M is for Matariki

"Bank holiday comes six times a year
Days of enjoyment to which everyone cheers"

At least it is if you prescribe to Britpopsters Blur's view of the world. But it's not that accurate from an Aotearoa point of view. Let's try that again with an NZ orientated eye....

"Public holidays come twelve times a year
Days of enjoyment to which most people cheer"

There that's much better.

I know what you're thinking. Twelve 'bank' holidays? How do you cope? In all fairness it was eleven, which is generous by most people's standards, but another one was added this year. More on that later. And why only most people? Surely a public holiday is a good thing? *sigh* you would think so wouldn’t you….

As well as the standard holidays around Easter and Christmas, we also get these;

Day After New Year's Day (January)
Presumably this is for those that are totally hungover from the New Year celebrations and need just one more day to get their shit together. Whatever the reason, it's a welcome addition to the summer holiday and it means that one less day's leave is needed to cover the Kiwi summer shut down - oh and another day on the beach.

Anniversary Day (various)
Although these are scattered around the calendar, each region of New Zealand gets its own public holiday. Most are enjoyed in the summer months, with Auckland's being in late January. It's a bit of a mystery why Southland and South Canterbury chose to have theirs in Autumn and very early Spring. Possible the worst time of the year for these colder southern regions. All I can surmise is that the officials must really dislike their constitutents.

Waitangi Day (February)
Waitangi Day marks the signing of the Treaty of Waitangi in 1840 when on the 6 February representatives of the British Crown and over 500 Māori chiefs signed what is often considered to be New Zealand’s founding document. The day was first officially commemorated in 1934, and it has been a public holiday since 1974

There are not surprisingly some tensions around the occasion. But on a purely superficial level, it's a nice little break to have shortly after NZ gets back to work after the summer hols.

Anzac Day (April)
Coming shortly after the Easter Break, Anzac Day commemorates those "who served and died in all wars, conflicts, and peacekeeping operations" and "the contribution and suffering of all those who have served". Dawn services are held around New Zealand and Australia and it generally serves as a time to reflect and hope for a better future without war.

Queen's Birthday (June)
It's always stuck me as odd that New Zealand gets a national holiday to mark the Queen's birthday when the UK, her home country, doesn't. At least until this year anyway. Being at the start of June it's right at the beginning of winter so outdoor options are limited but that's okay. It's another day off and I'll drink to that! I do wonder what will happen when Charlie gets on the thone though.....

Labour Day (October)
No not associated with the political party, although some seem to think it is, Labour Day commemorates the struggle for an eight-hour working day. New Zealand workers were among the first in the world to claim this right when, in 1840, the carpenter Samuel Parnell won an eight-hour day in Wellington. Labour Day was first celebrated in New Zealand on 28 October 1890, when several thousand trade union members and supporters attended parades in the main centres. Government employees were given the day off to attend the parades and many businesses closed for at least part of the day. Or at least according to Wikipedia.

These days it's a nice wee break in Spring and the first opportunity to take a breather before the hectic run up to Christmas.

And so that brings me to the new kid on the block, Matariki.

Matariki (June/July)
You wouldn't believe the grief the government got for introducing a new public holiday. Hardly days of enjoyment to which everyone cheers. Some accused the government of putting increased pressure on businesses who would lose "even more money" because of the extra day off. Others suggested that they had nothing against the new holiday, but suggested they should remove one of the others...such as Labour Day. Odd behaviour....ahh but wait.... maybe, just maybe the reason for the ire is because it is primarily a Māori celebration?

So what is it? Rather than me mangle the meaning, here's a quick summary from the newzealand.com website.

Matariki is a star cluster that appears in the early morning sky in New Zealand during the mid-winter months.

The star cluster is well known throughout the world and at different times of the year can be seen around the globe. It is one of the brightest clusters in the sky, containing hundreds of member stars.

Matariki has different names around the world. In English, it is called by its ancient Greek name, Pleiades or the Seven Sisters. In Hawaiian it is Makali’i, ‘eyes of royalty', and in Japan it is Subaru, meaning ‘gathered together’.

Matariki is known as the Māori New Year in Te Ao Māori.

Closely connected with the maramataka (the Māori lunar calendar), the reappearance of the Matariki stars in the early morning sky brings the past year to a close and marks the beginning of the new year.

