A False Start

Having scrubbed my studio flat from top to bottom, we loaded up our thrifty campervan and headed off for our grand tour of N.Z.

The first disaster occurred as we parked up in town to stock up on camping essentials. I could smell vinegar and we soon discovered that the white wine vinegar and the washing up liquid had both leaked. Not a good combination.

Undeterred, we drove north and crossed the harbour bridge - a dramatic start to our road trip. Our beast of a van lumbered along, rattling if we approached 100 kph and bouncing if we crossed a bumpy stretch of road. Disaster struck for a second time once we'd filled up with petrol.

I turned the key in the ignition as Skene paid the bill and nothing happened. Nothing at all. There was no click, click, click as we'd heard earlier that morning when the rental company had tried to start the van which they had originally intended to hire out to us, only to discover that it had a flat battery. Silence. I checked again to see if I'd filled the tank with the wrong type of fuel. Nope. I waited. I turned the key. Nothing. Skene's return to the van worked no miracles. We waited. We tried. Nothing. We rang the rental company to no avail.

Finally, a second Toyota campervan pulled up at the pumps next to us and Skene hopped out to ask the driver for advice. He recommended that we try the lights to see if the batteries worked. The lights worked. We tried the engine again and it sputtered into life. Magic! We hit the road again and continued north.

Against Skene's better judgment, I decided that we would stick to the original plan of visiting Goat Island - a marine reserve just north of Auckland, which I had read about in the Guardian. We were too late to catch the glass bottom boat but headed down to the beach to see what we could see. The area was designated a marine reserve in 1977 and fishing has been banned since then. The fish stocks have regenerated and the water now teems with life.

We lazed around in the branches of a pohutukawa, looking out over the beach before heading on to the rocks. After letting our eyes adjust, we began to see huge colourful fish swimming in schools, exploring the rocks and coming up to the surface. They were mostly bright blue maomao which didn't look particularly edible but I would have been tempted by some of the snapper!

The time came to move on to the camp site but the van would have none of it! I tried fiddling with the lights only to discover that the switch now operated the radio and not the headlamps. Oops. It also produced a very nasty rattle under the dashboard. Another friendly kiwi bloke took pity on us and offered us a jump start. It took about twenty minutes to find the battery (under the driver's seat) and we found signs of corrosion around the connection points. I wasn't optimistic but the jump leads revived our engine and we set off gingerly towards Warkworth where we intended to spend the night.

I managed not to stall the van and pulled up outside the reception. Skene hopped out to explain our predicament to the campsite owner whilst I kept the engine running, fearing that we would have to push it across the field if I turned it off. We were ushered into an en suite site and told that we could arrange for the A.A. to come first thing in the morning. A dip in the spa and a trip to see the glowworms in a leafy dell nearby, soon distracted us from our troubles.

The A.A. mechanic arrived at 9am on Sunday morning with bad news. He couldn't diagnose the problem without taking the vehicle to his garage and so we'd be stranded until the next day at least. We consoled ourselves with toasted sandwiches and cheesecake in the Sheepworld cafe before visiting the animals. It turned out to be not too bad a place to be stuck!

Sheepworld kept us entertained for a good few hours. The animals were incredibly friendly and we soon had lambs, kids (of the goat variety, fortunately) and a piglet crowding around us. The alpacas were a bit stand-offish but the pigs were grateful for a good scratch and bantams trailed after us all around the farmyard.

The sheep and dog show was fascinating and we learnt a lot about one of N.Z.'s prime industries. We met a mob of sheep and two types of dogs - an eye-dog, a New Zealand-bred border collie (shorter hair, faster, thinner, just as intelligent) and a huntaway (a black and tan dog which will gather up all reluctant sheep by barking at them wildly). The farmer introduced us to different breeds of sheep which are kept for either meat or wool and showed us how they can be gathered up and separated out for a variety of reasons (easier said than done) before demonstrating shearing.

Shearers learn their trade on dead animals and have to be competent enough to control a sheep twice their own weight before moving onto live beasts. The sheep can be made to be docile by bringing all its feet off the floor - it then simply gives up resisting and will sit still until shearing is complete. Speed is of the essence but shearers must take care not to cut the sheep when shearing the wrinkly areas around the neck and shoulders. Unsurprisingly, there was no audience participation invited.

The highlight of the show came at the end - feeding the lambs! The animals ran into the barn when released from their pen, knowing exactly what was coming next! I volunteered and bottle-fed a very thirsty lamb - gorgeous!

We spent the afternoon relaxing in the grounds of the campsite. We played quoits (Skene won) and petanque (my victory!) and took another dip in the spa whilst watching the kingfishers swooping about the lawn.

On Monday morning, we rang the hire company and gave them what-for. A new campervan appeared within half an hour - clean and fully-functioning, the pride of the fleet - and we had two day's hire refunded. We reassessed our route and hit State Highway 1 once more...

E noho ra Auckland!

My scholarship is drawing to a close. I've been in Auckland for three months now and it's time to move on. I've packed up my flat and will soon pack up my desk ready for the firm to move offices over the weekend after 80 years in the same building. There's a last day of term atmosphere here and it feels like the perfect day to finish.

I've had a farewell lunch with the Crown Solicitor and other partners, at Harbourside, and a special 6th floor morning tea with a huge chocolate cake. There's a wonderful atmosphere here at the firm and it's been quite a different experience from being in chambers where people spend so little time together because of court commitments. I shall be quite sad to leave. Some members of the firm who've spent over thirty years in the office will probably find this weekend even more of a wrench as they pack their boxes!

