s e v e n i s a j o u r n e y

[In case you're reading these from the top down, instead of chronologically, Stephen is posting using my login, because his has stopped working for some reason. I'm commenting in brackets like this. --T]

So, after such a long and event-filled Saturday, we looked forward to a slightly slower and more sedate Sunday. The morning started at a reasonable time (7:30 for me, 8:15 for Tam), and after breakfast we drove up to Upper Hutt to meet with a fellow (Shaun) and look at his Ute. [A "ute", pronounced "yoot" or "yewt", is a "utility vehicle", i.e., a pickup truck. --T] This Ute had a little problem, in that he had rolled in into a ditch and buggered up the cab, denting in the top, shattering the windshield, and bending both doors. I will call around to some panel-beaters this week, and see if it can be repaired cheaply. ["Panelbeaters" is the wondrously evocative word for "body shop". --T] The main reason I wanted to go up was that Shaun was a regular on the lifestyleblock list, a smallfarmer site I have been reading for the last few years. Getting connections into that community is really important, as they have so much skill and knowledge and will be vital in the coming months. Ian (also of the list) and a woman whose name we can’t remember were also there, and we talked for nearly an hour. Ian suggested we get about 30 lambs and run them on the land until we can get around to having some stock of our own. He even volunteered to drive over to the stock sales in Carterton with us, to help us with the whole process. Don’t know if I want to do that, as it may be easier to lease the land out to stock, run horses on it at $10/head/week or something like that. But it was nice to get the offer, and feel a bit of the often discussed “kiwi friendliness”. [Kiwi friendliness in this instance extended to the woman's new horse as well, which she'd just finished brushing and which contentedly stood there in the little knot of us by the porch, cocking an ear to the conversation and occasionally using my shoulder to scratch its face. --T]

Afterwards we got a bit of food in Upper Hutt central, [...stopped for a bit to skip stones in the Hutt... --T] then made our way back down into the city to drop by fight practice. This week all three of the heavy list fighters were there, and we chatted as they took rest-breaks from fighting. All three (Richard, Stephen and Dillan) seemed quite cool, and I very much look forward to getting my gear in a few weeks and joining them. Having such a small community of fighters will be like how I started back years ago in Philadelphia, back when it was only Brad, Len and I fighting in the back driveway week after week. They also do combat archery with 3/4″ blunts, which may get Tamara out there plinking away at us on occasion.

Rodger from the Folklore Fest also dropped by, and he and Tamara spoke of plans for the festival. Tamara wants to dance [Sybille and I want to dance... well, Sybille really wants to dance; I mostly just want to play dress up and mess with the tourists a bit. --T], but another troupe has arranged to do a stage performance, and they are a bit nervous about having other people in their territory, but it sounds like she may be able to swing a “pirate-gypsy” theme [Roger's idea, not mine, I swear ! --T] that will not cause any conflict, and be lots of fun to boot. I will be participating in some heavy-list fighting being done as demos, which means a high priority upon unpacking will be finding all my fighting gear and making sure it is all ready to go, as I have not seen it in 9+ months.

To our great amusement we also saw the monsters training for some of their events. This folklore fest is structured a bit like a Ren Faire, and yet not. Rodger, who is running the thing, wants it to mutate into a more “Middle Earth Faire”, with a definite fantasy element thrown in. With such a small community of fighters, dancers, and recreationists to choose from, it is going to have to be a blender of different genres to make critical mass for performers. Should be a hoot, though. [The main difficulty is explaining to the locals just what a Renn Fair is. Most of the folks Roger has roped in are re-creationists, and the line between re-creation and street theater can be surprising wide and opaque. --T]

Overall a great Sunday. We met lots of people, and established more connections with freaks like us that will hopefully help us expand our social circle. And that is very useful. Later tonight we go off to do some drumming, as every full moon they have a big drum jam-session at a local club.

[...That'd be Zebos, yes. Sybille and I are heading over together & we'll hopefully hook up with Roger and chat some more about the festival. Woo ! --T]

[This is mostly Stephen again, with my comments in brackets like this. --T]

Saturday was one of those days so packed with activities, we would have never planned it. They just sort of happened, one after another, in a wild flurry of activity that was both fun and exhausting.

It started early, 6AM is a rough start for a Saturday, but we wanted to drive 130 km north to Palmerston north (about a 2 hour drive) for the A&P show, particularly for the Alpaca judging that started at 10 AM. We were on the road by 7:20, and arrived at the largely empty showgrounds by 9:30. There was plenty going on, mind you, just not a lot of people (yet). The show had all you could ask for, well all you could ask from an Agriculture and Pastoral fair. They had judging of stock and animals, from dairy cows to miniature horses, sheepdog trials, lumberjack contests of chopping and sawing logs, tractors on display, “catch the piglet” for the kiddies, plus a full carnivals with rides and everything.

[Here is the farrier competition: making the shoes, putting 'em on, and the finished product:

Here's the sheep, and the herding and the shearing of them:

The dog trials were actually separate from the shearing contest, though.

Stephen mentioned the miniature horses (aside: miniature horses have miniature whinnies. Hee !), but he didn't mention how freakin' *many* of them there were. Like, they were showing those things pretty much continuously, all day. Yikes. They also had regular-sized ones, doing dressage and showjumping and stuff. Here are a couple more random photos, including some kind of gorgeous pheasant and a Funky Chicken:

Stephen sez: "Who says chickens are dumb ? This one's got brains all over its whole head !" --T]

But we were there for the Alpacas, and there were about 50-75 of the little beasties there for the judging. Very cute. We also talked to a bunch of breeders, sucking their brains for information on both the animals and their take on the future of the industry over the coming years. Seems that it takes 300 kilograms of fiber of the same color and thickness (micron count) before it can be spun commercially, and there are just not enough Alpacas to produce that much fiber…yet. For now people breed, making money selling to other breeders, selling as pets, and sometimes selling the fiber to the craft market. But at $100 per kg, you can see why they are keen for the day when the commercial market opens up. There were a number of Suri type animals there, their fiber is even more coveted, but since that coat type is a recessive train, it is quite difficult to breed for, and only about 10% of all Alpacas are Suris.

