Not Gone...!

Well, I'm back from overseas, just don't have the time to update my blog regularly at the moment. I will shortly, and then I'll back.

A@L.

On the move...

Aucklander At Large is currently, well, at large.

To view the travelblog, click here.

Note that these posts were written in ink (yes, real ink) on the day they say they were posted. Which is not the same as the day they were put on the blog. Sorry about that.

Being Peaceful

Today was the last day before the start of the 62nd sitting of the United Nations. From this afternoon, the UN compound is closed to the public for several months. We had no idea when we turned up this morning.

Because of the fully 'democratic' way that the annual UN budget is set, the UN general assembly has been unable to agree to allocate money towards a good spruce up of their building, and, as a result, the interior feels like your walking through Middlemore Hospital. The carpet is worn, the paint is peeling and chipped, and the general décor is lifted straight out of the 1950s (which is of course, when the UN building was designed and built).

Apart from the general assembly, which was impressive, the rest of the building had a 'lets teach the world to sing' feel about it - Wayne Mapp would have a field day there. Even our cheese-eating-surrender-monkey* tour guide was quick to point out that sanctions against Iran were because of the manufacturing of enriched uranium, and that no weapons of mass destruction had been found yet.

Interesting fact: the UN building has no corner offices, simply so they can avoid favoring one delegation over another when allocating digs.

The fairness of the place makes me sick.

******

Speaking of Iran, New York is gearing up for Mahmoud Ahmadinejad's visit. Protests have been planned and a picket has already emerged 'near' the UN building (in a designated protest zone, somewhere near New Jersey). The Daily News picked a new slant to take today, focusing on Ahmadinejad's upcoming question and answer session at Columbia University - the headline was "What Were U Thinking, Columbia?" (their txt talk, not mine). The New York Post took a similar line, referring to "Iran's Idiot Prez". However, the New York Times chose to instead focus on Donald Rumsfield's appointment as a visiting fellow at Stanford University, and the subsequent 2,500-signiture petition of staff, students, and alumni against the appointment.


* French.

For the Benifit of Mr Ahmadinejad

This morning's Daily News featured a picture of Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad with a slash through his face and the headline "Go To Hell". While such a front page of a newspaper may perfectly portray the general American sentiment (or maybe not?) it was a little melodramatic. The attached story simply stated that Ahmadinejad had been declined a request to visit Ground Zero. If this doesn't give you a 'Don't Mess With Texas' message, I don't know what does - if you don't stop playing with nuclear stuff, we won't let you pay your respects to our dead from an Afghanistan terrorist attack*. Would stop me dead in my tracks, and was a position that the News editorial whole heartedly supported.

The New York Times saw the whole thing as a little less news-worthy, giving it about three column inches on page seven - their front page story was instead the funeral of a local solder in Iraq.

God bless the liberal media.

******

Having gone to a rather small high school my choices for courses was a little limited. One such example was when I had a choice of physics, metal work, or art in sixth form. For reasons that still escape me, I chose art. Having never taken art before, I did abysmally - my lack of artistic ability coupled with my general inability to take the teacher seriously (you'd understand if you met her) meant that I really was doomed from the start. Anyway, the art appreciation section involved studying Picasso’s Les Demoiselles d'Avignon (a Wikipedia link for those slightly less cultured amongst us**)

Yesterday I saw it at the Museum of Modern Art (MoMA for those in the know). It was impressive.

******

It was strange when I was Student President*** and someone would recognize me on the Cable Car. It was even stranger when an international student recognized me in a bar in Taupo. So when three guys spotted me in the hostel in New York City last night and said they were at Victoria when I was Pres, it was insane.


* Simplified a little, yes.
** Which, had I gone to a larger high school, would include me.
*** Speaking of which, how about that A-Team - zero from 13 I hear. What the f*ck happened to them? They were hotsh*t when I left Wellington. Oh well.

Being Irish*

I now know how the Irish feel.

Phoebe came across a bar in a guide book in lower Manhattan called 'Jeremy's Ale House'. Hell - we had to pay a visit and have a pint. The place was great, my kind of bar - which basically means it has cheap beer and doesn't constantly smell of industrial cleaner. And a pint was more like a gallon. The place served as a safe house on Sept 11, which was endearing. Despite the 'Bring our Troops Home' placard in the neighboring** window, there was a general sense of camaraderie here. Anyway, I bought the tee shirt, and had a pint (or a gallon). All good fun.

Incidentally, the bar across the street was called Nelson Blue; New Zealand Bar and Grill. We couldn't resist this.

When I worked as a bartender at the Backbencher in Wellington, one of our Irish regulars used to wax lyrical about how much he hated Irish bars - I now know how he feels - this place was a generic bar out of a box, with a few Maori carvings on the wall, a New Zealand wine list, and Steinlager and Speights on tap - otherwise there was nothing really New Zealand about it. Nothing like the Huapai Tavern

They are, however, playing the All Blacks Scotland game on Sunday morning (via a webfeed if they can get it) so I may very well visit again***.