Mātauranga Māori (ancestral knowledge and wisdom) is at the heart of celebrations of the Matariki public holiday and it will be a time for;

• Remembrance – Honouring those we have lost since the last rising of Matariki
• Celebrating the present – Gathering together to give thanks for what we have
• Looking to the future – Looking forward to the promise of a new year

I don't know about you, but that seems to be quite a noble and worthy thing to pause and reflect upon. Why not stop and think about where we are, what we have done and where we need to get to? Goodness me, in this year of all years we need time to do exactly that. 

All You'll Ever Need

The first few days after we arrived into New Zealand for the start of our little adventure - not so little now I suppose - were something of a whirlwind. 

We arrived on a late Friday evening in winter, it was dark but not that cold, not to us at the time anyway. Some work colleagues had kindly offered to put us up for the weekend whilst we found our feet and pretty soon it was Monday. And being keen to start our New Zealand careers, we went off to the office. It was probably a bit ambitious and maybe the sensible thing to do would have been to take a week off and get to know our new home a little bit better. There was quite a bit of debate about this, with one half of the partnership preferring to take the time off and explore and the other half keen to make a start. For the sake of a harmonious relationship, I won’t divulge which I favoured. Jet-lag and a new job. Smashing.

Anyway, we had a lot to sort out that day. Not only did we have to turn up and look remotely useful, coherent even, we also had to move into our temporary premises and get our bank accounts sorted. It was going to be tight. We had to check in before 6pm and get to the bank before it closed - it hadn't occurred to us that we could've taken long lunch break and done at least one of those tasks with a little more time on our side. So we left work at 5pm and charged into the city to get things resolved. 

We quickly checked in to our new apartment - at least we would have somewhere to sleep that night - and then dashed back across the city centre to the bank. It didn't help that I managed to get us lost on the way to the branch - in my defence this was a new city and I was still suffering from jet lag and had just completed my first day in a new job. So there was that. Also, I had the map upside down, the outcome of which was that we’d been heading in the wrong direction for about ten minutes. Oops!

The clock was definitely ticking down. We retraced our steps, corrected our directions and turned up at the bank with about 15 minutes to spare. So far not too disastrous.

We were directed to a booth at the back of the branch. For those used to the UK way of doing things, New Zealand banks are a bit odd. Rather than be faced with a secured counter, it's more like walking into a department store. Scattered around the foyer are customer service desks - little round circular desks which you approach and tell the customer service advisor why you are visiting. Not like a bank at all. Anyway, we let the person know that we were here to formally open our accounts and have the funds that we transferred over a few weeks ago - all of our savings - released. 

"No problem sir, please take a seat at the booth over there and your account manager will be with you shortly"

We sat down and within minutes our account manager sat down at the table alongside us.

"Thanks for coming in today, we'll soon get things sorted and you can be on your way", she noted.

After handing over some ID and giving a few signatures everything was just about sorted. 

"Right here are your cards, ", she said handing over our cards.

"Errm, excuse me", my partner noted, "why is my card a different colour to his?" pointing to her card that was clearly a different type to the one I had been given.

"Don't worry madam, that card will give you everything you need", the account manager reassured with a smile.

Oh shit, I thought.

"Really?", my partner noted, "but why is my card different".

Seemed like a fair question.

"It's okay", the account manager soldiered on, "it's all you will need." At this point she may have even reached out and gently but condescendingly patted the back of my partner’s hand. I can’t be sure - it may have been the affects of jet-lag.

"Please answer my question. What is different about my card?"

"Well, it's really just the same except you can't use it for online purchases", the account manager explained before adding ".....well not without his approval."

Crikey dick, as they say around here, this account manager was either no reading the signs or had a death wish. An awkward silence descended. I’d learned a long time ago that in these situations it was best to keep quiet and not try and pacify the situation. 

Silence

"Well I suggest you take a look at our account balance and the combined total of the two salaries that will be coming in on a regular basis and tell me if you think I am not entitled to exactly the same level of rights."

Silence. A few key taps. More silence

"Well yes madam. But it is quite normal practice for the partner to get......"

The account manager didn't get to finish that sentence. Which is probably for the best.

"How long does it take to issue cards?" my partner calmly asked.

"Usually a couple of days but......"