Although, I feel that I've exhausted the sights, I'll be sad to leave Auckland too. Many New Zealanders complain about Aucklanders being self-centred and it's certainly true that Wellington gets something of a raw deal in terms of press coverage. I was surprised to find out how small the country's largest city is when I first arrived but the Auckland region spreads out across a huge area and holds many treats, especially the islands and west coast beaches.

As Skene promised, the place is full of coffee bars and antique shops - signs of cultural aspirations. I've been amazed by the high fashion in the shops and on the locals too. Although Auckland is fairly isolated from the rest of the world, it seems to be in touch with what's going on elsewhere and it will be interesting to see the contrasts in the rural areas.

The thrifty campervan is booked for tomorrow and we have 25 days in which to explore as much of the North and South Islands as we can. There's no sense of a north-south divide here and many Aucklanders have told me how wonderful the South Island is. I expect that the landscape will be quite different to the green and exotic bush and calm bays and beaches which are found here in Auckland. I've climbed some big hills with the tramping club but the mountains of the South Island will be something else altogether...

Fortunately, the rain and hail have started so no-one need feel too jealous of our trip! Temperatures in Invercargill are as low as 11 degrees and snow is forecast in the highlands.

Serious Fraud Office

I visited the Serious Fraud Office this morning for a guided tour. The office occupies two floors of a block in central Auckland - although Wellington is the capital city, Auckland is the commercial centre. I was introduced to the Assistant Director of Prosecutions and the Director of the Serious Fraud Office before being shown around by one of their prosecutors.

What struck me most of all was how small an organisation the N.Z. S.F.O. is - there are only six prosecutors to deal with around 40 cases each year - a caseload just half that of the U.K.'s S.F.O. with a tiny fraction of the staff numbers. The referral criteria are not as stringent as the English provisions however. A case may be considered for investigation and prosecution by the N.Z. S.F.O. where it concerns losses of just $500,000, a sixth of the loss required for the English Serious Fraud Office to consider accepting a case. The trials tend not to be as lengthy as English cases either - a three or four month trial is considered to be a long one here whilst English fraud cases sometimes last for more than a year.

Cases are mainly referred by the police or the Inland Revenue and occasionally the Commerce Commission. A minority of cases are reported to the S.F.O. by other bodies or by individuals such as M.P.s.

All New Zealand fraud cases are prosecuted by independent counsel, often a Crown lawyer or a Q.C. from the independent bar, to provide an objective overview, and usually involve a S.F.O. prosecutor as junior counsel.

Despite the small scale of the office, the technology used by the New Zealand Serious Fraud Office seems advanced.

All documents are scanned into the computer system, using American software, as soon as they are seized during a search to preserve their integrity. The original documents are then filed away and all preparation is done by reference to the electronic versions. At trial, an electronic courtroom is used to save time and provide better presentation of evidence. The system not only displays documents on a screen at the touch of a button but can also allow video interviews to be played alongside a rolling electronic version of the transcript.

All suspect interviews are recorded on DVD by the Serious Fraud Office in their Auckland interview suite. The interview is transmitted to a separate room so that a prosecutor can watch the investigator conduct the questioning and intervene where necessary to ensure that all relevant topics are covered.

Japanese Roulette

We had takeaway this evening. I selected sushi and tempura, after a lengthy discussion with the girl behind the counter about what types of tempura would be dished up. I was assured that there would be a mix of vegetables and seafood. And no mushrooms.

I was therefore dismayed to find a battered mushroom when I sat down to eat. I immediately donated it to Skene's bento box whereupon it was rejected as brocolli. I ate it with no adverse effect.

However, I was soon to happen upon a tempura egg (positively poisonous and neither seafood nor vegetable), something with which I was previously unfamiliar. I realised in time and set it to one side.

I was not so lucky with a piece of banana fritter. I took a large bite, believing it to be pumpkin or something similar, and was shocked to find that the battered object was a very evil fruit rather than a tasty piece of seafood or vegetable, as promised. I took great pleasure in annihilating it in the waste disposal.

A very risky meal all in all.

North Shore District Court

As part of my ongoing tour of Auckland's courts, I was despatched this morning to meet the Police Prosecutors at the North Shore District Court in Albany. The court building is modern and was opened in 2001. It is situated on the edge of a retail estate, close to the State Highway and across the road from a campus university. Its isolated location and the vast size of the building reminded me of Brent Magistrates' Court.

I was assigned to Prosecuting Sergeant Roger Stevens. He is the longest serving police officer in the North Island, with 42 years service, and has been prosecuting in the District Court since 1983. This morning he had a list of defended hearings (summary trials) consisting of around 13 cases. Some were traffic matters but more serious crimes such as a fraud by an employee and a male assault female charge were also included. In the end, only one case went ahead but it was to the credit of all involved that most cases were disposed of rather than simply adjourned.

The prosecuting sergeant was amused by the reversal of roles compared with English Magistrates Courts. In the District Court, professional judges sit whilst lay prosecutors act for the police. The absence of lay magistrates perhaps contributed to the feasibility of heavy lists (there were 150 matters listed next door for short hearings) whilst the police prosecutors bring many practical advantages.

A lack of independence is, of course, a concern but the prosecuting sergeants all have an in-depth knowledge of police procedures and a personal relationship with most of the police officers involved. This means that a prosecuting sergeant will delegate the responsibility for settling a case to a reliable investigating officer. He will also have a significant role to play in training police officers to prepare court files. Many of the police files which I saw contained comments as to how the case might have been better prepared or investigated or else praise for a young officer who had done a good job.

