In which we find ourselves in another part of the world
A work colleague performs in the improv troupe at Covert Theatre, which I wouldn’t have guessed until he put out the invitation a few weeks ago.
The show’s premise was clever, start on the bridge of the USS Enterprise, and then incorporate the random audience ideas from that point.
As always with this kind of thing, some bits turned out better than others. But it was cool to see another, unexpected, side of someone, and to discover a new venue.
Misty’s been especially cute lately and even if you don’t actually agree it doesn’t matter because this is why they invented the Internet so there!
Brutalism is a style of architecture… that much I knew already. And when I saw this building in Wellington a few weeks ago, that was the word that jumped into my head. But is that really how to describe this building?
Luckily, I can just dial up the Wikipedia article on brutalism… and so now I can say with more confidence: yes, that’s pretty much what brutalism looks like, although there are more extreme examples. Unfinished concrete, geometric shapes, minimal ornamentation… check, check, check. Brutalism often makes the building’s inner workings more prominent, like having the elevator shafts on the outside or otherwise exposing the building’s intended purpose. I didn’t see that done here, although it will be worth a return trip to look again sometime.
Brutalism has passionate followers even today, but has largely gone out of fashion as being soulless and making you feel like Big Totalitarian Brother is looming over you all the time. Certainly I would hesitate before venturing into National Office with whatever civic problem might bring me there. To quote The Living, an excellent movie I saw this weekend, “in the meantime we’ll just leave your petition here, it’ll do no harm.”
On the plane down to Wellington a few weeks ago, the flight attendant got on the PA and said we were joined by the cast of Red White and Brass, who were flying to Welly for the movie’s world premiere. Cool, I thought but meaningless to me. The next morning I happened to walk right by the theatre and snapped a shot of the poster.
Then just a couple days later I saw an ad for a screening of the film, with a Q&A, just down the road at our nearby artsy cinema. Ok, since I’m old friends with the cast, let’s go.
It was very sweet and heartwarming. And I got to meet the writer Halaifonua Finau (who thankfully goes by Nua) as well as cast member Suzy Cato, who for years hosted an after-school TV show and so is sort of an institution to a whole generation of Kiwis. The most interesting parts of the Q&A were about getting the movie made. It was mostly funded by the NZ Film Commission, so that part was sorted, but still… making a movie must be a labor of love and a giant gamble. I hope they do well by it… maybe it’s the next Hunt for the Wilderpeople!
If you get a chance… see it!
That’s Andres, and he sells the best tacos in New Zealand under the moniker Hot Like A Mexican. I was so glad somebody in our Expats Facebook group posted about this place, just a hole in the wall in Wellington.
We took this picture to submit to PlantSnap for an ID, but I wasn’t really happy with its first suggestion… I don’t think it’s a dendrobium! But number 3 in the list is Chinese indigo, and one of the plants on that list is probably right. PlantSnap is impressive… bring on the AI!
A couple of weeks ago, at the instigation of our expat friend Emily, we saw Madeleine Peyroux at the Holy Trinity Cathedral (just up the street from our old house in Parnell).
Before the show we had a nice dinner at Non Solo Pizza and then walked to the church. It was the first time we’d walked along that road in over a year, and it was striking how many shops had changed. And there are a couple of new construction projects underway… more apartments. But our little Superette store was still there, which was comforting.
The concert itself was sadly ho-hum. We had seats in the back, which may have contributed to our feeling disengaged. The acoustics weren’t great… we could hear that her amazing voice was doing Billie Holiday things, but we couldn’t really hear those things in detail.
Madeleine herself seemed tired, as I suppose you would be at the last show on the Australasian tour. Let me go home and curl up in my own bed please. You already know my politics, which I will work into a few jokes, which I’ve been telling now for like 30 years. And no, we’re not really tinkering with the music, because we know that this works… there’s a reason they call them “jazz standards.”
We went to dinner at the Alliance Francaise a couple of weeks ago. Now that we’re on their mailing list, we are impressed with how many events they have. We tried to go one other time, to a breakfast, which we thought would be a big food truck type thing. But it was a sit down affair and basically over when we got there. So when this dinner popped up we booked right away, and it did indeed sell out.
On the night, a guy who makes his living as a private chef cooked up dinner for about 35 right there at the Alliance building, a former private school, all 1920s bungalow charm. We ate at long tables and everyone tried whatever level of French they knew. The menu was supposed to be from the Basque country but I’d say that was more an overtone than a strict rule. The duck was tougher than it should have been, but the not-so-Basque chocolate lava cake was divine.
I don’t know how often we might go back, but it was a nice experience.
Lee surprised me with a bloody mary that was practically a meal. Fond memories of the Whetstone Station.
We grew a bumper crop of beautiful chillis this year. New Zealand doesn’t understand Mexican food, and their determination to spell ‘chilli’ that way just proves it. But no matter. We roasted these guys on the grill (or is it grilll?) and they were meaty and charred up just right.
But they had no heat! Whatever combination of sun, rain, and relaxed Kiwi attitude made these the mildest of all Anaheims. Mr Scoville didn’t even stir in his sleep over these.
Maybe next year… or maybe we’ll just give up and have some shipped in on dry ice.
I saw this vignette on a pre-dawn walk in Wellington a few weeks ago. The houses here are crammed in cheek by jowl on a vertiginous hillside. But they’re within walking distance of the city centre and command gorgeous views of the harbour. And so whatever’s behind that For Sale sign and that white picket fence is desirable and expensive real estate.
But even so, I think it takes big brass balls to be the sales agent telling potential buyers a seven-figure story with this digger parked out front and casually reaching down onto the property.
Lately I’ve been thinking about a new car. There’s nothing really wrong with the minivan, but a man my age sometimes imagines himself in an old Triumph, or a new Polestar.
I read recently about a Chinese electric vehicle that supposedly sells for about $5,000. But you’ll not be seeing one in NZ any time soon, because they don’t meet safety standards. Really, it’s more like a glorified golf cart than a serious car. But such a vehicle would be perfect for nearly all the driving we do!
And wait a minute… we let e-scooters and mopeds and those crazy gyro wheels straight of B.C. go on our roads. None of them meet safety standards either… you straps on your helmet and you takes your chances. And even real cars… I mean , if you’ve read this blog for any length of time, you know there are plenty of cars on the road held together with #ducttape.
So… when the Stepwgn (yes that’s how they spell it, no I don’t know why, and yes I realize that leaving out the vowels doesn’t make the minivan ‘edgy’) finally gives out one day, what will it be? Something edgy? Or a classic? Or another boring practical car like I’ve had my whole life? Who knows.
Maybe the minivan will last long enough for me to have a fancy golf cart. Or a flitter!
About where that rock in the foreground sits, there used to be a sculpture. I know because I walked by it every day to and from work for the first three years we lived here, and still do a couple of times a week on the way to the pool.
It was kinda metallic and curvy. The plaque said it was to commemorate the Smirnoff centenary… which I always thought was an odd reason to put up a sculpture. But whatever floats the city council’s boat, says I.
A few days later, mystery solved!!
Following a swim recently I walked along the sea wall for a while and came across this painted rock. Cuter in person maybe… it really gave me a smile.
Brattleboro Adventure – the Auckland Edition 