Things I Miss, Volume I

Above all, I miss family and friends but in the spirit of frivolity, I publish my first list of things I miss:

1. My Kitchen; Not only do I miss the fabulous layout of my new kitchen, but all the amenities too. Here I make do with the barest of utensils, my one mixing bowl and struggle to operate the fanbake.
2. Driving; I admit it, I'm terrified to drive on the left. I've driven twice in the last month, both times less than a kilometer. I suppose I'll need to get over this eventually, but no rush - there's lots of months left to figure it out.
3. Coca-cola; As my most notable vice, I gave up my workday Coke when I moved to NZ. After three weeks, I indulged myself on one particularly exhausting day only to discover that the NZ formula is not the same as the one I know and love back home :-(
4. Goldfish Crackers; Mikaela threw herself to the floor and cried when I told her that they didn't sell Goldfish here. There doesn't even seem to exist a alternative, a la Gators, it's straight crackers only in this land.

That's all folks...so far.

Hunua, an MTB Event

With his collection of bikes, closet of spandex, and spring shave, there is no doubt my husband is an avid cyclist. As such, it is not surprising that our tour of New Zealand involves several mountain bike (MTB) events, road races, and the occasional half-marathon. Oh wait, the half-marathons are for me ;-)

This past Sunday, we headed out of town to the Hunua Ranges. Located an hour south of Auckland, the drive in is one of rolling hills, green pastures, and various animals. Mikaela is constantly on the lookout for cows, sheep, horses, and donkeys - it helps pass the drive. As we enter the park, the road starts to climb, and climb. As we climb, the road becomes dirt and narrow and our GPS system believes us to be in a field. There are no other cars in any direction, and you can't help but wonder if you took a wrong turn. As we begin to descend back into the heart of the moutain ranges, an uneasiness settles in my stomach - what if our gutless car can't climb back out? Dave assures me that the car will make it...very slowly, and we continue on. At last we arrive at a road block, our choice is a little path to the right that indicates it's part of a horse back riding trail. We take the path and with a few more bumps, we're there.

It is an eclectic mix of riders; the super serious, the super fit, and the super fun. The youngest rider was 10 and the oldest 60; Mikaela & I seated ourselves in the feed zone to watch the festivities. As the riders climbed up to the zone, their discomfort was obvious. The rapid beat of their hearts seemed almost audible, their breathing ragged, and their turnover laboured. On more than one occasion, a rider would cry out to ask if the cut-off time had arrived? Could this be the end of their misery? They would always look defeated as they learned there was time for one more lap. Of course, this was not all of the competitors - my Poobah climbed with ease, a real champ ;-) If he needed inspiration, he need only look to Mikaela as she gave her best cheer "Go, Daddy, Go! You can do it!". Not all finished and there was blood shed by more than one but this little group of cyclists were in good spirits on this sunny, spring afternoon.

Dave was right, our car did manage to climb back out of the Ranges and we joined a traffic jam further up the road. It's been several years since I saw traffic stopped for cows crossing the road, but here we sat as the herd made its way from the pasture, across the road, and up the steep path to their barn.

Oh, did I mention that Dave took top honours in his age group? I'm so proud.

An Unexpected Entry

As I go about my time here, I file away little things I might like to mention in my blog. Since Dave & I had headed to the Northlands this weekend, I had planned such riveting material as the disappointment of Sheepworld, the challenges of travelling with a two-year old, and the beauty of Whangarei Falls. All of this seems less important following Dave's grim discovery...

After hiking the short jaunt to the bottom of the Whangarei Falls, Dave wanted to climb across the rocks to get closer. As I was busy changing Mikaela out of yet another pee-soaked outfit, I encouraged him to go solo and I would take a picture once he was under them. When I turned back a moment later, he was hunched over in what I assumed was a gasping for air position. Given his disregard for his own safety, I naturally assumed he had had a near death experience - most likely having the wind knocked out of him. When he made the universal sign for a slit throat, it seemed to confirm my suspicions. His next words shocked me, "There's a dead body over here".