The case which went ahead today ending up being concluded in a pragmatic fashion. A defence submission of no case to answer looked set to succeed on a technical point. The prosecutor intended to apply to amend the charge, thereby resolving the issue. Both sides were reluctant to have a second trial and so an agreement was reached. The employee who was accused of committing a fraud worth $800 was offered diversion - he would enter a guilty plea to the new charge, pay the debt to his former employers and make a $250 contribution to a local hospice. In return, the court would discharge him without conviction, thereby alleviating any concern that he would have about a criminal record preventing him from gaining future employment. All parties were satisfied with the outcome and no further court time was required. It seems doubtful that such a prompt resolution could have been reached in a Central London Magistrates' Court...

Coromandel Peninsula: Day Two

We dragged ourselves out of bed this morning, having been woken at 06h00 by the fire station's siren. We needed to drive down to Hot Water Beach before the tide came in to ensure that we would have chance to see the hot pools in the sand before they became submerged. Piping hot pancakes prepared by our hostel host was some significant compensation for the early start.

As we drove down to the beach, there were a great number of vehicles leaving (at 10am!) and so we thought that we must have missed all the action. Having negotiated our way through the surf school on the beach, though, we found some locals making the most of a huge communal pool close to the water's edge. They had equipped themselves with garden spades (which made our bright yellow bucket and blue spade look somewhat inadequate) and were digging furiously in a bid to fend off the tide. King Canute came to mind!

On the sidelines, we dug our toes deep into the sand and found hot water - an odd sensation indeed! Unfortunately, we were already stood knee-high in the sea and so it was pretty chilly in any event...

We wandered back to the car and continued down the coast to Cathedral Cove. A path took us along the cliff tops until we descended into the Cove itself. The tide was still low enough for us to walk through the cave to a gorgeous white-sand beach.

On the way back through the bush, we explored Sting Ray Bay and admired the yellowhammers (a cross between a sparrow and a canary) which were flitting about in the fields.

The weather began to deteriorate so we had lunch from a fish and chip shop overlooking one of the bays further south. It reminded me of the picnics which we used to have as a family on the way to the ferry or somewhere. I enjoyed a mussel fritter and a paua fritter - local delicacies.

We had intended to go straight home but were distracted by the Piako Ostrich Farm and so dropped by for a guided tour. The farmers had originally kept a dairy herd - the main occupation in the Waikato, it seems - but had diversified around eight years ago. We met a breeding group first - two females and a male who were building a sandy nest in a shack in the corner of the field. One hen was clucking about, flapping her wings, and preparing to lay. The other two birds - the brown hen and the black cock - were quite happy to come up and say hello. There were several curious features to the birds - bald patches under their wings to help them keep their cool, two not three toes and unique scaled strips down their shins. They looked very prehistoric.

Next stop was the hatchery which contains an incubator where all eggs are kept until it becomes clear which are fertilised and which aren't, and the hatchery itself. We were lucky enough to see two eggs partially hatched. Having broken through the shell, the two chicks were having a rest before continuing their bid for freedom. The chicks can take a whole day to hatch but the farmers don't interfere until it is obvious that the birds are distressed.

Further along, the new chicks were kept in isolation to prevent disease. They were gorgeous and very curious. Older chicks were in a shady area outside and all came running down to see what was happening when we appeared. Several of them sat down with their reverse knee joints, as though there was a class. The sheepdog seemed on friendly terms with the birds which can be herded like sheep. All the fences have a gap at the bottom to allow the dogs to escape if the birds lose their temper.

The final stop on the tour was the adolescents who were ever so keen to find out who we were. Our guide told us that the pecks were friendly but I wasn't too sure! Apparently, they're like magpies and are attracted to shiny objects such as rings - so they tend to go for fingers! Ouch!

Skene tucked into ostrich salami and pate afterwards. I was tempted - the birds were very well treated and all seemed happy. But ostrich meat was re-classified recently as a red meat and so it can no longer be slaughtered on the farm. The nearest abattoir is six hours drive away and the slaughtering is likely to be an inhumane production line process. And so I declined.

Good use is made of all parts of the birds. The leather is also used and is particularly strong where the feathers have been. The feathers themselves are used in the fashion industry and for making dusters. They are non-static and so particularly useful, apparently. The unfertilised eggs, which are surprisingly heavy, are made into ornaments or plant pots!

And there ended our tour of the Coromandel - a popular spot for holidaying Aucklanders which perhaps makes us locals now - and the rental car was still intact!

Coromandel Peninsula: Day 1

Seeing as I have barely sat in the driver's seat of a car since passing my test eight years ago (!), we decided to hire a car and have a weekend away as a practice run before picking up our rented camping van next Saturday... We collected our super thrifty economy budget car - a Honda Logo - from the Affordable Rental Fleet at 9am. The hire firm gave me a quick lesson in how to drive an automatic and I was let loose on the roads!

It took me a little while to get the hang of not changing gears - just in time for us to hit the Southern Highway. It took me a little longer to get used to the indicators being on the right rather than the left but hopefully the other drivers understood that I was about to turn if I had my windscreen wipers on in beautiful sunshine...

The Southern Highway is a new innovation but was full of drivers heading south for the weekend and much busier than during the week. I was impressed by the swathes of wildflowers in the central reservation. I was less happy with the amount of roadkill. Pukeko - funky blue coot-type birds with bright red beaks - tend to graze on the roadside verges and are all too often squashed.

