Bemily

Returning home

2009-10-27T17:25:00.000-07:00

Our epic honeymoon is drawing to a close and so it seems fitting to cast down a few insightful pearls of wisdom (cough cough) I've gleaned over the course of our travels.

1. Never put on a brave front when offered a mountain bike with a hard narrow seat designed for a man, it's just not worth it.

2. Be wary of any doctor who tells you to wear a moonboot for a month, especially when they don't express any concern that you can't move two of your toes.

3. Your Spanish teacher is incorrect when she warns "you will die" if you continue to enjoy the odd Hiram Walker gin and tonic.

4. La Ley y El Orden or Law and Order is pure television gold..."chung-chung"

5. Don't touch the shower head when it's connected to a 30amp current as you will have a dead arm for at least half an hour.

6. The Settlers of Catan is an addictive boardgame if you play it with the best people.

7. You will always meet friendly, generous and inspiring people no matter where you travel in the world.

8. Beware any foods that look like tofu - appearances are deceiving and reconstituted fish remains make not for an enjoyable soy substitute.

9. Aotearoa is beautiful and I feel lucky to call it home.

It has been a pleasure writing this blog.

Until the next journey, with love,

Mrs R

7 haikus for 7 days and 280kms

2009-10-13T21:28:00.000-07:00

Vancouver to Cowichan Bay, Vancouver Island

Bus, skytrain, ferry
Bike, ferry and bike some more
Icecream in the sun!

Cowichan Bay to Lake Cowichan

Box of granola
Fresh coffee, harbourside ride
Bumpy railway path

Lake Cowichan to Port Renfrew

Lonely logging road
Skinny dip in Lizard Lake
Albacore tuna

Port Renfrew to Point-No-Point

Meaty uphill grind
Sunset dining with vino
Utter luxury

Point-No-Point to Sooke

A meagre breakfast
Red log bridge to Point-No-Point
Love that buttertart

Sooke to Victoria

Galloping Goose Trail
Tea and toast with Colina
Peach and apple wines

Victoria to Vancouver

Easy riding now
Hearty luncheon at Roost farm
Missed the bloody boat

The Rs

Vancouver Island - bring it on!!

2009-10-04T16:39:00.001-07:00

We have been living in Vancouver for 9 weeks! Packing up our small furnished apartment has been a little sad but also revealing... check out all the coffee and tea we have been through!
Tomorrow we head over to Vancouver Island where we have 7 days of cycling to look forward to. Travelling by bicycle seemed like a cost effective and fun way to explore. Having said that, I suspect we have some (enjoyably!?) challenging days ahead of us given that we decided not to hire panniers and are instead opting to ride with a small backpack each. Kiwi-ingenuity and a certain sense of oneness with each other and each others sweat and possibly increasingly smelly cycle gear will have to dominate!

The basic check-list looks good though:
- decent weather report
- wet weather gear, down-jackets, gloves etc in the bags just in case the weather turns sour on us
- spare tubes and associated repair kit sorted
- accommodation booked - showers/baths/even a spa pool on one night - so we can go to sleep smelling of roses even if there isn't always the opportunity to wash our cycle gears!
- coffee - bound to get headaches if we go without
- almond and peanut butter plus plenty of nuts, dried fruit and chocolate!

Ben is currently attempting to consume as much cereal as he can based on his motto ... you never know when you're next going to get a meal. If I'm anxious about the cycling he is beyond anxious about getting hungry!!!

See you on the flipside

Mrs R

Vancouver's Finest Cinnamon Rolls

2009-09-23T15:40:00.000-07:00

Timbits and the Double Double

2009-09-19T16:57:00.000-07:00

The Double Double is a Canadian classic. We knew it had to be done and done well... as for Timbits, we were like kids in a candy store.

Ah yes the double double... It all began in 1964 in Hamilton, Ontario. That's when the Tim Hortons chain was founded. Apparently Tim was a legend in the National Hockey League back in his hey-day.

The first stores served coffee and donuts, simple and successful. Timbits came a little later in 1976.

Ever wonder why the need for the hole in the middle of a donut? Well if there wasn't a hole there wouldn't be a genius marketing ploy to sell bite-sized donuts at Tim Hortons!

This is us at Tim Hortons with our Double Double (coffee) and an assortment of Timbits!

Post Tim Hortons I can tell you the Double Double consists of filter coffee with double cream and double sugar. It doesn't really taste like coffee - not when you normally take it black or with light milk - BUT it does taste good! Lets face it, fat and sugar mixed together pretty much always tastes good!

As for Timbits, I liked the chocolate and the old fashioned......but if I had a choice I'd rather eat another Canadian classic, a decadent cinnamon roll!

And if I keep up my log rolling I reckon I can enjoy a few more before we head home!

Mrs R

Poolside chats...

2009-09-13T12:31:00.000-07:00

We're enjoying some glorious sunshine this weekend, perfect weather for swimming and sunbathing. The Kitsilano Pool closes for the season today so we have made sure we've spent some time there. Here's what we overheard yesterday....

A young girl (5 years old) was with her Dad (his native language was probably German).

Girl "Can I come to the pool by myself Daddy?"
Dad "Not yet, you're too young. But when you're 8 then you'll be able to come. How old are you now? 5?"
They count out her age on their fingers, confirming that she is indeed five.
Dad "In three years when you're 8 then you can come on your own. You will be able to drive the bicycle yourself."
Girl "But I want to come with you Daddy."
Dad "Oh I know, and I will still come when I can, but it just means you will be able to go when I can't"
Girl "But what if I don't know the way?"
Dad "Ahhh but when you're eight years, you will know the way!"

Bless.

Moments later we observed a young child, tottering around in the shallows, his sagging nappy soaked with the crotch hanging dangerously low between his chubby knees. His mother was nearby, as was a friendly albeit concerned lifeguard.

Lifeguard "Excuse me, we don't normally allow children in the pool without swimwear. I don't have to tell you, that diaper looks like it could just explode."
Mother "Oh, can you buy waterproof ones here?"
Lifeguard "Yes I think they sell them at the front office. Because you know, if it explodes then we've got a BIG problem."

Hilarious.

A collective sigh of relief was heard poolside when the mother returned with a blue waterproof diaper. Public health crisis averted.

Mr and Mrs R

Vancouver Triathlon

2009-09-07T20:57:00.000-07:00

I have had my head and body buried in training for most of the last 6 weeks, so it was with excitement at the opportunity to actually compete, though also a certain sense of foreboding, that I entered myself in this morning's Vancouver Triathlon.

