If you really want to know, the mood has changed slightly since the last entry, and if you were following this blog with an interest in understanding what it would be like to leave a life on one side of the world and then starting again on the other, then this post might hold something of interest for you. Ive realise in not on holiday anymore. we're immigrants, and as easy as it sounds enough as an idea, it not just quite quite as easy to play out day-by-daylike how come ma cherry toma'az costing me 8 dollars yo?!?
you wanna know what they call a newsagent in New Zealand?
A Dairy.
Me. driving round the countryside looking for a newspaper.
and its perfectly normal to not wear shoes,
anywhere!
and Oooh the weather! Shifts from gorgeous sunshine hanging the washing out
Underneath that cloud its absolutely pissing down, but where the clouds are broken, you’ll get sunburn !!
As you can see they do drive on the correct side of the road, but the indicator is on the wrong side of the steering wheel!
so for the first week or so, We'd be driving along, get to your exit, and just nonchalantly flick the windscreen wipers on and throw the car round a corner. you can imagine all the other drivers love that!
we can it;
Mirror - Wipe - Manœuvre
When you live where you are from, you usually live with everyone else who is from there, and everything is a kind of in joke. We're all pissed off about the same thing, we're all excited about the same things, we're all looking forward to the holidays and we all know who's who winning on "Strictly".
But when your living somewhere that your not from, everyone notices you arnt from there, you definitely know your not from there, and a higher state of alert has to kick in.
we don't really know much about where we're "from" in NZ..
But apparently, we're "Westies" and yes that does mean that we can legitimately use the handsign
I've built deep relationship with my Siri, more than a few times setting off for some milk and bread and three hours later, giving up on my "ManNav" swallowing my pride and whimpering into my iPhone, "siri, could you direct me home please?...""yes Tony,"she chirps, "starting route to - Home, take the next right, and in 4, yards, the destination is on your right...."FML
Then when you do learn you way around, you start to figure out things like about the DRY regions. ad thats nothhing to do with the rain.
Theres a lot of churches in our town not so many pubs or bars.
We did find one bar nearby and they had a sign saying you can't buy a beer unless your going to order a meal as well!
Of course then everything started to fall into place. Theres no wine or beer in the supermarkets either, you have to go to the liquor store!
turns out from early colonial time a lot of american prohibition influence, combined with some very principled settlers divided this country up into wet and dry states,with laws on alchohol different for each. It turns out that where we live, if you want a beer you have to undergo a series of fucking trails akin to the last stage of Gladiators.
I had to sacrifice a lamb for a glass of cab sauv the other day
We definately developed a taste for charity shop shopping!
check out this cake tin Nicola "needed"
And this cool poster i found!
and a pile of photographs of mannequins that arnt at all creepy!
We were over at mount Eden the other day and got talking to this woman in the bar and she says, so where are you from then, and i tell her my town here, Henderson.
she laughs and then says " you mean Horrendous-en?"
So yeah. Thats been nice.
doing a lot of learning.
We know how to get into the city centre on the motorway in 30 mins,
We know how to get to Piha Beach in 22 mins
We know how to get to laundrette in 10 mins
Corner shop is on the corner
We know how to get the the liquor shop in 5 mins
Still not sure which butter is nice though. Which tea and coffee is nice. Jury's still out on these three suspects.
still, you've got to take the rough with the smooth eh
and as you know, once a Catchpole decision has been made, it cannot be changed. Exbrit means Exbrit
