Posts in category: Living

Letters from the Southern Man

Migrating is more than just filling in forms and submitting paperwork, its a complex process that will test even the most resilient of people. 

Understanding New Zealand is paramount to your immigration survival and to give you a realistic view of the country, its people and how we see the world, read our weekly Southern Man blogs. Often humorous, sometimes challenging, but always food for thought.

The Difference between Singapore, Fiji and New Zealand

 

A few of you have emailed me asking what happened to last week’s post. 

Well I confess after two weeks of non-stop talking in Singapore and Malaysia and very little sleep I snuck off to Fiji for a few days of R and R with my family and also to celebrate my brother’s 50th birthday.

I really love the place when unwinding and rest is what you need – it is so laid back, the tropical air is cooled by the consistent trade winds that blow off the Pacific, the ocean is like a warm bath, no one hurries because they operate on ‘Fiji time’ and best of all it is less than three hours flying time from my front door.

More than once while I was away the thought occurred to me that it seems only yesterday my brother and I were riding our bikes together, playing ‘go home stay home’ outside with all the other kids in our street, swimming in the local estuary, having fist fights (stories retold over the weekend to my sons by my brother….), playing in our ‘band’ with our tennis racquet guitars, causing all sorts of mischief during school holidays and listening to a young Michael Jackson sing about a rat called ‘Ben’.

Milestones like your older brother turning 50 and you barrelling up not far behind him make you think about the kind of life you want to lead because really, it might be a cliché but life really is short.

Having just spent another week in Singapore where the average life appears to be comprised of Birth, learning to talk, studying, studying, studying, studying, exams, studying, studying, studying, exams, University, studying, studying, studying followed by working, working, working, working, working, saving money, working, working, working, shopping a little, then dying (I don’t call it the human ant colony for nothing) I was pleased to just sit around in Fiji doing little other than eating, drinking, sleeping (the best bit), playing endless hours of cards with my sons and enjoying real family time.

I wonder how often Singaporeans do that. Or South Koreans. Or Chinese. And not feel guilt.

I ‘get’ Singapore I think. The city fathers attempted to build a prosperous society off the back of its people and to a large extent have succeeded but as a regular visitor I am left wondering at what cost. It is clear that many of its citizens and migrant workers do not share in this prosperity but struggle and lead pretty miserable lives with little to no assistance from ‘their’ Government. 

Like everyone I am moulded by my environment and culture. I realise that lifestyle – family before business - is a New Zealand thing where we take seriously balancing our business lives and our family lives. These aren’t aspirations or slogans that our Government puts out there but a real and defining philosophy shared I suspect by virtually everyone born (or who has moved) here.

Singapore is frenetic and the people I meet who are talking to me about a new start and new life are slaves to the capitalist machine looking for change. They give new meaning to the word workaholic and I do wonder if many ever stop and ask themselves ‘Why? Why am I working six day weeks and 11 hour days? I guess the ones coming to see me do.

I know the Fijians don’t.  They are quite the opposite and arguably could do with a little more Singapore going on in their lives! New Zealand fits somewhere in between the two and I needed to visit Fiji to remind myself that we almost have the best of both worlds here in New Zealand – the lifestyle and the relative prosperity. The Fijians have little prosperity and most people in Asia little lifestyle. 

My ongoing disappointment with New Zealand is that sometimes we lean a little too far towards lifestyle. There are too many rights and too little responsibilities.

I chuckled ruefully while in Singapore at a news report online in which the New Zealand Government, almost apologetically, said that as part of its welfare reforms certain citizens who currently enjoy many hundreds of dollars a week in taxpayer funded ‘benefits’ would, when their eldest child turns some age I quickly forgot ‘have to be available to look for work’. Note, they did not say ‘will need to secure a job’. Nor even ‘would need to apply for a job’. Oh no, they went to great pains to tell these people they have to be ‘available’ to look for work.

Now what really does that mean?

The Minister all but said ‘Excuse me, we kind of would really like it, if you don’t have any objections of course, that despite the choices you have made with your own life, that your fellow citizens would be really grateful if it isn’t too much to ask that you at some point in the future think seriously, or even not that seriously, about perhaps finding employment so we don’t all have to fund the lifestyle that you created through your own lack of good decisions. If that’s okay?…..you don’t have to!’