"Okay, well here's what's going to happened. You are going to arrange for an equivalent card to be delivered to my workplace by Wednesday or we will be moving our accounts to another bank"

"Well I will ask if......."

"I'm not debating this with you. Are we clear?"

"Yes madam."

And with that we picked ourselves up and made our way back to the apartment to start our New Zealand adventure. Not a great start, but at least the card wasn't pink I thought. 

In many ways New Zealand is a progressive and forward thinking society - they were the first country to give women the vote for example. But in many other ways it is stuck in the past. Sometime around 1955 is my best guess. 

The Path of Land and Sea

Before we set out to come to New Zealand to work, we asked ourselves what did we hope to achieve from our time here, and we both said “to make a difference”.

Admittedly, we didn’t specifically say that we wanted to make a positive difference but I hope you agree that was implied. It would, after all, take a special kind of person to want to make a negative difference. They certainly don’t put that question on any job applications I have seen.

So having established we wanted to make a positive difference, what did we think that would look like? Honestly, we didn’t have a clue. To do a good job was one suggestion. But was that enough? Isn’t that what we’ve always strived to do throughout our careers? I hope so.

All of this is a long way around to say I wasn’t quite sure what to expect from working in engineering in New Zealand. How would it compare to my experiences so far? Would my skills meet the expected standard? What projects would I be working on?

All good questions.

If there was one project they has, to date, defined my professional life in New Zealand it’s got to be the Glen Innes to Tamaki Drive Shared Path. It’s been ever present during my time here. 

And when I say it’s been ever present in my New Zealand life, I’m not exaggerating. It was one of the first projects I was handed when I arrived and even after I returned from an 18 month stint with another organisation, it was there waiting from me.

What is it? It’s just a cycle path, or so I kept being told. Yes but it’s nearly 8km long I argued, and goes through so pretty inaccessible land. Yeah, but at the end of a day it’s still just a path. Maybe, I countered, but we need to cross over a railway line, span streams, negotiate around archaeological sites and cross a water-filled basin. Well, yes hhhmm but it’s not a road!

Ah, there’s the rub. It wasn’t a road and New Zealand really does like its roads. Although at nearly 5m wide it is almost a road. It also connected several suburbs to the city network and so would become a vital commuting link. But not for cars so therefore it didn’t really count - in the eyes of many at least.

I first became involved in GI2TD, as it became known to those working on it, in 2014. Not long after I arrived in NZ. At this time it was nothing more than a line on a plan. A squiggle. 

To help manage the delivery, the route was split into four sections and slowly, bit by bit, the squiggle slowly became a reality as the path was delivered. Section 1 completed in 2016, followed by Section 3 (for engineering reasons I won’t bore you with) and then Section 2. Section 2 was the big one.

My goodness it was a struggle. To give an idea of the type of terrain it crossed, I’ll just say that we had to organise helicopters to drop in the drilling equipment for the ground investigations. Even though a suburb was just a few hundred metres away. The land was steep, covered in dense natural New Zealand bush with no road access.

Two bridges had to be designed to cross a gully and rail line respectively along with nearly 1km of boardwalk to help get through a steeply inclining section.

If that wasn’t enough, a railway access road had to be moved to accommodate the shared path. Without that the project probably wouldn’t have been delivered. 

And then there was the issue for getting the beams for the main bridge to site. The only way in was through a housing estate and let’s say those roads weren’t designed to accommodate a long load. The turns were right and numerous power poles at the side of the road didn’t help. 

But it was just a path.

And all consuming. I lost count of the number of sleepless nights, stressful days, arguments and tears. Yes real tears. I asked for help. There wasn’t any. The only way out was through. I can honestly say I’ve never been involved in a project that was so demanding, technically challenging yet somehow rewarding. Not that I could see that at the time. I just wanted it to be over.

So you can imagine my palpable relief when the $40m Section 2 officially opened on the 25 May. Finally, after nearly eight years of effort, the most challenging section was competed and open to the public. It was over.

As for Section 4? Well that’s being progressed, not as quickly as some would like, but as it’s with another organisation that’s not my problem.

So if anyone out there wants to see what I’ve been up to, and you’re in the vicinity, then I recommend a trip along Te Ara Ki Uta Ki Tai, - the gifted name for The Path of Land and Sea. It’s worth the ride, walk or run if you’re that way inclined.

https://youtu.be/IxNOXEQxskM

Early Retirement

Before anyone gets carried away and asks "What the?" let me explain.

