Just another afternoon at our house

Dinner table conversation

Mama, I'm really not interested in eating much tonight.

Stop that!  I'm telling you, I'm not hungry!

The reason I'm not hungry is that my foot hurts.

See?

I guess I'm not so much hungry as thirsty.  I will have some milk.

I actually have nothing against podes.

I think the range of words out there is fascinating.  I particularly enjoy learning a word that describes a rather complex concept that I could previously only express with a longish phrase.  Like how schadenfreude is that secret delight you get from hearing about some celebrity's trainwreck of a personal life, or how pareidolia is to blame when the world gets excited about a supposed face on a piece of toast.

So I was filled with logophilic glee the other day when I came across some Brit writing about 'our antipodean friends in New Zealand.'   After first hieing to the Wikipedia, I was relieved to know that I no longer must labour under such clunky phrasing as 'on the other side of the earth, through the center, so east becomes west and north becomes south, you know?'

My antipode, right this moment as I'm sitting on the couch, is in Spain, between Sevilla and Malaga.  Specifically, the small town of Acinipo.  Even more specifically, the space between two dead-end roads:  Caminos de las Menas y Mesas. 

Sorry, Americans-in-America, it's the Indian Ocean for you (although the guys in Chester, Montana could probably swim for it.)  That hole the kids are digging in the backyard isn't going to make it to China after all.
  

So we can grow up big and strong

The Antarctic Encounter

The boys and I had quite the adventure today.  We got up, had breakfast and second breakfast, and got all ready to go.  We walked down the street and waited at the bus stop for... the...

SHARK BUS!!!!

Amiri loves seeing the shark bus around town.  He was so excited to have a ride on it for the first time today. 

It took us to Underwater World.  We started out by playing on the sno-cats in the Antarctic display area.

And then we played in the big ocean-themed play area.  Amiri started out by climbing on the big turtle.

And then he got his courage up and went into the giant shark jaws model.  The sign told us that the prehistoric megadon was actually this big.  Yikes!

We rode on the tram through the penguin habitat.  The keepers give the penguins lots of toys to play with every day-- they especially like soccer balls.  The snow machines in the habitat make three tons of snow daily.  It was very cold inside, to make it like Antarctica, but the trams were heated and nice inside.  We rolled past lots of penguins, and a scary diorama of an orca eating a seal.

And then we looked at all the fish.  Arram asked to come out of his stroller and kept up nicely with the group.  I asked Amiri to help keep Arram nearby and safe.  Amiri took this responsibility very seriously and several times I saw him take Arram by the hand and lead him forward.  There were lots of fish to enjoy, mostly those native to nearby waters.  I liked seeing the huge crayfish and big strings of mussels (because they made me hungry).  The boys especially liked the seahorses.

The boys were wonderfully behaved.  No one had a tantrum, and no one strayed too far away from Mama.  Arram only had one poop the whole time, in contrast to past outings which have felt more like scenic tours of the city's baby-changing facilities.  So at the gift shop, the boys got to pick out a fluffy mommy and baby penguin to bring home.

Although it was very nice, the Shedd Aquarium it wasn't, and we were done in about two hours even after ample playtime.  We took the Shark Bus back home.  Arram had enjoyed his experience of doing lots of walking with the big people so much that he walked all the way home from the bus stop.

Happy anniversary

Happy anniversary to New Zealand, and happy anniversary to all my faithful readers!

Yes, it seems a little unbelievable, but we landed on New Zealand soil a full year ago.  What a year it's been.

The boys were so little when we moved here.  Amiri wasn't much of a talker yet.  Arram couldn't even sit up.  Now Amiri is doing math at a second-grade level, and Arram can run.  with that cute stampy little-boy run, but he manages...

When we moved, we'd recently driven a car.  We haven't driven since we've been here, and have been in taxis only a handful of times.  I like the train.  It means I get to read for at least an hour every day.

We didn't know any of the compendium of information that's been communicated here.  New Zealand was a foreign and unknown quantity.  Now it's allllmost home.

We saw our families over a year ago.  Now we miss them.

Before we came here, we lived in Valencia.  Sure, it looks nice, but it's a fake nice.  It's ticky-tacky.  Here, we have lives.  And that's pretty refreshing.