* Despite my red hair, I am not Irish.
** American spelling. As they say - when in Rome, rely on a spell-checker.
*** And I did. There was no sound and the connection kept stalling. Not worth the effort.

In Transit...

(Apologies for not posting - I've only just got to an unlimited Internet connection - but these posts were written in ink on the days they say they were posted. Now, read on...)

There's something quite unnerving about flying for 22 hours and arriving at your destination only four hours after you left. The joys of the international data-line - a Masters degree in Geography and it is still a cause of wonder for me.

Five hours in Sydney Airport was torture. Not the waiting per se, but waiting alone. This was compounded by the early departure, no one seeing me off at Wellington Airport, and my flight to Sydney being only about 1/4 full - I had not had a conversation longer than about ten words with anyone in a long time - and it was doing my head in.

Problem solved on United flight 480 from Sydney to LAX - I was seated next to a ten-year-old Bangladeshi boy called Nadim and his mother. Nadim struck up a conversation with me by asking "Do you speak 'Stralian?" in the broadest ocker accent. Nadim and I chatted away for most of the flight (interrupted by two movies - Shrek the Third - which I dozed through - and the Hoax - which was brilliant. I could have also watched Oceans 13 but I didn't the remake of Oceans 11 warranted one sequel, let alone two). As you can see, the novelty of flying hasn't worn off yet.

As we disembarked at LAX, Nadim's mother gave me their address in Melbourne and insisted that Phoebe and I come around for dinner one night. I'm not sure she knew where Wellington was, but it was a nice gesture just the same.

Back to airports - I'm now in the US. Spent 45 minutes on the ground at LAX (not nearly as bad as everyone made out it would be) including a mandatory 'fresh' air outside breather - although the smog in LA made my eyes water - not sure what to expect in New York./

From afar, America seems to be perpetually expecting the next terrorist attack, but you wouldn't know it passing through an international airport. The only person who looked at my passport (as ID) did so because I volunteered it (of course, apart from the nice gentleman from Homeland Security who stamped it). Kind of strange since I was patted down leaving Wellington, and swabbed for bombs in Sydney.

Benign strategic environment*, or has Bush begun drafting customs officers to support their effort in Iraq**? You be the judge.


* I'll freely admit, I have no idea what this means.
** Not a serious suggestion.

Five Hours in Sydney Airport...

The remarkable thing about me is that at the age of 26, I have done next to no travel. Apart from a ten-day family holiday on the Gold Coast when I was 17, I have never left the country. Hell, it wasn't until my final year of undergrad that I finally went to the South Island.. So with my thesis finished, Phoebe and I have packed our bags and are heading for Phoebe's kind-of homeland - those United States.

Let's back track a bit here. Yes, my thesis is handed in. Signed, sealed and delivered. Both the most depressing and the most rewarding thing I have ever done is now in the hands of my examiners - but not after considerable paperwork. That I wasn't made aware of until the 11th hour. I swear to god, Hitler filled in less paperwork to annex Austria. After a few celebratory beers with some mates, I headed out very early this morning.

Which brings me to the present - a five-hour stopover in Sydney Airport. My mild fascination with airports has quickly dried up - I'm bored out of my tree.

The flight from Wellington was great. I got a window seat in an Airbus A320, and we flew right over the central city - amazing.

As I said earlier, it's been almost ten years since I last left New Zealand. Therefore, I offer some observations on Australia from the departure lounge.

Firstly, I don't remember Australian's having such a pronounced accent - when I was in Brisbane, I seem to recall everyone sounding like New Zealanders with a slight twang. Here in Sydney (well the airport at least), there is no mistaking it - you're not in Oriental Bay now, Jeremy.

Secondly, remember when New Zealand traded in the heavy coins for those new light-weight ones? Everyone (including me) said they would never get used to them? Well, I got used to them, and as a result, the change I have from a cup of coffee is weighing down my pockets.

Finally, the coffee here is terrible. But I'm going to chalk that up to five and a half years in Wellington.

I should probably point out that despite our best efforts, Phoebe and I are not flying together; Phoebe's trip has been planned for months, whereas I was a rather late addition. Phoebe's taking a leisurely trip around the Pacific Ocean, with a short stop over here in Sydney (only yesterday), 36 hours in Taipei, and a short stop in Anchorage (Ted Steven's International Airport!!), and then on to New York. My trip is much more direct - five hours here in Sydney, a fleeting stop in LA, and then on to New York. Our respective airlines don't have the best records either - Phoebe's flying China Air, which had a plane burst into flames on the tarmac a few weeks back, while I'm flying United, which had two planes reduce the World Trade Centre to "Ground Zero". But thinking happy thoughts.

Next stop, Los Angeles.

Found on a Victoria University Notice Board

I thought this was pretty clever: