Hello! Well, my last blog post was made from a little internet cafe in downtown Dunedin. Since then, I've found out that the Dunedin Public Library has free internet for browsing, with a $6/hour charge for accessing email, or your favourite social-networking site. Just for fun, I decided that I'd try logging into my blog account--and it worked! So now I can spend as long as I want (until the library closes at 8pm, that is) updating my blog.
Two days ago I gave busking a whirl, in a neat corridor between two of the main shopping streets here. I asked a cafe which was nearby if it'd be alright, and they were fine with it. So, without any more excuses to put it off, I got myself set up. I had my bike with me, leaning against the wall just to my right, fully loaded with all of my gear (I thought that maybe people would be more inclined to give money to a traveller). I set my helmet out (with a towel in it to stop any coins from dropping through the ventilation channels), and arranged an amount of seed-money to prompt people to donate by showing them that "others" (myself, but they don't necessarily know that) had felt I was a cause worth donating to.
I was using my Tin Whistle, and playing various traditional Irish and Scottish songs--most of which I learned at Friends School of Minnesota, Russell will be happy to know. I got off to a bit of a shaky start, which probably landed me a bit of pity money. After I got into a song it would be alright, and I'd enjoy playing it. In fact it was really weird, because I remember thinking at one point: "I have NO IDEA how the rest of this song goes..." but then somehow (must be that muscle memory people talk about) I just kept on playing, and as soon as I played it I remembered that that was how the song went. Which doesn't make any sense, except possibly to those of you who perform (music or otherwise), or do some other sort of tricky physical manipulation on a routine basis. However, once the song had finished, I'd realise in a slight panic that I needed to think of what I would play next--complicated by my not being able to remember which songs I had most recently played, and which songs were due for a replaying.
Here are the songs I was playing:
1. The Slide
2. Farran Boat Song
3. Swallowtail Jig
4. The Foggy Dew
5. Ship in Full Sail (one of my favourites)
6. Skye Boat Song
7. The Britches Full of Stitches (I think that's the name? 32132313-3213235 for FSM kids)
8. Planxty Irwin
More or less in that order; The only thing I really kept conistent was trying to go from a fast song to a slow song. I am working on (slowly) learning "Wayfarin' Stranger," "Mysterious Number One," "The Temperance Reel," (an Irish song, believe it or not!) and a couple of other songs which I liked the names of. In addition to this, I'm trying to remember "Jug of Brown Ale," "The Irish Washerwoman," and a number of others which I've forgotten.
Now, I'm not exactly sure how much money I made, as I unfortunately forgot to count how much money I started it off with. However, from my estimates, I probably made something to the tune of (sorry) $7-$8 for an hours worth of work. Enough for dinner, but not instant riches. I have a bank account which has (hard-earned cherry-packin') money in it, so thankfully I'm not completely dependent on busking as a source of income.
At one point, this big Maori guy with lots of tatoos (no Moko, just tats), a guitar slung over one shoulder (and a 6-pack of Speights over the other), and very dark sunglasses on came up to me and we had a bit of a chat. I think he said his name was Tony. He was a nice guy, and was mostly just wondering where I was from, and where I was going (in a non-creepy way). He was a busker, too, and he'd been doing it for a while. After a couple of minutes he said: "Well, enjoy your time in Aotearoa, boy," and made his way down the road. Later, I went past him while he was playing, and stopped to have a bit of a listen. He was pretty good, and had a fair amount of money (how much of it was spectators', I'm not sure). I gave him fifty cents (I'm stingy, alright), and wished him luck.
The next afternoon I was walking around in downtown when I went past the little corrior I had busked at, and saw aother guy busking there. He had a cookie-tin of some sort in front of him, and was standing there, clapping his hands. And--as far as I could tell--there weren't any particularly unique qualities associated with his clapping. Just clapping. And he was making a LOT of money!