In Singapore these people (who receive nothing from their Government anyway) would be thinking ‘Is having another child a good idea given my circumstances?’  because the alternative is their family has to pay to support them. In Fiji a strong socialist mentality built around a village culture sees collective support and punishment for social transgressions and the family takes the responsibility that in my own country we appear to have passed on to the state. Which for political expediency successive Governments have for too long accepted. Because to pass that responsibility back to families and communities usually means to be voted out of office.

I guess nowhere is perfect. Not Singapore, not Fiji and not New Zealand but of the three I am in little doubt New Zealand has got the balance largely right but there is still plenty of room for Government taking strong positions when it is for the greater good as Singapore has done. But perhaps in a less ‘take no prisoners’ kind of a way that doesn't make its own people slaves to the capitalist machine.

As you contemplate where you would like to grow old ask yourself if your country is going to be able to provide you with the income, the health care and dignity that you will want.

I do and so far I can find none better than right here in New Zealand.

Until next week (or later this week)

Southern Man 

Otago Rail Trail

 

This time last week I was in Central Otago, one of my favourite places on the planet let alone New Zealand.

A group of six of us were off to ride the Otago Rail Trail. Formerly the railway line linking Dunedin to the Otago gold fields the railway was shut down in 1992. Someone came up with the idea of ripping up the tracks and providing a surface suitable for walkers, cyclists and horse riders. And so in February 2000 the 150km Rail Trail was launched.

We began this adventure with two days in Queenstown where we ate wonderful food, drank some of the finest wines produced in New Zealand and when not imbibing wine,  sat sipping local boutique beers mesmerized by the view. 

I realised why the view looks so different in Central Otago and it is not just the local architecture, vineyards, soaring mountain peaks, lakes and rivers, it is the lack of moisture in the air that lends a clarity. We Aucklanders are surrounded by warm oceans and as a consequence are used to high levels of humidity (and on days when there is no wind, smog) with moisture laden air. This creates  a haze you don’t get in Queenstown and Central Otago.  

Our brief but enjoyable stay in Queenstown was followed by a night in the Dunstan Hotel in Clyde which was our starting point for the Trail ride.  I felt like I was in a movie set.  An old gold mining town that at its peak had 42 pubs (it now has one) and a resident population of over 30,000 people (it now has 900) that had entered a seemingly terminal decline until the rail trail brought it back to life as a tourist destination and start (or end) point for the walkers, cyclists and horse riders that pass through.

This old two storied hotel was a rundown backpackers until the current owners renovated and restored it around seven years ago operating it now as a bed and breakfast. Authentic in the extreme and true to its past but now with showers and flushing toilets…

What followed was three days in the saddle on mountain bikes. A little wary of ‘saddlebum’ I asked about the need for gel seat covers when we picked up our bikes. The guy who rented the bikes to us reckoned “only pussies need them” so being the tough guy I thought I was I didn’t rent one. Well, miaow……I was wishing within 48 hours I not only had a gel seat cover to sit on but a big fluffy pillow under my bum to boot! 

There is something about bikes – the freedom they offer, the exhilaration you feel as you free wheel down a hill; the things you see because you are travelling more slowly – dew soaked spider webs in the morning, a brown grasshopper sitting on a grass stalk, a New Zealand falcon riding the thermals looking for his next meal and a skink scuttling off his basking rock as your shadow passes over him. And the smells as your tyre crunches over the wild thyme, of grasses and dust and in this case the odd dead sheep all smelled strangely intoxicating. 

I confess I felt like a ten year old once again the first morning riding beside the Clyde River, round Poplar trees which were turning a rich gold colour as autumn settles in the valley and through piles of leaves that were accumulating on the path. What great fun to stop every now and then at local wineries for wine tasting (didn’t do that when I was ten).

Another bonus was apple trees gone wild. All along the trail apple trees grow. Thrown from passing trains decades ago some of the seeds sprouted providing free juicy apples. fresh fast food at its finest.

A stop at an unmanned  fruit stall with its ‘Honesty Box’ outside of Alexandra where I left my  money in a jar in exchange for $5 worth of the freshest sun ripened strawberries  was a real treat. They were quite possibly the plumpest and sweetest I have ever eaten.

The thing that really got me apart from the vastness of the countryside was the lack of sound. Like all children of cities I am comfortable around noise.  Immersed in the constant urban sounds provided by cars, buses, fire engines, ambulances and police cars I realise when these sounds are not swirling about me I don’t feel totally comfortable. 