Ahhhhhh, New Zealand.  Thanks for a good year.  Love ya.


Oh.  And because I apparently can't get enough of spreadsheets at work, I felt compelled to prepare the yearly Stakeholder's Report on my blog statistics.  I was sure enthusiastic October 2009 to February 2010, wasn't I?  Well, I had a lot of time on my hands at that time.  Now I seem to have settled into a two-posts-every-three-or-four-days routine.  That seems to be working fine.  You, The Readership, are OK with that, right? 

Here's to another great year!!

Amiri's bedtime filibusters

Amiri's bedtime routine is to brush teeth, hug and kiss Daddy, get into bed, Mama tells Amiri a story, Amiri tells Mama a story, hug and kiss Mama, lights out.

These days, Amiri likes to hear stories about little animals, especially helpful animals who make their parents proud.  Amiri likes to tell me stories that are a melange of fairy tales, phonics lessons, and highlights from the story I just told.

"And thennnnn, the big brother monkey found the ice cream.  I, I, I, ice cream starts with the letter I.  And he gave the ice cream tooooo... Sleeping Beauty!  Mama, you like Sleeping Beauty?  Mama, you like ice cream?"

We are both aware of the flaw in the schedule.  I have to wait for Amiri to finish his story before I can leave (well, OK, I can leave any time I want but that would be rude).  So he draws it out, adding surprise twists and turns.  Sub-plots.  Lots of, "Oh!  You know what happened then??"-s to keep me engaged.  He'd work in a cast of thousands if he could count that high.

So I have learned to keep him on-target these days and to encourage him to work his way expeditiously toward that big 'The End'.  Once he sorts out the timing of his anecdotes, then we'll start working on his exposition and the subtleties of denouement.

But how can I tell if I'm getting enough calories from the grease group?

Today's trivia is about nutritional labels on foods.  You know how they're all standardised in the States?  They are here too, sorta... but different:

They break it down by the serving, and by the 100-grams, so that there's always an easy way to compare across consistent units.  So, reading down the list:  the bottom six I understand.  But at the top, instead of calories, New Zealand foods have Energy.  And it's measured in kilojoules (to the hundredths place, which amuses me).  88.03 kJ equals 20.96 calories.  Huh. 
 
 

Good eats

What I've learned about breakfasts:

--Bircher breakfast:  Raw rolled oats and dried fruits, soaked overnight in milk.  Can be heated up, but not cooked.
--Spaghetti:  From a can.  Yes, for breakfast.  On toast.  Can also be incorporated into a pizza, but that idea makes me a little nauseous.
--Baked beans:  Also from a can.  Also on toast.  Also blurgh, in my opinion.

And investigations into sandwiches:

--Beetroot: Sweet, boiled, sliced beets are very common on sandwiches.  It is surprisingly tasty and is quite pretty.
--Pumpkin:  Roasted, spicy pumpkin is a common vegetarian option for sandwich fillings.
--Salads:  All the raw veggies that go on sandwiches:  the lettuce, tomatoes, onions, etc.  The sandwich-maker will ask you, 'Do you want all the salads on that?'
--Vogel:  Vogel's is a common brand-name of sliced sandwich bread at the grocery store.  At a cafe, you can order a 'Vogel' (although I think they should call it 'The Synechdoche'): a sandwich with any type of filling between two pieces of regular fluffy sliced bread that either are or resemble Vogel's.
--Toastie:  Or you can have them put your Vogel in a panini press and toast it up.  This is especially pleasant when it incorporates cheese.
  

The proud (and naked but for a diaper) artist

It's not quite a Chilean mine rescue, but...

We went to Devonport last weekend.  That's on the North Shore, across the harbour.  We took the ferry and that was was Big Fun for the little guys.  We watched the horse-drawn carriage going by (accompanied by Arram's delighted squealing), poked around in a used bookstore, saw some doggies (more squealing) and had brunch at a nice little cafe.

Then we played on the playground.  They had a big jungle gym, with lots of stairs and ladders and tunnels and slides.  The little guys could climb high-high-high up, and with the way it was designed, they were guaranteed not to fall off.  Both boys had lots of fun clambering around, although Amiri naturally went higher and faster than Arram.  Arram tried so hard to keep up with his big brother.  He eventually made his way all the way up to the third level, where the only way down was a big, twisty, intimidating slide.

