A Few Random Thoughts on New Zealand

I know my overview in this blog is woefully short on the history of New Zealand, which is as colorful and varied as a history can be.  From the original Polynesian settlers who came from the various islands of the Pacific, some from as far away as Hawaii, to Captain Cook and his followers who came much later from the British Isles to seek a better life—what we learned merely touches on what there is to know.  Our Maori guide in Wellington talked about the journey from Hawaiiki, and I naively asked if that was near or the same as Hawaii.  No, he kindly explained, Hawaiiki is not a physical place.  Hawaiiki is a state of mind, a place deep within the soul of his people which can only be reached by attaining a spiritual peace which transcends religion.  I suspect this transcendence is very common among the present day Maoris.  

And I have barely mentioned the sheep!  We passed mile after mile of sheep pastures.  Lambing season had just occurred and the fields were full of little babies snuggling against their mums, romping together or playfully leaping into the air.  Of course you can’t get pictures of such cuteness—you have to hold them in your mind’s eye. Jeannie was appalled that anyone would actually eat lamb, but of course in New Zealand lamb is a major industry.  One wonders why the lamb industry doesn’t decimate the sheep population.

Millions of sheep do reach adulthood though, and their wool is also a major industry.  We were treated to a shearing demonstration in Queenstown.  The nervous animal was held behind a gate while the shearer explained the process, and then the gate was opened. The animal put up a bit of a fuss, but then was perfectly still as the shearer denuded the poor creature in nothing flat before smacking him on the bottom and releasing him back into the confinement naked as a jaybird.  The shearer then held up the shorn wool which was all in one piece, not in clumps as I would have thought—almost like an alpaca rug.  We were allowed to touch it and it feels slightly oily, from the lanolin.  One sheep produces about 4 kilos of wool worth only about $15—seems like it should be worth a lot more than that, considering what the sheep has to go through.  At the end of the demonstration I asked the shearer how come the sheep was so docile during the shearing—you would think it would bleat bloody murder and try to escape, but it submits literally without moving.  He said it was a matter of technique!  Wow, this sheep was every bit as big as the man and one would think he could have easily wriggled out of his captor's grasp.  Impressive.  We had asked Malcolm, our guide in Queenstown, how many shearings there are per year.  Just one he said, although every now and then the sheep farmers will pour a bit of chemical down each sheep’s throat to prevent disease and give them a bit of a tidy-up on the backside to keep away the flies.   A lovely turn of phrase, don’t you think?  So typical of the Kiwis.

And finally, I'm feeling inadequate for not being able to convey the sense of the country of New Zealand.  We were so lucky to see it from the air, in all its varied glory, its mountains, lakes, rivers, steaming geysers, its sounds and fiords, its magnificent shoreline.  When you look at it on a globe, it is but a blip in the vast Pacific.  We are so blessed to have experienced such a wonderful overview of such a beautiful, yet remote, country.  Even better, though, we experienced the people of New Zealand--the Kiwis, fun-loving, friendly, funny, and fabulous--witty, warm and just plain wonderful.  Thank you New Zealand. I wish everyone could experience you as we have.