On Easter Monday, a few weeks ago now, I started to feel unwell and so, as is the custom in these times, I took a RAT. For those who are observant and appreciate grammatically correct statements,  I said a RAT and not a RAT test. It's a Rapid Antigen Test so a RAT test would be a Rapid Antigen Test Test. By all means refer to it as a RA Test if you must. And as for those who say they're reverting back to something ....don't get me started on that. 

Anyway it was a bit of a surprise when the test gave a positive result. After over two years I'd finally succumbed to the virus. Well I supposed it felt rude not to - all my friends and colleagues were doing it so why shouldn't I? Indeed. It turned out, thanks to the vaccine, to be a mild case with mainly heavy cold symptoms with a dash of grumpiness and irritability. Hey I heard that!

After about a week, my outward symptoms generally receded and I tested negative. Phew! Or so I thought. I was soon back at work but definitely wasn't myself. I felt tired most of the time, when tiredness was usually reserved for Monday mornings, and had problems concentrating. It was okay I just needed a holiday I told myself, and I was due to take an extended break in July so all good on that front. It was a few months away but I could get there. My niggling cough refused to budge and, from time-to-time, I succumbed to coughing fits. 

Nevertheless, I wasn't going to let it get in the way of living my life so I kept to my usual routine and went back to running in the mornings. A good run never hurt anyone and breathing hard would surely force any remnants of the virus out of my system. That would show it who's boss. 

After five weeks with little improvement to the underlying conditions I decided to visit my doctor. I was sure that I would be told to get over myself and I'd soon be right. If anyone asked, at least I could say that I'd been and got myself checked out.

The visit didn't run exactly to that script. Sure I was still negative for Covid but the doctor wasn't impressed. To say I got a bit of a telling off would be putting it mildly. The general gist of the conversation was that we didn't close down the country because a mild disease was circulating in the community. This was a serious illness and needed to be taken seriously. By getting back to my routine so quickly after being ill with Covid was reckless and put me right in the firing line for developing long-term symptoms. Yikes!

I was then asked if my job was stressful. I decided to play it down and suggested that it had its moments. I certainly wasn't going to mention the sleepless nights that I sometimes succumbed to when the pressure was on. 

It made no difference. I was signed off on sick leave for two weeks with immediate effect and told to get myself acquainted with the sofa and Netflix. If I didn't take this seriously I could be in trouble. Health-wise.

I don't think I've ever been off work for that long without being away on holiday. And being told not to exercise at all was a novelty. What was I going to do with all that time? What was I going to tell my employer? 

I needn't have worried about the latter - my employer took it really well and put measures in place to have my projects covered in my absence. The former was going to be a little more problematic. Not being able to exercise at all, not even a walk around the park, took at lot of my favourite pastimes out of consideration. Well at least I couldn't make myself feel guilty about not running. For once. 

With such a lot of time to fill I was going to have to approach this like I would any challenge....I needed a plan. And maybe a Gantt chart. Well that's what project managers do!

So early morning became piano practice time - goodness knows I needed it and had been meaning to take it up seriously. Best to get it done whilst I was fresh and to stop myself getting sidetracked. Mid-morning was reserved for auditioning a new album or two. I had quite a backlog from my last visit to the record store and the albums weren't going to listen to themselves. I had to stop myself from wanting to write a blog about those, but time was precious. The remaining time before lunch became video game time - it was deliberately put before lunch to make sure I took a break. 

The afternoons were, as per the doctor's instructions, sofa and Netflix time where I either binged on a TV programme or watched one of the movies that had been on my to-do list for some time. 

And that was basically it, and it generally worked and my days have filled up nicely. 

Was this a taste of retirement? Is this how it would pan out, wherever I was when it happened? Maybe. Obviously I would have to add running or some outdoor activity into the mix. But overall it wasn't too bad and actually quite enjoyable. At this point, in case anyone from my employer is reading this, I should stress that I'm not actually considering retirement at this stage. Well not seriously anyway. But if retirement, or part-time retirement, means I can get to the things that I've been putting off or simply not able to find the time to do then why not? 