This is basically the reason I entered:

I am particularly taken by First Nations art, especially depictions of wild animals, the Orca being top of my list of favourites. The prospect of receiving a competition T-Shirt with the above image printed on it meant my entry was certain, regardless of the timing of the race in the lead up to my slightly more important, if less likely to be represented by ANY KIND OF INDIGENOUS CULTURE WHATSOEVER, race in Perth on October 25th.

I gleefully scaled back my training routine over the last couple of days, whilst unfortunately suffering insomnia as a result. There will no chance of that tonight. I enjoyed the lengthy process of gear-checklist-ticking which could be considered the fifth sport of triathlon, after the 3 usual suspects and general self-aggrandising. I managed to pick up a pair of aerobars for a lazy fiver from the local bike shop, a place so busy and popular they offered me the sidewalk to fit the bars myself! For that price, I was happy to call the pavement my workshop.

With everything tucked into my bursting backpack, and a hearty breakfast of homemade Bircher, stewed nectarines, 2 spoons of exquisite Olympic yoghurt and a cinnamon raisin bagel with real peanut butter (I wrote that out in full so as to experience again a little of the delight I tasted as I ate it) I set off along the wet roads of autumnal Vancouver, in pitch dark, for Stanley Park and the shore of Second Beach.

I racked my bike beside marvels of bicycle technology that surely could never have been envisaged by the original inventor of the humble velocipede.

Wooden Velocipede 1866 image courtesy of The Velocipede Museum, Delaware. Someone needs to update Wayne's World - "Delaware, home of the Velocipede...schwing"

My wooden bike had gained weight in the rain, and I wondered how it would hold up on the killer descents. But seriously, the ocean temperature was a chilly 16 degrees, making me glad I had brought an extra swimcap for a less vicelike icecream headache. We assembled on the beach, and I was thankful to find that the brilliant organisers had chosen bright orange "bu-eys" for the course, easily visible through goggles left constantly fogged by the vast temperature difference between my skin and the Pacific's 49th parallel. Not everyone found the bu-eys so easy to see however, and I experienced an unusual variety of schadenfreude as I caught 2 swimmers who were zig-zagging their way to shore. I clambered onto my bike some considerable amount of time after the leaders.

For an inner city course, you actually couldn't design a more picturesque venue than Stanley Park. Nor is there a better way to celebrate the foresight of the founders of Vancouver than to hold a manly test of endurance within the place dedicated by Lord Stanley "to the use and enjoyment of peoples of all colours, creeds, and customs, for all time". The 9.6k cycle loop skirts the perimeter of the park, past stands of Kwakwaka'wakw totem poles...

...alongside pounamu-green waters, and the inspirational bronze sculpture of Harry Jerome...

...before taking in a steady winding climb above the elegant Lions Gate Bridge, and a cracking descent back to second beach.

3 times round, I approached this circuit with vigour. I was passed only by a couple of bigger riders, and felt confident they would succumb to the pursuit of my eager feet on the run. What I didn't really recognise was how cold my hands were getting on each long descent. Straightening out of the corner onto the final lap, and passing the thickest mob of spectators on the course, I went over a bump in the road which caused my frigid fingers to bounce up off the hoods. As the front wheel twisted sideways beneath me the tire exploded with the report of a Colt, and I slid, mercifully, along the slick wet road, rolling from front, to left hip and onto my back, coming to rest in the gutter.

I stood up to a collective wince from the onlookers and expected that that was the end of the race for me. But along came the only two St Johns' first-aiders on the course, who cleaned and dressed my wounds while Good Samaritan Brian (to whom I dedicate the race), set about repairing my flat! Tube and body thoroughly patched, I received a wonderful ovation from the crowd who had seen my spectacular double twisting back. I completed the final lap conservatively, happy to be in one piece and still in the event.

The run was another lovely scenic loop, this time along the shore of Lost Lagoon and through towering forests of cedar and fir. I felt surprisingly good, unhindered by my extensive road rash. After the first lap in 19mins I decided to have go at posting a decent run time and quickened my step to record 36:57 for the 10k and 2:24:05 for the roughly olympic distance event, including the 12mins I spent "recovering" during the bike leg!

The post-race highlight, other than a kiss from Mrs R, was the delicious feast of athlete-favoured foods! What an insightful bunch the Multisports Canada organisers are: they had fruit and muffins, all conveniently pre-sliced, and then the piece de resistance: a line up of bagels beside enormous jars of nutella, peanut butter, and jams including Saskatoon Berry - more Canadian than even Maple Syrup! I was in heaven.

Lessons learnt for Perth: go hard, so as to best enjoy the tucker on offer when you finish; but unless you've got Spidey reactions and a Fairy Princess to grant you 3 wishes

you better respect the conditions or you might get a reminder of today that you'd rather never repeat!

Mr R...ashy

No no after you...please I insist

2009-09-04T17:46:00.000-07:00

This is our house. Wouldn't that be wonderful if it were true! Actually this is where we are living. Houses in Kitsilano tend to be big. Grand in fact. We live in a small apartment in the front section of the house. Four apartments make up the whole house and there is another stand alone apartment at the end of the drive. We share a beautiful garden. It's all very convivial.

Canadians are friendly folk. A couple from Toronto just moved in across the road from us. The first time they saw us they introduced themselves, we chatted on the street, and when we went our separate ways it felt good. We felt like we were part of the neighbourhood. That's one of the nice things about staying in a place for more than a few days, you start to blend in, I could even go so far as to say belong... but maybe I'm just wishful!

This is our street. Lovely and green isn't it. It's also a source of possible acquisitions as it is commonplace to see little piles of stuff (books, cutlery, furniture, clothing) left on the curbside outside peoples houses. And it's not junk (well, not necessarily!). We've picked up an excellent drink bottle and Ben has acquired two extra pairs of shorts, rather marvellous with all the training he is doing.

People stop their car to let you cross the street. No zebra crossings needed. It's terribly polite. Occasionally this has caused us to feel very confused, standing on the street at an intersection...four cars stopped...waiting...waiting... and THEN we realise all the drivers are looking at us to go first!

This is the glorious garden.

And that is all for today,

Mrs R

Plonk...er

2009-08-27T16:41:00.000-07:00

Most banal conversation I've overheard at Kits Pool

"You want to get some wine?"
"um.."
"How bout a bottle of sherry, we'll get a bottle of sherry."
grunt
"You like red wine? I'll tell her to get some red wine too"
further grunt
"Have you had Bollinger? We got a bottle. It was $450."
"Oh you buy it?"
"Yeah we bought it, man I was pissed."
"mmm.."
"That Bollinger's good s*&t. Real bubbly."

This conversation went on in exactly the same fashion for the entire seven minutes I lasted lying next to them in the glorious sunshine. At one point I discretely cocked one eye to ascertain who the culprit - obnoxiously disturbing my much anticipated post-swim sunbathe - was.

