped inside.
After half-a-dozen embarrassing attempts I finally - phew! - dropped down into the back seat of the cockpit. The pilot drew back the hatch cover and we were off -
Wow! It was fabulous. We raced speedboat-like across the water and every so often shot, nose-down, under the lake where the water was the most beautiful blue-green. We jumped up out of the lake to all but stand high on our shark's tail.
A couple of times we stopped, and the pilot opened the hatch for a breather and a view.
When we returned to the wharf, the pilot hopped out and asked me to hop out, too.
Hop out? Hop out! I couldn't. To all intents and purposes I was stuck in the shark. I'd be there forever.
At the beach when I'm sitting flat on the wooden deck, I have to turn around and push myself up on all four limbs. There was no room to do this in the shark.
"I can't do it! I can't do it! I can't!" I couldn't get leverage to pull myself up from the narrow seat. There was a rope pull attached to the back of the pilot's seat but that didn't work for me either.
In the end, after about 15 minutes, I pretended I was in my bathtub at home, gripped the edges of my seat and heartily pushed myself up and out but, oh goodness, I only just made it. I shudder to think I could have been the first person to capsize the shark It hadn't helped when the pilot announced loftily that a 91 year old man had had no trouble getting in or out -
Hi there
I'm back from a week in Queenstown, down the South Island of New Zealand.
It was very warm. I swam in Queenstown's Lake Wakatipu for four of the seven days but had to give up because of the sandflies on the shores. Each day I got more bites on me than the day before. Sigh.
Still, I kayaked on Lake Wanaka, dined at Gibbston Valley Winery, travelled up the gondola to a lovely buffet lunch and a terrific view, walked the Queenstown to Frankton track twice, and paid $129 for a ride on the lake's Hydro-Attack 'shark' ride (more about this in my next blog).
I went to top restaurant Rata. I called in upon the historic village of Arrowtown. While in Arrowtown I walked the beautiful bush-clad 'loop' walk beside the Arrow River.
When I'd been in Queenstown previously, I'd seethed over the commotion and crowding caused by the overseas tour groups, overseas backpackers, and overseas families. They were everywhere, and crashing into me, pushing and shouting their excitement and, maybe, up to 100 strong in front of me in the queues for things. They crammed the footpaths (walking on the wrong side, right instead of left).
The length of time it took to travel into Queenstown along the bumper-to-bumper crowded Frankton Road was horrendous, and the fact that I could never find a park in the Queenstown shopping area drove me almost insane. Backpackers spilled everywhere around the lake foreshore soaking up the sun, playing their drums and flutes and yogi-ing for cash or food. Cafes and restaurants were always full. The price for a one night hotel stay was, maybe $300 (that is if a hotel had rooms left because all those tour groups were taking up space). When I showed a theatre card at the local picture house or hopped in a taxi, I was always exclaimed over because I was a kiwi.
But ... on this holiday last week, everything was reversed. Because our borders are closed, there were no crowds. The area was as dead as a Dodo, I could park practically anywhere I liked, the road from the airport took me about five minutes driving, the restaurants and cafes were empty.
I realise now that it was all that previous commotion, and crowding, and pushing, and shouting, and excitement, and backpackers and tour groups, and whatnot that actually made Queenstown, giving it its life. The overseas tourists give the place a lively vibe, a heart. Talk about me being contrary because I now want all that ado back.
Covid-19, you have broken Queenstown's heart ...
below: part of the the lake view from my rented holiday home Queenstown balcony. Luckily, my insurance company have their own holiday homes throughout NZ, very cheap stays.
Hi there
When I was a child, my mother tried to get me to read the book "What Katy Did". It was written in 1872 USA, and was considered a classic. I wanted nothing to do with 'a classic'. Yuck, if grown-ups thought something was good, it was bound to be awful.
But then, I was sick in bed, with nothing to read so I reached over to my bookcase and picked up "What Katy Did". It was a story about a motherless well-to-do family, the eldest child being 12 year old Katy.
I loved the book. I cried through it, I laughed through it. Okay, the fourth wall - eg, "and what do you think happened next, dear reader" - is broken hundreds of times in the book, and it's full of the moral high ground, and a bit of religion thrown in, but, heck, that's how people rolled in those days. And Katy is such a little imp... until she isn't.
Katy decides to change her ways and to be good tomorrow ...
"Tomorrow I will begin," thought Katy, as she dropped asleep that night. How often we all do so! And what a pity it is that when morning comes and tomorrow is today, we so frequently wake up feeling quite differently, careless or impatient, and not a bit inclined to do the fine things we planned overnight."
And isn't this true? I'm always going to diet tomorrow. Or fix something tomorrow. Or be nice to someone tomorrow. Tomorrow I vow not to go to the Farmers sale. Tomorrow, I will weed the garden, volunteer for a charity, visit a family member, change that lightbulb, vacuum my bedroom.. But how often do I complete these intentions of mine? When daylight comes, my mind has usually flitted on to something else.
Katy forgot her intention about being good. She didn't listen to a warning from her Aunt Izzie not to go on the swing, and I was a heartbroken mess for Katy when she had a horrific fall. Maybe through Katy, there is a lesson to be learned. To have patience, definitely. Not be so selfish ... well, I guess I can try.
But, hey, what's that proverb about the road to hell being paved with good intentions? My thousands of good intentions (that are rarely acted upon) must make up half that darn road....
Hi there
I was in The Warehouse at Lyall Bay Retail Park last week. A little girl of about four came barreling past me from the back of the shop, her pink princess dress all caught up around her in a bunch; I feared she would trip over the tulle. Her eyes were fastened intently on a display stand that was just in front of me.
"Barbie! Barbie!". The little girl skidded to a halt. Her parents hurried to catch up.
The child's excitement was appealing. Did she perhaps crave a Mermaid Barbie, I wondered ? Or Cinderella Barbie? Maybe Astronaut Barbie? Or Business woman Barbie?
I turned to look at the stand.
Huh?
The stand was full of barbecue accessories. Spatulas, and the like. As in, 'put another shrimp on the ....'
Kids nowadays, eh? It must have been difficult last Christmas picking out a present for this little princess?
