That’s me and about 120 other metal detectorists at yesterday’s Metal Detecting New Zealand Aotearoa seeded hunt in Rotorua.
I left well before dawn to make the 3 1/2 hour drive. As it turned out I didn’t actually need quite that much time, but better safe than sorry. I woke up early anyway.
That’s the field of battle… a city park and beach on the big volcanic crater lake at the center of sulfurous Rotorua. Apparently this was a main swimming beach back in the day, but nowadays development has moved the town’s center of gravity, so this is kind of out in the ‘burbs.
After the speeches, thanking of the sponsors, and so on, we were away.
I called this a seeded hunt, because they had planted a bunch of stuff for us to find. Similar events in England routinely turn up Roman and medieval relics. But here we haven’t had metal for so long, so you’ve got to sweeten the pot. They gave away three new metal detectors, and some gold and silver coins, and various other cool treasures.
I won a hat, AND a t-shirt. But I also found a small silver coin, a 1940 sixpence to be precise, so that was cool.
Until this event I’d only ever met these people on Facebook, so it was cool to see them in real life (although my currently neurodivergent smile doesn’t probably make the best first impression). And it was really neat to see firsthand a couple of the people who always seem to find the good shit. Here we were, same field, same equipment, etc. And sure enough, I watched in amazement as some of the guys did what they do… find all the good prizes and a whole lot of original stuff too, while I was largely getting pull tabs. (In fairness to me, I was happy to dig the pull tabs… it didn’t seem appropriate to be too aggressively cherry picking only the obvious stuff. And the earring I found, although not real silver, still counts as a win on my internal scoreboard, and definitely sounded like a piece of “can slaw”, so patience can be rewarded. )
That’s my loot… the silver coin, the bullet, the rings (not real silver), and the little games token were seeded, and the rest was just in the ground. It puts into perspective something I’ve sort of suspected… there’s a lot of targets in the ground. Between us, I imagine we pulled 1,000 coins and several dozen pieces of jewelry out of an area maybe the size of two regular city blocks.
And we cleared a lot of trash. And we could have pulled at least three times more if that had been the point.
After about four hours of staring at the ground, including a break for sausages on the barbecue, it was time to go home. I was plenty tired at the end, but it was a really fun day.
I’ve told a few people of my diagnosis now. And even though this only affects 3-4 per 10.000 population per year, it’s been surprising how many people know someone who’s had the same thing.
So I thought to myself, hmm, I wonder if anybody famous has ever…
I spent the morning doing my overdue US taxes. Ugh.
So the orcas, at least six or seven and probably more, were an especially welcome sight.
We have a new spotting scope with a camera mount, but it’s not supremely speedy to follow the orcas, and I haven’t got the camera hooked up yet. But one day… there will be pictures.
More than a month after my return from Manila, where Christmas was already in full swing, some little sprouts of decoration are appearing in our neighborhood.
The carols are on in the mall, and today there’s a Christmas parade in the next town over… it’s the season, in a laid-back kind of way.
My Christmas present will hopefully be a fully functional set of cranial nerves. I can now sort of lopsidedly smile, so if I do happen to run into Santa I won’t scare him away.
On Monday morning, I realized that the left side of my face wasn’t working. It had felt a little tight on Sunday afternoon, but I blamed that on a weekend outdoors in the wind and sun. But on Monday I was unable to close my eye properly… it looks pretty creepy. As does a one-sided smile or dribbling my coffee.
Dr ChatGPT gave me a likely diagnosis of Bell’s Palsy. We went to the GP, who squeezed me in without an appointment, and he confirmed the diagnosis but sent me to the Emergency Department for a brain scan “just to make sure.”
At the ED, we waited about 3 1/2 hours to see the Dr, who agreed with me that the scan was unnecessary… I had all the symptoms of Bell’s Palsy and none of the symptoms of anything more sinister. He wrote prescriptions and sent me on my way.
We’re in the middle of a health system crisis here in NZ. There’s not enough money to give everyone what they want. And the money that is spent could be apportioned and prioritized differently depending on who you ask. My interaction (anecdotally) confirms all this.