That's when our poor little pumpkin got scared.  He just gave up, sat in the middle of the big plastic tube and wailed pitifully.  I stood below him, watching, and trying to coax him into moving toward the stairs where he could get down.  He refused to move, and his wailing soon turned into panicked screaming.  Meanwhile, a whole line of older children eager for a go on the slide had developed behind him.  'Baby, move!'  'Baby, come out!'

So I climbed up the awkward stairs and chicken-walked my way through the series of tubes, and gently elbowed my way through the line of impatient children until I got to my little guy, who by this time was frantic.  He clung to me like a baby monkey and ground his teary, snotty face into my shirt.  We reversed direction and made it back to solid ground.   One more reassuring hug, and I put him down.

And where did he go?  Right back up the stairs.
 

Mr. Prime Minister, stop being so PC

Warning-- the following may be infuriating and the content in the links may be unsuitable for children.

New Zealanders are blunt and to-the-point.  They don't mince around with their words.  They will say what they think.  This is quite refreshing.  There also tends to be a xenophobic streak among some Pakeha NZers.  Although I think (hope) it's largely in the spirit of good-natured ribbing, this is unfortunate.

Taken together, straight talk plus mild bigotry can result in statements being made that range, to American ears (especially those of us who grew up with politically-correct terms ingrained in our vocabularies and psyches), from the Huh? Did he just say that? to the Whoa! Line crossed! Beyond-redneck alert!

There has been some of this in the news of late, and it is reeeeediculous.  To sum up:

First, a breakfast show (the equivalent of Good Morning America, but quaint) host recently questioned whether the Governor-General, born and raised in New Zealand but of Indian descent, was 'even a New Zealander', and went on to speculate about the identity of the new person soon to take over the role, 'are you [the Queen] going to choose a New Zealander who looks and sounds like a New Zealander this time ... are we going to go for someone who is more like a New Zealander this time?"

Then a talk radio host publicly derided the same man for his portly build:  "He is a very large, fat man.  I don't know why but just on an Indian it seems slightly incongruous.  I mean, we don't all expect Indians to be begging on the streets of New Delhi, but it's like Anand discovered the buffet table at, like, 20 and he's never really left it."  When the Prime Minister later told him that was uncalled-for, he smarted back like a teenager.

And then the first guy was back with an on-air mocking --complete with naughty words on the morning show-- of the pronunciation of the surname of an admittedly-unfortunately-named-but-it's-not-her-fault official from overseas.

Racism combined with sizeism and just plain opportunism all in the same week?  Wow!  Maybe I'm misremembering how things are, but you just wouldn't see that kind of thing on the public airwaves in the US.  (Or maybe I've just led a sheltered life and I would have encountered plenty had I watched more Fox News.) 

Some righteous vindication amongst all the redneck alerts going off in my head this week is that the morning guy ended up resigning his job under duress.  But only because he's been making similar comments for years and people have gotten fed up.  Although apparently he has only just now racked up enough Broadcasting Standards Authority violations for the network to finally say anything.  But I think it's cool that some people got fed up.

I loves me some coffee

New Zealand is a cafe culture, and coffee is a national passion.  They really, really like their coffee here.  And they do it right-- just the right beans, just the right hot water, just the right additions.  And as with most things, New Zealand enjoys a few eccentricities regarding its coffee.

If you want a small (50 mL?) shot of espresso, you ask for a Short Black.

Want some frothy milk layered on top of your espresso?   You want a Flat White.  (This is my favorite.)  If you want to be healthy, ask for trim, not skim, milk.

Or maybe you want double-strength espresso with  the milk mixed in.  This is a Latte and it always comes in a short, fat water glass, not a mug.

If you'd like an American-style coffee, --I know what you're thinking, 'you ask for an Americano!', right?-- you ask for a Long Black, which is actually espresso with hot water added.

Brewed coffee, the hot-water-filtered-through-grounds-stuff ubiquitous to kitchens, offices, and conference centers across the US, is not typically available in cafes.  It just doesn't seem to be the thing. 

