Harrington’s … Can Jingle Our Bells Any Time…

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

So, what have we been up to in the days before Christmas 2011?

We’ve been busy sorting out things on the Christchurch property we own,  Himself has been painting a new fence that’s been built just before we arrived in New Zealand, and it’s been taking longer than planned because that turned out to be far taller and longer than we first thought.

(just proves how useless Himself and I are at judging measurements on paper plans and envisioning the finished article)

It was at least two to three days work and at the end of day one Himself arrived back at the B&B  tired after spending the day with a very large pot of undercoat that appeared to reduce very little even after a hard days painting,  announcing that he was looking forward to a slap-up  meal, and early night and a bright and early start the next day so that he could paint all day and actually feel like progress was being made.

At the time he said this, he was painting on his own and it was starting to feel like he was going to be spending his whole holiday just painting.

Fortunately after the undercoat was finished, a very welcome reinforcement arrived in the form of my Cousin “P” and together they got the second coat of paint on the fence at a professional speed.

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

This post is therefore a restaurant review by the family of a tired and hungry amateur fence painter.

Our eatery tonight is called “Harringtons” and it’s a combination business that includes a bottle store, (alcholic beverages/off licence) a cafe and a restaurant.

We arrived and asked if it might be possible to get a table… I had my doubts since all around us were tables with “reserved” signs on them, and we did not have a reservation, but due to the fact that we wanted to dine so early we could take a seat.

Himself looked at the menu and opted for the “Rump Steak Special”, which consists of a 200 g piece of rump steak, done to your liking with salad and chips for just $12,–.

I went for beef nacho’s and the kids opted for fish and chips and chicken nuggets and chips which they amicably decided they wanted to share equally between them.

We also ordered a garlic bread to share and were not dissapointed when our meals arrived. Delicious!

It’s family friendly food done really well, and served with a smile. Actually we made our waitress laugh because I immediately detected a familiar accent when she lead us to our table and asked for our drinks order… without checking but taking a risk, I ordered my meal in Dutch instead of English and once she got over the shock she confirmed my suspicions and replied in Dutch.

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

Turns out she is from the Fremish area of Belgium and since we entered the restaurant speaking English she had no idea that we spoke Dutch. She is on a working visa and got a job waitressing here a few months ago. We chat about her experiences in New Zealand so far and she said it was really relaxing to be speaking her native language again, even if just for a little bit.

After we had done justice to our main courses, the topic turned to dessert. For me there was only one option: the New Zealand national dessert, Pavlova.

Himself and Little Mr. headed straight for a selections of ice-cream but Kiwi Daughter had been looking longingly at the large display cabinet full of cakes and slices ever since we had arrived so chose Lolly Cake instead.

I asked permission to take photographs and was told that if I wanted a giggle I should be sure to see the Christmas Song that the owner has rewritten the words to (*) , down the back by the pool table.

It was worth the walk… actually it was a little bit of a shame that it was so tucked away from the diner’s tables because I thought it was inspired. Try it out yourself to the tune of “jingle bells”… I bet you smile.

Everyone enjoyed their desserts but I have to say that the prize for the most photogenic dessert was mine by a country mile … it’s a photo you just want to reach into with a spoon.

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

One day when pressing matters of fence painting and early risings are not on his agenda, Himself would like to come and taste test more of Harrington’s beers, They make some 20 of them, many of them award winning.

Today he had to make do with one beer with his meal since he’s the designated driver for the duration of my foot recovery time.

We have a host of appointments to go to in the next days but if we have time then Harringtons would be on the list for a return visit.

Every member of the Kiwidutch family left feeling deliciously full and everyone enjoyed their meal.

If you too have fussy kids, you’ll know that that’s a restaurant success in anyone’s book.

p.s….(*)  a short explaination of Kiwi terms:

bush = native forest
ute = utility vehicle (pick-up truck)
yummies = delicious food
boot = rear compartment for car baggage (trunk)
singlet = a tight tank top worn by men
sunnies = sunglasses

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Jackson’s Seriously Good Pies at Cookies and Cream…

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

This is Kiwidutch’s account of my recent travels  to New Zealand.

We were there during December 2011-Janurary 2012 and I arrived back in the Netherlands with a laptop bursting with jottings and more photographs than I thought my hard-drive could handle.

Now I’m busy making order of it all and taking you on a guided tour of our adventures.

So, before we were rather rudely interupted by a cluster of large earthquakes …we had spent the morning of 23rd December picking peas with friends.

Afterwards they had some family appointments to keep and I needed a rest back at the B&B, but before that Himself and the kids remembered that breakfast had been some time ago and in spite of eating a ton of fresh peas, they were hungry.

Two days earlier when we had gone on a failed raspberry hunt, but ended up pea picking here for the first time we made a serendipitous discovery.

It came about because Himself had bought one tiny plastic container of raspberries before leaving the raspberry place … and once Kiwi Daughter had custody of them in the rear of the van they didn’t stand a chance.

She offered to share with me, but since I heard Little Mr.  giggling I was quick enough to ask first how many were left?

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

“Four” she said… then a muffled with her mouth full… “mmmn …thwee.”

Clearly she was enjoying them a lot, so she got to polish off the rest.

This sudden lack of summer fruit spurred me to ask Himself to pull over at the next road-side place so that I could buy some to take back to the B&B with us.

