Feeling Minnesota

12/30/00: Waiheke Island, New Zealand

When we meet people, they invariably ask us where we’re from. We say “the United States” and sometimes they’re content with that answer. Other times they want to know more. So we say “Minneapolis, Minnesota.” This is usually met by a blank look or perhaps a perplexed smile.

So, if prompted, we begin an explanation that may include one or more of the following descriptive statements:

• It’s in the very middle of the country, in the far north.
• It’s next to Canada.
• The closest big city is Chicago.
• We have more than 10,000 lakes, including Lake Superior, one of the world’s largest.
• The Mississippi River originates in our state.
• It’s the home of Hercules (the TV series was filmed in NZ, so actor Kevin Sorbo is considered a big star here).
• It’s the home of Prince.
• It’s the home of Aveda.
• We have the largest shopping mall in the world—and it has a roller coaster inside!
• Our winters are long and cold and it snows a lot.
• Guys from our town invented RollerBlades and Magnetic Poetry (both commonly found in NZ).
• It’s the place depicted in the movie Fargo.
• No, we don’t really talk (quite) like that. But those hats with earflaps? You betcha!

• Waiheke Island, New Zealand.

They speak English here. That was one big reason we chose New Zealand for the longest leg of our journey. Having settled before in places where English is not a first or even second language, we favored the chance to exercise literacy, converse completely, and minimize sign language.

It was a smart decision; we feel more connected and less dumb. But dialects are thick here, from the Scottish brogue of South-Island Kiwis to ex-Brits that can sound like Cockneys or the Queen. And then there are the Aussies and Maoris and Asians and Islanders. Still, we stand out. Ours is American-English with peculiar lingo. So conversational obstacles are commonplace.

For example, on my second day here I ordered lunch at Salvage, a trendy cafeteria hangout. The conversation went something like this.

ME: Good morning.
HE: G´day, mate.

ME: I see there´s “kuh-MOO-ra” in this; what´s that?
HE: Excuse me?

ME: Can you tell me what “kuh-MOO-ra” is?
HE: Don´t think so. Don´t believe we have any of that.

ME: Well, the sign here says there´s “kuh-MOO-ra” in this.
HE: Oh! Righty-oh. That´s “KOO-muh-ruh,” mate. A local sweet “po-TAH-to.”

ME: OK, great! And what´s that it´s in?
HE: That´s a “slauce.”

ME: A “slauce?” What´s a “slauce?”
HE: It´s like a big, square quiche that we cut into “slauces.”

ME: Oh, sure. I´ll have a “slauce,” please. And the sign says it´s got “bacon” in it, but we´d call that “ham.”
HE: “Homm?” Hmmm. Fancy a “bah-ROON-uh” with that. Our local “BEE-ya.”

ME: Yes, please. So THAT´s how it´s pronounced! Just a small.
HE: Only got one “saze.” That´s “ite” dollars.

ME: Wow. About $3.20 at home. The beer alone would cost that much! Here.
HE: Would it, then. But that´s only a “FOI-vuh.”

ME: Oh, sorry. Here´s a ten. Keep it.
HE: No worries. (handing back $2 coin)

ME: No, this is for you. (pushing coin back at him)
HE: Ah! Good on ya, mate! Ta!

Speech Impediments

12/29/00: Waiheke Island, New Zealand

They speak English here. That was one big reason we chose New Zealand for the longest leg of our journey. Having settled before in places where English is not a first or even second language, we favored the chance to exercise literacy, converse completely, and minimize sign language.

It was a smart decision; we feel more connected and less dumb. But dialects are thick here, from the Scottish brogue of South-Island Kiwis to ex-Brits that can sound like Cockneys or the Queen. And then there are the Aussies and Maoris and Asians and Islanders. Still, we stand out. Ours is American-English with peculiar lingo. So conversational obstacles are commonplace.

For example, on my second day here I ordered lunch at Salvage, a trendy cafeteria hangout. The conversation went something like this.

ME: Good morning.
HE: G’day, mate.

ME: I see there’s “kuh-MOO-ra” in this; what’s that?
HE: Excuse me?

ME: Can you tell me what “kuh-MOO-ra” is?
HE: Don’t think so. Don’t believe we have any of that.

ME: Well, the sign here says there’s “kuh-MOO-ra” in this.
HE: Oh! Righty-oh. That’s “KOO-muh-ruh,” mate. A local sweet “po-TAH-to.”

ME: OK, great! And what’s that it’s in?
HE: That’s a “slauce.”

ME: A “slauce?” What’s a “slauce?”
HE: It’s like a big, square quiche that we cut into “slauces.”

ME: Oh, sure. I’ll have a “slauce,” please. And the sign says it’s got “bacon” in it, but we’d call that “ham.”
HE: “Homm?” Hmmm. Fancy a “bah-ROON-uh” with that. Our local “BEE-ya.”

ME: Yes, please. So THAT’s how it’s pronounced! Just a small.
HE: Only got one “saze.” That’s “ite” dollars.