We turned off the Waikato Expressway (such romantic road names!) onto the Miranda coast road - known for its seabirds. Our first port of call was the Miranda Hot Springs holiday park. After visiting wild hot springs in Fiji and on Great Barrier Island, I wasn't expecting the lido that we found. It was a large pool filled with water from thirty springs which fed through the pool floor. At the far end, there was an "adults only" hot tub similarly supplied by hot mineral springs.

Having tackled the automatic lockers, the like of which I hadn't experienced before, we floated around in the pool, fooling around on the inflatables in the absence of any actual children. I attempted to swim a few lengths but found that the warm water sapped my energy and I soon reverted to splashing around instead.

After an hour in the water, the sun became really quite hot so we vacated the pool and headed down the road to Thames, via a rather frightening one way swing bridge over the Waihou River. Entering Thames was like stepping back in time. It was a pioneer town, thriving when kauri logging and gold digging were at their peak. Now it is a sleepy town with one main street and a small-town America feel to it. That was only added to by the vintage American cars waiting for a wedding party in the quaint white wooden church. As we wandered up the high street, after lunch in the bakery, we found the community centre full of tables ready for the wedding reception.

We had a bit of a shock when a deafening siren went off. There was no sign of a factory changing shift and it was too sunny for the apocalypse. We realised, when the fire engine pulled round the corner, that the screeching had been summonsing the volunteer fire crew to what fortunately turned out to be a false alarm.

We took to the road again and followed the winding coast route along the Coromandel Peninsula to Coromandel Town. This is another one-road, pioneer town with an old pub, dating back to the gold rush and low-rise local shops. We passed straight through, heading to the Gold Stamper Battery where we were surprised to happen upon New Zealand's largest water wheel. We rang the bell, wanting to see where all the banging and clunking was coming from, but there was no-one home so we climbed up to the look-out for an overview of the town.

Further up the hill, we found the Driving Creek Pottery and Railway. The pottery was started in the early 1970's by Barry Brickell, one of N.Z.'s foremost potters. He realised that he could make best use of his land by building a small railway to bring the clay down from the hills. Brickell quickly became a railway enthusiast and went on to create N.Z.'s only mountain narrow gauge railway, laying the track and building the rolling stock himself. The trip on the Possum took an hour around the bush. The route included a number of zig-zag reversing points to allow the train to gain height as well as spirals and double decker bridges, all inspired by Peruvian railways in the Andes. Hidden in the bush, there were various murals and statues. The current railway terminus (he may well keep on building as he stopped five times over the years!) features the Eyefull Tower with a view inland to the former kauri logging fields and Brickell's regenerated forest and across the Firth of Thames to Auckland and the many islands of the Hauraki Gulf.

On the return trip, we were treated to our first sighting of cave wetas. Wetas are the world's largest insects but they are totally harmless and not terribly dynamic. New Zealand has the greatest variety of wetas. The wetas which we saw lived in a chimney pot at the edge of the track but others live in dark spots in gardens or in the bush.

After a long day in the sunshine, we retired to our hostel for the evening - the Lion's Den, run by a very friendly Maori woman, Lynda. We were shown to our room and then to the river at the bottom of the garden where we found a huge hammock, made out of fishing nets, which was perfect for lazing around in and reading the papers.

Once we'd recovered from our exertions, we wandered into town to the Star and Garter where Skene tried yet another type of kiwi beer and I enjoyed a local cider. Dinner consisted of regional specialities - mussel chowder and tempura snapper for me whilst Skene enjoyed the chowder and a huge steak. Delicious.

The Sky's the Limit

Auckland has so many inlets, gulfs and harbours, islands, peninsulas and spits that the geography only really makes sense from the air.

So we headed up the Sky Tower during a sunny interval for the best view in town. It's the tallest building in the Southern Hemisphere at around 1000 feet and has two viewing platforms at 186 metres and 220 metres. It's the most noticeable landmark in Auckland and I can see it from my office window so it's been tempting me for some time.

The lift alone was an adventure! It has a glass panel in the floor and so as the lift travelled skywards at 18 kph, the ground seemed to fall away beneath us. As we reached a midway point, we could see out of the window to tower blocks and clouds. It was preferable to the 1029 steps though...

On the observation deck, we found a camera with a large screen and joystick which allowed us to zoom in on various places in the city - including my boss' office (he'd gone home). Fortunately, our apartment is on the hidden side of the building and so we can't be spied upon! We counted volcanoes - and lost count - and spotted the many rooftop pools and hot tubs. There was one heli-pad in the city and an enormous Father Christmas, beckoning to us from the front of a bookshop. As we looked down, we could see the target for bungy jumpers from above us - it's NZ's highest jump and I won't be doing it any time soon...

Higher up, on the Sky Deck, Skene became slightly nervous when I leant against the glass but there was no real sense of vertigo for either of us. The view was incredible - all the islands of the gulf laid out like pebbles and the Tasman Sea behind us, beyond the rain in the Waitakeres. The city seemed to sprawl endlessly without room for further development and the various areas finally began to make sense...

Culture Club

During my time alone in Auckland, I've taken advantage of my solitude to go to the cinema at least twice a week. I've been able to choose the films I want to see without compromising and to cry as much as I like at all the sad ones... Upcoming treats include the Football Factory, Garden State and The Motorcycle Diaries (even if Skene didn't like it...)

But for now, here's a review of the films I've seen over the last few months:

Touching the Void

Watching this film, I developed a huge sense of admiration for Joe Simpson and Simon Yates - two mountaineers who lived to tell the tale against all odds. I also had a nagging feeling that I may well have given up long before reaching base camp had I been in that situation myself. The serious nature of this film was regrettably undermined by the audience laughing at the straightforward Yorkshire narration.