This is how we ended up in a car park that by happen-chance also featured a little coffee kiosk called “Coffee and Cream”.

It took me a little while to buy apricots, peaches and cherries that I intended to go in for, as well as the cuccumbers, apples and tomatoes that I ended up adding to my basket, so when I got back to the van it was no surpise to find that our little natives were rather restless.

Little Mr had spotted an ice-cream sign by the little coffee kiosk and was practicing his best pleading face, and Kiwi Daughter had spied something else … pies for sale!

Now, these are not  pies in any dessert sense of pies (at least not in the North American sense of what a “Pie” might be).. these are savoury pies and the fillings of these in New Zealand are traditionally things like: steak, mince (ground beef), bacon and egg, or chicken.

The filling is usually either  a puff or rough puff pastry case, topped with a pastry lid and a Kiwi Pie  is an excellent treat when you are eating on the fly.

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

As luck would have it this kiosk  turned out to have a range of gourmet pies… so there were also fillings like venison in the range.

Himself bagged one of those and the rest of us opted for steak or mince and Himself grabbed a coffee and we opted for water.

Well, what a revelation! As you might imagine there are pies and there are pies… quality varies as do prices. These were not the cheapest but they are amazing, definiately some of the best I have ever tasted.

Himself too was very impressed… and to his amazment and delight he even got a European style coffee that was decently strong to go with it. Yum!

The lady behind the kiosk counter was festively attired and super friendly.

After we finished our pies we headed back for the ice-cream that the kids had been promised and told her that we loved the pies… she was really pleased and even more pleased when we said we would be sure to return.

And return we did, two days later on the 23rd and about three more times during our time in Christhurch before heading up north to see more family and friends. The lady remembered us and was delighted we kept coming back…

To add to the delight of our taste buds there were also a selection of  oh la la ( …very) sweet treat: , cream buns and a caramel sort of choclate slice that I strongly suspect that Himself has secretly fallen in love with.

We indulged and wow, if you are going to take the plunge and indulge then be sure to indulge like this…. deliciously decadent!

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

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The Day a Police Car, a Random Act of Kindness and some Wise Words Changed my Life…

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

I was going to post something different today but something happened this weekend that reminded me that one person’s actions can influence the path of someones else’s life forever.

Me?  I’m the person who was influenced.
I was given a gift, a very special gift.

Remember a few days ago I wrote about the Rugby Street Church in Christchurch New Zealand and the church hall behind it that has now been completely demolished due to earthquake damage?

Well this place holds a special place in my heart for more reasons than just the dances and fun times I  had there.

I went to this youth group because I was friends with a brother and sister who parents had a holiday house in the same place as my family did.

These two people came into my life during some turbulent years and I valued the fact that they accepted me for who I was and we got on well, so when they invited me to come along to their youth group I said yes.

My parents were semi-neutral about my joining this group and although I had a sister who rarely went out and for whom they were a ready and willing taxi service, when I expressed hope of the same it was made clear that my bike was in the bike-shed and if I wanted to get there, I could do so under my own steam.

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

Since I lived in the shadow of the Port Hills on the other side of town I therefore commuted to and from the friday night youth group by ten-speed bicycle.

One day when I was locking up my bike outside Rugby Street hall another member of the group, (“M”) came over and wondered why I hadn’t walked to the meeting. (It appeared that he assumed I lived close to the brother and sister friends who lived a short walk away.)

I laughed, told him where I lived and thought nothing more about it.
A few weeks later “M” came  and told me that he was really worried about the idea of me cycling home in the dark alone, especially through the often deserted one -way system that I used to get home.

I’ll explain why he said that.

In the “wisdom”and thinking of the day,  Christchurch’s City fathers planned the layout of their new city in a concise looking grid pattern before even leaving England, which got somewhat complicated when they imposed it on a landscape on the other side of the world that surprised them with added features like  meandering rivers.

The grid pattern road system worked well on paper, but when motor vehicles were added to the equation, reality was that the sheer number of intersections meant more traffic lights than city inhabitants and crossing the city became a nightmare.

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

One day someone had a bright idea and turned designated streets into one-way systems with synchronised traffic lights for speedy travel north/south and east/west on each of the four sides of the city centre.

Good, the system worked well enough, but it was synchronised for car speed and not bicycle speed so for cyclists there were many stops along it anyway.

I still considered the one-way streets safer than the very busy Columbo Street because there wasn’t much space on Colombo for bikes and I wanted to avoid the weekend inebriated who hung out around Catherdral Square.

The one-way systems were by far the quickest routes, but often the most lonely too, light industrial businesses had strung up along many of them, the inner city residences that there were, were few and far between and because this was an area of the city that  might be termed as “an old-established,  pre-regeneration area”  the houses tended to be more run-down needing some obvious TLC,  than inner city chic.

“M’  was worried about my safely cycling alone here at night and said he wanted to borrow his father’s car and drive me home. My problem with this idea was that “M” lived very close to the Rugby Street church and my house was a long long way out of his way… not only that, but it rankled with me that  I couldn’t afford to give him petrol money, so in my pride and stubbornness I politely refused his offer.

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

Several  offers of a lift later, also politely refused, and despite assurances that no petrol money was needed (after finding out that it was one of my reasons for declining)  “M” took matters into his own hands.

