Write On

I'm glad everyone is enjoying the Sur Lie Blog (hi Nanda!) and getting into their secret identities (hi Dad!). I'm still sorting out some things, like how to post links 'n' such. In the meantime, you no longer need to register with this website in order to post comments - so your info is safe here. I haven't sorted out how to put an eMail Matt button on this page, but I would like to point out that you can, and should, eMail Matt. Arright? Keep your eyes here for a whole mess of photos and further Kiwi Adventures.

In The Scrum

I know it's been a while, and there are some adventures that I'll have to relate later. I arrived in beautiful Queenstown on Saturday (it's Thursday night here) . I arrived in typical high style on the InterCity bus from Christchurch (follow along with your map if you like). The bus crossed the magnificent Southern Alps twice via high passes, stopping at Lake Tekapo and affording clear views of EnZed's highest peak - Mt. Cook/Aoraki.
Mt.Cook - Aoraki

Queenstown is a lakeside resort community nestled around NZ's longest lake - Wakatipu - at the south end of the Alps. Not only is it the best place to throw oneself off of a bridge/mountain/slope/glacier/boat . . . , it is also home to the Central Otago wine region and my dear friend Margo.

I'm staying with Marge in her furnished flat below her, and my, current boss, Domenic Mondillo and the lovely Ally. Dom manages 170 acres of vineyard for Gibbston Valley winery, along with his own vines and various other properties. He has just started his own label, and hopes to be debt free by 2020. The flat has a view of the lake and a washer and dryer - heaven. I have joined Margo working amongst the vines just this week. The land is sandy silty loam and the area is dry, so they use full irrigation. Much of the farming is done by machine - trimming and hedging as well as leaf-pulling and laying net - which is what we've been doing out at Bendigo Station this week. Seems NZ has some starlings who love to strip vineyards of their fruit. It's pretty wild wrapping hectares of vineyard in nylon netting, stringing the nets together and weighting the edges down with rock. The result is Christo like in style and scale.

The blokes reckon it would look better in 'Saffron'

Other than birds - including Magpies and Harrier Hawks, I don't see much animal life in the vineyard. A few earwigs and ladybugs and some whitetail hunting spiders I've been warned about. Oh, and the rabbits, which some Englishman (Pommy) introduced to the country and now they've (the bunnies) made a good mess of it. We're hoping to get some target practice in soon. Ah, the romance of the wine lifestyle.

I played rugby yesterday. Yes, you heard me right. Actually, 'touch', which is I'm told, very unlike true rugby. Margo's friend Kali is on an intramural team and was kind enough to let me muck it up for a bit. It's six to a side, you get 5 or 6 'downs' you can only pass backwards and a goal is called a 'try' . Try as I did, I kept running ahead of the ball and was offsides so often the the ref stopped calling me on it and started coaching me from onfield instead. He told me to "put the hammer down" when I was in possession. All I managed was to put down was a big bottle of Speight's (pride of the South) in the clubroom after, that and some handmade sausages and chips at Kali and Scotty's house later. Good stuff.

We won some mystery meat in the post-rugby raffle!

Gotta go and hit the sack - more net to lay tomorrow. This weekend should include some winetasting and some more rugby, purely spectator this time. I plan to keep working and exploring the South Island from my Queenstown base as long as Margo and Dom can stand me. The Milford Sound and the West Coast are calling, and there is always more wine to drink, ummm, taste.
p.s. I made it to the Sounds
too bad this bloody Yank got in the way of the beautiful scenery

Hiya

Napier
There is so much I want to say, but I spent $6 just figuring out how to post this damn map to my blog - that, and I've been sipping EnZed wine all day (oh me) and can't type quite right. I am in Napier, the Art Deco mecca of the East Coast - on the Pacific Coast Highway actually. I've fallen in with a tough crowd at a Backpacker's (hostel) called Toad Hall.

The Bad Boys of Toad Hell

But, their bad influence aside, I have managed to make it out to taste some wine, walk the beach and eat some good kebabs, indian grub and long blacks (a double shot long pull - does the trick)

I am staying here until Friday morning - oh yeah, hello from tomorrow - and then will jet down to the South Island. I'll post some thoughts on Auckland and meat pies when I recover from the sight of water going down the drain the wrong way.

Lotsa Love

Playing Catch Up

The story so far . . .


Auckland, well, not so much. It's an alright city. A bit high fashion and yachtie for my tastes. I wandered around the wharf and K Rd. (the 'hippie' area). It's quite expensive also, although the bowl of steaming green-lip mussels and pint of Stella (thanks Jay) were well worth it. I did kiss my first Kiwi. I was wandering past the outside diners on Princes Wharf when I heard someone shouting and pointing at me. It was a hen (bachelorette) party, and they'd decided that the bride-to-be had to 'snog the next bloke who walked past'. I offered myself around to her friends as well, but no other takers.

I do want to touch on the food (surprise) for a sec. I'm really pleased to find that Indian food is available in abundance, you can even get a masala dosa from a stand. Also, doner kebabs which can rival the Mission's lavosh wraps. I've passed on the little meat pies and other english fare thus far, although I have enjoyed a fried egg sandwich with chutney for brekkies.

The bus from Auckland to Gisborne takes 9 hours. It passes through rolling hillsides teeming with sheep, cows and cervena (herds of deer). The North Island was formed through volcanic activities, and I could smell the sulfurous mud pools of Rotorua as I ate my truckstop lunch. I expected a bit more upon my arrival in Gisborne. I chacked into the Flying Nun Backpackers - former nunnery and first training ground of NZ's famed diva Dame Kiri Te Kanawa. Gisborne is a shipping port with some of the best surf beaches and the main area for Chardonnay production here. It is the first place on the planet to see the sun rise each new day. It's also pretty undeveloped economically and touristicly. It is the main town on the aptly named Poverty Bay, where Capt. Cook's cabin boy Nick, first sighted the NZ coast. I saw alot of empty storefronts and big liquor stores. I left having only visited the cellar door (tasting room) of NZ giant Montana, which owns 70% of all of the vineyards here, and was recently purchased by Allied Domeq - not very good wines - and a boutique winery/cafe /cheesery called The Works that had a nice Chenin Blanc. Next time through I'll hire a car and get out to surf and sip in better style.

Next up: Napier, the Hawkes Bay region and Toad Hole, ummm, Hall.

Gung Hay Fat Choy

It's the Year of the Rooster, the return of my birth year, and not to get too cocky, but that's something to crow about. (I think you can see where this is going.) The Chinese believe that your animal year is a time of strength and growth. I can dig it, but I'd have to add that my family and friends deserve some credit as well. Thanks for helping me get here today (a stinky little internet room in an Auckland hostel, hmm?). A special shout-out to Stephen for the garage (and bad jokes), Marcus for the closet and Dawn & David (and Rueben) for the basement. I know you guys will have a fantastic garage sale.

Well, I haven't showered for three days and even more timezones. I plan to lay low in Auckland for a couple, then tour the Bay of Islands and work down to Hawkes Bay for some Bordeaux varietals.

Thinking of you all -

Matt