Not too many surprises - approximate age 45, tanned to within an inch of his life, and clearly not overestimating his alcohol consumption. I couldn't see the grunter as Mr Bollinger was pool-side in his very own deck chair.

Resisting the urge to declare the voice in my head shouting, "Get a life!", I picked up my towel and left.

On the way home I guzzled some old fashioned H2O. My mother would have been proud.

Mrs R

Galapagos musings...

2009-08-13T14:29:00.000-07:00

I find myself confined to indoor-activities on account of my foot still troubling me. Fortunately the rain continues to pour steadily and so I do not feel like I am missing out on anything. Besides this is the perfect opportunity to reflect on our 8 day cruise around the Galapagos Islands. Things began rather unexpectedly...

After our first lunch onboard Yate Fragata I was feeling both relieved and optimistic about avoiding seasickness (unfortunately this would later prove to be misguided optimism). We were moving at quite a clip, and the boat was easily cutting through the calm water.

Having decided to venture out to the stern for some fresh air and sunshine we were immediately captivated by a gory scene.

Below us were two young men we hadn't been introduced to. They were butchering a goat. It was clear this was an action they had performed many times as they moved with the assuredness and ease of the practiced. Though carrying some extra flesh themselves, they were strong and I believed them when they described the difficulty of the hunt due to rough terrain.

As they hacked away at the goat there was often a moment of pause when they would look to see whether one of the many black frigate birds swarming above had been able to catch one of the bloody bones which they lobbed out over the water.

Alas, for the birds there was no feast as they were unable to do little more than create a dramatic silhouette against the brilliantly blue sky. I wondered at the daring of these birds which lacking the ability to swim, nevertheless attempted to snatch the heavy bones in their hooked bills. To time it wrongly and dip their wings in the water would have meant certain death.

Instead the bones and blood dropped into our wake.

It's interesting that despite being an UNESCO world heritage site, introduced animals such as feral goats continue to be allowed to represent a threat to native animals and species. The locals were able to convince the National Park Board not to undertake pest eradication programmes on some of the populated islands in order to preserve stocks of introduced wild animals for food.

But of course one of the main threats to the Galapagos must be the impact of tourism as described in recent news articles (see http://www.guardian.co.uk/environment/2009/aug/12/wildlife-conservation for example).

Sir David Attenborough's view that tourists are a "necessary evil", providing income to the islanders and funding for conservation efforts makes me feel a little better about being a contributor to this human impact. As does the knowledge that this was (and rightly so), a once in a lifetime trip.

So guilt subsiding at least for the moment, here are a few favourite photos. I hope you enjoy them.

Mrs R

Promotional Blog

2009-08-01T10:48:00.000-07:00

Straight up we love Vancouver. I'm thinking I should get a job as a tourism rep. It is an easy place to sell. Here's why:

Right now I'm at the Vancouver Public Library (Kitsilano branch). It's air-conditioned (word to the Napier Library air conditioning is essential). I'm on the internet, the connection is fast, and more importantly I get 60 minutes for free. Magazines, DVDs, CDs and books are ALL free to loan. This place is a haven for time-rich cash-poor tourists!!!

The 137m Kitsilano Pool (seriously, almost 3x the length of an Olympic distance pool) is a swimmers dream, especially if you're training for a long distance triathlon. At first we were skeptical about the lack of lane ropes and apparent lack of any lanes. There are two black lines on the bottom of the pool about two metres apart. You swim up on the right (there are arrows) and people pass on the inside. It works. A month pass is Canadian $40.

Check it. That same monthly pool pass also gets you entry into the community gym. Great equipment (both cardio and weights).

Cherries. Blueberries. We have been having a cup of blueberries EACH with our breakfast cereal. Discovering the 99c fresh produce bargain bin at our local green grocers is possibly the best thing that has happened to us since arriving. Generally there is an abundance of healthful foods. It's like the Hawke's Bay on heat. Wellington's Dixon Street Deli on speed.

I mentioned the BC heatwave a post ago. It has been over 25 degrees all week. No rain. And currently there is just the lightest breeze outside keeping you happily chilled.

One aspect of Vancouver that has concerned me is the frequency with which we see people walking the streets clutching an over-sized beverage. Typically branded Starbucks. The basketballish looking teenagers I can understand, they're probably hungry 99% of the day. It's the teeny tiny folk that throw me. I've seen women clasping onto a cup that is the length of their forearm. Having observed such feats closely my preliminary conclusion is that the over-sized beverage is actually a fashion accessory and arm strengthening device rolled into one.

Another phenomenon is the "celebrity-like" condition of the mothers at the pool. Imagine a world where everyone has flat rock-hard abs, sculptured arms and legs and a general glow... oh and wearing a string bikini. That is Kits Pool. I mentioned this to a local and my source informs me that Kits Beach is the 3rd sexiest beach in the world. Fact.

The beach is right next door to the pool so it stands to reason there is a fair bit of local hottie currency between the two. And it's not just the ladies, we've noted a fair amount of buff male bods too.

Hmmm... on that note I'm thinking a pre-lunch gym visit is in order,

Mrs R

Summer time in Miami enroute to BC

2009-07-31T14:06:00.000-07:00

"Once in a lifetime heatwave"

2009-07-28T19:50:00.001-07:00

We arrived in Vancouver yesterday. It is sizzling.

The air is so charged with heat there is a possibility we may be able to fry an egg on the stovetop tomorrow morning without turning the element on. The pancakes will likely require the normal cooking method to be employed.

A7 of the Vancouver Sun has a quote from Environment Canada meteorologist David Jones. He says: "Five consecutive days with temperatures over 32 C .... We're going to do that this week. That's only happened three times since 1880".

This is the kind of humidity that means you can focus on nothing bar the fact that you are sweaty (possibly smelly) and require cooling agents... incessantly. Round the clock vigilance.

So far we have employed the usual methods such as swimming (Kitsilano has a 137m pool!), eating spicy food (specifically wasabi), drinking cold and hot beverages (the theory being that if we drink hot tea it will make us sweat more and dissapate the heat).

We are enjoying the sunshine, however looking for rental accommodation and finding it both pricey and inconveniently "just taken" is starting to wear a little thin.

Mustn't grumble though, better just to sweat this one out, as I see from the metservice and frixo websites that tonight in Wellington it will be 7 degrees, and tomorrow in Slough it will (actually) be drizzly. Incidentally today's high for Slough is listed as N/A. Perhaps that just means no one cares, seeing as everyone's probably in Swindon on 'oliday.

Mrs R

¨Cuzcasan¨

2009-07-13T09:00:00.000-07:00

We met 3 Australian girls at our language school in Cuzco a couple of weeks ago. They became friends when working for Outward Bound in Canberra, so needless to say they are top sheilas!