When I got on my bike and cycled home in the dark, he would follow a safe distance behind me in his father’s car, made sure that I got up my driveway ok, and then wave and drive home again.

Since I was resolute in my opinion that his actions weren’t necessary and hope he would grow tired of it,  I continued to cycle as usual and he continued this process until one summer night when our youth meeting had gone on far longer than usual.

It was well past midnight, but the weather was still balmy, it had been tropical all day so I was wearing a tee-shirt and skirt as I cycled  home as usual.
The one-way street that would take me south was Barbadous Street and it was really quiet… the odd car passed but other than “M”  following slowly behind the streets were deserted.

I’d been waiting at the traffic lights because of course they were phased for car speed and not cycle speed, and when they turned green off I went. All of a sudden I heard a strange noise… a sort of “whop whop, then a pause and again “whop whop”.

More than the noise I now noticed a strange light in the darkness and still cycling, turned my head to see what it was.

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

Imagine my shock to see “M’s”car pulled over to the side of the road with a police car next to it… there was no siren on but police car’s light’s were flashing and this was the strange light that I had noticed.

I turned around on my bike and cycled back to find poor “M” tying to explain to the police that he was on a mission to assure my safety and that he wasn’t actually stalking the female cyclist as it certainly looked to them.

The look of relief on his face when I arrived back to confirm his story will stay with me for the rest of my days, so will the incredulous looks on the faces of the police officers at the whole situation before them.

My pride and stubborness were knocked down quite a bit that night and not wanting to embarrass “M’  further we quickly thanked the police for their concern and intervention,  put the bike in the back of the station-wagon and drove  the rest of the way home.

Outside my door we sat in the car and had a long talk. It wasn’t about the petrol money “M” said, or the time,  effort or distance, it was because he really worried that something might have happened to me on one of these nightime journeys and he had the means to make sure nothing did.

He wanted to help, not only for me but for his own peace of mind… this had really been worrying him  and he wanted to help.

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

Then he said words to this effect: “Sometimes someone just wants to give, they know you can’t pay them back, but that’s not the point… payback to me isn’t needed.

Maybe instead, one day, some time , somewhere in life you will find someone who has a need that you can meet.

It might have nothing to do with cash, it could be your time, your talent, a skill, a listening ear, it may indeed be financial … but most often you will find that your time and efforts are needed far far more than money.

When you see this situation and can meet the need, just do what you can and in doing so you will have paid me back in full.”

His words that night changed a lot of things in my life, not least  my attitude because it made a good dent in my stubborn streak.

The biggest lessons I have learned from this … is that help often comes to you when you least expect it and in guises you never dreamed of …. that giving back brings a satisfaction that you never imagined possible…. and that if you have your eyes open you will always find someone who could use a helping hand and that both parties can be richer for having given and received.

Whilst I have never “given”with the expectaion of anything in return, I can tell you that I have often experienced some very strange situations in my life in which seemingly unrelated chains of events have slotted together prefectly to ease a complication in my life.

Is this “karma”or a case of “what goes around comes around”? Who knows…

I am richer as  a person because  I have learned that when I give, I grow.

For various reasons I now longer attend church but I don’t think that having faith is necessarily defined by church attendance, for me it’s all about the maxim ”to whom much is given, much is required“.

Sadly I  lost touch with “M” long ago, but I will continue to be influenced by him because his kindness and his words changed me and widened my horizons. I can only hope that every now and again he is blessed in receiving a random act of kindness from a complete stranger whenever he needs it too.

The best thing about a random act of kindness? …. Passing it on.

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

A Weird Day of Extremes, Slithers Past…

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

This is a continuation of yesterday’s BBQ post.

The Christchurch, New Zealand kids we are visiting have a stream running past the end of their back yard, and they often paddle in it, canoe on it etc.

One thing the kids like doing is feeding the wildlife… and apparently the most interesting wildlife are the eels.

A favourite way the family like to thoroughly use every part of their chop bones is to put them onto the stream bed and watch the eels come out to pick them completely clean.

You  then retrieve the bare bones afterwards and put them into the household rubbish container.

The Kiwidutch kids listened to this story with wide eyes… their faces a mixture of excitement and apprehensive uncertainty as they thought about the possibility of feeding eels.

Of course we had just polished off an ample supply of lamb chops, so what better moment to test the theory and educate the Kiwidutch kids?

Our friends’s daughter waded in and put the bones into a good spot in the stream and the rest of us all got as close to the edge as possible without falling in to see who could spot an eel first.

Fortunately for me I could cheat and sit a decent distance away and use the zoom lens on the camera instead. You know me and accident prone… let’s not tempt fate here.

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

It took only a few minutes for the first eel to appear, the Kiwidutch kids were suitably impressed and started pointing out more ‘eels’  in the shimmering and shaded water.

Several of Little Mr’s ‘eels” were exceptionally stationary and looked for all the world like river-bottom sticks, but that mere detail didn’t seem to deter him from the excitement of his “discoveries”  … and he finially looked a fraction more relaxed after this afternoons earthquake meltdown, so I certainly wasn’t going to be the Mama to  pour cold water on his “eel” finds.

