In so many ways, New Zealand has been incredibly easy compared to the rest of our trip.  The natives share our tongue.  They are welcoming and fun.  The camper-van eliminates the need to unpack, carry and repack unwieldy luggage.  We do not have to navigate unfamiliar modes of travel like tuk-tuks, subways, busses, trains, etc.   Food is easy to order.

But this lovely country has proven harder on me in one unexpected area: this blog.

In Europe and Asia, every day brought unique experiences: different cities, cultures, museums, traveling errors, food adventures.

Here, the days start to blur together.  Do not get me wrong, it is a lovely blur of bucolic beauty, but a blur nonetheless.  I refuse to be the guy that reports on what we eat (unless it is crocodile or kangaroo) or where we drove unless that information leads to a story or insight I hope you will find amusing or helpful.

I also suspect that experiences that might have felt fresh 3 years ago seem a tad undifferentiated when compared to the adventures of the past months.  After Koh Phi Phi, even the lovely beaches of the South Island pale.

Te Papa is a great museum, but it does not compare favorably to the British Musuem, the Louvre or the Forbidden City.

Sure, the politics of New Zealand are a little quirky (they are in an uproar because James Cameron is buying 2500 acres of working farmland), but after Cambodia or China, it seems essentially irrelevant.

Also, since the travel is easier and now a known routine, there are fewer chances for sibling conflicts.  This makes for better days, but boring blogs.

In essence, New Zealand is like a week in Maine: lovely, serene and low on news.

With this in mind, I will fulfill my threat of several days ago.  I am posting photos of plants and scenery; since beauty is this country’s greatest gift.  I hope you at least get a feel for what we are seeing.

Rose

Another rose

Bumble bee on a flower. Yeah, I am getting sensitive

No idea here, but very cool

Nice

Odd, but cool

Red, but nice

Ever heard of attractive black flowers? Me neither?

Steve Sir

In the past few decades, much research has revealed the importance of sleep and the dangers of sleep-deprivation.

I should note that with is an area where Susie’s instincts have been better than mine.  Ouch, that hurt.

Math students who got a full night sleep were substantially more likely to complete a particularly difficult problem than their peers that pulled all-nighters, though the first group only had 8 hours to work and their competition 16.

Sleep-deprived doctors are less likely to make correct diagnoses than they do when well rested (twice as likely to get the right diagnosis in half the time).

The theory regards stress.  All mammals feel stress in similar ways: the release of cortisol helps create greater focus and awareness.   It also directs energy toward the large muscles (associated with the “fight or flight” response) and away from digestion and mental efforts other than the most basic ones like “where do I run” or “how shall I fight”.

People under stress simply cannot access all their brain capacity because their bodies are reacting as if under threat.

Why does sleep-deprivation cause this stress response?  I am not sure if there is actual research here, but I have a pretty good theory.  I look at pets at homes and animals in the wild and I see a lot of sleep.  I mean a lot of sleep.

I then ask myself, “When might an animal get less sleep than it wants?”

When it is hungry, under threat, protecting its young or avoiding natural disasters.

In other words, stressful situations.

I believe that the human body, like all mammals, experiences sleep-deprivation as a form of stress because sleep-deprivation only naturally happens when there is stress around.

I know this seems somewhat circular, but the more I read the research, the more that the sleep-deprived seem to respond like the deeply stressed.

I would hope that this research helps change some of the work rituals that have come out of a “tough it out” mindset of the past.  Long medical rotations do not make sense in the light of this research.   The all-nighters of investment banking are surely creating more problems than they help.

My biggest concern in this area is teens.  Nature and society have truly conspired against them.  First, they require MORE sleep than pre-teens since their brains are going through massive growth spurts.  Brain activity requires sleep.  The brain grows most in babies 12-24 months (this is a rough estimate, I do not remember the exact ages here) and again as teens.  Second, the melatonin cycles of teens become messed up just as they require the most sleep.  Melatonin regulates sleep patterns.  For teens, the cycles shift so that they are wide awake late into the evening but desperate to continue sleeping until late in the morning.  Left to their own devices, they would get enough sleep this way, albeit while deeply annoying their parents.

But here is the final cruel twist of fate.  We require them to go to school early.  So they stay up late and wake up early all during the period they need extra sleep.

And we wonder why they often seem moody and disconnected.