We were very interested when they told us about a local yoga class they had been to led by an American guy who takes his troop up into the hills to perform their asanas out in the open. On Saturday we made our way to Plazoleta San Blas along with Erin Turner, a friend from med school, and about 17 others, to get a taste of this experience for ourselves.

Al took us up a long pathway winding out of the city and into the tranquility of the bush beneath the dazzling highland sunshine. The bush was tranquil but I was breathing like a racehorse when we emerged in a shady glade of eucalypts at 3500m up in the sky! The location was wonderful, a flat piece of land at the foot of The Temple of the Moon, an Inca ruin carved into the local boulders. We had walked past typical ramshackle housing and sweet barefoot Peruvian children on the way, firmly placing us in the Andes, but sitting down on the grass under the trees and idly tossing away the gumnuts which prodded my bottom like peas through a mattress, we were transported to Australia and the land of Snugglepot, Cuddlepie and the Banksia Men. As I closed my eyes to begin the breathing relaxation at the start of the class, the scent of the bush was invigorating.

Al is a mild mannered and gregarious fellow, whose teaching voice and lilting Californian accent is ideal for yoga - gentle, clear and specific. His spanish instructions rapidly endeared him to the new members of the class as he sought assistance with remembering difficult terms and took time to relate a few simple tales about friends from home and their yogic feats of strength and determination.

He took us through a hatha yoga sequence, focusing on balance and stretching, rather than the cardiovascular blitzkrieg of asthanga yoga that I´m used to from years of attending the fantastic Gaura Yoga loft in Wellington. I quickly reminded myself of the importance of taking everything at the recommended pace, as I was barely in ¨la plancha¨ (the plank) for 5 seconds when I realised that the thin air was not going to make this a fun day for my muscles if I tried to recreate a sea-level class! Al spent time telling us about his friend´s website worldplank.com which entreats visitors to improve their lives by taking 1 minute a day to hold the famously dificult position. He joked that he had a watch with him, and we would all do a 60 second plank today, before giving a wee chuckle and letting us down from our ever more shaky poses!

As I stood in trikonasana gazing up at my top thumb, the sunlight twinkling through the waving eucalyptus leaves and the birds chirping merrily amongst them, I felt pleasure at the realisation that life for everyday Peruvians, which is normally so hard, could be this peaceful. During the class a number of local residents passed by on their way to town, walking along the tracks that have been byways for centuries. We are forunate to have a series of fantastic tracks cut through the New Zealand bush for walking and running, but people of countries like Peru and Guatemala have similarly beautiful routes as their daily thoroughfares, without the need to seek them out for the purpose of getting out from amidst the noise and haste.

Always the most enjoyable part of any yoga class for me, we ended the 90min session in shavasan, the corpse pose, which involves lying on your back and trying not to think of anything while you also try desperately not to fall asleep! The ability not to think of anything is deemed an important skill for the yogi, though I have decided after years of trying that for me the latter is enough, and that whatever thoughts stroll into my head during such a enjoyable time should be allowed to develop and then flutter away! I need higher expectations. A higher taste perhaps.

We walked around the ruins of the Temple after the class, and listened to descriptions of the Inca carvings of puma, condor, snake, llama and monkey, by a representative from the Instituto de Cultura who´s job it is to wait on the sunny outcrops for wandering tourists to come by and be enlightened by him. What a life!!

After a leisurely stroll back down the hill we complemented the sustained exertion with a delicious and simple meal at the hare krishna vegetarian cafe near the plaza where we began. The spices, textures and the accompanying tea all put me in mind of the Gaura Yoga loft in Vivian Street, and the rejuvenation that comes from eating good food after vigorous exercise, in the company of good people.
Mr R

Wonder this.

2009-07-06T18:00:00.001-07:00

There are seven "official" wonders of the world. What you maybe didn´t realise was that there is another man-made creation possibly of less classical antiquity but nevertheless wonderous and that is the thermal baths of Aguas Calientes.

According to www.rediscovermachupicchu.com the baths have "water 42 ºC warm, which has curative effects, good for people who have problems with bones and joints, muscle pain, very good for those who suffer of kidney-related affections. The water is sulphurous and comes from deep underground. Like Japan, Hungary and New Zealand are famous for their hot springs, so is this little Peruvian town!"

The curative nature of the baths is a selling point BUT what they should be saying is that this is your one opportunity to enjoy (?!?) a huge warm bath in chicken broth... with strangers! Seriously this is the only way I can describe the experience. It was as if they used Maggi Chicken stock instead of chlorine to disinfect the water. Add to this a dozen Germans, two and a half dozen Peruvians, two young French students and two New Zealanders and you have yourself a well seasoned soup!

Bon appétit!

Mrs R

¡Machu Picchu!

2009-07-06T17:18:00.000-07:00

Machu Picchu is deservedly one of the seven wonders of the world. It is hard to capture the wow factor with a camera but we tried anyway...

Mrs R

Innocent

2009-07-04T12:02:00.000-07:00

On Sunday afternoon we sat in the Plaza de Armas and spent a couple of hours observing tourists (eating icecream, reading their travel guides and taking photos) and watching families. Mothers and fathers sat on the sidelines whilst their young children took centre stage, racing each other and feeding rice to the fat pigeons.

There was a small boy, no more than seven years old sitting about half a metre to my left. Every so often he raised his eyes to watch two slightly younger boys run up to the steps where we were sitting and then back to the bench where their family was.

Resolutely he dropped his head and continued with his task. From a tatty jean backpack he took a small handful of rice. In his free hand he held a long and narrow plastic bag which he had opened by blowing into the top. Carefully funnelling rice into the bag, holding it up to check progress and sometimes to compare the portion of rice with a completed bag, he worked patiently.

Judging there to be sufficient rice he tied a neat knot at the top of each bag and delicately placed the completed parcel over his thigh. Quite proudly he smoothed his hand over his growing pile of thin rice filled bags, now numbering six.

After a time he zipped up his bag, tossed it over his back and got to his feet hoisting his grubby blue pants up as he did so. The bottoms were brown with dirt and torn.

Eyes on the younger boys he gingerly started towards them, the rice parcels swinging from his hands. Half way he stopped. The boys had started a new game which involved balancing with two hands and one foot on the ground, trying to get their free leg higher in the air than the other could. The boy with the rice watched for a bit, made to walk towards the boys´ parents, hesitated and then dropped to the ground to have a try himself.

For the briefest moment he was playing in the sunshine, smiling, looking for recognition at his aerobics.

Focused again he began making his way around the Plaza, offering his rice and exchanging a bag for 50c. Children younger than him tore into the plastic, dumping the rice on the concrete and staring dumbstruck as the pigeons feasted.