Getting a photo in the late evening light, with the dappled shaddows of the trees and the ripples of the water was harder than I expected but if you look hard I did manage to get some photos of (real) eels in the water.

One of our kids asked what eels were like to touch.. it was a general question, but before they knew it our friends daughter ran off and returned with a net, sprang into the knee deep stream and started enthuisatically chasing eels.

It took some doing but she had done this before and to the Kiwidutch kids amazement, suddenly with a whoop that denoted success, the net was handed back over onto the lawn and out wriggled a long, fat and very slippery black eel.

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

Our children shrieked and took a quick step back, watching from a safe distance.

For some reason the eel than got a little disorientated and started to slither quickly towards a patio area away from the stream, and knowing that there was no good place for him to survive there our friend’s daughter proceeded to try and grab it on the run and get it back onto the grass.

More shrieks and giggles ensued before she was successful and our kids got to see an eel up close.

Little Mr. even summonded up enough courage to come over and touch it.

(yes I know… behold my wonderful photo editing technique LOL).

Since our children are apartment dwellers and we have no garden, they never really have the opportunity to get their hands dirty, so the wonders of nature are several steps removed from their childhood existence.

You can only dig in the sand of the sandpit of the local playground after all…. and there are no worms in that. These are the bits of the “Kiwi experience” that I hope our New Zealand trips will be beneficial in  filling some of the gaps in their concrete and brick cobbled  childhood so far.

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

Little Mr. is still very clingy and nervous,  close to tears whenever he thinks of the possibility of another quake, and still begging us to pack up, drive to the airport and come home to the Netherlands, …but at least we have managed to turn a very frightening afternoon into a less frightening evening and taken our minds off the scary bits for a while with great food, fun, good conversation and excellent company.

As luck would have it the next really decent aftershock  happened on the car ride home, and whilst Himself and I had our suspicions we said nothing  just exchanged simutanous looks.

Such are Christchurch’s now bumpy roads and due to the amount of insulation that the tyres provide  we wen’t totally sure if it had been our imaginations or not.

It turned out that we were not mistaken, there had been a 5.1 quake but the kids were none the wiser and we chose not to enlighten them now that they were finially less stressed.

Luckily too that both were so tired from the excitement and stresses of the day that they fell into a deep sleep back at the B&B and slept through a constant supply of long rolling aftershocks and short sharp jolts in the night that kept me awake as I typed a blog post about the day and messages to family and friends to confirm that we were ok.

What a day.. from the tranquility and laughter of this mornings pea-picking to the terrified screams and tears of the afternoon, and then the new experiences of the evening. New experiences all of them… and a lot to take in for a kid in a single day.

It’s been a long,  rather weird day of extremes, a hard day… The beginning and the end of the day were great, I just wish that the middle section of  it had gone by faster, slipped on by   … as slippery as an eel.

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

The water is beautiful, but hard to get decent photos of eels with this kind of light…

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

The theme of today appears to be “bravery”….

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(photograph © Kiwidutch)

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(photograph © Kiwidutch)

Weird Science with Cans, Fish Tanks and Lamb Chops all Help with Bouncing Back…

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

The evening of 23rd December 2011, after a tumultuous afternoon full of tears, fears and children’s general earthquake meltdown, we decided to try and lighten the evening by going ahead with the BBQ that we had already planned with friends.

Little Mr. wasn’t keen on going inside their house, (well any house at that point, actually) but was enticed by the very down to earth and matter of fact attitude of our friends daughter and foster daughter.

We had a chat to both privately about our kid’s afternoon reactions and they were quick to tell us kind heartedly that they would be sure take great care of them whilst they were playing together and would be careful to make sure that they felt really safe.

We arrived as our friends were cleaning up the mess that the quake had once again given them… the most pressing had been the rescue of the family goldfish, the tank got shaken off the chest of drawers it was on and toppled onto the floor.

Quick thinking and even faster action saw the girls save the fish, now all that remained was to clear up the sodden books on the bookshelf, dry out the wall and carpet and general cleanup of everything that had been displaced by the shaking.

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

Outside the Dad of the family was cleaning up by the garage door… there had been a neat stack of full soft drink cans sitting between a sturdy wood cupboard and the spare fridge-freezer and multiple cans  exploded, somehow the force of the liquid ripped the can open around the tab line and everything blew out under pressure.

What was particularly bizare was that although the concrete garage floor was a mess with various overflowed soft drink puddles, the cans themselves looked completely undented on the sides , and expect for the obvious damage near the tabs there was no evidence that that they had been squashed or even slightly dented at any point at all.

I’m supposing that the speed and force of the vibrations though the ground must have been enough to jiggle the contents to bursting point as no other logical explaination fits.

The cans had been neatly stacked between two solid objects and maybe because they lacked the space to allow movment in any direction except “up”, all the energy was concentrated in that direction? Hmm who knows, and stupidly  I forgot to take any photos of the cans but it was certainly some of the strangest earthquake damage they had seen so far.

The Kiwidutch kids were pleased to help out with the fish tank drama and relaxed visibly before dinner. The reassuring words and gung-ho attitude of the host girls,  did wonders as these Christchurch kids  brushed off fear completely ( publicly at least) and just got on with life.

I’m really proud of them because they are living in a house with some horrendous cracks in the walls, foundations and ceilings. In fact part of the house has sunk and is breaking away from the rest of the house and with each cluster of bigger aftershocks it’s getting worse.