Disclaimer: I am a rich white guy in a rich white suburb, with a background in the way the health system works, etc. Therefore, my experience would be at the top end of experiences people have.
First, this was an almost unqualified success. All my carers were easily available, seemed knowledgeable and kind, and I’m as confident as some internet searching can make me that I got the right diagnosis and optimal treatment. I don’t have private insurance… this was all in the publicly funded health system.
I said “almost” unqualified success. Here’s the qualifications. I can point to multiple system problems that I think reduced the efficiency of the whole endeavor. If these thoughts bear out and exist for others, there’s a lot of savings to be made and satisfaction to be improved.
1) Funding disparity for urgent care. My presentation falls perfectly into the urgent category. Not life-threatening, but scary (my face doesn’t work!), and the internet told me it was important to start treatment as soon as possible. My GP couldn’t get me an appointment till the next day (which is already way better than it is for many people in NZ). But we insisted a bit and they squeezed us in on the spot. Awesome service, but we disrupted their schedule which contributes to overwork and just puts friction in. My subsidized copay at the GP is $60. At the private urgent care a few miles away it’s $160 just to walk in the door, so from my perspective it was easier and cheaper to muscle into the GP. Perhaps because of the extra pressure of seeing me in a hurry over lunch, the GP was unwilling to just treat, and instead made a probably unnecessary referral. A publicly subsidized, properly equipped urgent care with appropriate triage (including the authority to refuse subsidized visits if it’s really a GP issue) would have been perfect for me.
2) Something cultural making him unwilling to treat. The GP seemed competent and confident in my case, calling it a 101-level, not complex at all. But he still felt the need to send me off for a scan instead of sending me home with a prescription. We don’t have the litigation and malpractice insurance problems of the USA, but somehow the GP needs to feel even more empowered to just treat me. Instead I took up a slot in a busy emergency room and wasted an afternoon.
3) Availability of diagnostic facilities outside the ED. Given that I have a referral for a diagnostic scan but am clinically stable, why was the ED the only place to send me? Better allocation of hardware and personnel away from the ED, and perhaps better contracting between the public and private providers like the US VA has done so well, might have resulted in a less expensive interaction.
4) Patient-centered tweaks in the ED itself. When you walk in, there’s three windows. The first one inside the door is where you go second, after visiting the one in the center. There is a sign way up near the ceiling explaining all this. But we watched two dozen people come in and all go to the first window, like we did. Each time the clerk there paused, listened politely as the patient began their story, and then sent them the three steps over to begin again. Although I know that time-and-motion efficiency experts can be just phenomenally useless, it sure felt like that workflow could be examined to the benefit of both patients and staff. And if that workflow, how many others?
5) Time and money consequences. Sending me to the hospital resulted in a 7-hour adventure, including an hour plus in the car (remember gas is $10 per gallon), a $20 parking fee, and fast food for dinner. None of that is a huge deal for me, but I don’t have childcare to worry about and I make my own work schedule. The long ED wait meant that the bargain pharmacies were all closed when we got out, so I had to pay the full $20 copay for my prescriptions at an after hours place. Again, for me not an issue, but those copays are a proven problem for surprisingly many people. The previous government abolished the prescription copays, but Mr Luxon and his Coalition partners have reinstated them. There were consequences for the system staff too… all the documentation was generated twice, and then transmitted among providers, blah blah blah.
After my first couple doses of prednisone, I can already see a tiny improvement… my mouth can manage an almost Mona Lisa level of exuberant grin. Most people recover fully, and this affliction doesn’t usually come back. Fingers crossed (which I can still do on both sides)!
Our move to Whangaparaoa meant that I’m a little further from my longtime swim group, and a lot closer to a new one.
Last Saturday I got to bring both groups together for a big swim from Long Bay to Arkles Bay. I didn’t swim this time, but I was there in spirit. We followed up with breakfast and unofficial housewarming at our place.
The support boat put in at the finish line and ferried a few people to the start.
As the crow flies, or the penguin swims, that was only a little over 5km in the water, roughly 2 hours with a few regroup / rest stops. However, it’s over half an hour driving off the peninsula and back down to Long Bay,
The weather really cooperated… a week earlier the forecast was for it to be awful. But the storm blew through the day before, leaving calm water and even a tailwind. We timed it for a little tide assist too, so although 5km is on the longer end of what we do as a group, everyone agreed it was a pretty easy morning.