Watching this young child go about his business with precision and concentration belying his young age pulled at my heart. What broke it was seeing the expression on his small face moments after his face alit with a smile, one leg cocked in the air.

I saw a look of wistful reflection combined with a simple shoulder shrug, an outward acknowledgement that work could not wait, not really, not even for a chance moment of play.

Mrs R

Cusco!

2009-06-25T13:15:00.000-07:00

We are staying with una familia Cusqueño. Above is a photo of the shower, needless to say it is hit and miss whether or not you get hot water or indeed any water at all! Below is the view from our room.

After school there is typically a throng of school kids at the dairy across the road from our house....they tend to go for the icecreams!

We hadn't planned it, but we were lucky enough to arrive in Cusco a few days before the big Inti Raymi festival. It is quite the tourist affair but because there is a public holiday the streets were absolutely heaving with Peruvians and tourists alike. This is us catching some sun god action...

I love that Ben looks so excited, like a cat with cream!

Hasta luego, Mrs R

Unas preguntas...

2009-06-18T16:12:00.000-07:00

As you know we recently left BA after a wonderful 4 weeks there, enjoying the many gastronomic delights the city has to offer while learning more spanish, trying to get Mrs R's foot to heal and playing ever more rabid games of Settlers with Peter and Julia. Well, the others may not have been frothing at the mouth like me. Suffice to say I am now infected and will be purchasing Klaus Teuber's Game of the Year 1995 on our return to Aotearoa!

During our extended stay in the city I had time to consider a few aspects of Argentinian life which differ significantly from ours. The first is their attitude to coffee. In NZ we drink arguably the world's best Black Doctor. Small roasteries, heaps of independent cafes and an enthusiasm for fairly traded beans is a recipe for premium percolation. For this reason, perhaps it is no surprise that we treat its consumption as an end in itself. Takeaway coffee must represent a similar proportion of sales to cups consumed in house.

In Buenos Aires, where coffee appreciation arrived with the influx of praiseworthy Italian immigrants in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, the act of drinking the devil's cup is insignificant in comparison with the process. Almost no one gets their coffee "para llevar" (to go). Their cafes boast career waiters, typically men in their 40s and 50s, whose professionalism and familiarity with their regular clients leaves no room for comparison with the surly teenagers and superficial or apathetic in-between-jobs types so frequent at home. These gents attend you at your table, as ordering at the counter is almost unheard of.

All coffees are served with a petite glass of sparkling water and typically medialunas as well (sweet or savoury croissants). The stage is set for a more elaborate act of consumption, and a greater sense of escape from the bustle of a 13 million citizen city.

People do order coffee alone, perhaps to read the paper or a book, but also to talk with the gentleman waiters I mentioned, more in the way kiwis might with their hairdressers. Overwhelmingly however, the cafe visit is a 2 person affair. Duos of any age
will be locked in animated conversation across their small table, from teenagers to parents to jubilee citizens (transliteral of the spanish for OAP). It is a heartwarming scene to observe, and a great reminder that one is always free to tune down the pace of life, even in the metropolis.

I do not dispute that many New Zealand cafes aim for this kind of atmosphere, and that many kiwis have the same aspirations as their Argentinian counterparts when it comes to keeping up with their friends' lives through the mutual partaking of espresso. In addition many takeaway coffees will only be walked a short distance to a park or waterfront in NZ, to be consumed in an environment perhaps more conducive to real discussion.

Overall, I have resolved to remember the Agentinian approach when living back home. The benefits will be: less coffee drunk, more enjoyment of each cup, less distraction from my drinking partner's words and a heightened sense of occasion in my everyday life. That will be something to savour. Especially the morning after a glorious victory on the Island of Catan!

Mr R

Peru...it's electrifying!

2009-06-17T20:56:00.000-07:00

Normally I'd consider myself in the reasonably street savvy category, however a recent event has led me to reconsider ...

...though, in fairness I'd just travelled a good eight hours on the bus and my brain was not fed the most promising foods to assist it in able decision-making.

I'd watched the helpful hostel worker show me how to work the shower:

1. turn on tap
2. switch up the electric current (30 amp)
3. have shower
4. turn off tap
5. switch down the electric current (actually I'm now a bit unsure whether turning off the tap came before or after switching down the electric current... no matter)

Steps 1 and 2 went smoothly, but would you know it step 3 gave me the trouble.

Sometimes when you're in the shower there'll be one jet of water that's going astray, it's an outlier. It's that one highly irritating distribution of water that will be hitting you in the eye or generally disrupting the normal enjoyable flow of water onto your body. This was the problem I was facing.

I'm a curious person and so I reached my left hand right up to the source of the problem convinced I could bring the outlier back into range. Well it sure showed me. I felt an electric shock all the way up my arm to just below my shoulder!

Having first checked I was okay, my loving room-mate was quick to point out that one never touches the head of the shower when there is a 30amp current running through it.

Lesson learned.

Mrs R

By way of addendum I realise that although the left side of my body has been given a shocking time of late (the moonboot, the recent arm jolt), things could always be worse....

We realised about 2 hours away from our destination that we hadn't received our change when we bought our bus tickets meaning we could have upgraded buses. About 10 minutes later we saw one of the flasher buses we could have taken in a rather steep ditch. It had gone right over the edge of the road. It didn't appear that anyone was injured thankfully, most of the passengers just looked like they wanted to go home and have a relaxing shower.

Hot Pools

2009-06-08T11:49:00.000-07:00

Back in May (when I was young, naive and optimistic), I wrote about The Programme and how we were challenging ourselves to stay fit and healthy despite our many "snacks".

Well a couple of days later, post Programme workout, I discovered my left foot was very sore.

Fastforward four weeks, two trips to hospital, an xray, an MRI and a ridiculous number of phone calls to our Doctor, I am the proud wearer of a moon boot. The Programme is but a distant memory.

On the positive side, my foot trouble has given me the incentive to see what it is like to go swimming in Buenos Aires. I´ve been to a gym called WellClub that has a twenty metre pool. It is solely a fitness pool, there is no playing, not a child in view. Just many people of varying ages and degrees of swimming prowess, making their way up and down the length of the pool.

Given the emphasis on exercise - as opposed to relaxation - I was therefore bewildered by the fact that the temperature of the pool is like that of a warm deep bath. If you have been swimming in the Raumati Pool you will know what it is like to swim in warm water. The water at WellClub is even warmer.

I managed to have a mixed Spanish-English conversation with another pool goer today. She explained that the temperature of the water was good because it was cold outside. I´m with her to a point. But when you´ve swum a kilometre and are considering swimming another, having hot jets of water meeting you at either end of the pool is a real disincentive to persevering.

