World Wayfarer - The quest for knowledge of our world

Ah, to live the life of a sea lion or royal albatross on New Zealand's southeast coast. Plenty of fish, plenty of friends, invigoratingly barren cliffs and beaches and plenty of freezing cold weather. What more could any pinneped or hermit bird want? After leaving the nest, the juvenile albatross heads out to sea for four or five years ranging between New Zealand and South America and never looking for a place to perch during the entire time. Now that's getting away from it all.

Dunedin and Otago, south island 11.30.05

Beam me up, Scotland: Dunedin is to New Zealand what Scotland is to the British Isles. A sturdy, no-frills, working-class city draped across hills around an extremely shallow and nearly unnavigable bay (most of it empties out at low tide), it lies opposite the Otago peninsula, home to a lot of animals that humans don't get much chance to see, most notably yellow-eyed penguins and royal albatrosses. The penguins, little forest-dwelling creatures with creepy-looking yellow eyes, are so elusive as to be unphotographable without long telephoto lenses, something the average tourist (myself included) wouldn't dream of lugging along on a long trip.

Say what?: Cartoons are translated into Maori on the independent ethnic channel in New Zealand.

Dunedin is a reminder of New Zealand's heritage, full of strikingly photogenic European-looking buildings, which tends to get mixed up in the mind when viewed side by side with the area's natural wonders.

Gargoyle Seal

Rugby and Peter: It's time to acknowledge New Zealand's true heavyweights - the All Blacks and Peter Jackson. After winning the world championship, the country's national rugby team demolished the competition to win the Tri-Nation Championship (involving Australia and the three countries representing Great Britain - I guess, Canada doesn't count). The team's title-clinching victory over Scotland (team name - the Famous Grouse) began at 3:30 a.m., so much of the country was a bit dazed-looking the next day after staying up all night to watch the game and celebrate the victory. A similar godlike entity, Peter Jackson, director of the Lord of the Rings trilogy filmed in New Zealand, is right up there with Sir Edmund Hillary as one of the nation's admired symbols. The films spawned a thriving niche in the country's tourism industry, and Jackson himself is the source of endless scrutiny in the media. The December release of his remake of King Kong is awaited every bit as much as Christmas here.

Fresh fish

Gargoyle

Graffiti

Animals are a recurrent theme in Dunedin, but what it all means probably requires pavement-hugging reflection.

Airy Pottah: In preparation for seeing the latest Harry Potter movie, I chose to stay at a backpackers hostel in Dunedin named - you guessed it - Hogwartz. An entirely appropriate view from the hostel is below.

Finally, something worth gazing at from a reclining position.

A room with a view: Staying in cheap hotels usually means foregoing any chance of seeing anything interesting from the window if there is one (query: why would you want to stay in your hotel room to see the scenery?). Usually the view is of a rooftop, brick wall or parking lot. Occasionally, you get lucky.

Christchurch, south island 12.3.05

A girl performs an impromptu handspring demonstration in a courtyard shaded by a mammoth tree at the popular arts center of Christchurch. The city is the most cosmopolitan yet encountered as my rambling survey of New Zealand comes to a close.

Oh Danny boy: One just has to admire (if not truly like) bagpipe music. It is so jaunty and falls so strangely upon the ear, and the performers look so serious yet dress so silly. It was probably a fitting farewell to the most English/Scottish part of the country to stumble upon some epic gathering of bagpipers for a competition during my last day in Christchurch and New Zealand itself. There must have been a dozen bagpipe bands relentlesslly rat-a-tat-tatting and wheezing away in marathon efforts to top one another. Then they took to the main street in Christchurch and proudly marched, one bleating ensemble after another, for one block. The abbreviated spectacle perhaps should be brought to the attention of the Guinness Book of World Records for consideration because of its baffling brevity.

Blacks!: After a month in the country without seeing any people of color, suddenly there are several black-skinned people in evidence, mostly around the university in downtown Christchurch.