The problem now is that my return to work is just around the corner and I'm not ready. I need more time. I even checked my doctor's note this morning to make sure I hadn't got a few more days off. I haven't. Blast. Well I'd better make the last few days count. I think I need to update my chart......

The Repair Shop

Have you seen a British telly program called ‘The Repair Shop’? You know the one - people bring in cherished items that have fallen into disrepair and get them repaired by an on-site team of expert restorers. On the face of it, it’s a pleasant concept about every day people getting things they love fixed. But it has a nasty streak. It’s not quite as nice as it would first seem. I’m not suggesting it’s deliberate, but one could come away with the impression that the programme producers prefer it when people cry. Overcome with emotion from seeing their item brought back to life. Well you would I suppose. 

Call me cynical, but I do have an issue with the premise. If the items were so cherished, as the emotions that play out would suggest, why did the owners let them get into such a state in the first place? And, assuming it was accidental damage, shouldn’t they have had the item repaired much sooner. Rather then wait to be asked onto the telly? But I’m perhaps one to talk…..

In September 2015 I decided to enjoy the early spring sunshine and take a ride along the coast on my mountain bike to Half Moon Bay. It was a beautiful day for a gentle ride, the paths and boardwalks a little tame for a full suspension mountain bike, but it didn’t really matter. Being out was what mattered and besides, at my destination there were cafés and with that cake and coffee! Oh and of course, a ferry back to the city.

Taking it all at a pace that being on a mountain bike on flat terrain requires, it took a few hours to travel the 30km or so to my destination. Even so, I was a bit early so had plenty of time to rest up and refuel before catching the next ferry back to the city.

And it was on the ferry where, unbeknownst to me, something untoward was happening. But I was happy. I had cake, coffee and a great view of the Auckland coast, my bike perched at the back of the boat.

40 minutes later, the ferry docked and I had a short ride up the hill back to Parnell. I got back to the house, put my bike in the garage and went to get a shower. What a great morning out!

A few weeks later, I went to get my bike out of the garage only to find the wheels wouldn’t turn - not without a great deal of effort anyway. My brakes had seized up and other parts that were supposed to move we’re decidedly static. What the? I’d only been on it a few weeks earlier and hadn’t been near any mud or water. Except for the ferry of course…..oh! I’d forgotten about the sea spray! I remember my bike being covered in it and I’d just plonked it back in the garage without washing it down! How could I have been so careless?

It’s okay though, I thought, I’d get it sorted next weekend….

That was nearly seven years ago. I hadn’t touched it and with each passing year it looked more and more disheveled and unloved. It got to the point where I needed to do something about. I felt increasingly guilty about letting get into such a state and concerned it would soon be a rusty unrecoverable heap. There was nothing for it - I took it to the experts at the local bike shop. No problem, they said, we’ll look at it and get back to you with a quote.

The call the next day was enlightening. Not only were they sure that it would be nearly $3,000 to get it sorted, they weren’t particularly keen on doing the work. ‘It’s too old and not really worth it. Besides, styles have changed and we’ll struggle to get the parts we need’ was the general gist. But they could sell me a new one for $6,000. Or course they could. The cheek of it. Old fashioned? How dare they? I suppose in the fashion fickle world of mountain biking, a twelve year old bike may as well have been a Penny Farthing. 

So if their heart wasn’t in it, mine would have to be. I didn’t want a new bike, I wanted to repair mine - I’d let it get into this state so it was me who needed to fix it. I mean, how hard could it be?

So I spent the next few weeks….okay maybe a month….perhaps two….holed up in the garage dismantling, inspecting, cleaning and rebuilding. In all honesty is was a cathartic experience. There was a bit of trial and error - pauses whilst waiting for parts to arrive from overseas and plenty of education by YouTube. Mostly to figure out what I’d done wrong. But bit by bit, and part by part, life was slowly brought back into the bike. 

It wasn’t a cheap exercise, but considerably less than the price I was quoted. As long as you don’t factor in the cost of my time!

Although I might still scoff at some of the people on The Repair Shop, it’s maybe more out of habit than genuine incredulity. And I’ll admit that last Sunday, when I got back on the saddle for the first time in nearly seven years, it was a little bit emotional. Crying? Of course not.  I’m sure it was just the wind in my eyes that was making them water….