Out on the trail there is a lot of ‘scrunching’ as the bike tyres roll over the stones and gravel and after that there isn’t a lot to hear.

There are poignant moments on every journey and one of mine came shortly after leaving Wedderburn on the second day of our ride. Having puffed and panted my way up yet another gently sloping part of the trail I stopped to enjoy the view. My riding companions were spread out ahead and behind me so it was just me, the sky, an early autumn sun, the gentlest of breezes,  a whole lot of brown tussock and a few sheep spread all the way to the horizon. I had the whole of the Maniatoto Plains to myself for a good five minutes.

The sun was fair beating down given it was the early afternoon and I was surrounded on all sides by what are called ‘Ranges’; not big enough to be classified as mountains but far higher than your typical hill.  What is labelled in these parts as ‘High Country’.  The fields seemed to go on forever. The light was pure. The view dominated by rust and blue.

I decided to do something I never do in Auckland.

I lay my bike down and just listened.

The first sound I was conscious of was the whisper of a breeze.  Far off I heard the faint sounds of birds.  Crickets chirped in their thousands in the grasslands from my feet to the hills (and no doubt beyond).  A bee then flew across the path in front of me.

And that was it.

Nothing else. It was utterly peaceful. And utterly sublime. 

Central Otago is classified as semi-arid with rainfall of less than 350mm a year or for those of you using the imperial system that’s about 13 inches. The farmers pray for rain. Away from the river fed valleys the soils are traditionally poor making it ideal for producing wine and the grape of choice is Pinot Noir although many of the local vineyards do a pretty good Pinot Gris as well. If you are into wine this patch of NZ is heaven on a stick (or in a bottle). 

The landscape is dominated by mountain tussock of various varieties interspersed with grass for the sheep, cattle and deer that are raised through here. In many parts Thyme grows wild among the cracked and flaking schist. 

Through many parts of this journey I half expected to see a rhino or two, herds of Impala and possibly a Zulu village or three as it looked and felt exactly like parts of Kwa Zulu Natal in South Africa.

We saw it at its best perhaps because we enjoyed it at its most climatically comfortable – not too hot and not too cold. Being there in early autumn we were told is the best time to ride the trail because there is little to no wind. This is important for here the wind can blow fiercely – it races down off the mountains and is dry and hot (think Berg wind you South Africans). Swapping stories with friends the other night who have also completed the trail they got a couple of intensely windy days and one of their sons was literally blown off his bike. No damage done but a good laugh was had by all. 

As I have spent my life explaining to so many would be New Zealanders it doesn’t rain all the time everywhere in this magical country of ours. Just through the mountains where we were basking in the heat the west coast of the South Island was almost certainly being rained upon. Over that side of the mountains rainfall is usually measured in the thousands of millimetres. Yet the massive mountain range that is the Southern Alps blocks the moist westerly airflow meaning by the time the weather cells pass over Central Otago and Canterbury they are spent and a parched thirsty landscape sits yellow-brown from horizon to horizon.

The temperature extremes are quite extraordinary.  Even last week we would get up in the morning to temperatures of only 3-4 degrees. On went the thermal, the tee shirt, the merino hoodie and the wind breaker. Within half an hour of hitting the trail the wind breaker was off, within an hour the merino was stowed, by lunch the thermal was packed away and by 2pm I was cycling only in shorts given the temperature was 23 degrees in the shade which would make it at least 30 degrees in the sun.

Many people avoid riding the trail in summer (January and February) given it is usually over 30 degrees in the shade and well over 40 degrees in the sun. Plentiful pubs and the cool rivers would be welcome relief I am sure for those brave enough to cycle in such heat.

Along the way we had a night at Waipiata which holds the record for one of the coldest ever temperatures recorded on mainland New Zealand – minus 23 degrees Celsius in 1995. By contrast it is regularly 35 degrees plus in summer.  This is a part of New Zealand that occasionally gets a hoar frost – where the moisture in the air actually freezes – making for scenes straight out of Narnia. 

It really is a magical place. Harsh for sure but peaceful in a uniquely New Zealand way. I’d recommend it to anyone who lives here or is passing through.

Over the three days spent on the bikes we covered 163 km. My advice to any of you that might fancy this adventure is you need to be moderately fit (but no more), it would be great with children but I’d probably want them to be 10 years old or older, you can do it over 4-6 days and best of all it is free.

Do it. You will love it.