In spite of this they are living in a zone classed as “Green”(deemed fit for repair) but massive repiling of their house will be necessary as well as other damage repair and there is now a battle between CERA and their Insurance company as to who is liable for what, so the whole situation is really stressful and there is little hope (realistically) of a quick solution.

They have every right to be completely and utterly stressed but are soldioring on as best they can whilst  they wait for the repairs to begin.  I’m amazed they re handling it as well as they are.  I’m not altogether sure that I would be.

When we talked about what we fancied on the menu several days ago, the subject of lamb chops came up as a suggestion from us. We then learned that the price of lamb has gone up considerably  in New Zealand recently and it’s been a shock for our lamb loving friends, so it’s been religated to “treat” status.

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

I’m afraid that when I heard the prices they mentioned I couldn’t stop myself from laughing out loud … and when I told them what we  paid for lamb chops and leg roasts in The Netherlands they were truly horrified. (between double and triple the price)

We therefore  very happily arranged that our contribution to the meal would be lamb chops and when we arrived with three trays of them they almost fainted… “we will never manage all those” they said… but they were sooo good, from BBQ to table they didn’t stand a chance as  we lamb-chop deprived diners enjoyed every last one of them.

Kiwi Daughter was now more relaxed and wanted to go on the trampoline, she took turns with the other girls but Little Mr was still in scared limpet mode so we didn’t push him to participate.

The Dad of the house then said to Kiwi Daughter, lets do some tricks on the trampoline together.. she was a little nervous at first as they had to bounce in complete synchronisation… he held her left hand with his right hand and when they got to a decent height he gave her a big boost with his arm on the up-bounce an she flew up really high. He was of course still hanging onto her hand so she was in no danger of flying off anywhere.

Once she mastered the technique of the synchronised bounce , she even managed to dare to reach out with her other hand on the big up-bounce to touch the fronds of the punga tree above.

I’ve managed to master the art of exceptionally bad photo-editing to show you a shot of the up-bounce trick without actually showing the participants. No, they aren’t ghosts, even though Kiwi Daughter’s face did a good impression of one earlier in the day during the more frightening moments.

In fact earlier in the day she was so scared she felt physically sick… I’ve made a new word for this phenomonon… I told her she had a “bellyquake”.

It’s nice to see her trying so hard to be brave, and finally letting out a few squeals of delight as she managed to touch the tree above… kids are nothing if not resilient, and Christchurch Kids have had to be more resilient than most since September 2010. Bravo to them all.

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

Maybe It was Our Pee’ing in the Paddock that Did It…???

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

On this part of our New Zealand adventures, I’m taking a break from looking at damaged buildings and ruminating on the past and am busy getting organised for Christmas Day 2011 (which when I started these photos and jotted down my notes was less than a week away).

We had been visiting my Aunt and Uncle the day before and were discussing what was on offer at the local Market Gardens on Marshlands Road when Kiwi Daughter asked out of the blue if we could go raspberry picking like we did last trip to NZ.

I’m delighted that my ultra city-kid daughter loved the last experience enough to suggest a return visit this trip.

The fact the she adores raspberries probably helps … Little Mr.  hasn’t yet acquired the taste and will pick for a while but gets bored after a bit.

My Aunt suggests a place this side of town rather than heading to to Tai Tapu on the south side of the city like we did last time, so the next morning we piled Family Kiwidutch into the car and went in search of raspberries.

To  Kiwi Daughter’s dismay there turned out to be no self-picking possibilities for the public until after Boxing Day (December 26th) …probably because they want to get the Christmas rush over, beforehand and the little boxes of raspberries you can buy from the berry farms at present have most certainly,  a far higher profit margin.

We do a U-turn and start to head back when all of a sudden I see a sign… Pea picking, pick your own peas!!!

Himself has always wondered at me, whooping with delight  when I spied fresh peas in their pods for the first time all those years ago in The Netherlands. (tiny side-street grocer shop in Delft close to Oude Kerk, I even remember exactly where!) He had never eaten a raw pea out of the pod in his life and he thought I’d gone mad.

I promptly bought a bag of peas in their pods and proceeded to shell them and eat the peas raw… now he really thought I had lost my mind…why didn’t I take them home and cook them? … even better, skip the hard work and get a packet of frozen ones from the supermarket.

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

He had no clue what he was missing.

He does now though understand my love of raw peas… we have a long standing pact that we will celebrate Valentines Day any day except February 14th because we despise the merchandising of it all.

Therefore sometimes in the summer months my true love turns up with a grin on his face and presents to me a bag full of peas in their pods, and I’m always delighted because peas in their pods aren’t particularly easy to find here in The Netherlands and nor are they cheap so I know he has made a detour or siezed the opportunity when he’s seen them… and if that ain’t love I don’t know what is.

We turned into the driveway to see a shed  that’s a converted shipping container (these are certainly in vogue in Christchurch at the moment!)  … an honesty box, buckets and a paddock full of peas.

I stuck to the outer edges because crutches and paddocks full of low growing plants are not mutually compatable and we paid for two buckets so that we could take one lot to a friend.

What I didn’t expect was that Little Mr and Kiwi Daughter would take to pea picking like pro’s.