A Year of Living Dangerously

Really? Well no not actually but as far as headlines go,  ‘A Year of Living Quietly’ isn’t exactly an attention grabber is it. And not even actually true. How about ‘Nearly six months of living relatively quietly’? Yes that’s much better.

It was never my intention, when I wrote my last blog in December last year. that there was going to be such a gap. In all fairness, I didn’t even think my last blog was going to be my last blog of 2021. It’s just the way it happened. You can’t plan these things. Or at least I don’t think you can. And if it was my plan to have a long break then I think I executed it rather well.

So what’s been happening? Even from this remote corner of the planet I can tell that 2022 isn’t panning out the way we would have liked. Well most of us anyway. Maybe there are some sociopaths that wanted exactly this….oh yeah.

When I last wrote, Dear Reader, New Zealand had just lifted most of the Covid restrictions, with just mask wearing in certain places and vaccine passports being required to get into bars and restaurants. Of course the borders were still closed to most, to the annoyance of some, but the majority of the country could live with that.

There was a very minor section of the New Zealand population that objected - something like a thousand people or so - and naturally the media amplified their concerns and claimed that the Covid restrictions were dividing the country. I suppose technically they were but it was more like 0.1% / 99.9%. 

Spurred on by QAnon and fake-religion leaders, there were a few demonstrations in our local park but all they seemed to do was make a bit of noise, drop litter, march down the high street and then leave. I’ve got to say, though, that if I was at a protest and happened to glance across and see neo-nazis supporting the same cause, I’d have to question my life choices.

Obviously the government wasn’t going to drop any of the restrictions - they were there to protect the heath of the population after all - so a mass protest was organised.

Well, I say organised but I would question the organisation skills of the group. Two convoys, one form the North Island and the other from the South Island, set off towards the capital Wellington where the mass protest was to be held. Unfortunately for the protesters, nobody seemed to have agreed the route and the North Island convoy took a wrong turn and got lost, whilst the South Island convoy overlooked the fact that they needed to be vaccinated and wear a face covering to use the ferry. You would’ve thought that they would have known this as this was exactly the sort of thing that they were protesting about. They were turned away and set off in search of alternative means to cross the Cook Straight.

Eventually they did turn up in Wellington, or at least some of them did, and occupied the grounds of the parliament building, affectionately known as The Beehive. They camped out there for several weeks and turned the once green and peaceful place into a ….. well let’s just say that with limited toilet facilities that wasn’t just mud that was on the ground! Apparently the stench was something out of the middle ages. They demanded to speak to the Prime Minister, but as they had placards calling for her hanging there’s no surprise a parley didn’t happen. 

As the weeks dragged on, and with Wellingtonians wary of going anywhere near the place for fear of being harassed, the Police finally had enough so they set in motion an operation to clean up the place. It did turn a bit nasty with some protesters ripping up paving stones and throwing them at the Police, and others setting fire to trees and a kids playground. Nice people.

Eventually the protest was cleared and a huge clean up followed. To look at the parliament grounds now you wouldn’t know they’re ever been there.  

With Omicron is full flow, there was little point in keeping most of the restrictions in place so these were relaxed. Vaccine passports or no longer compulsory and mask wearing is limited to shops and public transport. The protesters are still protesting but in smaller numbers and with somewhat less conviction than they were previously. Naturally they have found something else to complain about - water reform - but I suspect the majority don’t really understand what it is that they don’t like about it. That’s a topic for a whole new blog.

With international travel back on the menu, New Zealand is once again open for business. The government’s popularity rating has taken a hit and now the opposition is trying to frame the whole Covid response as being ‘over the top’ and ‘it wouldn’t have been that bad anyway’. 

Hhmm. A recent study suggested that the quick and decisive by the government to the pandemic saved around 80,000 lives and by taking prompt action, the economy is actually in a better place than most others. No doubt it’s been tough for a lot of people, but I’m sure it would’ve been a lot worse had it not been taken so seriously in the first place.

That’s not to say that the pandemic is over. It isn’t. Covid is circulating widely in the community and I’ve gone from not knowing anyone who’s had it, to most people having had it - myself included. But with 95% of the population vaccinated, thankfully the effects are reduced. Nevertheless Covid is going to be with us for a while yet.

So there you have it. With six months of history condensed into a single blog you’re up to date. I promise to try and not take so long to the next one. At least with the borders now being open I might have something more interesting to write about!