Don't forget I'll be giving free seminars coming in Singapore this weekend and Malaysia the following weekend and Paul will be in South Africa in two weeks. 

Until next week.

Southern Man - Iain MacLeod

 

Bikes, Bums & Early Auckland

 

I spend so much time overseas exploring other people’s countries that I spend precious little time exploring and enjoying my own.  And I’d be lying if I didn’t say that saddens me a bit.

Having a beach house doesn’t help. Don’t get me wrong and I don’t want to sound like some pretentious prat but when you have access to a beach house you tend to want to spend your time there to the exclusion of spending that precious leisure time elsewhere. 

So it is both a real blessing disappearing regularly to your favourite part of paradise but equally it can be a little restrictive.

So, I have decided that this year I am going to see more of New Zealand and have two trips planned to Central Otago this year – one to Queenstown to play golf in November and on the immediate horizon I am really excited at the prospect of spending the next week completing the Otago Rail Trail with my wife and a few close friends.

This involves mountain bikes, plenty of pub stops, mind blowing scenery and I suspect a rather sore bum.

If you haven’t been to Central Otago add it to your must see list. It is barren, rocky and always brown because in most parts it receives less than 100mm of rain a year.  It is like the Great Karoo in South Africa meets Afghanistan (without the roadside bombs) or Iran without the Mullahs.  It is New Zealand’s ‘high country’ where the plains meet the sky and the air is so clear mountains tens of kilometres away look like you can reach out and touch them, where the sky is so big and so wide it makes you feel insignificant and the size of an ant. It is a place where the weather is sunny and hot in summer and sunny and cold in winter.

Luckily we will be there when it is neither extreme and we are set to enjoy early autumn which will offer lovely warm days with daytime temperatures in the low to mid 20s Celsius but very cold nights with temperatures as low as 2-5 degrees. 

With the changing seasons there is some chance of snow up in the mountains but that is highly unlikely (I sincerely hope so because we can only take 10kgs of luggage and I am an Aucklander and don’t possess ‘snow clothes’).

Perfect for golf. We’ll see about mountain bikes.

I will report back on this next week if I can.

One of the attractions of Central Otago for me is that it is so full of history and represents a region of the country that has been settled by Europeans and a few keen Chinese longer than most other parts. Sparsely occupied (if at all) by Maori when gold was discovered in the early 19th century the population exploded when the gold rush cranked into life. Given the scarcity of trees in that region the architecture represents a period of Victorian England meets often poor but eternally hopeful gold prospectors and settlers and many of the old cob and stone buildings that are still standing have been turned into boutique hotels, B and Bs and the like.

As I thought about what we are likely to see next week and enjoy in parts a landscape and New Zealand heritage little changed in 150 years it occurred to me that migrants tend to look forward at the new life that awaits, the city they have landed in and the new country ripe for exploration and seldom do they look back – except in those times of inevitable homesickness especially among the newly arrived. Those that have always lived some place often look back in time and at our history to better understand who we are and what made us and our world view what it is.

As a self-confessed history junkie I have been reading a wonderful book these past few days by local Journalist Gordon McGlaughlan.  Its title is ‘Auckland – A Life and Times’ and as a sort of ‘Brief History of…’ is fascinating and well worth reading for those who have an interest in my home town, why it is here, who settled it and the forces, both natural and human that have shaped it to become what it is.

It is full of wonderful facts and insights. 

As a keen geographer and Aucklander I have always been aware of the massive ‘reclamation’ that went on during the 1800s of Auckland’s foreshore. The soft sandstone cliffs in many parts were levelled by pick and shovel, sometimes explosives and carted down the faces barrow load by barrow load to create, through the destruction of some beautiful bays, flat land for the rapidly growing port and commercial activity. This book has allowed me to roll back the years in my mind to a place and time when the rail lines and yards, the wharves, many of the coastal roads and blocks of high rise buildings were not there and picture a place where in the 1830s only a tented ‘city’ existed. Where streams flowed down the valleys of bracken covered hills, slowed and accumulated in swamps of reed and raupo, where eels swam and freshwater crayfish hid among the rocks before the waters that sustained them flowed into the sea through mangroves and coastal estuaries.

Fascinatingly for a city that enjoys more than its fair share of rain one of the biggest constraints on the early city was the availability of fresh water. How ironic after the wet, seeming ‘summerless’, summer we Aucklanders have just had. Although in the 1830s there were only 1500-2000 people living in Auckland fresh water sources quickly became polluted and undrinkable.