ME: Wow. About $3.20 at home. The beer alone would cost that much! Here.
HE: Would it, then. But that’s only a “FOI-vuh.”

ME: Oh, sorry. Here’s a ten. Keep it.
HE: No worries. (handing back $2 coin)

ME: No, this is for you. (pushing coin back at him)
HE: Ah! Good on ya, mate! Ta!

• Waiheke Island, New Zealand.

The holiday season “back home” can get nuttier than fruitcake and colder than hell frozen over. Both are good reasons to bow out.

But there are others; celebrating elsewhere makes you re-adapt old traditions and craft new ones, like this centerpiece made of stuff from our yard. We skipped the presents, since this trip is one big gift. But Santa still found us—or so the youngster stated—and left behind the world (a beachball globe with our route marked on it), a Mercedes (Matchbox edition), and a stuffed polar bear (free from the pharmacy with a NZ$5 purchase). Those three things brought as many smiles as a pile of PlayStations. After that, the day was much like any Christmas. Naps happened. The same songs played over and over (although here it´s “a kiwi in a kauri tree”). A few boxes from afar were unwrapped. And of course, the grill ran out of gas halfway through cooking the bird—making for some foul language and a late feast. Peace.

A Little Christmas

12/25/00: Waiheke Island, New Zealand

The holiday season “back home” can get nuttier than fruitcake and colder than hell frozen over. Both are good reasons to bow out.

But there are others; celebrating elsewhere makes you re-adapt old traditions and craft new ones, like this centerpiece made of stuff from our yard. We skipped the presents, since this trip is one big gift. But Santa still found us—or so the youngster stated—and left behind the world (a beachball globe with our route marked on it), a Mercedes (Matchbox edition), and a stuffed polar bear (free from the pharmacy with a NZ$5 purchase). Those three things brought as many smiles as a pile of PlayStations. After that, the day was much like any Christmas. Naps happened. The same songs played over and over (although here it’s “a kiwi in a kauri tree”). A few boxes from afar were unwrapped. And of course, the grill ran out of gas halfway through cooking the bird—making for some foul language and a late feast. Peace.

• Waiheke Island, New Zealand.

The solstice is one of our most favorite, sacred holidays. Especially the summer version. So we were pleased when we realized that by relocating to the Southern Hemisphere for the winter, we´d get to celebrate two summer solstices in the same year.

We spent the night like we have many others: on a grassy knoll, listening to birdsong, watching the sky turn red, and raising our glasses to the long days.

12/23/00: Waiheke Island, New Zealand

The solstice is one of our most favorite, sacred holidays. Especially the summer version. So we were pleased when we realized that by relocating to the Southern Hemisphere for the winter, we’d get to celebrate two summer solstices in the same year.

We spent the night like we have many others: on a grassy knoll, listening to birdsong, watching the sky turn red, and raising our glasses to the long days.

• Auckland, New Zealand.

We came to Waiheke to eat seafood for two months. So we were stunned when we got here and found none. Oh sure, a restaurant will have an occasional fish special. And the supermarket has live greenlip mussels—but it´s on the other side of the island.

When we politely decry the situation to locals, we´re fed the same phrases that keep getting repeated around the world: “It´s fished out / fishermen can´t make it anymore / you have to go to______.” Fortunately, that wasn´t the case in Auckland, where we enjoyed several seaworthy meals. And on our way out of town, we headed to the place everyone told us we had to go to: SeaMart, where we scored prawns, a 2-pound crayfish tail, sushi-fresh red-eye tuna, and a big snapper steak. Then we ferried home, fired up the barby, and ate up for lost time.

After nearly a month on our quiet island, we were ready to get gobsmacked by the city—which, incredibly, is just a 30-minute ferry ride away. Auckland winds around the water, with neighborhoods stretching up streets, hills, and dormant volcanoes. No matter where you go, you see the Sky Tower—the city´s new and rather controversial compass.

It´s stacked with restaurants, observatories, and a casino that goes garish at night. We found its omnipresence both unnerving and reassuring. (It was framed perfectly in the window above the toilet in our B&B, for example.) And it found its way into many of our shots. Next time we visit the city, we´ll have to get inside and get a closer look.

12/22/00: Auckland, New Zealand

We came to Waiheke to eat seafood for two months. So we were stunned when we got here and found none. Oh sure, a restaurant will have an occasional fish special. And the supermarket has live greenlip mussels—but it’s on the other side of the island.

When we politely decry the situation to locals, we’re fed the same phrases that keep getting repeated around the world: “It’s fished out / fishermen can’t make it anymore / you have to go to______.” Fortunately, that wasn’t the case in Auckland, where we enjoyed several seaworthy meals. And on our way out of town, we headed to the place everyone told us we had to go to: SeaMart, where we scored prawns, a 2-pound crayfish tail, sushi-fresh red-eye tuna, and a big snapper steak. Then we ferried home, fired up the barby, and ate up for lost time.