I write all of this because I know of what I speak; I was the petulant teen for the past 2 days.

You see, I woke up before 5AM (out of necessity) for two days in a row.

The first wake up came at 4:45 for a conference call required by my role as Treasurer of the American Camp Association.  I had chosen a time that I thought was only mildly inconvenient, but missed the mark.   I had scheduled the call during the first 11 weeks in Asia, where we were 11-13 hours off east coast time.  I offered to have the call at 9AM or 11AM there, which would be late in the evening (9PM or 11PM here).  That stinks, but remains manageable.

The call then got postponed.  I kept thinking 9-11AM and accepted another date.  This date, however, found me in Wellington, which is 6 hours ahead of Vietnam.  My call was now at 5AM.  I needed to find a quiet room at the camper park, test the Internet connection and place the call by 5.

Ugh.

The next day, we needed to take the ferry across to the South Island.  I worry about sleeping through important deadlines line plane departures of ferry crossings.  The alarm was set for 6AM, but I woke early and started all the needed tasks.

Both previous nights, we had started dinner late and stayed up later.  New Zealand is in its summer and we are far below the equator.  As a result, the sun does not set until 9PM and it is not dark until 9:30.  This means that you can be having a blast discovery new places and suddenly realize that it is 7:30 and you are still an hour away from the camper park where you then start preparing dinner.

The combination of two successive midnight bedtimes and 5AM wake-ups had a highly deleterious effect on your humble narrator.  I was like a baby needing a nap – quick to frustration.  I did not want to drive, but I did not want to shop either.  In fact, I was pretty sure I did not want to do anything proposed to me (by my loving and slightly scared bride).  I just wanted to take my ball and go home.

Since I have spent so much time thinking about sleep deprivation, I knew what was happening.  This knowledge, however, did not mitigate the mood.

I share all this simply as a simple reminder that some of the best advice still comes from our grandparents who always stressed the importance of a good night’s sleep.

Steve Sir

Our children had found a new sports interest: rugby.

Statues say a lot about values

Of course, loving rugby in New Zealand is like getting wet in the ocean.  They are fanatical about their rugby.  As I mentioned before, the All Blacks are the gold standard of rugby excellence.  A drive through the country will include not only flocks of sheep, but also a multitude of All-Black fan flags.

The ecstasy of the World Cup victory remains in land, but this weekend the kiwi rugby fanatics are excited about the “Sevens” tournament.

Usually, rugby has 15 players on each side.  The game is incredibly physical with roughly half of the players resembling American football linemen.  “Sevens” is a different game altogether.  Each side plays only 7 players and the game is about speed more than power.

But the Sevens tournament is not even about rugby.  It is essentially the favorite party weekend for the kiwi faithful.  Picture the Texas-OU game mixed with the Kentucky Derby and Mardi Gras.

All the spectators dress up.  I am not being hyperbolic here.  As you look at the crowd, at least 19 out of every 20 are wearing costumes – many with a group of friends.

We are not at the tournament.  Our plans took us across the Cook Straight from the North Island to the South.  In reality, this is probably a very good thing.  I am not sure the kids needed to see rugby fanatics at their most marinated.

We did get a few hints regarding what we missed.   Last night at the camper park, we discovered a group of almost 20 rugby fans that were, well, singing.  Remember the bachelor party we saw in Rotorua?  These guys were easily as percolated at the celebrants on that occasion.  They did not limit their activity to mere music, but also to enthusiastic and frequent expletive use.

Every so often, someone you love will do something that makes you even more fond of her.  After our revelers had dropped perhaps their 30^th “F=bomb” Susie decided to address the situation.  What I so admired was her approach.  Rather that pleading with them or lecturing them, she took a different approach.

She paid them a pleasant and non-judgmental visit, armed with only our camera and Virginia.

She strolled up and engaged them in conversation.  When she approached, many of the guys took of their shirts and flexed for her.  She did not blush or leave, but instead asked them about their day and hometowns.

Hey baby! Your are looking HOT . . . oh . . . and hi to your daughter.

Suddenly, standing there shirtless felt less bold and more foolish, especially with the 10-year old there.  Slowly over the next 2-3 minutes, all the shirts went back on.

She then found the only sober and married man there and chatted for 10 minutes.  During the course of the conversation, she learned that they were in fact 4 separate groups that had become bestest buddies at the park on the eve of the tournament.