Christchurch has lots of big city diversions. The Avon River offers parklike activities as it wends through the urban landscape. There's lots of very fussy-looking buildings that would fit very well in London. And, in the city's main square on a Saturday morning, there's the military. Showing off their hardware and uniforms in hopes of attracting recruits. Not to leave anything to chance, the camou-draped troops wheeled out a drum kit, strapped on electric guitars and saxophones and performed a very workmanlike rock show for the assembled teens. The new army wants to join you.

Sheepish: A tour guide finally confirmed what tourists intuitively know - there are 4.5 million people and 40 million sheep in New Zealand.

Yuletide spirit: Because it is summer in New Zealand and, as a result, there is little climatic imperative driving anticipation for the approaching holiday season, each island claims to have a tree that should be properly known as the "Christmas tree." The north island tree has an unpronounceable Maori name, and the southern island has the rata tree (which, strangely, is a vine on the north island). They both bloom just before Christmas, becoming covered with red flowers. The north and south Kiwis are very proud of their respective Christmas trees. The Maoris caution that if the trees beginning blooming much before Christmas, it will be a very hot summer. They're right on schedule so far. Because there is no Thanksgiving holiday in New Zealand, the ritual display of public Christmas decorations sensibly doesn't begin until Dec. 1.

During a bike ride down a busy urban road along a bay on the Pacific Ocean, I spotted maybe the most endearing example of New Zealand's sensitivity to and protection of its environment. Rather than move a seagull that chose to build its nest next to the road, the government contracted to have temporary fencing, warning cones and an explanatory sign erected around the nest.

Leaving on a jet plane, 12.04.05

Milford Sound is just the scenic tip of the iceberg of New Zealand, a country of amazing natural wonders presented in a compact, digestable setting.

Kiwis: While the residents of New Zealand are known by the name of the bird that represents the country, no one I met admitted to actually having seen one. Unlike the United States' symbol, the majestic bald eagle that can be seen soaring where one least expects it, the kiwi is a small flightless bird that reportedly could fit in the palm of a human hand. More importantly, it is nocturnal and shy. Fenced preserves protect it from the being slaughtered by domesticated dogs.

Kiwis are an active people, never seeming to flinch at signs that warn of every imaginable hazard confronting them or strapping on steel spikes to help them overcome the adversities awaiting them. Every relatively fit person encountered seems eager to relate the details of some recent outing that involved climbing up or tramping across dramatic terrain.

Possum update I: The ever-practical Kiwis fight a losing battle to control their pesky possum overpopulation ("The Aussies brought them over here, you know," one frustrated soul confided). So the country has established a bounty system that pays a pittance for pelts. The resultant fur that trickles in is mixed with New Zealand's abundant merino wool to create a product with the dubiously marketable name of "possum merino." The Kiwis are very proud of their ingenuity.

Will the real travelin' stud please step forward. Malcolm was a dapper bus driver seemingly always about to break into a trot to stay on schedule. An unnamed Kiwi in transit had it all working for him: a slouchy hat, fleece jacket, Camelback water spigot draped across one shoulder, a copy of The Da Vinci Code in the same hand that carried his acoustic guitar case. He wasn't adverse to breaking out the guitar for a few tunes during a bus layover in hopes of attracting some spare change.

Baling out: It took a full month to get an explanation for one of the oddest phenomena encountered throughout the country. Farmers mow and bale their hay just like farmers anywhere, rolling it into cylindrical bundles that are left scattered across the landscape. Unlike other farmers, however, they wrap the bales in plastic, usually white or light green, that look disturbingly like giant marshmallows or Clorets lozenges. Why do they do this? To ferment the alfalfa within, a bus driver assured me, which gives an additional kick to the livestock that eventually consumes it.

New Zealanders blend the new and old into a seamless whole, favoring hot cars with sassy license plates as well as traditional pub decorations.

Sign language: New Zealand is officially a bilingual country. Maori translations are included on all governmental signs. It might be lip service, however, because in a month of roaming across the country, Maoris were only glimpsed once or twice. They certainly don't hang out where tourists are unless it involves a money-extracting cultural heritage activity.