While Gillian, the girls and I traipsed about Perth last October, the male members of our family headed off to David's hometown, Dunedin, New Zealand. What would you expect with two dads in charge of a holiday? McDonad's three times in one day? But of course. Leaving a seven-year-old behind at security to fend for himself? No dramas. James was fine with it, world traveler that he is. The security guard, on the other hand, decided there should be a responsible adult accompanying him. Or how about visiting a supermarket late at night when James should have been asleep just to check out shelf positioning of certain products? Bet you didn't guess that one ...
All of these incidents, and many, many more details are included in the following article. Read on and you will learn about the intimidating Maori war dance. The Australian/New Zealand rivalry is also a theme that runs throughout. Special thanks to David for writing the following post.
While the girls flew three hours west of Melbourne to Perth WA, the boys flew three hours in the opposite direction to Dunedin, NZ. so with five hours time difference, a currency, an accent and a whole heap of attitude between the two destinations, the boys discovered the passionate spectacle of Bledisloe Cup Rugby and the Maori war dance called the Haka.
New Zealand and Australia have been living side by side from the beginning, but like Canada and the United States, the "cousins" harbour a raft of keenly felt rivalries that appear trivial to the outsider, but to the locals are the very life blood of their identity.
Rugby for the New Zealanders is just such a defining force and since 1884 when the All Blacks won their first ever game (against Australians), the "inter-Dominion" rivalry between the two countries, has never ceased. Lord Bledisloe, the Governor-General of New Zealand formalised the competition with a cup to fight for and since its inception in 1931, the "All Blacks", New Zealand's national team, have enjoyed a 77% success rate including a period of 28 consecutive years from 1951 to 1978.
To give an idea of how immense an achievement this is from a small country of only 4 million people and 70 million sheep[1]. In the Occasionally United States of Australia, winter sports differ from state to state, Rugby (Union) is a private school boys game in Sydney and Brisbane while "Rugby League", a related but quite different game, is the working man's sport. In the rest of Australia, Australian Rules football reigns supreme in their hearts. However, while Rugby Union is played largely in the two north eastern states of Australia, this nevertheless translates to double the number of registered players that a small country like New Zealand can muster. For New Zealand however, Rugby Union is preeminent and universal in its popularity, spanning all regions and classes. The game has become a truly national interest and frequent calls are made to replace the national flag with a silver fern on a black background; the All Black playing strip..!
And yet, small population notwithstanding, perhaps New Zealand's prevailing success can be put down to the secret weapon of the Haka. For over a century of tradition, once the two opponents' national anthems have been played, the All Blacks interject with a traditional Maori war dance. Used by the Maori, the Polynesian natives of New Zealand, in their highly ritualised warfare for centuries before the Europeans arrived, the Haka is designed to intimidate. Watch the Haka here.
Few New Zealand men (or women) would not instinctively know the words learned from childhood. Stomping, pounding aggressively, gesticulating while opening wide your eyes and rolling them back to expose the whites, the Maori kids in the playground always did it best and they seem to go someplace the rest of us couldn't get. It's scary but impressive and it speaks to the shared and integrated coexistence of the Maori and pakeha (non-Maori NZers).
So to witness all this raw emotion, we had to travel to the heartland of provincial New Zealand, the sleepy University town of Dunedin, the capital of Otago Province and the home of the most partisan crowds ever heard. In a town of around 100,000 people, 40,000 turned up for games before the authorities clamped down on safety rules.
At 46 degrees South, Dunedin is equivalent to Fredericton NB and the Washington-Oregon border. It's nestled on the shores of a flooded extinct volcano surrounded by steep hills and is laid out with street names taken from Edinburgh, Scotland. Presbyterians settled Dunedin making it more than usually Scottish in a country that has more than its fair share of auld Caledonia's sons. Once the largest city in NZ, it's faded Victorian opulence shows through slightly flakey paint. It's a city of fine churches, sturdy public buildings, giddy steep streets and howling gales straight off the Antarctic Ocean, Dunedin is known for its warm student-filled hostelries and quirky humour.
Difficult as it was to get tickets to a sell-out game, flights into Dunedin were hardest of all so our journey started with a three hour flight to Christchurch, and a four hour drive south. Not accustomed to having kids in tow, Ross and I simply marched on through security at Melbourne airport, leaving James behind and Gus having his bag searched by transport authority guards. Not to worry, they soon caught up.
After three hours of nothing but the Tasman sea below, suddenly in the last 15 minutes of flight we crossed the west coast of the South Island of New Zealand - only to land at Christchurch on the east coast. The 12,000 foot Southern Alps and Mt Cook whipped up a bumpy descent. Soon we were fIve hungry boys in a car, speeding down the Canterbury plains; snow-capped Southern Alps on our right and alternating rain and sun sweeping in from the sea to the east.
Two MacDonalds stops later and the best "Fush & Chups" (as the NZ accent pronounces it) we have ever tasted, (sitting on a beach as the sun set), and we were descending the steep hills into Dunedin city. As the lights of the city twinkled far below, we almost forgot the trials of the day. But all that was far behind us as we made our way straight to a supermarket to check the shelf positioning of Ross's products. Ever on duty, he pointed out local variations. Then off to out B&B at a wild beach ten minutes south of town.
The morning dawned with crystal-clear blue southern skies and breakfast at St. Clair beach. The road took us high along the cliffs past spring blooms of yellow gorse, and past Cargill's castle, a ruined Victorian mansion, then descending again to the beach with the city spread out below.
Before lunch, we frightened the kids with a trip along the razor-back Road out to the seal and albatross colonies about 20 mins from town. Some frightening sights as the road winds along the ridge with ocean on one side and harbour on the other, both several hundred feet below, then out along salt flats to a deserted beach to try to see penguins.
Unfortunately too much to see and not enough time - but we were all in high spirits as we caught the free shuttle bus to the stadium. A hush came over the boys as they realised there were almost no Australian supporters in the crowd. A brooding ocean of people wearing black with silver ferns, this was a homage to the idea of dogged determination to win. A tough, thudding, grinding game that saw the home side drive a few humiliating nails in the Australians' box to send them home.
Well - we were tired and the last we saw of Dunedin was a dawn drive through the city centre to our drive-in McDonalds breakfast and we steamed up and out over the hills as we headed home. A quick look at the earthquake devastation and rebuilding of Christchurch on our way to the airport. Shocking how much of the city centre has had to be demolished, and road works everywhere. Enough of five boys in a car, Ross and I had a quick detour to the frequent flyers club - well you can only take one guest and the boys seemed happy enough sitting by the departure gate.... A few minutes of peace and quiet... Priceless.
All in all a perfect spring weekend to introduce the dramatic scenery of NZ to the Pittsburgh crew. My highlight was texting Gillian in Perth when Ross pronounced that the NZ food and coffee and scenery and ridiculously cheery people were " ...in many ways better than Australia..." He may have been polite or giddy from the fresh kiwi air, but I wasted no time in gently prodding the Aussie's pride to perpetuate the rivalry. Like the other 4 million kiwis, maybe I was born that way. Thanks Ross.
[1] According to stats.gov.nz the figure is now only 31 million. The 70 million figure dates from its peak in 1982.
Brilliant!
Posted by: Aunt Marion | 11/22/2013 at 12:58 PM