They delighted in it and after a first aprehensive look at the contents of the pea pods, and with worried looks on their faces as they popped their first raw pea into their mouths, … chewing they suddenly looked amazed and delighted at how sweet they were soon stuffing themselves with raw peas.

Considering that Little Mr. will happily push cooked peas around a plate going “ew, don’t like these”,  this was a revelation.

Whilst opening some of the pods they of course a little clumsy as they got the hang of it and dropped some of their peas so I dredged out every corny pea/pee line I could think of… “Little Mr just pee’d on the ground” , “oh no… Kiwi Daughter just pee’d on her shoes” and of course they had hysterics and repeated the “jokes” seemingly a thousand times, each time finding it funny all over again as kids naturally can.

To my delight, not only were the peas totally sweet and delicious, but the plants were really heavily laden too.

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

We heard from a fellow picker who had a family connection to the place that apparently this season had been a bumper crop .. the best in years.

Even with numberous stops to shell peas and feed our faces, between the four of us we filled two large buckets in next to no time.

Later, back at the B&B I start to shell the peas and the kids come in from trampoline play and are due to get ready for bed but instead get diverted in a competition as to who can shell the most in the shortest time.

I’m clearly winning  because the full dish I have in front of me is the third one I’ve filled but the competitive  bug has bitten them and together we shell a heap of peas.

The kids were so enthralled with picking that they asked  if we could go again so we decided to come out again with some friends and their son and get some more a few days later for my Aunt and Uncle so that they can have them for Christmas Day dinner,…. and I’m keen to take another bag to shell and use as healthy nibbles.

Two days later we go pea-picking for a second time.

I borrowed a small folding chair from Rae at the Hidden Haven B&B and having a little seat made it a lot easier than leaning on one crutch and bending down all the time. With our friends and kids we picked another four buckets between us, sitting talking as we picked and laughing a lot and of course the kids spent the whole time rehashing “pee” one-liners too.

Little did we know that tranquil sunny morning, that that very afternoon would be spent trying to calm terrified children,  connect with friends and relatives to make sure everyone was safe as the earth shook violently under our feet and everything around us trembled.
This was after all, the Christchurch morning of the 23rd of December 2011.

(for an update on what happened on 23rd Dec : http://kiwidutch.wordpress.com/2011/12/24/the-surprise-that-now-isnt-and-ones-that-definitely-were/   )

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

The Pain of Just Doing What Needs to Be Done…

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

Sometimes the discovery of a change is a shock that your were totally unprepared for.

Such is the case when we went a little further down Papanui Road and Rugby Street Church came into view.

I have been part of this church family and part of the youth group in years gone by.

Even more disturbing than the obvious damage to the Church was the almost complete absence of the church hall that once stood to the rear of it.

I was shocked to see that of the entire structure, only a remnant of the foundations remain. This was once a beautiful brick building, full of character, with very wide steps and heavy double wooden doors.

I have fond memories of meetings here, the musical we put on, parties and dances.  One such dance was a fancy dress ball, it was an eventful evening fron the start, with a flat tyre in the midst of Papanui Road weekend evening traffic, myself in costume standing on the pavement holding tools, whilst my friend tried to get the spare tyre  installed on the traffic side without getting his costume fouled up.

Passing cars tooted and passer-bys on the footpath made humourous comments so clearly we provided some laughs.

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

Later, at the end of the evening there was a strange tooting noise and in response we opened the double doors onto the wide steps to find headlights on full beam facing us just centimetres away.

My friend had driven the car  up the steps as far as it could go and we then proceeded to cram as many of us into the car as possible so that we could all be dropped off home.

It was an alchol free dance but we still had fun and we almost literally danced our feet off that night.

As was the usual routine, everyone bought a plate of food to share for supper and the evening was full of so much laughter that we were exhausted at the end of it.

We had a dinner there once that also had a little drama. Everything had been beautifully set out on trestle tables, there were flowers and candles… the  food was served and then one of the girls hair caught fire when she leaned over a little too close to a candle,  first there was an awful smell of burning hair for a few seconds  and  as we looked to see what was burning, we saw a bluish flame completely cover one side of her head …

…luckily the guy next to her reached out and ran his hand quickly over the flame and amazingly put it out in one swipe before she even realised that it was her hair that was burning.

He said later it was just an automatic raction that he didn’t even think about doing, he just instinctively did what needed to be done.

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

The girl however,  did freak out somewhat in the ladies loo’s later when she saw the singed damage but was very very thankful it wasn’t far worse.

Just doing what needs to be done seems to be the new theme for Christchurch citizen’s and their city… clearly the old hall was beyond repair and needed urgent demolition so it’s been done and it’s gone.

Murphy’s Law  struck and it appears that the Google Street View vehicle did of course make it’s way down the very busy thoroughfare of Papanui Road, but didn’t make it down the quieter Rugby Street from where there would have been a far better view of the old hall.

Oh well… just seeing a glimpse of it in the background has appropriate parallels to just seeing what’s left of the foundations now I suppose.

The church sits in it’s broken state with the spire braced on the ground in the front yard… a not too unfamiliar sight in Christchurch these days.

Oddly enough if Iook at the foundations of the old hall and then close my eyes, I can still see the building in all it’s glory in my mind’s eye. It’s as solid in my memory as it is absent in real life.