The Barbarian Invasions

I resisted going to see this film after watching the trailer which was rather odd. In the end, I enjoyed it immensely though I shed a few tears before it finished. It tells the tale of a dying father and his estranged son, who, at the request of his mother, goes to great lengths to ease the passing of his father.

Supersize Me

Morgan Spurlock attempts to present a balanced view of fast food in this documentary. He is thwarted by McDonalds' refusal to participate and so only criticism is offered. The film is full of Bill Bryson type statistics and is very informative. I was shocked by the outcome of the experiment though I considered myself to be well-informed on the topic already. Spurlock is a sympathetic narrator but I found that his girlfriend, a very tolerant vegan, provided a necessary contrast to his obsessive nature.

Casomai

This Italian film was billed by the cinema as a "romantic comedy drama". It's romantic for a while and raised a good few laughs during the wedding scenes - where a priest entirely takes over the happy day. It quickly deteriorated into heart-wrenching drama though, exploring the impact that the opinions of friends and family have on an otherwise healthy relationship. The film has some good messages but little optimism by the end.

I'm Not Scared

This is a coming-of-age film with a great deal in common with Stand By Me. Set in rural Sicily, the characters seem to be enjoying an idyllic childhood but all is not what it seems and the darker motivations of adults soon intrude upon the long summer days.

Portrait of Teresa

Part of the Si! Cuba! Film Festival, this is a tale of feminism ideals within a communist context. The film gives a valuable insight into everyday life in Cuba, as seen through the eyes of a mother of two who works in a textile factory. It was made and set in the 1970's, though, and has not aged well. The abrupt ending - no resolution of the storyline, no credits, no title music - was disappointing and the whole audience seemed somewhat taken aback by it.

In My Father's Den

This film has been hailed as the next big home-grown movie. The young female star, Emily Barclay, was cast by the same casting agent as found Keisha Castle-Hughes for Whale Rider and Anna Paquin for The Piano, and there are hopes that she will have similar success at the Oscars. Adapted from Maurice Gee's 1972 novel, the film is set in a small South Island town and explores the relationship between a teenager searching for her place in the world, and a war photographer, played by Matthew MacFayden, who returns to his hometown from Europe for his father's funeral. The mood is claustrophobic and intense. The subsequent tragedy is not unexpected but the plot twist was beyond my guesswork.

Carandiru

This film was more popular in its native Brazil than City of God but is equally vibrant and destructive. It is based on the true story of an overcrowded jail which is told through the eyes of the prison doctor who is called in to test the inmates for HIV/AIDS. At first glance, the brightly decorated prison with its colourful characters seems an improvement on the drab regime of H.M.P. Brixton. But the grim reality soon strikes home and it becomes clear that the authorities have little control over the prisoners' lives. The film draws the viewer in to a close relationship with the many central characters before it all unravels and disaster strikes.

Ginger And Cinnamon or Dillo Con Parole Mie

Another Italian film, this was shown as part of the 2004 Italian Film Festival, which was held in seven New Zealand towns over the past few months. Strangely enough though, much of the action takes place on a Greek Island. A teenager, an obsessive liar who is keen to lose her virginity, convinces her 30-something aunt to take her to a Mediterranean holiday resort. The aunt is suffering a broken heart after mistakenly breaking up with her boyfriend. She had believed herself to be helplessly ill-suited to her man, given that he was spontaneous and care free and she always folded her clothes before sex. What follows is a heart-warming comedy of errors with a happy ending.

The Notebook

This was the first film which I'd seen which featured a "waterfowl unit" in the credits. It's a story of star-crossed lovers told through flashbacks. The setting is stunning and the characters sympathetic.

De-Lovely

I struggled to come to terms with the motivations of the various real-life characters in this biopic of Cole Porter. The cameos by such singers as Alanis Morrisette, Robbie Williams and Elvis Costello are distracting and dominate the relevant scenes. I was also most interested in the great variety of blooms featured by Cole Porter's buttonholes - pansies, orchids, roses... only the humble daffodil was missing.

Intermission

This film can't decide whether it's trying to be Trainspotting or The Commitments and falls flat on its face somewhere in between. It starts off cool but descends into painfully exaggerated characters against the realistic backdrop of a small Irish town. Some good Irish accents though and amusing at times.

Before Sunset

I watched Before Sunrise during Sixth Form and after watching the sequel, I felt as though I had grown up at a similar rate to the characters. The film is one long conversation - a single scene following the reunion of two lovers nearly a decade on from their one-night stand. The conversation becomes personal and intimate very quickly whilst remaining philosophical at heart. The Paris which the pair explore is quirky and local and familiar from Amelie.

Two Cars, One Night

This was one of those unexpected treasures - a short that appears unheralded before the main feature and after the trailers. It is a 13 minute piece filmed on New Zealand's East Cape, by a local man, who grew up in the region where Whale Rider was set. It tells the tale of three young Maoris who spend the evening in their parents' cars, waiting, whilst the adults drink in the pub. Romeo befriends the girl in the next car who returns the favour by giving him her "diamond" ring. It is a charming portrayal of the dynamics of childhood friendships and provided an insight into rural life in New Zealand.

Coffee and Cigarettes

Jim Jarmusch has created a series of vignettes consisting of staged conversations between friends, acquaintances, relatives and strangers. Although I have no sympathy for the vices of teh title, the film soon drew me in. It is offbeat and surreal at times but intriguing. Common themes crop up in the dialogue and many of the meetings are far from harmonious, particularly those between Alfred Molina and Steve Coogan and Tom Waits and Iggy Pop. It was a relief to discover that even celebrities suffer from fears of social inadequacy! Most of the participants have had professional dealings with Jim Jarmusch in the past whilst others, such as Jack and Meg White and Spike Lee's brother Cinque and sister Joie, are related, giving the audience the feeling that they are eavesdropping. The photography is stylish with black and white filming and architectural sets dominated, in many scenes, by checked tablecloths, so that the subject matter dominates.