[Some 'paca pics. A fluffy white huacaya with the "full bonnet" that indicates good fiber density, a huacaya with its fleece off -- sad little thing, isn't it ? -- a couple of suri, and a cute widdle baby (they're called "cria"):

Kit, from Silverstream Alpacas, says he thinks the suri look like drowned rats. I think they look like they're wearing coats made out of string. It's very very silky string, though. --T]

After 4 hours at the show we decided to meander back south. In stead of a deathmarch-like drive, we popped west a few kilometers over to the beach. First it was Foxton beach, where we took off our shoes and wandered about a kilometer down the beach, relishing the feel of sand between the toes. [Especially after standing around for four hours ! --T] Then we drove south a bit to Waitarere beach, where we walked down to the wreck of the Hydrabad. The Hydrabad was an iron hulled sailed ship that wrecking in a nasty storm in July of 1878. Nobody was killed, they salvaged the cargo, but they could never refloat the ship and it was lost. Now it is above the high-tide mark, mostly buried in sand, with just a few iron ribs and bits of deck plating sticking out. Pretty cool, and fun to walk around.

As we continued south we stopped briefly in Paraparaumu at Beverly’s house, she is our bellydance teacher. She regaled us of her harrowing jounrey home the night before. Friday we had all gone to a local middle eastern restaurant to celebrate Briar’s birthday (one woman in the class). Many dancers were there, as there were about 20 people in our party, and once the food was done we pushed the tables aside and started dancing. Briar had brought a CD of good dance music which the restaurant was happy to put on. I think the other patrons were a combination of amused and afraid. Though my dancing might have something to do with the fear reaction. Anyway, on the way home afterwards Beverly suffered a tire blow-out, as did the five people behind her. Some lovely person had scattered “Zed nails” all over the motorway, essentially cheap caltrops. They had the motorway closed for some time as they cleared them all away. Beverly did not get home until 2 AM, after many hours in the central police station. I am glad we only had to walk home.

After that we had to boogie back to Wellington by 8PM, as Stephanie and Patrick were coming over to watch the big rugby game between NZ and South Africa. The All Blacks were completely dominant the entire game, and won by a convincing 29-9 (All the Springbok points were scored on penalty kicks). [Yeah, the 'Boks hadn't a chance. The Springbok captain afterwards was like, "You can't play rugby without the ball." Hah. The evening actually could have run even later, as we were invited to a shipping-out party for one of the Weta guys, but we were just too pooped. Sleep: good. -- T] Quite a fun time was had by all, as we sat around munching home-made pizza, drinking beer and wine, and watching rugby. Woo!

Last Wednesday (the 5th) was that lovely day where we celebrate the execution of the notorious anarchist and attempted bomber by blowing things up. Well, running down to the Warehouse to buy home fireworks kits is a good second best.

We went up to Paul’s house up above the harbor to watch the show. Sally’s oldest son was there with about a dozen of his university friends (they get younger every year!), which made for an interesting party.

The fireworks display was quite nice. It started with a helicopter flying in with a tray of fireworks carried below. They effects with sparks and lights and occasional rockets did a very good UFO impersonation, and it must have been very dramatic and perhaps a bit frightening for the pilot above. After that opening they went into a nice 15 minute music-synchonized show.

Before, during, and most especially afterwards there were small fireworks displays going on all over the city. Look in any direction and you would see little rockets flying skywards and bursting in green, red and white flame. It was a clear night and you could see clear across the bay to Eastbourne where the tiny lights of fireworks on the beach there were just visible. [Geographical note: Eastbourne is across the whole big Harbor from Wellington proper. Paul's place is on a hill behind the stadium and train station, on the northwest side of Lambton Harbor. From there, we could look East toward Eastbourne, or southwest across Lambton Harbor toward Mt. Victoria, which our apartment is at the foot of. Oriental Parade runs from there around the head to the north, and they've just recently finished trucking in tons of sand to make a beach there. One of the other party-goers was describing how as she was driving in, she passed all the people parked there & camped out to watch the show -- nearly all of whom had fireworks of their own to let off. Before & after the big show, Oriental Parade was a non-stop fountain of light. --T] I must admit the effect of fireworks going off everywhere was really fun and a bit mezmerizing. I know people in rural areas hate Guy Fawkes day because the fireworks spook stock, and I know people get dumb and blow themselves up periodically, but the display all over the city that night was just NEET!

Paul is a very interesting character. Used to be Tam’s boss before being kicked-up the management tree. He likes telling stories of his days back in the French Foreign Legion. While fun, we always had that seed of doubt, lest he just be BSing us. That night he produced a picture of himself, 20-years younger, marching along in the Legion! Quite a character, to say the least. His North Africa stories are quite amusing, if you have my kind of twisted humor.

An amusing aside occured when some of the University students (who were quite drunk at that point) started getting into a weird fact contest. I could not help myself, I had to wade in with the dreaded line “did you know…?” I think they found me amusing, though the jovial drunk state may have had something to do with that. :)

Posted by Stephen, who is having trouble with his login so is using Tamara’s account…