Writing about it helps with letting go, it lets me jot down the memories so that they don’t get lost in the jumble of all the other stuff that you have to cram into our brain on a daily basis. If one day my memory fails, at least the echo of what was before will remain.

(sigh) Ghosts of buildings and echo’s of memories past… sadly there will be all too many of those in Christchurch from now on.

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

The spire being on the ground gives me the  change to take in some of the detail I’d never noticed before…

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Thank You Google Street View)

Reflections on Then and Now, Pausing to Pay Our Respects…

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

It’s strange how life can be completely normal one moment and then suddenly everything can change in seconds: damage inflicted in less than a minute can be fatal, irreparable, profound.

It’s as if you are in the depths of a horrible nightmare:  if you woke up sweating and shaking to find that it wasn’t real it would be a welcome relief, a weight off your shoulders and the pain in your heart would heal and you’d be whole again.

This senerio happens in life on a daily basis… to somone, somewhere in the world all the time, ….maybe as the result of a road accident, death or near death of a loved one or the worst possible medical disgnosis.

When it happens on an individual level, it’s like life slows down and things start to happen in slow motion but moves at normal place for everyone else.

They don’t feel your pain, they don’t understand your limbo, your sense of time being suspended and your uncertainlty as events bigger than you can handle envelope you. So many questions, so few answers, how do you find the strength to go on?

In your heightened state of emotion, fear, resolution and pain, you start relying on auto-pilot to help you go through the necessary motions back to normal life.

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

Its like skiddling unexpectedly off the road and finding yourself dazed and bruised in the gravel, you need time to heal, recover , repair and return to where you left off. ‘

Hopefully someone will extend a helpful hand for you to hold, a shoulder to cry on and a strong arm to wrap you in when the darkest moments of recovery are upon you.

When this sudden spiral out of  “normal life”  happens on a collective level rather than on an individual level, as in the case of a natural disaster, things take an altogether different turn.

In this case less than a single minute of shaking turned a city upside down, it took lives, limbs, annihilated  life plans, jobs, possessions, dreams.

You hope that it’s a bad dream you can wake up from but each morning you are reminded that this IS the new reality that you are going to learn to live with.

Some people rise to this new situation, they find inside themselves an almost super-human strength that they never knew they had: on February 22nd they took charge, got to work, stood strong, gave comfort, fed or took in strangers, became leaders, carers and beaons of hope.

Others were not so strong: damage, berievement, age, loss, fear, nerves, character, shock… whatever the reason, they were in position where they needed more help than they could offer and, as is probably statistically usual when counting large numbers in a collective group, some tried to help themselves more than others too.

(photograph ©Thank you Google Street view)

(photograph © Thank you Google Street view)

(photograph © Thank you Google Street view)

Everyone has a different reaction to situations of deep and dire stress, when events over-run us on a personal level there is usually someone on the ‘outside’ when can reach in and lend a steadying hand.

When everyone else around you is also in this deep level of stress it can be so much harder to see where to go next, what’s possible, which way is up, how to battle the tears and emotions.

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

Christchurch City was trust into a crisis where as the enormity of the situation unfolded was akin like one shock wave hitting after another… there’s been a massive earthquake, buildings are down, people are trapped, people have died, whole neighbourhoods are damaged, hillsides and cliffs have fallen, houses beyond repair… and the sickening sense that gathers in your stomach as each piece of information comes in,  is a feeling I never want to ever feel again.

The minutes spent dialing telephome numbers of loved ones with quivering hands and the seeming eternity it takes between each dial tone are some of the longest minutes of your life… you know that large parts of the phone network is down but you try anyway.

Eventually someone of the other end of the line answers as the connection is finially successful, and together in shaking voices and tears the relief is audible, tangible, enveloping.

We quickly discover that even with some 14 attempts per call, that my chances of getting though to Christchurch from the Netherlands are still higher than their local calls across the city, so I try and phone as many people as possible, passing on messages and relaying information that loved ones are safe.

Some, try as we might, we can’t contact and the heavy sick feeling remains until we finially make contact.

(photograph ©Thank you Google Street view)

We are glued to the television as footage unfolds and the internet for as many live updates as we can get our hands on.

News crews from around the world flock to the scene as fast as resucue services from abroad, some are factual, some are sensationalistic, some have facts and more have more speculation than facts.

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

After a few days once it’s been determined that no more survivors will be found or, if a bigger more urgent crisis is unfolding somewhere else around the world, attention is diverted and the news teams pack up their gear and move on.

Christchurch evaporates from the spotlight on the world stage and is left to start the long road of recovery alone.

But it is not completely alone, New Zealanders far and wide rally together, bonds of solidarity are formed, fundraising and support services are started, friends, relatives, neighbours, complete strangers are welcomed into homes inside Christchurch, from within the region and nationwide.

Busses and trucks arrive with food, clothes, home baking for people who are without electricy and who have had to evaculate their homes in only the clothes they stood up in.

Stories emerge that show people from one extreme to the other, from utter selflessnessness, selfishness and everything inbetween… but more often than not people rise above their own needs and wants and heartwarming accounts of “heros” in every shape, form and age come to light time and time again. Faith in human nature is restored as you hear account after account of people who waste no opportunity to give…  and wow, they gave.