Hero

This Chinese film, distributed in the west by Quentin Tarantino, is set in the 3rd century B.C. and concerns the then King of Qin, who, once he had achieved peace across China's seven provinces, went on to build the Great Wall of China to protect his united people. The story of the death of three assassins emerges during a conversation between the King and one of his supposedly loyal subjects, the mayor of a minor village. Different versions of events begin to unfold and the action appears in a series of flashbacks. The characters reveal great dignity and commitment to their respective arts of swordsmanship, calligraphy and diplomacy. The cinematography is stunning. Each scene is themed according to a particular colour used for the cloth, allowing the magnificent natural landscapes and ornate architecture of the palaces to shine through. The camera seems to linger on each raindrop, glint of steel and arrow fired by the King's troops. The fighting is balletic with little blood and no gore. This is a worthy rival to Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon.

A Flash in the Pan

We had an impromptu visit to the pub last night. We'd been quietly enjoying a night in, when all hell broke loose as the fire alarm went off! Right in the middle of the last episode of Sex and the City!

Fortunately, given that I'd already seen it, we were watching the new satirical current affairs show Eating Media Lunch. This is a programme which involved, amongst other things, the host asking style gurus at New Zealand Fashion Week (see the October archives) if they'd rather be fashionable or deaf. The answers were not predictable! Seeing as we had to evacuate, we didn't discover whether the show became more or less tasteful. Perhaps it's little wonder that there are few "local" programmes.

As we hurried down the stairs from the tenth floor, we began to smell something burning, though there were no signs of smoke. Dozens of residents were congregating outside, on the High Court's lawn, and we were surprised to discover that nearly everyone was twentysomething. There were lots of oriental students and young professionals and only a handful of grown-ups. It looked just like a hall of residence.

Skene had had the presence of mind to bring his wallet so as three fire engines screeched past us, we set off to take refuge in the pub. We found ourselves in the middle of a traditional Kiwi pub quiz. I managed to answer two questions - the number on Michael Owen's England shirt (10 - where did I pick that up from?!) and the percentage of players on the All Black squad who are of Maori or Polynesian descent (33% including the current captain). We had no idea which full backs were referred to in a particular 1980's match commentary and failed when it came to answering the question "who won the 2004 Trotting Cup last week?"

It seems that we have learnt little from the Mayflower Pub Quiz. I hope we have more luck with the topics at the Meredith Connell quiz night on Friday - otherwise it could be really quite embarrassing to have to return a blank sheet...

When we returned to the building, one round later, there was nothing untoward to be seen. Apart from one man running from the front door in his shirt sleeves, apparently suffering a delayed reaction!

By coincidence this morning, I came across the evacuation procedure for our block. The building manager advised as follows:

"Do not use the lifts in an emergency. The power will be cut off and you will be stuck in the lift. The smoke will travel up the lift shafts and you will die."

Nothing like a bit of good old kiwi bluntness!

Waitakere District Court

I went to the Waitakere District Court this morning to observe police prosecutions. Rather than having a separate legal body to deal with summary prosecutions, the New Zealand Police provide "prosecuting sergeants".

The police are, however, currently short-staffed and so contract out some of the lists to Meredith Connell prosecutors. Even some of the senior partners have been along to prosecute drink-driving trials when they're not busy on murder or fraud trials!

I spent the first half of the morning watching a list of "status hearings", where matters are listed for trial or put off for sentence, depending on the plea. I was put in charge of dates to avoid!

One purpose of having a status hearing is to weed out cases which might not proceed to a "defended hearing" (summary trial). Where a defendant is likely to plead guilty, if reassured that he will not face a custodial sentence, the judge is often asked to give a sentencing indication. If the case is complicated or involves an identified victim, then the prosecutor will be asked for his input as to the appropriate penalty.

Sentencing and other case disposals seem to be a lot more creative in the District Court than the Magistrates' Court.

In one case today, a young man had been arrested for a trespass/burglary which arose out of a misunderstanding with the property's occupants. He had few serious previous convictions and was leaving for Australia to "start over" at the end of the week. The District Court Judge proposed that he might make a $100 contribution to charity and, in return, the charges would be dropped by the Crown. The Crown agreed and the defendant will return to court at some point over the next few days, with his receipt, when he will be released from the charges.

In other cases, diversion is pursued for first-time offenders. They work with the Salvation Army in the community and, if that assignment is satisfactorily completed, return to court some months later to be discharged without conviction. The emphasis is on reparation and rehabilitation - the arrested person will be able to continue with an unblemished record.

Restorative justice programmes also have a significant part to play. Meetings with victims often take place and informal payments of compensation may follow. This may be coupled with a community penalty or supervision such as to justify a non-custodial sentence.

The delays within the court system soon become apparent during a status hearing list. For example, there were no two hour hearing slots available today before March 2005. Some sentences were being put off until January to allow for the preparation of a pre-sentence report.

The police prosecutors system seems to work well though. As well as the prosecuting sergeant for each court, other police prosecutors are present to act in a supporting role, chasing up officers to ask about evidence, making decisions on how to proceed and finding the odd lost file. The prosecutors seem to have an amicable relationship with the regular duty solicitors and court staff. They also make good use of their knowledge of police practice and procedure and many years on the beat.