Yesterday I went to the supermarket to get some stuff or lunch, and there was a guy wearing clothes fashionable 150 years ago who was completely covered, head to foot, with white paint. He was a living statue, and was standing absolutely stock-still. But this wasn't any ordinary living statue, for he had a duck (also completely white)! However, I don't believe the duck was real. The guys who had to fix the supermarket's sliding door were a little puzzled by this... thing, which was stationed directly on the other side of the door from them. Now HE was making real money. And every time someone put a dollar or two down, he'd startle them out of their wits by moving jerkily, robotically, to tip his hat at them. If you're ever thinking about getting into busking, heavily consider being one of these living statues--no witty repartee needed, and you get paid for doing nothing. However, I'm sure it's not nearly as easy as it looks (in fact, I'd probably be in agony after a quarter of an hour), maintaining the same position constantly.
The thing that really puzzled me was figuring out just how he periodically collected the money people threw onto a blanket at his feet, next to the duck.
Read on for an absolutely RIVETING account of my thought-processes while buying a rain-coat:
The other thing that I've done is buy a decent raincoat. My old one was big and yellow, and not particularly good, to say the least. My main gripes with it stemmed from the facts that it:
a. Made you sweat so much that you got soaked in your own sweat,
b. Had a variety of holes in it, along with big patches which had lost their repellant coating,
c. Was growing at least 7 varieties of mold on the inside.
So, yesterday I bought one from Kathmandu during a big clearance sale. Now, Kathmandu is one of those outdoors stores where you pay a lot for the brand-name, and where they often sell many fairly/completely useless novelty products mixed in with the quality items. So I spent a while looking at raincoats there, and in other stores. I found one which usually retailed for NZ$499, but was on sale at NZ$225. I was a bit suspicious, because that seems like it would be a huge drop in cost for a product which works, leading me to believe that it, conversely, didn't work. It was made with this Gore-Tex material called PacLite, and is a very light jacket. I did some research on the internet, and found out that the material has gotten very good reviews, the main negative comment being the usually very-high price. So, the long and the short of it is that now I have a very cool raincoat which rolls up to fit in a nifty little stuff-sac they conveniently included (about the size of a water bottle). And it's RAINING! I've never been quite so happy to see rain. I plan to start heading south fairly soon (tomorrow, maybe?), towards the Catlins, Invercargill, and Stewart Island.
You see, I'm making a whole bunch of blog entries now so that I have an excuse for a lack of such prolific publishing later.
-Ben
Showing posts with label new zealand. Show all posts
Showing posts with label new zealand. Show all posts
Friday, February 15, 2008
Sunday, September 16, 2007
September16th, 2007
Hello there folks! Sorry about that long absence. You should come to expect those, though. If you're LUCKY, you may get something on the order of one update a week--although most will be rather small and short, I'd imagine. So, last Saturday, I took the train up from Wellington city to Paraparaumu, or Raumati. I stayed the night there with my Auntie Anne and Uncle Paul, and Cousin Lawrie. Anyways, I have to be brief, so here we go: I cycled up from Raumati on New Zealand's West Coast up to Palmerston North, and stayed with my Aunt and Uncle, and my cousins David and Nikla and Brendon. I stayed there for a couple of days, and then moved on, by way of the Paihatua Track (road). Boy, that was a hill. After taking most of the morning to get up and over that, I made it to a town called Dannevirke, which had a rather unsettling affinity for trolls. I ended up spending the night there, in a "Holiday Park" (a camp ground as they're called here sometimes). When I went up to the office at first to get a camp site, I was rather suprised to hear that I was the first tent-camper they've had all year long (keep in mind that this is in September, 9 MONTHS into a year.). That didn't exactly inspire a great deal of confidence in me... I went to the local supermarket, and found a big loaf of cheesy, baconey bread that they had just dropped the price down to NZ$2 on. I bought it in an instant, and that was very tasty. At the "Holiday Park", they had a complete kitchen, with stove, oven, pots and pans, cutlery, knives, plates, hot and cold running water, a fridge/freezer, and a table! Quite a change. So, I made some couscous for myself (which is actually stupidly easy, and very filling), and tore off half of the loaf of Bacon-and-cheese bread to eat. I slept the night out in my tent, and I woke up a few times from the cold. I just bundled up, and it was fine, though. I found out later that it was down to about 4 Degrees Celcius, and frosted. I made it through the night, though, and packed up in the morning. I then headed off (a little