While at the edge of the pool with Mikaela earlier, I had noticed a black and white sneaker. It reminded me of the mysterious feet washing ashore in BC, but I dismissed the idea that it could be anything untoward - we were at a major tourist attraction surrounded by beauty. It would seem I was wrong. Once Dave composed himself and returned to us, we headed to the car park to phone the police. They took an unusually long time for them to appear, and the first words of the officer on the scene "So you found one for us, mate?" were not comforting. As Dave headed back down with them, I was oddly drawn to watch from far away. In fact, there was a little cluster of curious bystanders stationed on the viewing platform opposite the crime scene. As the hours tick by post-discovery, both Dave & I find ourselves googling looking for more details. Who was this man? How did he die? I don't know if we'll ever have the answers we seek.

http://www.northernadvocate.co.nz/localnews/storydisplay.cfm?storyid=3784801&thesection=localnews&thesubsection=&thesecondsubsection=

Although disturbing, and I suspect Dave will have nightmares for awhile, it has in no way soiled our opinion of New Zealand. We'll just have to try and remember the time before the discovery...

Piha

Approximately 28km to the west of Auckland, there is a little piece of surfers' paradise called Piha. As one of the locales told us: there are those that have a apartment or house in the city and visit often, those that have a house in Piha and commute to the city, and those that are lucky enough to have both.

Once you depart the city, the winding route allows you your first glance of the famous New Zealand sheep. They, and their friends the goats, chickens, and occasional donkey, are nonchalently grazing against the backdrop of the Waitakere Range forests. After a few more minutes, we entered the Waitakere Range for ourselves. The road is a test of will for those of us prone to motion sickness; it winds up and around, incredibly narrow and facepaced. As you near Piha, the forest is replaced by rugged coastline. The road remains nerve-racking with certain death to the left and cliffs to the right, I give kudos to my husband's foritude, but the view is beautiful.

Rising out of the beach is the Lions Rock, this natural rock formation serves to separate the north and south beaches. At the top, you can enjoy the panaromic view of the forests, the cliffs, and of course, the beaches below with their crashing waves. Despite the chilly afternoon, Mikaela took full advantage of our outing. She ran wild on the beach, chased ducks, and climbed the Lions Rock. Piha is worth returning to...

The Momma Booboo

From the Pulled Elbow Wiki:
If the forearm of a young child is pulled, by an impatient parent or for whatever reason, it is possible for this traction to pull the radius into the annular ligament with enough force to cause it to be jammed therein. This causes significant pain, partial limitation of flexion/extension of the elbow and total loss of pronation/supination in the affected arm.

During my apres-work excursions with Dave & Mikaela Thursday night, I played the role of impatient parent. While Dave was extracting our millions from the bank machine, Mikaela made a break for it. As I grabbed her arm to stop her, she pulled the typical toddler move of allowing all her body weight to sag to the ground...leaving her essentially dangling from one arm. She began to cry immediately, but given I'd just stopped her escape - I wasn't particularly concerned.

We tried our normal routes of distraction - the yummy blueberry muffin was rejected, and the swing only held interest if Mommy was holding her. At this point, I couldn't help remembering my sister Bobbi's email from earlier this week. Her daughter, Tara, had fallen out of bed and been diagnosed with a pulled elbow. I began to take inventory and was informed that Mikaela had a Momma Booboo under her shirt. As Mikaela is fond of discussing her booboo's this wasn't so alarming, but her decided lack of use of her right arm was beginning to be. We headed home, she wanted only to be carried and even the excitement of the Troll Bridge did nothing to improve her spirits.

Once home, Mikaela allowed us to further poke and prod her. In the theme of "better safe, than sorry", we headed to the doctor's to have the Momma Booboo investigated. It was indeed a pulled elbow; as I watched the doctor manipulate her elbow back into place, every bite of guilt I had stored away from her starving infant days came roaring back. I could now add words like significant pain, partial limitations and total loss to the list of things I've caused my daughter. Although the doctor warned us her arm would be sore for the rest of the evening, I was unprepared for seeing out normally boisterous daughter refusing to use her right arm. As she woke that night for the third time, we gave her Tylenol and guilt-ridden I asked Dave to take us to the hospital. He obliged, and as we sat in the waiting room, she finally began to use her right arm again. We left without seeing a doctor and on the way home I realized a valuable lesson - always wait for the Tylenol to kick in.