Oh how I wish it would rain

Suffice it to say, I had a delayed start to my day after the Ireland game.  I had camped out on the beach in New Plymouth.  Afterwards, I took some dangerous pictures, not paying attention to the road while driving.  The original plan was to climb Taranaki after the game, but it was shrouded in a cloud, so I headed toward the center of the north island, hoping for better weather.  My fancy new phone told me it was a good idea.    

I chose to take the scenic route, which was through rolling green hills.  The landscape was beautiful.  As you may imagine, I saw many sheep.   

Driving the winding switchbacks is actually a lot of fun, especially with a manual car.  The drive starts out on a gravel road, which later turns into pavement.  It goes through a gorgeous gorge, continues into the hills, until the center of the north island, which is fairly volcanic. 

 There was a cool tunnel on the drive.  It is barely wide enough to fit a camper van, of which there are plenty in New Zealand.  I don't think it would fit a tractor/trailer.  I was even worried that I'd hit the walls with my little Nissan. Like typical country roads, I came upon some cows that blocked the pathway.  The best part is that the closest one started pooping as I drove by, as if I startled it.  I also saw, a wild pig and many rabbits on my drive.  Overall, it was very pleasant.  Next stop:  the volcanoes of Mordor.   

I'm the Leprechaun

Hooray, Rugby World Cup (RWC)!  I'd like to begin by saying that I was told that my accent was great multiple times.  I never knew people enjoyed the Chicago/Wisconsin accent...  I spent the first night watching rugby at a pub with a bunch of English fans.  The awesome part was that I saw fellow Americans at the pub.  It is so strange and satisfying to see other Americans down under.  There's a certain comfort in seeing one's own culture.    

Subsequently, I arrived in New Plymouth to watch the U.S.'s first game (Ireland).  The Irish were EVERYWHERE.  The majority drove campervans.  All hotels were booked, so I stayed at a Holiday Park, which consisted of only Irish fans.  I gave 4 a lift into the city.  They were drunk.. and drinking... a stereotype of the Irish. I soon joined the Irish stereotype.  I tailgated... and by that I mean that I drank in my parked car before the game... since the Kiwis apparently don't tailgate like Americans. 

The atmosphere was awesome.  I sat next to a Kiwi who was rooting for the U.S.  He kept trying to coax me into heading to the rugby club pub after the game.. and I didn't need much coaxing.  Suffice it to say, it took me awhile to stumble out of my tent the following morning.. but then again it took awhile for everyone to stumble out of the Holiday Park that morning.

Doesn't this guy look like a Chicago-ite?

To rock and not to roll

 Street performers in Melbourne are called Buskers. Although, it may be true that they are named that as well in the States.  Since I came from a small town, I may be naive in the exciting city activity, known as busking.  One of my favorites is the human statue.  This doesn't work very well in the wind when wearing giant wings.  The statuesque form tends to be a little too dynamic.  On such days, statues need to pack up their bags and leave the busking to others.  

There is also a ninja card magician that does some busking in downtown Melbourne.  There are a variety of painters.  Some paint the tourists, some paint giant murals, some just paint graffiti.  I have seen sword swallowers as well.  However, the most prevalent busking art is the guitar playing type.  They are a dime a dozen.  However, I do feel like I have my own soundtrack as I stroll down the street.     

I have considered the activity of busking as well.  Hence, I bought a guitar.  So far my neighbors have been the only people that have been able to enjoy my sweet sounds that I produce.  By sweet, I mean out of tune, out of rhythm, singing and sporadic strumming.  My goal is to eventually walk down the street with my guitar and to play my own soundtrack, instead of relying on the other buskers.  I'll have a dark tune for strolling down dark alleys and I'll have a melancholy song for cloudy days, etc...  It would be even more fun to start following people and to play to their walking and activities.  If I had my way.....

Calamari, it's not just what's for dinner

After living adjacent to the port/ocean for 5 months, it became time to tryout some fishing.  I got very excited when I found out that the main thing to fish for in the port is squid!  The issue is that it is a good idea to get far away from the city to do any fishing ... pollution.  So we road bicycles down the coast, leaving at 6am.  I will have to get back to this story, as the bicycle is an interesting side story.  I received a free bicycle from my office-mate.  I had not had a chance to try it out.  As it turns out, the handlebars were on backwards.  I hit my knees with almost every pedal motion.  The seat was horrible.  I had a sore tailbone for days after the ride.  Eventually I had to pedal with my knees directly out to the sides, like a circus clown on a tricycle.  One of the pedals almost unscrewed completely on the way back from fishing.  It was hanging on by 1 stripped thread.