later than usual, at about 10AM) on my loaded bike. Several times on my journey so far, I've been attacked by Magpies. Apparrently, it's nesting time right now, so they're extra-protective. I was just biking along, and I saw another cyclist on the other side of the road. I waved and said "Hello!", and in response, they yelled: "WATCH OUT FOR THE MAGPIE!" and pointed somewhere over my head. Looking around, I saw this scoundrel come swoopoing in on me, divebombing my and only missing by a matter of inches. That happened several times. They're evil birds, and have been known to knock cyclists off their bikes. I've decided that the best defence is to either sit there yelling and cursing aat them, swinging your arms around, or to sprint as fast as you can,looking straight ahead, as your helmet'll protect you. I kept on hearing a bird flap somewhere over head, and cowering in fear until I realised it was just a simple pigeon. 100 Kilometres later and nearing dusk, I had finally made it to Havelock North, a smaller, slightly expensive town, in some ways akin to Highland Village. My Aunt and Uncle live here, and I had arranged to spend a little bit with them. Their house is amazingly full of plants--more than most conservatories or greenhouses, I'd think! The only thing that there may be more of than plants in this house is books. There's an entire room covered, floor to ceiling with all sorts of books, all the way around. And that's just a quarter of them. In every room, there's at least one bookshelf stretching up to to sky, chock full of books--covering every subject from cooking and baking to plants and their care. Quite amazing. They run a lab where they cultivate plants and trees by cuttingt hem up and then sticking them in dishes with some sort of rooting hormone in it, and then repeating the process once again, with the newly grown plant--quite interesting. The first day here, I started a book called: "Yackety Yak: Bombay to Beijing by Bicycle". I also finished it. It was entertaining, but at the same time, not exactly what you might call "quality literature". It followed a pretty typical Australian bloke on his adventures in India and China and Pakistan, and had some funny bits in it. Mostly it was just nice to relax for a day, and sit on something that WASN'T a bike seat. The Rugby World Cup is in full swing over in France, and the All Blacks (New Zealand's national rugby team) are the favourites to win it. Yesterday they demolished Portugal 108 to 13 or something. Which was actually a far lower score than most people thought the All Blacks would score (Portugal is ranked as the worst team in the tournament). That was fun to watch--although because of the time difference, it didn't start until 11:00pm here, so I was up late watching it for fun. By the way, the National New Zealand Basketball team is called the "Tall Blacks"! I laughed out loud when I heard that. If people hadn't heard of the All blacks, they'd probably think it was the most racist and stereotyped name possible for a basketball team. Okay, time for some lunch. That was enough of a rambling entry as I can currently sustain.Hope you're doing well, whoever it is that's reading this.-Ben
Hello there folks! Sorry about that long absence. You should come to expect those, though. If you're LUCKY, you may get something on the order of one update a week--although most will be rather small and short, I'd imagine. So, last Saturday, I took the train up from Wellington city to Paraparaumu, or Raumati. I stayed the night there with my Auntie Anne and Uncle Paul, and Cousin Lawrie. Anyways, I have to be brief, so here we go: I cycled up from Raumati on New Zealand's West Coast up to Palmerston North, and stayed with my Aunt and Uncle, and my cousins David and Nikla and Brendon. I stayed there for a couple of days, and then moved on, by way of the Paihatua Track (road). Boy, that was a hill. After taking most of the morning to get up and over that, I made it to a town called Dannevirke, which had a rather unsettling affinity for trolls. I ended up spending the night there, in a "Holiday Park" (a camp ground as they're called here sometimes). When I went up to the office at first to get a camp site, I was rather suprised to hear that I was the first tent-camper they've had all year long (keep in mind that this is in September, 9 MONTHS into a year.). That didn't exactly inspire a great deal of confidence in me... I went to the local supermarket, and found a big loaf of cheesy, baconey bread that they had just dropped the price down to NZ$2 on. I bought it in an instant, and that was very tasty. At the "Holiday Park", they had a complete kitchen, with stove, oven, pots and pans, cutlery, knives, plates, hot and cold running water, a fridge/freezer, and a table! Quite a change. So, I made some couscous for myself (which is actually stupidly easy, and very filling), and tore off half of the loaf of Bacon-and-cheese bread to eat. I slept the night out in my tent, and I woke up a few times from the cold. I just bundled up, and it was fine, though. I found out later that it was down to about 4 Degrees Celcius, and frosted. I made it through the night, though, and packed up in the morning. I then