15 January and Onward

(I realise now that I also have a blog entry for 14 January, but I left it at home, so that will come later. We don't have the internet hooked up at our home yet, so I'm using the local library computer.)

Here’s a quick re-cap of the last few days :

15 January 2009

We purchased a fridge and washer at an appliance store called Bond-Bond. Both were over-priced by Canadian standards, but we’re learning that’s the way it goes here. We didn’t buy a clothes dryer, partly because of the space issue (we’re limited), partly because not many kiwis buy them – they just hang their clothes outside all year, so that’s what we’re going to try.
Once “at home” in Pt. Chevalier (look it up on Google Earth), we went for a walk in Western Springs Park, a huge park just a block and a half away. The trails cover a few good kilometers and circle a lake, a few ponds, and some creeks. The park is teeming with geese of all kinds, eels, rabbits, even chicken! It’s practically a zoo, and quite near one. The Auckland Zoo and MOTAT (Museum of Transportation and Technology) are on the same property. We’re very lucky to be so near these attractions!
After applying yet another layer of sunscreen, we decided to walk to the tip of Pt. Chevalier and check out the coastline there. After a thirty-minute stroll, we came to a sailing club where people of all ages and colors were taking to the surf with their sail-boards. There wasn’t much of a beach, but the view of the sea was beautiful.
From there, we drove across the Auckland Harbour Bridge to the North Shore and a beach called Takapuna Beach. We were directed there by the nice man at the sail-board shop. We parked a block from the shore and found, to my delight, the first beach beach, complete with sunbathers, surfers, picknickers and barbequers. The beach isn’t lined with a boardwalk, but with privately owned beach properties which open directly onto the sand. There, I soaked up some rays and collected some beautiful tortoise-like shells.
For dinner, we checked out the Fish’N Chip shop down the street. Sadly, though, they didn’t sell any ketchup, so I had my first experience with fries and tomato sauce – yuck!

16 January 2009

Today our appliances were delivered by a friendly maori chap who welcomed us to NZ as well as instructed us on the proper set-up of our fridge and washer.
We enjoyed another stroll through Western Springs Park, then ate our first home-cooked meal. It was a tad make-shift: I cut the veggies with Brandon’s switchblade, and we had to use a t-shirt as an oven-mitt, but in the end we had chicken kebabs and roasted veggies.
Another first was a delightful one. I hung our clothes on the clothes-horse beside the house. I can’t explain why it gives me such pleasure to hang my clothes to dry, but it does. For now, at least, it’s novel, but I’ll let you know if I still enjoy it in the dead of winter.
We also met our back-neighbors, a maori woman and her two year-old son. Both were very friendly, and we look forward to spending more time with them.

17 January 2009

After a quick breakfast of Nutella and banana toast with tea, we set out on our first road trip. We took the main highway south out of Auckland, through Hamilton, then Cambridge, to a town called Tirau. The town is surrounded by pastures which are home to Thoroughbred champions, sheep, red deer, cattle, and dairy cows. We were there visiting Aidan and Joe Richards. (Brandon went to Capernwray with Aidan in 2003.) Joe works as a nurse in nearby Hamilton, and Aidan manages the dairy farm they live on.
We were greeted with a warm welcome; Joe took us to an ice cream parlour featuring the famous Manukau honey ice cream, then to a natural spring a few minutes out of town down a winding road. Later that night we played Dutch Blitz and enjoyed the starry sky before sleeping soundly in their guest-room.

18 January 2009 – YOU DON’T WANT TO MISS THIS ONE

After a quick breakfast, we joined Joe and Aidan at their hometown church, then dined at the local café before heading home to milk the cows. Yes. Milk the cows.
I’d mentioned the night before that it might be cool to help Aidan with his work. However, I wasn’t about to wake up at 5 in the morning to do the early milking, so we settled on the afternoon. We donned some grubbies and mud-boots and headed out to the “shed” where Aidan and his helper had herded some 350 dairy cows.
Now, here’s the set-up: The milking shed is a long building, about 30 metres, covered, but with no walls. Down the centre is a lowered walkway where the milking apparatus’ are hung. Along either side of the walkway is a raised platform, at about shoulder height, lined with a rail shaped to create “butt-stalls” (my term). So, the frightened, filthy, poo-covered cows are herded down the platforms and, one by one, they fit their hind-quarters into the appropriate stalls (kind of like angle parking for cows). We, the milkers, are on the lower walkway, and for 30 metres on either side are cow butts.
Aidan was quick to warn us to watch out for lifting tails, but the cows were quicker. Not five minutes into my milking adventure, did a cow take a slimy, explosive dump right beside me, and I was sprayed with cow dung. In my ear. On my eyebrow. BESIDE MY LIP! But, I guess that just broke the ice. Over the course of an hour and a half, about twenty other cows did their messy business. But, I’m getting ahead of myself. There was real work to be done. When one row of cows was ushered in, we’d attach suction tubes to their teats. When their utters were empty, the suction machines automatically released, then the teats needed to be sprayed with an anti-bacterial solution to prevent infections. While one row of cows was being milked, another row was being ushered in, so, back and forth, we milked 350 cows in an hour and a half. However, it wasn’t as smooth as it sounds. It took me a while to be able to bravely stick my hand between the hind-legs of these huge animals whose buttholes were so close to my head. Some of them would stamp their feet, and more than once I was slapped when a cow swished its crap-encrusted tail. At first, all the poop bothered me. One chunk would land on my forearm and I’d freak out, then I got a whole streak across my shoulder, then, before I knew it, I was covered in poop. But, I was beyond caring. After all, it was inevitable. There wasn’t an inch of the milking barn spared the stain of shit and piss. Every time I grabbed a milking apparatus, I was grabbing it through a layer of poo. Every time I urged a cow on by slapping its thigh, I was slapping crusty poo. I shlupped up and down the walkway through an inch and a half of poo, I wiped poo off my face with a t-shirt covered in poo. Everywhere. Poo.
And it wasn’t just gross, it was dangerous. At one point, a cow slipped on – yes – poo, and fell into the lower walkway. The beast was so panicked, she kept trying to climb back up to the platform, but her fellow cows kept walking – into her, over her – she didn’t have a chance. It was quite frightening to watch her slipping around on her skinny little legs before finally being coaxed (none too kindly) out a separate exit. Without a doubt she’ll be sore tomorrow. And she wasn’t the only one; another cow fell, but thankfully there were no other cows around to trample on her.
I couldn’t help but think that the cows were pretty stupid. After all, they’re milked the same way, twice a day, every day, yet they still enter the milking shed like it’s their first time: wild-eyed. They push each other around. They will run wildly down the crap-covered concrete given half a chance (imagine trying to sprint down a slip-and-slide with four legs instead of two). Not to mention their lack of self-respect. They mosey around with some other cow’s crap all over their faces. They do their business whenever and wherever. They even nuzzle their noses in it while they wait in the pen. Disgusting.
Still, I quite enjoyed – no, “enjoyed” isn’t the right word – let’s just say it was a learning experience that was full of laughter. After all, it’s hard to keep a straight face when you’re covered in crap from head to toe.