kiwi memories

Blogger.com Glitch today--thus, posting appears later than usual.

Don't let the title fool you; my pup's doing just fine. She's out there with those coffee cans---waiting. Before I go outside for another day of kicking the can, though, I must write about New Zealand. It's been on my mind these past few mornings. Whenever I head out the door to observe the cool, steady breeze causing the willow and aspen limbs to sway and forcing the quickly growing lush green grass to bend at nearly 90-degree angles, I can't help but think of spring days spent in Kiwi land three years ago.

It was early November which translates to early May here. I don't know if it's because of the great amounts of rain we've had through early spring or if it's just a yearning to go back. Whatever it is, the long-awaited awakening of spring here in North Idaho has thrust me into dreaming of New Zealand where abundant greenery rules the views.

We stayed at an Appaloosa Ranch for three nights after I first met Annie in Auckland. She was attending Waikato University in Hamilton. Ironically, I had written an Appaloosa Journal story about Peter and Rae Mutch who lived just outside of Hamilton. They offered farmstays, so I took them up on one. Farmstays and bed and breakfasts are very common in New Zealand because they serve up what New Zealand is all about---farming and traveling.

We encountered a bit of rain nearly every day we were there. Maybe that's what contributes to the greenery. It's beyond belief, almost magical. One can look for miles and see nothing but gentle rolling hills with hedges. One would be hard-pressed to find weeds interfering with the beauty of the farm fields which are dotted with thousands of sheep or huge herds of Ayrshires, Jerseys, Holsteins or varying breeds of beef cattle. Neat and tidy would be a good characterization for most Kiwi farms.

I experienced a Kodak moment one day as Annie and I were climbing a steep hillside overlooking the Tasmanian Sea. The grass was knee deep. The wind was blowing. As I looked upward, I got tired, thinking of the steep climb ahead. I also saw a couple of sheep looking down at me. Annie coaxed me onward. While stopping to take a breath, I looked down at the shimmering sea below and said, "If I never take another step again, this will be enough." I felt like I'd entered Heaven at that moment.

We made it quite a ways up that hill as we did nearly every day on different hills, including the Tongariro Crossing, which is known as one of New Zealand's most beautiful day hikes. Well, that day wasn't beautiful, but knowing that I'd hiked 12 miles through Lord of the Rings territory and had overcome snow, sleet, sand and a desire to just lie down and never move another inch gave me great pride. Again, without Annie coaxing me, I doubt I'd have made it to the end of the trail.

As we visited as much of the North Island as possible in nine days, I could see that the Kiwis truly love their fine horses, especially the ones that can run. Nearly every town the size of Sandpoint has a beautiful race track facility. While we were there, the entire nation was transfixed on Australia's Melbourne Cup. The Melbourne Cup is to the folks from Down Under what the upcoming Kentucky Derby is to America.

As stated in an article at (www.cultureandrecreation.gov.au/articles/melbournecup/) Melbourne Cup Day is Australia's most famous Tuesday. It's a day when Australia and New Zealand stop whatever they're doing to listen to the race call, or watch the race on TV, and even those who don't bet, try their luck. This all occurs at 3 p.m. AEST, on the first Tuesday in November.

On that Tuesday afternoon, Annie and I were driving along a lakeshore with crashing waves on one side and a hillside covered with the most extensive network of blooming nasturtiums I've ever seen. Amidst the magnificent scenery, we listened on the car radio, just like loyal Kiwis, to the spell-binding call of the race. I believe that year, New Zealand had a favorite in the race, but if I recall correctly, their horse did not win.

Australians and New Zealanders have always had a bit of a rivalry, and on this year the All Blacks rugby team overpowered the Aussies in the World Cup competition, which occurs every four years. I would venture to say that the Kiwi nation is probably more loyal to its rugby team than Americans are to baseball. Virtually all New Zealand stores carry merchandize and huge posters touting their All Blacks. It's like us Northwest folks and our Zags.

One Saturday night, when we stayed at a motel outside of Wellington, the All Blacks were playing in a World Cup game. We made the mistake of standing between the restaurant and the big screen TV. We knew to move out of their way because everyone there loved their All Blacks and they didn't want to miss one second of the game.

I could write all day about New Zealand, but I must get outside and enjoy my surroundings where green grass is growing and blowing and the bright yellow daffodils doing their best to stand at attention in the North Idaho morning breeze. If I can't go back to Kiwi land, at least the sights of this gorgeous April day will allow me to dream of one of the more magnificent experiences of my life.