However, I am adapting. I now know to swim in an anti-clockwise direction in the lanes. It only took causing a commotion on my first day in the pool AND being stopped by the lifeguard to cement that little custom in my mind. It was actually a relief when I realised the reason I was interrupted was because I was going in the wrong direction.

My first thought was that I was being shamed for indecent swim wear.....I was wearing a bikini I had purchased in Dunedin (end of season stock. minimal choice. limited time = hindsight. bikini possibly too small for frame).

This moon boot on the other hand fits me perfectly and I´ve had some admiring glances to boot.

Oh dear, pun too far?

Mrs R

Train of the Costa to Tiger

2009-05-31T09:42:00.000-07:00

In researching a tourist train we caught during the week I stumbled upon an informatively hilarious english language website for the service: Attractiveness Walk in a speedy electric train.

It took me a while to figure out that the train was equipped to carry the disabled: There are facilities for passengers in seat of wheels who can travel including a companion free. However I was reassured to read that The guard of the train is, in turn, agent of security.

The stations have been renovated, and the following description is given of Maipu Station: Its architectural style, of type brickmaker, looked for reminiscences of the classic construction rail Englishwoman. As you can see, this accurately describes the current appearance:

Appetite increasing, I was pleased to discover the duplicity of the station: This bridge is, at the same time, patio of foods, in the station will find trade guided to cover the daily necessities, such as copies, it photographs, pharmacy and sport articles.

And my personal favourite: Recapture the train. The next stop is the Station Liberator. As in liberator from grammatical restriction.

Who said rail was dead?

Working an inefficient system for positive gains

2009-05-25T06:39:00.000-07:00

Ohhhhhh, Ahhhhhh all the colours under the sun

Beautiful dried fruit beckons to us, but in Buenos Aires you cannot simply "pick 'n mix" it yourself...no no no

First you must get your paper ticket from the orange box...

Then you can place your order with the staff, minimum of 100grams

In the process you can become friendly with said staff, share a joke, embrace, and carry on some merry banter, none of which would have been possible if you had just put the dried fruit in a bag yourself and paid at the counter

No Surfing Zone

2009-05-23T07:22:00.000-07:00

We were on the bus yesterday out to La Boca, one of the barrios in the Southeast corner of Buenos Aires. Taking buses is one of the more challenging aspects of the city. Coins ("monedas") are scarce. No one wants to give coins away BUT you need them to take the bus.

Our friend Peter referred us to an article explaining the coin shortage. If you're interested in reading about a financial crisis that isn't the recession, it's worth a look: http://www.slate.com/id/2205635/pagenum/all/.

Anyway, having successfully slotted our coins into the onboard machine, Ben - who was trying to find his sea legs (for want of a better expression!) - made a joke of his stumbling by saying "surfeo" and miming surfing in the aisle.

This was met with stoney faces all around (bar one - ME!). I laughed at his antics. It was funny. He looked comical, that wild hair, the big grin.

I was thinking later about how no one so much as cracked a smile and, to be fair, maybe if I had to catch the bus as part of my day to day life, the novelty of some dude playing in the aisle would be lost on me too. Worn out by the smoke, embittered by the deafening noise...

We read in the local paper that some of the main street corners in Buenos Aires regularly record noise levels that far exceed the levels recommended by the World Health Organisation. I've stood on those corners and it is an assault on your ears.

The underground is an even less jovial place to be at the beginning and end of the working day as it is jampacked with bodies. There will be at least 5 people touching you (depending on your diameter!) as you all stand and try to avoid leaning too much on each other. Each person has the temperature of a bar heater. It's a sweaty sweaty place and definately no room for a pretend surf.

Still, I'm hoping that Ben might surprise everyone on Tuesday morning when we catch the tube to school!

Mrs R

Boycott the Croc

2009-05-22T06:30:00.000-07:00

We have been thickly immersed in español lessons this week hence less time for blogging!

On the subte (underground) I saw a lady emerge onto the street wearing full scrubs (the green ensemble) with no less than 3 inch heels and super chic sunglasses to boot! My thought of the day is therefore that there really is no need for crocs!

Mrs R

Beans, corn and rice?

2009-05-15T07:22:00.001-07:00

On our last day in Mendoza we decided to go out for breakfast in true Argentine style...well sort of.

I definately got it right with the croissant and cortado (expresso coffee with a dash of milk or leche -wikipedia has a good explanation see http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cortado). My husband is sometimes tricked into thinking he can eat more than me, as on this occasion, where he ordered two pastry delights along with his coffee. So far we were right on our game.

The tipping point for me was the 220gram pottle of Postre de Durazno I selected from the refrigerator. Durazno is español for peach. This was my nod to good health. It was a small nod given that the pottle (which with the benefit of hindsight I now realise was rather large) contained the sweetest richest trifle I have ever eaten for breakfast! Ben had a different pottle - he thought it was custard with soggy weetbix, which it kind of was, but it had rum and sugar in high quantity. I guess to bring out that weetbix flavour.

Post breakfast comments included:

"I feel a bit sick."
"Yeah, we probably could have shared half of this."

But quickly became reflective:

"Well that was an experience."
"And we can have a steak with at least one vegetable for lunch."

Steak is cheap here and we have found it to be deliciously tender and tasty. But what of the beans, corn and rice I imagined myself to be dining on for breakfast, lunch and dinner? Perhaps if we had gone to Central America this would have been true, in the meantime a diet of cheese, meat and a minimum of 12,000 calories for breakfast will suffice.

Time for an early siesta,

Mrs R

La vida de Mendoza

2009-05-13T13:28:00.000-07:00

Some cold, grey and rainy days in Mendoza have lead us to seek out indoor entertainment. A visit to the bodega (winery) La Rural yielded a tour of their dimly lit museo del vino. Here we were informed by our guide (whom we also helped to decipher some american pop lyrics!) that until 30 years ago they had real coopers working there producing some googleplex of wooden barrels given their annual production is now 10 million litres!

The hamlet at the centre of the winery region had only one restaurant within walking distance, but fortunately Casa de Campo was terrific. Proud of their heritage, all the meals are locally sourced and traditionally prepared. We dined on canejo al horno de borro (rabbit roasted in a clay oven!) Neither of us have eaten lagomorph before, and I certainly wasn't expecting a delicious feast of lean white meat, with a distinct absence of lead shot, unlike Marty McFly's first taste of the bunny in 1855. Los canejos were purchased by the restaurant from a nearby farm where they can roam. Dessert was helados artesanal de higos (craftsman's fig icecream as translated proudly on the menu). This was a real treat, with preserved figs drizzled in syrup served beside the craftsman's icecream, containing more of the fig. The figs are grown on the property and they make the icecream themselves. What a great place.

