After New Zealand we spent a week in Sydney with family enjoying warmer weather there. Occasionally doing the touristy thing too.

Afew more pics from our time in New Zealand. We spent a week in the north with family and then a week in the south doing touristy things.

Voila! Mom & Me Only. Céline’s clothing label I mentioned earlier this year that I’ve been anxious to share:

Unable to find anything she liked for her growing belly while pregnant with her second child, Céline came up with a design of her own which I found to be a very clever idea. The t-shirts come in five different colours and in short or three quarter sleeve lengths. Written on the belly of each shirt in French or English are messages for each month of your pregnancy beginning from three months. Her website isn’t ready yet but you can purchase the French inscribed t-shirts here and here. I am especially inspired that she went from having an idea and then making it a reality. That’s a lot of work!

I’m like a fortnight behind in my posting because we’ve had limited internet time. We’re now in Brisbane but I have yet to show pics from our time in Sydney. I’ll think I’ll just post random pics.

Back to Queenstown again for a tour of where some of the scenes for the movie were shot for The Lord of the Rings. Before venturing out we feasted like hobbits eating our curds and whey and making a terrible orc mess. There were no singing and dancing on the tables afterwards however; that was taken care of with a cup of hot chocolate beforehand and there’s no place like New Zealand for making them the way I like it: silky froth and melt in your mouth marshmallows (I’ll post more pics of hot chocolate drinks I got drunk over). Meanwhile I leave you with some of the images from our tour. See if you can recognise them from the movie:

We spent a couple days in Queenstown then went to Te Anau and from there to Milford Sounds. It rained the day we went to Milford Sounds but we were told that we had good weather for visiting because when it rains the water falls (we wished we weren’t so much in the clouds though). On the way there we stopped for a tea break and as I don’t drink tea or coffee had hot water with a bit of sugar. It was the best drink ever. The water is SO delicious in this part of the country. Apparently you can drink the water straight from the lakes. Here are some pics of Christian at the front of the boat about to taste some himself.

On our way back from visiting Lake Wanaka we dropped in and visited an old goldmine village. We chose to save some money and not to do the tour; and I chose not to read any of the information posts along the path being too engaged in getting good shots to think about anything else so I’m not sure what this place was about really other than it was a treasure trove for location scouting.

One of the first things we did after we unpacked was take the gondola up the mountain and then ride the luge. Mr Weatherman forecasted snow but all the time we were in Queenstown none fell. We weren’t disappointed about there being no snow falling though because we’re not very good skiers but still, it was cold. And no, there was no bungy jumping or ledge jumping for us even though Pascale protested against our wishes—but can you blame us for not letting her? Look who was scared of heights.

Before we left Gisborne dad also took us to see my mum’s property. Dad wants me to build something on it. We just have to go through the Maori Land Courts to make a claim he said, but I told Olivier that I would rather just go buy some land and build a home on it. It’s much quicker and easier. I wouldn’t say that to dad though, he’ll be disappointed I ever thought it. He can be so mysterious sometimes. He knows so much but instead of sharing with his children what he knows he prefers to speak in riddles and give out only pieces of his mind. Whoever can pick up the rest he showers with more pieces and another riddle. And I’m not talented that way.

We talked a lot about politics both in New Zealand and abroad. My dad and Olivier share the same political views but for different reasons and I don’t see eye to eye with either. Actually I’m not sure what my eye sees. Sometimes I think I’ve been living in fairy land too long.

While at church in Relief Society I was asked to introduce myself. So I did by saying that I was my father’s daughter. Then one lady got up and said that I was my mother’s daughter too and that I am one of them. I forget I’m my mother’s daughter but it goes to show how proud they are about their own. My mother’s tribe can be just as proud as my father’s.

And just what do you think those white dots are? Here’s a clue: they go baaa.

Before we left Gisborne, dad took us to the museum in town. The museum is home to the war memorial where photographs of my grandfather and relatives are displayed for their service in WWII. Ngati Porou is the most decorated tribe in all of New Zealand. Nothing to boast about however for as Apirana Ngata wrote, many of our men joined the army so that our people might be recognised as citizens in their own country, for being Maori was not synonymous with being a New Zealander. My grandfather was awarded the Military Medal and his first cousin the Victoria Cross. “This was the price they paid for citizenship,” wrote Ngata.

Last week in the capital recognition and a public apology was given to those who served in the Vietnam wars. We knew dad was in the army and that he fought overseas, we just didn’t know where. He never talked about it. The lies they were told and the shame and hurt they had to carry for so many years. Dad didn’t attend the Vietnam march but he did march in the Malay one and when he did he not only carried his own medals but his father’s too. I am happy and very proud of him. If only mum where here to share in his happiness. He tells me that when he passes there will be a place for him in the memorial too. He can be so morbid sometimes.

While at the marae a guy drove in asking for help. The tide had quickly come in and he and his mates had gotten their $110,000 Toyota Landcruiser (cars are expensive in NZ) stuck on the beach. The manager of Toyota was out there and had taken it out for a test drive and to take photographs before its unveiling. He was a bit nervous about my camera and asked that I not publish my pics in the local newspaper just yet. In the local newspaper? Just yet? I laughed because it never occurred to me to send these pics to the Gisborne Herald.

Needless to say my father enjoyed himself very much. He thought the whole scene was hilarious. Fancy getting a four wheel drive stuck out there. But apparently it happens quite often and maybe why the locals keep a tractor handy.

After all the fun had died down it was back to sneaking photos of this child who likes avoiding the camera.

A couple days ago my dad took me to my mum’s marae. A marae is a meeting house and very tribe or iwi has one. Here’s my dad on the right speaking to a preschool group that came to welcome us onto the marae. Like any marae, to enter one must introduce themselves. This is followed by a welcome which is then followed by speeches on both sides usually given by the men. My father is a kaumatua and goes onto maraes often to speak. Kaumatuas are respected tribal leaders in the Maori community and are appointed by the people to teach because of their knowledge of history and the language. He is often consulted by universities around New Zealand in their teaching of the language too. My father says the teaching of Maori in universities is different from the one he uses though. Many words have been added to the language; words transliterated from the English language, for example technology words that didn’t exist a hundred years ago. Also words he thinks is unnecessary but add a certain flourish to one’s speech. In other words the Maori language learned in the Universities is very academic. Obviously. The Mayor of Gisborne where my dad lives is Chinese and speaks fluent Maori. He is very respected by the Maori community not only because he speaks Maori but because his Maori is like theirs. To be respected by the Maori community is to not only be able to speak Maori but be knowledgeable in the history and culture of the people. For why would one want to learn a language if they do not also know or understand the history and culture of those that speak that language?

Maraes are paneled with wood carvings that depict the genealogy of the tribe. The Maori language was for many years an oral language passed down and preserved by the elders through a special school where male students gifted in speech and memory where chosen to attend. That is not to say that the other children did not learn anything for they too learned the history and culture of their people through song and dance. For a while our language looked as if it were going extinct. I would not be alone by saying that I never learned Maori. Many of my generation didn’t. When my parents went to school they were forbidden to speak Maori in order to make English their first language. It was no until recently that there has been a renaissance in our language. Many view the English as having nearly crushed our language but maybe we can view them as being our saviors for giving us the opportunity to read and write.

Here is another wood carving this time of a male statue wearing a piupiu which is a skirt made from the flax plant, only he is wearing it as a cloak. The same flax material is used for making baskets and kits.

I hope to take pics of the food we’re eating. One day. Just feels awfully rude to get my big camera out to take a shot. If I had a small point and shoot I wouldn’t feel half so conscious about pulling it out. Because while the food is pretty average the presentation and taste is above anything I’ve tasted in the states. I think that’s my main gripe about living in the states. The food is awful. I haven’t eaten bacon and eggs for years so to eat it again was worth every bite. And I don’t even like bacon and eggs. But there’s none of that fatty stuff dripping off the meat; and the fried eggs have orange centers.