The chat also had the effect of letting the air out of their balloon.  They did not stop their language altogether, but mitigated it severely.  Also, having an attractive, but more mature woman in their midst affected their torrent of testosterone much as a consistent mist affects a fire.

Within 45 minutes, a party of great volume had decrescendoed into mild whispers.

During the day, we saw a huge parade that snaked through Wellington featuring all the teams.

I think the pageantry captured the kids, particularly Virginia.  Once it ended, we walked around and kept running into different rugby players form different teams.

Cook Islands

Its him!! What's his name!

Fiji [having trouble with this shot]

And New Zealand.

Please pinch me!!

I was amused as she got all these photos, because they must have thought she was a die-hard fan and not a complete neophyte.

But we are becoming fans.  We even found ourselves watching the tournament on the TV as we traveled around.

Go New Zealand!!

Steve Sir

I think I hurt Wellington’s feelings with my comments about the bad weather because it cleared and was cool and clear today.

It is nice to know that we have that type of power.

Bird Ladies

As a young man, I heard about people obsessed with birds.  At first, I thought it was simply made up, but wise people assured me that ornithologists actually exist.  I marveled at the thought.

It is an irony of life that I have found myself married to one.

My lovely bride likes birds.  I mean she really likes birds.  This is not the passive watching at a distance with binoculars.  No, Susie wants to connect with the feathered fellows.

She feeds ducks and swans.

This is NOT Natalie Portman

She coos over cranes.  She is eager for egrets.

Like mother, like daughters

This can change any stroll from a bit of exercise to a study of some random goose.

The Silver Fox once told me “as we get older, we become more.”  By this, she means that our basic tendencies become more exaggerated with age.  If we are quirky, we become even quirkier.  If we are obsessed with ailments, our hypochondria expands.

I was not sure how it would show up in my beautiful bride.  She is moving toward bird-lady territory.

This is a great country for a bird-lady.

We have admired black swans and pukekus outside our campervan.

Today, they started to feed ducks.  OK, the ducks were nice ducks (except for the voracious adolescent ducks that Wiley deemed the “Thug Ducks”), but still just ducks.  When I say we were feeding them, I mean we were feeding them competitively.  Our campervan neighbors wanted the ducks near their van, while Susie wanted them to hang with us.

Virginia had an unexpected answer.  Rather than enter into an escalating food war (each side improving the quality of its food), she chose guerilla warfare.

Virginia grabbed a not-quite-adolescent duckling and watched as the excitement ensured.  The mother would quack and nibble and quack and – wait . . . is that bread? I think I will have a bite . . . and nibble and quack.  She was mildly committed to the protection of her almost adult duckling.  As long as no quality food was in the mix, she was quite focused on Virginia.

Holding the duckling like a football

I can assure you it was an amusing sight.

In the morning, we made one last trip to the Te Papa museum.  [Note: how do you know when a museum is well done?  When your 4 children want to return 3 days in a row.  To our credit, we have taken the museum in small bite-sized visits.  Rather than try to do everything and burn the kids out, we have paced ourselves.]

While there, we learned a lot about the effect of non-native animals on the flora and fauna of the New Zealand.  The goes beyond the stoats, possums and cats I mentioned yesterday.  In fact, the museum has a clever interactive exhibit where an alien can choose 4 of 10 different animals or plants to bring to earth for survival.  Some do not thrive on earth, but many proliferate massively and choke out the native life.  The game is fun, but also makes the point about the effect of invasive species.

One of our favorite exhibits is about the world’s largest parrot, the Kakapo.  Like so many New Zealand flightless birds, it had adapted to the habitat of these islands.  By “habitat”, I mean “giant food smorgasbord with no natural predators”.  They were big enough to make a meal for stoats, possums and humans and too slow to avoid capture.

Once quite common, their number in the mid 1990’s dropped to roughly 50, in the world.

The people of New Zealand sprung to action and moved them all to Cook Island, a relatively deserted island with tons of great habitat.  The scientist hoped that the move would inspire excitement and amorous feelings among the birds.

It did not.

The Kakapo, like the Giant Panda, is a reluctant procreator.  [Note: the Giant Panda has proven to be such a reluctant mater that zoos have resorted to “Panda Porn” to induce interest in the animals.  I can honestly say that I hope I never, ever see what this entails.]