Walking to the museum in the centre of town we spotted a group of police officers sheltering from the rain. In a fit of good sense by someone high up in the force, the Mendoza policia patrol the beat on bikes. I haven't yet seen them run down a thief or engage in a high speed chase, but it just seems so sensible and such a good example for everyday people, as opposed to say, eating doughnuts, being obese and incompetent. Exam question: compare and contrast the influence of the popular image of the police force on the populace of Mendoza and Springfield, USA.

This May the city of Mendoza has a huge free arts programme running. We went to their museum of modern art today and were treated to 3 exhibits. The first were vibrantly coloured, animated paintings distorting real objects. My favourite was a spectacularly original take on an old theme (for docs anyway!). An artist has created cardboard cartons which fit together to form organs of the human body. The plans for each were included on the wall beside, just as you expect in the directions accompanying a carton used to transport documents. I like imagining the culture jam of setting up your courier box only to find it is actually a giant pair of lungs. The final exhibit was Emily's favourite and it featured a vast array of mixed media pieces, mostly black and white, with serpiginous lines, and unwitting resemblance to Emily uncle Tim's abstractions. The entire time our visit was accompanied by the beautiful sound of a soprano and her piano accompanist practising for an opera performance in a week's time. I have tried to upload a wee video to demonstrate the organs, both vital and vocal.

Las montañas espectaculares

2009-05-11T14:21:00.000-07:00

It's a few days ago now, but certainly the most awesome highlight of our trip so far was crossing the Andes. If you look at a map of the earth I think it would be fair to say there is no other mountain range as formidable looking or interrupted as Los Andes. I quake with fear when I think about the enormity of the first human crossings of the cordillera. Those chicos must have been some of the toughest on the planet.

The trip from Valparaiso to Mendoza could be billed as "the most incredible bus ride in the world" charged at a premium rate and people would do it en masse. However, it is seen here as just another long distance trip, charged accordingly (just $40 for 8 hours) but of course all scenery included in the base price. In addition, for a vegetable (or technically fruit as Peter and James correctly inform me) lover like myself, it was encouraging to see that where barren slopes of new zealand harbour vast forests of pine, similar landscapes in Chile are devoted to the avocado tree. I seriously thought about asking the driver to plough through the fence between the mushy textured delicious orbs and us, but decided It might be safer to shed a peso or two at a stall!

I realised how big a climb we were undertaking when the bus passed under a chairlift, patiently awaiting deep local snowfall next month and the arrival of druggie snowboarders and emo skiiers. At one point the road crests 3000m following at least 27 hairpin bends in succession, each one providing a fingersweating view of the precipitous drop just beyond the arc of tarmac. All the while the rocky faces of the surrounding mountains loom grand and impassive as the shoulders of the valley.

A mere two minutes before la arduana (the border) a small sign indicated literally the biggest showpiece of the journey. El Parque Nacional del Aconcagua I read, then scrambled to find my camera with my hands whilst my eyes remained practically outside the window as we shot past a gap where the 6962m peak was in full view sporting an attractive cloud cap, a la Puketapu in the town of Palmerston, East Otago. This emotional crescendo was immediately followed by the kind of comedown only a heroin addict should have to suffer, as we ground to a halt at the Stalinesque border post for a whole hour, with the great mountain probably in view only 40m above it's dingy parking lot and ugly metal roof. They could make a mint out of getting people to pay a few lousy pesos to ascend to an observation deck while they waited for Che's brother to stamp their passport. Or not charge, and thereby curry favour with all passing travellers in a situation where otherwise these poor officials become objects of resentment and symbols of bureaucracy.

Safely back on the road I was gazing at the coppersulphatecrystal sky when a large black shape glid (past participle of glide? any suggestions welcome) effortlessly past a couple of 5000m torres. The endangered Andean Condor, one of the world's largest birds, with a wingspan of over 2m had graced me with a private peep. I would love to see a longer flight from a better vantage point, but just that brief moment set my heart racing.

Onboard the bus itself, the action was more vivid, as a middle aged couple spent 86% of the journey pashing with unbridled abandon, bodies entwined and legs (almost) akimbo. Needless to say Mrs R and I needed little encouragement to follow suit. The expectation that all expressions of emotion are acceptable in public - anger, love, injustice, jealousy y mas, is one of my favourite things about latinoamerica.

We are now residing in a neat yet homely 3rd storey apartment in the centre of Mendoza, and looking forward to a little Argentinian Shiraz with spinach gnocchi tonight! It will be good to cook for ourselves for a change.

Mr R

Ben ate my forearm in Mendoza

2009-05-09T16:15:00.000-07:00

The Programme - join today, it´s free

2009-05-09T14:35:00.000-07:00

Having spent three quiet evenings in Valparaiso it was a shock to our weary heads (having travelled all day through the Andes - spectacular but nevertheless an eight hour bus ride) when we arrived in Mendoza and checked in to Hostel Internacional...aka Party Central!

We went out for an Italian meal at half nine. The restaurant was quiet, in that way that makes you think twice about going in, though in our case it was an easy choice as the other options were McDonalds and Mr Dog. I mean really... Mr Dog!?! By ten thirty we were high fiving as the restaurant was pumping with local Argentinians!

The bass on the rigaton/raggaeton playing at Internacional when we returned was equally pumping and continued to pump... and pump--and PUMP!!! I was reminded of my first year at university - the chants were in a different language but nothing could disguise the encouragement to "skull your vessel!" Is it just because we are married that we chose to insert earplugs rather than join the happy revellers (no pun intended)?

In any event, despite our relatively early night we still managed to turn up to breakfast half an hour after it had finished. We did eat though! This was by virtue of our complete ignorance of the fact that Argentina is one hour ahead of Chile (where we had arrived from), and because the kindly woman doing the dishes post-breakfast didn´t make a fuss when we asked for a plate!

Not that I want anyone reading this blog to think that ALL we do is crawl around eating scraps of food, endlessly chowing down! Barely taking a moment to appreciate the scenery - NO NO! and Mr R will no doubt enlighten you on particular aspects of nature that have delighted us....

...I would add that I have devised a training programme which I am documenting on this blog as incentive to stick to it and not return to New Zealand portly! It´s effectively that old psychology of telling others about your goal in order to keep you honest. Still this isn´t completely introspective because you can also do the programme from the comfort of your living room!

Think of The Programme as my gift to you in these tough times,

Mrs R

The Programme

Warm up with three to five salutes to the sun (time is short so I will leave you to google this if you don´t do much yoga).

Then you have three sets of the following exercises.