At the end of the morning, I helped to return the files to Henderson Police Station. I can't remember ever being on the inside of a police station and so I was surprised to see that it was so much calmer and quieter than Sun Hill in The Bill. Most officers seemed to be out and about rather than in the office doing paperwork. Though one detective was spotted practising his putting skills!

I also had my first ride in a police car! I didn't let on and resisted the temptation to play with the siren and the radio!

Far Eastern Promise

I had my first Japanese banquet tonight, at Kura, a traditional restaurant decorated with kimonos. There was course after course after delicious course until the table was full of dishes:

• Edamame.
• Green salad in a tasty ginger dressing.
• Miso soup.
• Marinated tofu.
• Teryiaki salmon.
• Sticky rice.
• Pickles.
• Tempura vegetables and seafood.
• Sashimi and sushi.

To ensure the full experience, I accompanied the meal with a chilled bottle of Shouchikubai Nigori cloudy sake.

Cloudy sake is apparently quite rare - I certainly hadn't come across it before and had assumed that "cloudy" was merely part of a rather romantic name - like cloudy bay sauvignon blanc. But no. The sake was actually cloudy due to unfermented rice grains floating around because the brew isn't filtered. It didn't have the fresh taste of the more normal clear sake and I might not be ordering it again, if only because of its rather regrettable similarity to kava, the Fijian national drink.

Happy Trampers

I decided to introduce Skene to the extreme sport that is tramping so we rose early this morning to join the Auckland Tramping Club in the Waitakere Ranges. There was a choice between a long and fast walk or a short and slow walk. After the disaster of the last long tramp, I suggested that we opt for the slow walk and we teamed up with our leader for the day. Perhaps we should have realised when our leader/driver was a bit shaky on the route to the Waitakeres that we were going to be in for a spot of trouble...

We parked up at the North Piha Surf Club but the lingering rain meant that I wasn't in the least bit tempted to spend the day on the beach instead. Fortunately, the weather brightened up as we climbed up into the ranges and along the ridge though we could see that it was still raining in the city. The bush was young as the area had been ravaged by loggers about one hundred years ago. The ancient and enormous kauri trees had been prized by pioneers for their long, straight, branchless trunks and nearly all were Manuka (tea trees) dominated but some kauri were returning and we heard rosellas fluttering about over head.

On crossing a stream, we came across the remains of a kauri dam. The dams had been used to build up enough water upstream to allow the logs to flow down the stream to sea level. Only the bottom plank remained but given the size and shape of the surrounding valley, we could tell that the original structure would have been huge.

It was at this point that things started to go wrong... The vanguard of our group had missed the path and so we followed them up a very steep cliff and found them at the top. It was then rather difficult to climb down again to go up the correct path so our learned leader advised the rearguard to go up the official track and meet us further up, assuming that the two routes would merge a little way ahead. We waited for the last walker to appear but there were no signs so several people descended to find him but to no avail. It was decided that we would push on and find the walker when we found the path.

It soon became clear that the route that we had chosen was a trapper's track and not a trampers' track. The trappers follow the possums, which are considered to be pests, through the bush to their favourite spots and fit baited traps at the foot of trees. They tie pink ribbons in the trees to show the route taken to warn other land users and so that they can re-trace their steps to re-bait the traps.

The route was rugged in the extreme and it took all my climbing skills to ascend some of the slopes. Our leader had been involved in search and rescue operations in the past and informed us that the plan of attack had to be to reach a ridge or to follow a stream down to the coast. Seeing as we were heading uphill, we aimed for the ridge in the hope of bisecting the path.

It seemed, though, that we had selected the only ridge without a track! It wasn't until after lunch (and an in-depth consultation of Skene's G.P.S. together with the map) that we were back on the official path - at which point the track didn't seem quite as rough as it had first thing in the morning! I was also relieved to find that the mud in the Waitakeres wasn't quite as deep as it is reputed to be. Even Waitakere Town Hall has a tray outside for muddy shoes!

We made a slow descent to sea level and emerged behind Lion Rock. We treated ourselves to hard-earned ice creams and wandered back along the black sand to the car where we were relieved to find that the errant tramper had returned before us and set off home already!

Bridge Climb and Beach Walk

As part of Skene's orientation, we undertook the Auckland Harbour Bridge Climb. The bridge was opened in 1959 and extra lanes were "clipped-on" to cope with heavy traffic a few years later. It links the city with the North Shore and is just over a kilometre long. The bridge is around 15 stories above the water. Walkways were originally fitted to allow maintenance crews to access the bridge but in 2001 further walkways were introduced by A.J. Hackett (N.Z.'s most prominent bungy operator) at a cost of several million dollars to allow bungy jumps and bridge walks.

Before embarking on our climb, we donned grey and beige jumpsuits (not exactly fetching) as a safety measure, to prevent anything catching on the bridge and to ensure that drivers are not distracted. We were issued with belts and attached ourselves onto a hire which would stop us from falling over the railings. No use for falling downstairs though as the fitting would follow you straight down along the wire...

We entered the bridge at ground level, underneath one of the piers and began to walk steadily upwards, underneath the carriageway. There were a handful of pigeons nesting in the arches and disturbingly large numbers of discarded gloves and shoes - what happened to the owners? There were a surprising number of boats hanging from the rafters too, ready to rescue workmen or tourists from the harbour below.