We all fall down!

A difficult conversation, but it had to be done

Hey, New Zealand?  Can you come in here for a second?  I need to have a talk with you about something personal.

We've known each other for a while now, haven't we?  And we both like each other, right, New Zealand?  So I feel comfortable enough with you to bring this up.  And I know that you'll understand that I'm coming from a perspective of caring, not judging, when I say this.

New Zealand, you have a body odor issue.

I'm not talking about the post-athletics funk that we all encounter from time to time-- hey, rugby players have every right to be stinky.  No, I'm talking about at the office.  At the grocery store.  In the movie theater.  How there seems to be this certain sour twang to the air in enclosed spaces, and especially now that the weather is warming up.  There always seems to be one of Those Guys around.

I'm pretty sure that there isn't some sort of widespread glandular problem that's to blame.  And I know there isn't a cultural opposition to basic principles of hygiene.  I suspect the problem lies with the deodorant and antiperspirant technology that you've made available.  I feel like I need to let you know that the 'dry sprays' you like so much just really aren't sufficient.  Nor are the roll-on liquids.  In fact, I don't think that the active ingredients on the shelves at any of your stores are really in the proper formulation to address your needs.

This isn't your fault, New Zealand.  I think you probably just haven't thought about making a real investment in effective deodorant technology.  But I think you really do need to think about doing that because it's starting to become noticeable.

I hope I haven't embarrassed you.  Do you have any questions for me?  No?  Right, then, mate, come on, let's go and get back to this beautiful day.   Thanks for the talk.
 

A photo for you from Eid day

We posed nicely for a second...

And then seconds later the complaining started and I had to catch Senor Crankypants as he threw himself back in disgust...

I love watching them play this game....

...but I don't know how they ended up incorporating a Scary Crocodile at the end.

Suffrage

As permanent residents, we have the right to vote here.  Registering to vote is compulsory in NZ (although actually voting is not), and we filled out our applications at the Post Shop almost as soon as we arrived.  Now we get our first chance to cast our ballots!

All voting in NZ is by post; there are no polling places.  We were sent our official voting packs recently, containing the information book, voting sheet, and a FreePost envelope in which to return the ballot.

This election is for the mayor and council members.  The information book contains biographies that the candidates have written about themselves.  They range from the smooth lines of the incumbent...

John BANKS, Independent:
John Banks stands for careful spending and decisive leadership. He will use his thirty years of political and business experience to keep your rates down, seek better value for your money and deliver you the benefits of savings. As a former Police Minister he will focus on your safety and security, establishing a strong relationship with Auckland's Police and investing in CCTV and other security initiatives. John will fix Auckland's economic infrastructure, promoting jobs and opportunities for you through tourism and events. John will deliver modern integrated public transport using trains, ferries and buses and important roading projects − giving you choices in how you travel. John will ensure that arts and culture thrives in every corner of this region, protecting our heritage and our environment and ensuring that the unique local identity of our valued communities is preserved and enhanced.  Visit www.johnbanks.co.nz to see his policies for Auckland.

To the guy who is clearly having a bit of a laugh:

Craig THOMAS:
Jedi Craig − A Super Jedi for a super city My name is Craig Thomas, I am a Jedi. For too long the Jedi Order and politics have been kept separate. But no more. The Auckland Council is desperately in need of my infinite Jedi wisdom. The dark side of long standing ineffectual politicians has lead to much fear in our city, as every Jedi knows, fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate, hate leads to suffering and this is the path to the dark side. A vote for Jedi Craig is a vote against the clone army of conventional politicians. Craig is committed to delivering common sense, wisdom and balance to a Council that needs a new approach.  Support light−sabre based progress. Do, or do not, there is no try − Vote for Jedi Craig. (Join the Rebel Alliance today by searching 'Jedi Craig' on Facebook)

There are a high proportion of curious biographies, actually, some of them bordering on tinfoil-hat incoherence.  The reason?  It only costs $200 to get on the ballot.  I wonder if there is a similar repository of biographies from the 2003 California gubernatorial recall election?  I bet that would be good for a laugh.

--This episode of South Seas Style brought to you by New Zealand:  the first country with voting rights for women (1893).