There were during those early years only a few sources – the stream known as Horotiu to local Maori that ran down from the ridge along the valley now covered by Queen Street was the most important. Queen Street for those of you who have not walked it is our main Central City road that starts at the ridge now dominated by Karangahape Road at its southern end and which ends at Customs Street which crosses it a block away from the harbour.

About two thirds of the way to the harbour this stream pooled in a large swamp about where Aotea Square and a massive underground carpark is now. It then meandered down through the valley before once again entering  a wetland and mixing with the gentle tides that lap this harbour.

Now that same stream is imprisoned in large concrete pipes that feed storm water and the remnants of the steam itself into the Waitemata Harbour.

As I type this I am looking out over Queen Street from my office and imagining a landscape not covered in high rise buildings but a valley cut by Horotiu and guarded by two gently chiselled hills which once would have looked like any valley in this part of the North Island – towering Podocarp forests of Totara and probably Kauri - that most majestic of trees. With Tui, Kereru (native wood pigeon), kaka (native parrot) and all manner of birds wheeling and diving over and through the canopy. At some point Kiwi would have been poking and prodding the ground looking for fat native earthworms.

Now we have glass, concrete and tarmac and the nearest thing to fauna are flocks of pigeons that strut and preen on the window eaves of the oldest buildings that overlook Horotiu’s final resting place.

I have also learned that in the middle of Auckland University (about ten minutes walk from our offices) there exists to this day a fresh water spring which continues to flow with the clearest water that has been filtered over hundreds if not thousands of years by the volcanic rocks of the region. 

It is now piped directly into the city’s storm water system which seems a real waste. A clean source of the freshest Aotearoa H2O not being consumed by the good folk of Auckland and thirsty University students is a real shame.

Another major source of fresh water came from a spring that bubbled its way up through the scoria on the northern slopes of that iconic volcanic cone I have written of before, Maungawhau or Mount Eden, and then wound its way down toward what would become Newmarket to collect in a large swamp in what is now Khyber Pass (another imprisoned stream). It was here the first of the big breweries set up shop and until recently, produced some of the world’s finest beers. They needed that fresh water.

It’s funny when you so take for granted the landscape you view daily to stop and consider occasionally what it once looked like. To consider that the water that comes from the tap that you do not think twice about would only 150 years ago have been thought of as an absolute luxury.

Each Aucklander today consumes around 300 litres of water. From about 1830-1850 in Auckland everyone relied on buckets and springs or rainwater. A wash would have been hands and face and a jug and wash basin. It is recorded most of the local population washed every six weeks. I can imagine how nice they’d have been to stand beside on a baking hot summer day in Auckland. No thanks…..

We lost Horotiu but gained personal hygiene.

And next week I am going to see a part of New Zealand that has changed little since the last Ice Age.

Can’t wait.

Until next week

Southern Man - Iain MacLeod

Jetlag - into my twilight zone

 

I’m 36 hours off a plane from South Africa and the jet lag has well and truly hit. 

It's a weird thing but when I fly from east to west, even when crossing eleven hours worth of time zones, the jet lag at the other end is pretty much non-existent. One decent nights sleep of 6 hours and I am up and away. No looking back. 

However when I fly eastward I am usually fine for the first 24 hours and then it hits me hard - it feels like I am struggling under the weight of a very heavy blanket, existing in a twilight zone and working through a strange suffocating fog that induces a very real and deep lethargy. It goes on like this for a number of days but with each passing night allowing me an extra hour of sleep the feeling slowly dissolves as my circadian rhythms adjust to being back on this side of the planet. By this time next week I’ll be feeling human again. 

I woke up around 5am this morning which is better than on previous trips. By my second night I am usually out to it by 9pm but wide awake around 3.30am. Each night offers me an additional hour or so as I go to sleep later and wake later.  As I cleared my emails before the sparrows had roused themselves from their own slumber this morning, I thought the left over curry in the fridge looked appealing as was the previous night’s leftover supper that lay along side of it. When I get back from these trips I feel like Pizza when I wake up and cornflakes for dinner. My body is completely upside down. French fries for breakfast anyone? 

It’s just after 10am in the morning as I write this and right now I am feeling like curling up, closing my eyes and drifting off into the strange reality that is the jet lagged mind. 