headed off (a little later than usual, at about 10AM) on my loaded bike. Several times on my journey so far, I've been attacked by Magpies. Apparrently, it's nesting time right now, so they're extra-protective. I was just biking along, and I saw another cyclist on the other side of the road. I waved and said "Hello!", and in response, they yelled: "WATCH OUT FOR THE MAGPIE!" and pointed somewhere over my head. Looking around, I saw this scoundrel come swoopoing in on me, divebombing my and only missing by a matter of inches. That happened several times. They're evil birds, and have been known to knock cyclists off their bikes. I've decided that the best defence is to either sit there yelling and cursing aat them, swinging your arms around, or to sprint as fast as you can,looking straight ahead, as your helmet'll protect you. I kept on hearing a bird flap somewhere over head, and cowering in fear until I realised it was just a simple pigeon. 100 Kilometres later and nearing dusk, I had finally made it to Havelock North, a smaller, slightly expensive town, in some ways akin to Highland Village. My Aunt and Uncle live here, and I had arranged to spend a little bit with them. Their house is amazingly full of plants--more than most conservatories or greenhouses, I'd think! The only thing that there may be more of than plants in this house is books. There's an entire room covered, floor to ceiling with all sorts of books, all the way around. And that's just a quarter of them. In every room, there's at least one bookshelf stretching up to to sky, chock full of books--covering every subject from cooking and baking to plants and their care. Quite amazing. They run a lab where they cultivate plants and trees by cuttingt hem up and then sticking them in dishes with some sort of rooting hormone in it, and then repeating the process once again, with the newly grown plant--quite interesting. The first day here, I started a book called: "Yackety Yak: Bombay to Beijing by Bicycle". I also finished it. It was entertaining, but at the same time, not exactly what you might call "quality literature". It followed a pretty typical Australian bloke on his adventures in India and China and Pakistan, and had some funny bits in it. Mostly it was just nice to relax for a day, and sit on something that WASN'T a bike seat. The Rugby World Cup is in full swing over in France, and the All Blacks (New Zealand's national rugby team) are the favourites to win it. Yesterday they demolished Portugal 108 to 13 or something. Which was actually a far lower score than most people thought the All Blacks would score (Portugal is ranked as the worst team in the tournament). That was fun to watch--although because of the time difference, it didn't start until 11:00pm here, so I was up late watching it for fun. By the way, the National New Zealand Basketball team is called the "Tall Blacks"! I laughed out loud when I heard that. If people hadn't heard of the All blacks, they'd probably think it was the most racist and stereotyped name possible for a basketball team. Okay, time for some lunch. That was enough of a rambling entry as I can currently sustain.Hope you're doing well, whoever it is that's reading this.-Ben
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
Drab as a fool, aloof as a bard!
Next school year, I will be deferring my admission to Reed College in Portland, OR, and traveling to New Zealand. In New Zealand, I hope to bicycle-tour my way around the beautiful countryside, and to become a migrant worker, picking apples and kiwis, working in vineyards, the like. I hope to update this blog semi-regularly, although I'm not so sure how that'll work out. Pictures and recounts of adventures will most likely find their way up here, as a way for all of you to track my escapades and travels.
At the moment, I have not considered my route a great deal, and am slowly piecing together a list of things that I will need to gather before my epic quest for...what exactly am I questing for, anyways?! I think I will be leaving around the same time as all the rest of my classmates head off to their respective colleges, some time in late August or early September. I may update this as further developments occur, or I may not. Just remember this: As soon as you're not looking at my blog, it is both updated and not-updated at the same time. I guess the only way to know for sure if there is anything new here is to check back frequently. Or subscribe to the Atom feed.
-Ben
At the moment, I have not considered my route a great deal, and am slowly piecing together a list of things that I will need to gather before my epic quest for...what exactly am I questing for, anyways?! I think I will be leaving around the same time as all the rest of my classmates head off to their respective colleges, some time in late August or early September. I may update this as further developments occur, or I may not. Just remember this: As soon as you're not looking at my blog, it is both updated and not-updated at the same time. I guess the only way to know for sure if there is anything new here is to check back frequently. Or subscribe to the Atom feed.
-Ben
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