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…when I found this insect inside my shoe (with my toe). It’s called a Weta, one of NZ’s famous native creatures. I would have preferred a little fluffy kiwi to be honest.
I was awoken early this morning to be presented with this popular Jehovah’s Witness publication:
Awake? I am now, thanks for that.
I was informed by two well dressed men, that this month’s magazine focused on the importance of ‘honesty.’
”We all struggle to be honest,” they proclaimed.
“We do?” I genuienly consider myself an honest person, so this came as a bit of a shock.
“If only we could be more honest with each other, the world would be a better place. Don’t you think?”
Well! I could have started being honest right then and there! I could have told them my honest feelings about being ‘awake’ early on my day of rest! What did I think? Well, I rubbed the sleep from my eye, readjusted my dressing gown (to ensure my modesty) and began,
“Well, guys, to be honest…”
I looked into their eyes and witnessed their Jehovah’s faces, waiting with hope, eager to see if this dishevelled bearded man in a dressing gown (and literally nothing else) might be ready to accept their teachings.
“…to be honest…”
I wasn’t ready. I couldn’t tell them that I was mildly offended by their insinuations and that really, I’d only open the door because I thought it was that thing I ordered online. They were after all, just trying to make the world a better place.
“To be honest, I’ll have a read.” I took the magazine with absolutely no intention of doings so. I guess it turns out, they were right about me.
This is a video I made with fellow adventurer Mr Danny Wallace. We flew a helicopter into a hot crater then walked around resisting the temptation to taste the volcano water.
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For your interest: We flew from Tauranga to White Island with http://www.vulcanheli.co.nz
Not at all to scale.
To the outsider, Australia and New Zealand aren’t that different. Exotic, pleasant lands on the edge of the world, where people talk in an endearing vowely fashion.
But to an insider things are very different. For a Kiwi, the twang of an Aussie accent is as obvious as pouring muesli in your ear. And vice versa. But as one of the eight Australians who moved to New Zealand; (as opposed to 14 million New Zealanders who have gone the other way*) I can tell you with authority just how very different things are for our separate countries. The following scene will show you the struggles I face every day. What it’s like to be an Australian trying to make simple attempts at communication in New Zealand.
The scene: At the sandwich shop, Auckland.
BEN: Hello, one sandwich please.
LADY: Oh yes, which kind of sandwich?
BEN: Um, ham salad.
LADY: What’s your name? I’ll call you when it’s ready.
BEN: It’s Ben.
LADY: Dan.
BEN: No, it’s (clears throat) Ben.
LADY: Bin?
BEN: Ben.
LADY: Bun.
BEN: Beeeen.
LADY: Biiiiyn?
BEN: No, sorry. (I spell it for her.) B. E. N
LADY: Ah, sorry, I’ve got you now. (She laughs at how silly she has been. Ben, after all is not exactly a weird, hard to spell exotic name.)
She writes it on the sandwich bag. I am relived.
Moments pass as my sandwich is assembled. I think about the previous conversation, chuckling to myself. Oh well, at least we got there in the end. She passes me my sandwich and I look at my very own name, written on the bag.
Ban: a weird, hard to spell exotic name.
*All figures quoted are false.
Another ‘typical delicious’ curry from one of the biggest brands in the business:
Cock Brand? Looks more like a gigantic chicken to me (not that I’ve got Cock Brand envy or anything).
I feel like cock tonight.
The Frost Retort 