Now back to the fishing story.  So, after trying to pedal, we decided that my bicycle just couldn't get us where we needed to go (the honey hole pier).  We fished for squid with a reel (no rod), a jig, and mashed bread.  The mashed bread is apparently key for catching squid... don't ask me why.  We saw so many old Italian mean also fishing for squid... fellow calamari connoisseurs.  We caught no squid on the trip.  However, there was some nice scenery on the bike ride.  There was also some good coffee along the way.  I'll have to try this squid fishing thing again.  Except, I have a feeling that I'll spend too much time playing with them and getting inked, if I actually caught one. 

The Paddywagon

The police vehicles of Melbourne consists of vans, stationwagons, and the standard car.  As opposed to the New Zealand police, the Victoria, Australia police do carry firearms.  However, I've been told that if they actually do pull their gun, it is very serious business and someone will be shot, as opposed to the threatening tactic that the U.S. officers use.  However, I have trouble taking the officers seriously when they drive around in a stationwagon.  They have a little door on the back of the wagons where the criminals go.  It just makes me think back to my childhood, when my cousins and I would enjoy facing out the back of the stationwagon while riding.  There's just something about facing the wrong way in a car.  Another amusing factor, at least as an American, is that the police have to deliver tickets in person.  If one moves around a lot, it's very hard for them to track one down. 

Turning to the Dark Side... Skis

Well, it's been awhile since I've been to the slopes.  With my canceled Arrowsmith climbing trip (avalanche danger), I decided to head to the slopes with some acquaintances from Christchurch.  I've never actually downhill skied before and have only been a snowboard.  I decided that since my snowboard was still hanging out in the U.S. in the middle of a hot summer, that I'd try out this whole "ski" thing.  First, I'd like to say that ski poles are a beautiful thing.  It is so nice to make movements on flat surfaces... which is very different from a snowboard.     

Also, one can face forward on skis..  which is great.  On a snowboard, one has to consistently torque their neck to one direction.  Lastly, I felt like James Bond.  I just needed a little Union Jack parachute in my backpack.  I spent a fair amount of time eating snow and burying myself in snow during my first two days skiing.  However, I did progress to blue runs within 2 trips down the mountain.  I was doing blue-blacks without much trouble on the last day.... except for some icy patches.  All self-promoting aside, I had a really fun time with some beautiful views of the Southern Alps and Christchurch.  I may be converting myself from a snowboard to skis.  There is just something right about facing forward and being able to move on flat ground.

Classic Pub Food, Chicken Parmesan?

All cultures have their peculiarities.  Australians are no different.  They consider chicken parmesan to be pub food.  It's a nice alternative to the typical bar cuisine, but, regardless, I find it odd.  Since finding this out, I have commenced a mission, which is to try the chicken parmesan throughout Australia.  This may also have to involve beer tasting throughout Australia as well, considering I'd be at the pub anyhow.  Thus far, I have tasted the culinary delights of 3 different restaurants/pubs:  The Ivy, The Quarter, and the Flying Horse Bar and Brewery.  The first is a restaurant, the second is a cafe, and the third speaks for itself.    

Out of these 3 establishments, The Ivy has the best chicken parmesan.  It was the correct balance of cheese, chicken, breading, and tomato paste/sauce.  This was the first of my Australian chicken parmesans.  I thought I saw a sign stating that they were on sale for $13.  However, I failed to read the small print outside that specified that this was only the case 1 day during the week. That day was not that day.... so to speak.  The next best chicken parmesan was at The Quarter, a cafe in downtown Melbourne.  This chicken had the surprise delight of a piece of bacon along the top.  Bacon, down under, is actually more or less a slice of ham, and can be seen spread across the chicken in the picture.  My least favorite chicken parmesan was at the Brewery.  They burned the chicken and the whole thing was dry.  Luckily the Heifeweizen made up for the poor taste of the food.