You might think that the efforts of Giant Panda experts is extreme.  You would be right.  You might think that it is unique in the world of cute bears,  You would be wrong.

This is the title of a video - really

The efforts to facilitate Kakapo copulation range from dedicated to bizarre to “oh, I wish Virginia did not have to see that”.  Lets just say that the Kakapo male wants to mate (human heads, other birds, balled up sweaters), but often seems unable to fertilize the eggs.

I found this hilarious.  My lovely wife (the bird-lady) thought it beautiful.

Yep, she is becoming more.

Steve Sir

PS  I am delighted to report that there are almost 300 Kakapo alive now.  The mating efforts, awkward though they may be, have been working.

We are happy to report that New Zealand is not perfect.

Terrill wonders why Susie and I feel this way.  It is because we love Texas and do not want to move.  Yet, this is a special place with lovely people.  We have daydreamed about living here.

We also perhaps have enjoyed a slightly false impression of the country.

Our prior two visits seem to have been meteorological aberrations.  The weather was warm, if not occasionally hot.  The skies were clear.  It rarely rained (perhaps 3 days out of 47).  Yet the place is green and lush.

That last bit should have been a clue.  Generally, places that are green get lots of rain.  I was so busy enjoying the scenery that I never really pieced together that it needs lots of rain to be so verdant.

We also have only been here in their summer, with festivals and long, long days.  That means that the winters would be like Scotland or England with grey and short days.

The last couple of days have helped us temper our unbridled enthusiasm.

We are in Wellington as it has been windy (30 MPH with bigger gusts), cool (50-60 degrees) and wet.

As a result, we have been not gone to the Botanical Gardens or walked the city.  Instead, we have restricted our activities to indoors.  Here are some pictures from the travels.

Te Papa Museum

One of the best museums in the world is in Wellington, the Te Papa.  It is interesting from the outside

It is cool from every direction

and the inside.

A serious Maori carving

This has the most substantial collection of Maori history and items.  That might sound dry, but it is not.

They also have a fantastic section on earthquakes and other natural disasters.  As the tragic Christchurch earthquake recently emphasized, this country is on a major fault-line.  The South island widens each year about roughly the same rate that a human child grows.  That is a lot of geological pressure.  Here is a photo from an earthquake in the 1980s.

It is worth zooming in and seeing the tracks

They describe the flora and fauna both current and past.  Here is a picture of two extinct animals: the moa and giant eagle.

The moa is roughly twice the size of an emu

The moa was huge, slow and stupid, but it only had one natural predator, this eagle.  New Zealand never had any mammal predators.  The possums, stokes and cats came with the Europeans and have really hurt the flightless bird population.  The moa, however, was wiped out by another mammal – humans.  The Maoris came around 800 and saw these birds as walking feasts.  Within 2 centuries, the moa was gone.  The giant eagle disappeared with it.

[Note: one of my favorite Kiwi stories concerns introduced mammals and native animals.  In 2003, Susie and I met a female vicar from England who had attended a hangi (a Maori luau) with a group of eco-tourists.  As the Maori were preparing a feast inside, a possum appeared outside.  These tourists clearly had not read anything about the devastation hunting mammals have done to the unique bird population here because they were gawking over the possum and admiring it, "ah, the beauty of nature - look at how cute it is!"

At this moment, a Maori emerges from the inner building wielding a 12 inch Maglite (metal flashlight) and pummels the animal in two decisive strokes.  The vicar recounted the event thus (hear it with a lovely BBC accent), "I knew the possum to be a menace, but had I killed it or even touched it, my companions would have regarded me as an ugly European who destroys nature.  But this was the Maori - a native people - who the tourists saw as 'good' and 'close to the Earth'.  They were terrible conflicted 'possum good, but Maori good'.  The use of a Maglite rather than a traditional Maori club only made it more confusing for them.  They asked whether they should bury the possum.  The Maori looked at them as if they have asked to bury a mosquito.  Delightful."

I love this story.]

Mussels and Jenga

We went to a gastro-pub next to the Te Papa that had great food and some games.  Not much to share here except the huge mussels

A massive mussel

and played some wickedly competitive jenga.

We attracted many onlookers.

One More Sign

We found another sign that clearly has a story behind it.  I think it speaks for itself.

But can I let the brewed coffee drip directly into my mouth?

Steve Sir