- running on the spot (for the amount of time it takes you to count up to the number of the day three times)
- star jumps
- burpies
- press ups
- wide legged squats
- lunges (option - when the right leg is forward do a chest press action with your arms, when the left leg is forward do a shoulder press action with your arms)
- jumping forward and backwards (for the amount of time it takes you to count up to the number of the day three times)
- jumping side to side (for the amount of time it takes you to count up to the number of the day three times)
- tricep dips
- crunches

The number of reps we started with was eleven or once in Spanish! It works best if you count the number of repetitions out aloud in a different language to your normal one. So for us, we are using it to practice our espanol.. uno dos tres etc

We plan to increase the number of reps so that eventually we´ll get to twenty or viente. We´ve done eleven for the two days we have done the programme. Next time we do it we´ll do twelve and then maybe back to eleven, then two more days of twelve before moving up to thirteen.

The Jet Lag Diet

2009-05-04T16:50:00.000-07:00

Our first 24 hours in Chile was dark. We slept for much of it.

Having arrived at midday and successfully navigated our way to the Hotel we promptly got into the good stuff, sleep! - and at least 4 and a half hours of it.

I was pleased my sense of self preservation had kicked in at some point en route to the Hotel, having suggested we purchase 4 bananas and a cucumber-melon type thing.

At about 8pm we tucked into our first banana, a muesli bar each and shared the cucumber-melon. Then back to the good stuff. We slept soundly from 10pm to 3am.

Jet lag hit us.

I was hungry again and started dreaming about the 7.30am breakfast that was included with our room. My tummy was not convinced by the promise of food however, and so at 4am I caved, and the second banana went down the hatch.

We were still alert and toyed with the idea of getting up and reading but convinced ourselves to try for just a couple more hours sleep, it was 4.30am, we were on the home straight!

Ah ha what a mistake! We awoke at 11.36am. Breakfast finished at 10am. The banana felt like a long time ago. On the plus side it was now almost lunch time!

Our keen sense of smell led us to Augusto's where we dined on fish and a seafood casserole - delicious!

Having supped we decided to pursue our other love - exercise! So we found the highest mountain we could conceivably climb in our jeans (cerro san cristobal) and set to walking. Think - "We're walkin' here!" said in faux Manhattan accent. The views were awesome despite the thick smog covering the sprawling city. Mountains are HUGE, twice as big as in NZ. Luckily there are taxis at the top you can jump into and icecream at the bottom - both further highlights for our weary legs and taste buds.

Rest assured we will not go hungry on our trip,

Mrs R

Cerca de Los Andes

2009-05-03T18:55:00.000-07:00

What a thrill finally to have arrived in South America! We were treated to a most memorable sunset as we flew over the Manukau harbour, Waikato River, Kawhia Harbour and Lake Rotorua, all lightly reflecting the deep red glow which sat atop the horizon for an hour, possibly out of view of all but those lucky enough to be sitting at 15,000 feet!

Returning to a spanish speaking world is really exciting, if rather daunting given how many words I have forgotten and how few constructions I currently command. That said, it only took that one moment of having the steward greet me with a cheerful 'buenas tardes' and then give me directions to my seat en español (as though perhaps I might be chileño despite the maori greeting emblazoned on my jersey) to transport me into the hispanic world.

We must have flown an Antarctic course to get to Chile, as we flew over much of NZ before dark. When it became light again the jagged edges of the cordilleras de los Andes began to take shape. Santiago is not right on the coast, so we flew right up to the foothills of the range before banking dramatically to reveal some of the higher peaks (some sporting Aoraki-esque hogsbacks I meteorologically noted!) I am interested to find out why Chile and NZ's West Coast have an almost opposite climate given their similar location west of a big mountain range. It is very dry and dusty here, apart from the massive vineyards which must require intensive irrigation to maintain their green hue.

After foolishly allowing myself to be persuaded by a carded though plainclothed 'oficial' standing beside the bus (coincidentally it later transpired) on the airport forecourt that the efficient, cheap bus service to town would drop us a long way from our lodgings, we briefly flirted with the idea of taking a minibus instead (which all seemed to become 'un taxi exclusivo' as the asking price climbed!) before my wife and lover helpfully suggested we just talk to the bus driver directly. This resulted in ourselves and our bags being safely deposited in town a mere 15min walk from el hostal Americano, with more change in our pockets than the Chileño middleman would probably have desired!

So, we will sleep again (we had 5 hours kip on arrival but still both feel smashed). I look forward to exploring la capital mañana! ¿Donde es la piscina?

Mr R

Chile gets a new hypercondriac

2009-05-03T17:59:00.000-07:00

We are here in Chile, jet lagged but safe.

Lan Chile was a good airline to fly with - the food was all very edible and the movie selection included Flashdance (cool movie - impossibly beautiful welder, who also moonlights at a very conceptual danceclub-bar, dreams of becoming a ballerina - impossible is nothing!).

What surprised me on our flight, was the noticable absence of passengers flexing, stretching and loitering near the toilets. I thought deep vein thrombosis was a wider fear and on the radar of those travelling for long flights. Even though I had my compression tights on I dutifully marched up and down the aisles, scrunched my toes and lifted my heels at least 20 times every hour and generally concerned myself in preventative measures. My lover was also diligent but more by default - he was snapped at 3am ham and cheese roll in hand grinning from ear to ear having procured it on an alleged stretching mission! I know his tactics, especially as he pulled out a sweet apricot frangipani shortly after!

Given that I spent most of the bus ride to our hostel with my head lolling and indeed dribbling onto myself (the pacing mentioned earlier has the drawback of not really sleeping) I'll leave it to my husband to detail some initial thoughts on Chile.

Mrs R

Te Awanga

2009-05-02T01:00:00.000-07:00

Auckland - Ponsonby

2009-05-01T23:10:00.000-07:00

Recent reflections:

Tonight as we prepare to leave the city that is Auckland and head to South America we sup on homemade pizza a la Nicholas Buck downed with a pinot noir. It is cold here and we're both wearing our puffa' jackets. It was 25 degrees in Dunedin last week - perhaps reason to doubt those who insist it's warmer up north than in the deep south!

Whilst we'll admit to being slightly nervous the far greater feeling is that of anticipation and excitement!!!

Sports News:

Kirsty Berry and Rodney Wallace retained their title as the mixed teams winner of the CrazyMan duathlon in Wellington... the challenge has been set again for Fleur Pawsey and James Couborough should they be brave enough next year. James came second in the Mens race this year and Fleur is a genuine legend so by all accounts that would be a fine race in 2010. It's unlikely that Team Lovers will compete - though perhaps with some South American altitude conditioning Mrs Revell could step up (don't hold your breath though!).

Alex Revell had a blinder of a race - second in the Mens Duathlon. We'll claim that one by association!

Mrs R