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Published: April 21st 2010
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Once upon a time, in the dim distant mists of time, in a place far, far away (well, Ipswich) the Best Rapid Application Development Team in the World (possibly) glumly realised that there was no cause for celebration (and hence a trip to the pub) between New Year and Easter/Paddy’s Day (whichever comes first). Hence they carried out extensive research (flicked through the desk diary) and identified New Zealand’s National Day, Waitangi Day on 6 February as a just cause for fun and frolics. And hence over the years, even though the Team has been split asunder, they continue to gather on Waitangi Day to follow the well worn traditions and rituals: rubbing their legs and shouting ‘Waitangi Waitangi Waitangi’ (I’ve never worked out who came up with that one!), chucking a tenner in the kitty, sending Donna to the bar for another round and ordering a chicken tikka dhansak (or similar).
And thus, it was with some trepidation that we approached the Waitangi Treaty Grounds to see how they do celebrations in New Zealand. Surprisingly, we weren’t disappointed! We had a lovely time being tourists and quickly found ourselves being entertained by 4 Maori late-teens to some traditional songs
and dances. We were suitably scared by the Haka, lots of eye rolling and tongue waggling, but the most frightening moment for me was when the women were invited onto stage to swing little balls on strings back and forth. The aforementioned RAD Team can vouch for how good I am with anything vaguely sporty, having seen my attempts to play beach cricket on our annual Anglia Days (it was a good team!), so it’s probably of no surprise that while everyone else was swinging and catching, I was dropping and looking like a total wuss! Luckily I saw the funny side ... as did most of the audience!! (I’m hoping John was so embarrassed, he never got round to taking a photo! ). Another ancient Maori game was clearly the forerunner of “Whiz, Bang, Bonk.”
We then went on a guided tour, which took us past a huge war canoe (weighing approx 13 tons when loaded), the traditional meeting house with some fantastic carvings and decorations and the house where the first governor lived. It was here that the Waitangi Treaty was signed between the British and the Maoris and New Zealand was born. (there’s a lot more
history to it than that short paragraph, but you get the general idea!).
We were asked about the three flags on the flagstaff, it was easy enough to identify the NZ flag and the Union Flag ... but the third ... turned out to be the original NZ flag, created with the Maoris, and it has never been rescinded, so NZ actually has two official flags - and we have seen this one flying every now and then as we drive along.
Our guide Rosie, who had just finished an anthropology degree, was the direct descendent of the first missionary and the first governor - her many x great grandmother, Sarah, was 3 months old and asleep in her cot in the Governor’s House (at that stage a 4 room bungalow) (it’s not much larger now) when two tribes of Maoris started fighting outside, one tribe had guns, so the others took refuge in the house - and the chief carefully lifted Sarah from her cot, covered her, and kept her safe until help came. What a history to grow up with!
So that was #85 on the list done and dusted, and we were off in
search of the biggest kauri tree in NZ (called Tane Mahuta) in the Waipoua Forest. We got out of the van at the stopping place, admired the fantastic tree ferns, wandered along the track, turned the corner and couldn’t quite get our breath - this tree wasn’t just large, it was huge - it was completely out of dimension with everything else. Experts estimate that it is 2,000 years old. The size it was, I’m not going to argue.
Now I’m really going to upset my poor mother here ... our evening meal was the most superb Moules - green lipped of course! They were huge and absolutely wonderful ... and only cost £1.25 a kilo! ... it was almost an honour that I had to use NZ Sav Blonk to cook them in!!
After a few aborted tries to find a spot by the river to set down for the night, we eventually headed up into the hills and found a really isolated spot under a huge rocky
outcrop. As night fell a few youngsters drove up, probably drawn by its divine isolation! It was incredible the way their voices echoed around the rock and one quickly understood how similar geological features across the world attain a spiritual significance in many cultures. One also cast aside any thoughts of “Picnic at Hanging Rock!”
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