A good time was had by all. Many of the swimmers know each other from events and just swimming. In fact, we’d probably be one big group, but it’s just hard to drive that far when you can walk to the beach instead!
Lee arranged these dahlias with some fringey sprigs of fennel. We’ve had that vase for a really long time… I’ve always liked it… and I think it’s been waiting for these exact flowers.
The 5th of November 2024 is a day many Democrats, and I fear many others, will add to the list that includes December 7th 1941, September 11 2001, and so many others when terrible things happened.
Or maybe not. Who knows.
Here in New Zealand it was Guy Fawkes Day. Nobody has any idea what we celebrate or commemorate with this holiday. But it’s the only time of the year that you’re allowed to buy fireworks.
We happily took full advantage of our new views, even though we are sympathetic to the many people who call for the home fireworks to be banned.
That’s me and my partner Wayne at last weekend’s national doubles pétanque tournament.
I was content with my performance in the singles, as I’ve already mentioned. For the doubles, we started off very strong: after the first three games, we were seeded 8th out of 50. But that was it… we crashed and burned. We only won one more game out of the remaining six and finished near the bottom.
I was pretty bummed afterwards… it’s really frustrating to watch yourself fail like that. You know what to do, and you know you can do it, but then you mess up.
Luckily for the partnership, we were both in the same boat… he messed up more or less the same amount as me. So at least neither of us had to contend with too much guilt for letting the other guy down.
Another thing you have to learn in sport is resilience. So after a long hot shower and a night’s sleep, I managed to find a new frame of mind for Monday’s national team tryouts. I knew, and particularly after the crappy weekend, that I wouldn’t be on the team. So that took the pressure off. The tryouts therefore were more of a clinic for me… playing with and against the best players, chatting about tactics and techniques, etc. I actually played quite well, and so the trip was saved.
Earlier this year, I went to a party at that lady’s sister’s house.
I’m sure I talked too much about metal detecting… because I talked about metal detecting.
But now months later, she lost a gold charm while working on her farm. The chain she wore it on got caught on something and broke. She found the chain right away, but the charm was lost in the tall grass.
She remembered the metal detecting, and a few phone calls later there I was in a cow pasture.
It only took a few minutes for the magic metal detector to find the little charm. Happy days!
And even better, she’s given me her neighbor’s number… he’s got an old cottage site on his farm that’s never been detected…
When I took this picture a few weeks ago, it was a novelty… how and why is there a Trump sticker on a New Zealand light pole? And blech, of course, because that’s what I think.
But it’s less funny now, isn’t it? As an example: Is it reasonable to fear that my Social Security benefits will get wiped out for posting this picture? Probably not… but it doesn’t feel as unreasonable now as it did then.
And I guess that’s what bothers me the most about the whole thing… here’s someone who knows he can shoot somebody in the face in the middle of Madison Avenue and get away with it. And for whom taking revenge seems to be an important activity of daily living. And who is President — again — with the support of a majority of voters. So if he did want to change the rules for John’s Social Security benefits because John said something he didn’t like… who would stop him? He should’n’a posted that picture, people would mutter as they averted their eyes.
I bet this is a little taste of how Black people, and the children of illegal immigrants, and women, and lots of other people, feel all the time.
That’s us as the returns rolled in, all dressed for a funeral, and headed out for an end-of-the-world dinner and a bottle of wine. Dark red wine, darker than blood. Blood, wine, smoke, carnage. The orcs are inside the city walls.
But then we got to the restaurant, where our perpetually cheerful hostess Svetlana leaned in and reminded us in her Boris-and-Natasha accent that we can’t influence the high politics. Never could, not anywhere. Still or sparkling?
The lady behind us was wearing a fascinator, maybe getting an extra day’s use out of her Melbourne Cup accessories. Hard not to smile at that.
And so we glumly ate the delicious chicken livers and the rigatoni with the rich red sauce and drank the wine and then since it was the end of the world we ordered a ridiculous foo-foo dessert.
Brattleboro Adventure – the Auckland Edition 