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

Some people are steadfast that they will never leave the city, some do leave and some wish they could, everyone makes the best of the new reality that means closed or broken roads, damages houses, liquafaction, closed businesses and workplaces or tempory premises and work-around situations that are often less than ideal.

Today is one year to the day that Christchurch city had it’s heart torn open… the wounds are still raw, the recovery process is steady but slow, the pain is still close to the surface whenever certain emotional buttons are pushed.

For some this day is especially dark, in an instant they lost loved ones in terrible circumstances and their journey back to normalicy of any sort, is a road that we hope we ourselves will never have the misfortune to travel.

One thing is clear, and to which I can also attest to on Dec 23rd 2011, is when the ground is moving and everything around you is shaking, not one non-fration of your mind is busy thinking about possessions we own, we think only of the living breathing treasures that are irreplaceable, our children, spouses, friends, people we love.

The Christchurch earthquakes have helped people redefine who they are and what they want from life, February 22nd 2011 was a wake-up-call of the worst kind… a searing reminder that you only have today, time is limited, use it well, loved ones are the most precious thing you have, and this life is not the practice run.

(photograph © Thank you Google Street view)

(photograph ©Thank you Google Street view)

Christchurch and many of it’s inhabitants will spend today, along with all New Zealanders both at home and abroad, pausing at 12.51 pm and reflecting on this day, one year ago and one year on…

I may well live far away, but my heart and thoughts are today firmly “at home” in Christchurch.

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Thank you Google Street view)

(photograph © Thank you Google Street view)

(photograph © Thank you Google Street view)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Thank you Google Street view)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

Victims that the quake took came not only from New Zealand but also from abroad, my thoughts are with all the families of those who have had their lives forever changed by their loss or their injuries, both near and far.

I love and mourn the loss of my city, but that is nothing compared with the loss or injuries these people are still coming to terms with one year on.
I can only wish us all strength together for the long road ahead…

St Mary’s Tries to Stay Strong, But in Vain…

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

St Mary’s Church in Church Lane, Merivale, Christchurch City, New Zealand is a beautiful stone (Church of England / Anglican church) that was built in the 1920′s.

I used to pass it  quite often when I lived in Christchurch because friends lived close by, and so I was keen to see how it had fared during the earthquakes and subsequent aftershocks.

Only a few days after I took these photographs, we were hit by a cluster of over 30 aftershocks, several of them very large indeed.

It was with great sadness that I learned on the local News that pre-Dec23rd it had been supposed that much of St Mary’s might be slavagable and that with appropriate strengthening it might be (mostly) saved, but now, the December earthquakes had dealt a lethal blow and that only a fraction of it is now repairable.

CERA (Canterbury Earthquake Recovery Agency) quickly assessed the building and made their decisions and since my photogrpahs were taken it’s appearance has changed completely (see link below for photos)

http://anglicantaonga.org.nz/News/Common-Life/Quake-memorial-service

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

The Google Street view vehicle doesn’t appear to have gone down Church Lane,  (probably because its a cul-de- sac) so the closest “before” shot I could get is this close up , taken from a side view from Papanui Road.

(photograph © Thank you Google Street View)

 

A Fate of the Church, The Hotel and Little Rows of Shops..

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

The (Presbyterian) Knox Church of Christchurch is one of several landmark buildings on the intersection junction of Bealey Avenue, Victoria Street and Papanui Road.

It’s been standing diagonally opposite the equally well known and loved Carlton Hotel for at least 100 years.

Both buildings were severely damaged in the September 2010 and February 2011 Christchurch earthquakes and as a consequence of the later quake the Carlton Hotel was deemed beyond repair had to be demolished.

Knox Church stands looking a little forlorn, it’s outer skin of bricks have fallen away into the street, but on the brighter side it appears that the ornate timber structure that makes up the “bones” of the building are amazingly intact, and are now in this strange way revealed in all their glory.

I saw in the Christchurch Press Newspaper that someone associated with the church even rigged up a lighting display inside to show off the beautiful beams at night.

I’m delighted to see from the Knox Church website that it appears that this church can and will be saved…

…it’s outwards appearance may be changed from the old brick style to something that will be more resilient to the active seismic activity that Christcurch people are having to get used to living with these days, but they are literally rolling with the earth’s punches and getting on with life as a congregation regardless to the damage the building had sustained.

Buildings help make a community, but a community is more then the buildings they inhabit…

Knox Church may be down, or partly down, but it’s definiately not out. I’m very much looking forward to seeing how it rises up out of these quakes, and to documenting it’s progress on my future trips home to Christchurch.

Amazingly the Carlton Courts buildings (other side of the street from the Carlton Hotel ( a.k.a. The Carlton Corner Pub) appear to have survived undamaged…

Once again I’ve used Google Steet View to help you understand what this area looked like before… not just Knox Church but  also the lovely little row of shops that  once stood across the road on Victoria Street and the Carlton Hotel diagonally opposite.

(photograph © Thank you Google Street View)

(photograph © Thank you Google Street View)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Thank you Google Street View)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Thank you Google Street View)

(photograph © Thank you Google Street View)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Thank you Google Street View)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Thank you Google Street View)

http://www.knoxchurch.co.nz/news.php?newsletter_id=47#main

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Carlton_Hotel,_Christchurch