We ascended the structure until we were underneath the carriageway itself. On the way up, we saw the bungy pod - not unlike a London Eye carriage - New Zealand's only permanent bungy station. The underside of the bridge was very well set-up for ongoing maintenance with welding sockets and plugs dotted around. Instruments were in place for monitoring the effect of traffic on the bridge lanes and we had to duck as lorries came over and the roadway sank down towards us. Lifting our feet off the ground and wedging ourselves against the sides of the walkway, we could feel the bridge moving up and down with the cars and from side to side with the wind.

Our guide also led us down into one of the hollow concrete pillars which seem to hold the bridge up. It turned out that the concrete was added later when the Auckland Regional Council received complaints from residents to the effect that the bridge looked unsafe! Instead of making the bridge a more hardy-looking landmark, the Council simply concealed the delicate struts inside the pillars which serve no structural purpose at all!

The final part of the bridge climb involved mounting the steps between the main bridge and the clip-on lanes to emerge at tyre-level before walking up and over the top of the bridge, high above the cars. At the top, we found a weather station, the wind cups rotating furiously, and two enormous NZ flags flapping in the wind. We had a good view across the city and over the North Shore but I was relieved to find that it only felt exposed and not too high.

Having crossed over the bridge, we descended the metal stairs again (see-through stairs which Katie wouldn't have liked) into the bowels of the bridge before walking back to the cityside bank.

A more relaxing afternoon followed with a trip over to Waiheke, the most densely populated of the Hauraki Gulf Islands. It's home to commuters, locals and bach owners and supports a number of vineyards and olive groves. On the ferry trip over, we read the local paper and learnt how many times the Westpac helicopter had visited the island, how many arrests had been made during the week and why the fire engine had been called out. All very parochial.

On disembarking at Matiatia, we took a bush track in the direction of Oneroa. It was cloudy but hot and humid and the hill was a bit of a challenge but we were rewarded with views of the gulf from the top. We continued on to Oneroa, the first large settlement, and headed straight for the beach. Having followed the coast for a while, we moved inland and admired the immaculate baches (holiday homes) and carefully cultivated gardens. We were also astounded by the amount of rubbish at the end of everyone's driveways. We found out later that it was the annual spring clean and the binmen would come round on Monday morning to collect it - it did make the place look untidy though!

Our next destination was Surfdale Beach, another gentle white beach, and then Blackpool! Blackpool was a bit of a disappointment - no candy floss, no pier, no trams, nothing but a thin strip of sand and a gorgeous view across the bay.

We returned across the island to Oneroa for a drink and dinner at the Lazy Lounge on Ocean View Road - as idyllic as the name suggests! The penultimate ferry arrived at 22h15 and we were whisked back to the city in no time at all.

Poi Dancing

As a final fling before going to collect Skene from the airport (for the second time!), I headed through the Domain to the Auckland Museum to watch the Maori Cultural Show.

The show, presented by Manaia, the cultural performance group, began with greetings in various languages including a queenly wave for the English amongst the audience. The group then moved on to perform a more traditional welcome.

We watched a series of traditional dances and action songs including stick games (not dissimilar to Morris Dancing), poi dances (like cheerleading) and the world-renowned haka. It was pretty intimidating and I wouldn't like to see the haka performed in anger.

The games and dances were used by tribes to improve hand-to-eye co-ordination, reaction times and peripheral vision - skills regularly employed by warriors as well as in hunting and spear-fishing.

Next, volunteers were called upon to learn the skills. Despite looking the other way, I was selected and directed on to the stage to learn how to use a poi! It may look like a cross between yo-yoing and cheerleading, but it's suprisingly difficult. I kept bopping myself on the head with my poi and when I had to stamp my feet in time, I lost the rhythm altogether! The poi are sometimes used to represent birds in flight but my effort resembled a flightless kiwi most of all!

What Should Bush Do Now?

On their news website, the BBC posed the following question:

"What should be President Bush's main priorities as he enters his second term in the White House? How should he deal with challenges such the Middle East and the environment? What message would you like to send him?"

It would be nice to think that George W. Bush reads the BBC website and would see all our answers but that might be a bit too much wishful thinking... Here's my answer in any event:

George Bush needs to realise that although he has a positive mandate in the U.S., he does not have the undivided support of the rest of the world.

The re-elected president should follow the lead of the 97 countries which have already signed up to the Rome Treaty and the International Criminal Court, to show real commitment to peace and human rights.

Further, Bush should take steps to move the U.S. away from mindless consumerism and resource consumption by signing up to the Kyoto Protocol.

Smaller, less powerful nations should be respected. Their voices should be heard through the U.N. and the World Trade Organisation. The U.S. should not be allowed to trample on them and dismiss their opinions and priorities out of hand.

Leaders of European and other developed countries should take responsibility for reigning in Bush and protecting their smaller neighbours.

A Tense Afternoon

Spurred on by the Dominion Post's dramatic headline, "A Day that Will Decide the Fate of the World", I've been spending the afternoon keeping a close eye on the results coming through from the Presidential Election, to the detriment of my time sheet.

The BBC's animated map of results has me hooked. Kerry got off to a promising start as night fell on the Eastern Seaboard. A reassuring mass of blue states in the North-East corner of the U.S. brought optimism. It was soon balanced by the counts from the Deep South.

As the afternoon has progressed, the results have come through in waves, according to the time zones. The larger states like Texas, with their higher number of electoral votes, began to fall to Bush, the nation steadily turning blood-red.

Now with 33 of the 51 states called, Bush has almost double Kerry's votes. Subject to alterations, Kerry needs almost 70% of the unassigned electoral votes to reach the target of 270 votes.

Vain hope now rests with such states as Pennsylvania (46% of precincts counted, 21 electoral votes up for grabs) and Washington (where the poll booths have yet to close).