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Published: July 14th 2006
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Busy city executives think they have it tough with their breakfast meetings, client luncheons and post-work squash sessions but I too know the trauma of a hectic schedule. This week I managed three activities. Yes, three! I feel light headed just thinking about it. And all of this whilst still working in the gardens, shifting enough gravel to pebbledash Barry White! Well, he is a bit smaller now.
First up was my trip to Russell, New Zealand’s first capitol and a mere hop, skip and a jump down the bay from Kerikeri. Also known as Kororareka (meaning “sweet penguin”, though there was not a chocolate biscuit to be seen), Russell was originally a Maori settlement before the Europeans arrived. Before you could say “successful racial integration”, the town was full of sailors, whalers, whores and other Victorian neer-do-wells and quickly acquired the nickname “Hell-hole of the Pacific”. Much to the delight of the local tourist board, no doubt.
Expecting Dartford-By-Sea I was, instead, dropped off by ferry to a sweet bayside village. I headed straight to the local museum and spent an hour wandering around the various antiquities from Russell’s past. Most interesting (I thought) was a 7kg crayfish. I don’t
World's largest crayfish?
You'll have to ask Norris McWhirter Except he's dead so you can't. know how big crayfish usually reach but it’s inclusion in a museum was enough to warrant my attention. I took a photo as you never know when the next opportunity to see a prawn the size of a small toddler will present itself.
After lunch I headed up a steep road to the brow of “Flagstaff Hill”. This was the site of Hone Heke’s felling of the town flagpole: the symbol of all things “European”. How pleased the Maori warrior would be to see that there was another flagpole in its place, I don’t know. I suppose he was used to it as he cut down the flagstaff on no fewer than four occasions.
Definite highlight of the week was attending the blessing of Chris Booth’s sculpture down in Whangarei. After waking at the ungodly hour of 4am, Chris’ family and I made the hour-long journey in the cold, dark morning to find a number of people already gathered, waiting for the ceremony to begin. In the pitch black we made our way to the riverside where the head Maori man began the blessing whilst the congregation wandered between stones, touching their surface. At this time it was still not
Russell Flagtsaff
Forth one at least light and the only glimpses of the artwork I saw were due to the TV cameraman’s blazing beam.
We retired to a nearby building where speaker after speaker addressed the crowd. Maori tribe members of various rank, councilmen and women, the town mayor: everyone seemed to be on the roster to speak. After three hours (!?!) there was an interval for breakfast (my second favourite part of this day: lovely spread!) before I did what any participant of a sacred ceremony would do: went shopping. We (for it was not just I) returned in time for the next phase to begin in which a “waka” (canoe) was paddled down the river amid much splashing and shouting. This was followed by the Maori singers who performed several entertainment hakas. Their singing was a marvel of harmonies, dancing and exaggerated facial expressions. It was an amazing experience which captivated anyone who was idly walking past. Once they had finished, the same speakers continued as before in what I assume was a Guinness Book of Records attempt at tag-team talking.
Finally the end was in site as the crowd moved toward the sculpture itself. In daylight everyone could fully appreciate its size and
Pole...
...with added seagull. grandeur. The piece was a carved waka with stone waves crashing around its stern. It was based (as I later learnt) on the fact that the Maori had used Whangarei as a waka launch site. More speeches ensured before things were finally brought to an end when Chris and his fellow sculptor (one worked on the waka, the other the wave) gave their thanks to those who had helped in their artistic endeavor.
It was a long (so very long) but fascinating day which I really enjoye. Just as well as we returned to Kerikeri to watch England beaten on penalties to go out of the world cup.Oh well, at least some things never change.
The following day I joined Robin as he did his fortnightly tour of Kouri Cliffs golf club. Robin is employed there as a garden consultant so I followed him on his duties chatting to the head groundsman; not about plants but England’s woeful world cup form. Having lived in London for a number of years he at least understood what I was going through.
It was a rather spectacular place and it didn’t surprise me to find out that the course was rated within the
Looks like rain
Time to go home, I think. top 100 of the world. As we continued our tour, a helicopter whirled overhead a dropped off the next players for their morning round. The helicopter and pilot were employed solely for this purpose. It was interesting to visit such a prestigious course as :a) I don’t play golf so don’t I don’t tend to go to golf courses and b) I don’t think I could afford it even if I was interested.
On the way back we stopped off and saw a big, fat tree. It was very big. And very fat.
As you can see, I’ve been tremendously busy. Well, quite busy. Soon my Kerikeri wwoofing will come to a close. After that, who knows?
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martin
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its was worth travelling to the other side of the globe, just to be able to use that fozzy bear joke. Well done Mr G, i salute you.