All those anti jetlag pills and potions you see being pedalled at airports don’t help me one bit and I hate sleeping pills although I do resort to nibbling the tip of one when I really want to sleep. The trouble with those things is they leave me feeling so groggy the next day so I limit myself to just the tip of one if absolutely necessary. I don’t know if it is psychosomatic or what but I don’t need much to tip me over the edge into sleep. They are the only ‘aids’ I take to help me battle the lag. I’d recommend them if you are flying with children – for you if not the kids…… 

I don’t waste my money on the anti-jet lag pills. Melanin might in theory assist but my secret, such as there ever is one, is fairly simple – sleep on those flights when you feel like it and can, resist for as long as you can the tempting delights of a couple of bottles of Barossa Valley Shiraz and drink plenty of water. When you get where you are going stay awake as long as you can. If it is daylight when you arrive get that sun working on your Pituitary Gland – I go to the gym in South Africa or take a walk or swim in places more civilised and less threatening – in order to trick the brain into thinking it is still just the end of a long day even though your body screams otherwise. 

Jetlag induces in me the most bizarre dreams when I do go to sleep. They are vivid in ways that my normal dreams aren’t. I don’t dream about anything particularly different to usual as my brain continues to file away the day’s memories and experiences. 

With jetlag I find the dreams take on a reality that makes me think I am in fact wide awake even though I know I am asleep. Although my sleep often feels deep (probably brought on by exhaustion) I suspect in fact it is quite shallow and explains my awareness of the dreams. It is as if the dreams are closer to the surface of my consciousness and as a consequence I have no trouble remembering them all. 

It is the strangest form of sleep. Quite unsettling to be honest. With jetlag it seems like the brain is constantly firing and wired. It is almost as if it does not think it should be asleep which of course it shouldn’t be – when I am in South Africa my brain is still in New Zealand for a few days and behaves accordingly. 

Having been constantly jet lagged on and off it seems for 23 years (goodness only know how long haul pilots and air crew survive their jobs) I’m reassured that modern airliners are flown by computers and not jaded humans. I’ve watched enough of those Nat Geo ‘Air Crash Investigator’ shows to know it’s hardly ever the planes that break – it’s the humans trying to rectify a problem when their body clock is all over the place. No chance. 

Since I got home Auckland has been hot and humid with a dense cloud cover, little wind and intermittent rain showers. This has been our summer in this part of the country – very warm and wet. Overnight low temperatures of 20 degrees on many nights and daily highs of only around 23-24 degrees – a good two degrees or so cooler than normal. But anything but cool. 

After a week of temperatures in the high twenties in Johannesburg and strangely damp humid weather, high twenties in Durban and mildly humid and low 30s in Cape Town and no humidity (but some serous wind) I reflected with a number of clients in South Africa how difficult it can be explaining Auckland’s climate to someone who is not used to humidity. Durban people ‘get it’ – Cape Tonians and Gautengers generally don’t. Singaporeans and Malaysians definitely do. 

Humidity, if you are not used to it can make a 23 degree day in Auckland feel like a 33 degree day in Cape Town or Johannesburg. As I wandered through the V &A Waterfront last weekend I was thinking that the temperature felt much like what I had left in Auckland. I was not surprised to learn the next day the temperature had been in the low 30s Celsius – the absence of any discernable humidity made it a very comfortable temperature indeed. My first full day back in Auckland the air was positively dripping yet it was ‘only’ 25 degrees Celsius. It felt far less comfortable than Cape Town or Johannesburg. 

None of which makes for easy sleeping without a fan at the end of the bed if your home does not have air conditioning – which most Auckland homes for some reason do not. 

Regardless it always nice to get home. To be able to walk to the gym or up Mount Eden with my wife and not give a second thought to the intention of the person walking toward you, to greet them with a casual raise of the eyebrows or offer a friendly hello. 

And to look forward to a nice unbroken night’s sleep in my own bed in a few days time. 

I’d be really interested to know of you experiences with jetlag and for those of you that travel long haul regularly what, if anything, you can offer the readership in terms of dealing with it. 

Until next week 

Southern Man - Iain MacLeod

Matapouri and Mermaid Pools

 

Happy New Year and can I take this opportunity of wishing you all the very best for 2012.

So where to begin with this, my first Letter from New Zealand in 2012? 

We could talk immigration policy, pass marks and so on but that would be a bit dull.

Although I have only been away for three weeks it seems like months. Over my summer (such as summer has been up this end of the country this year) I once again realised that the more time I spend travelling around this country the more I appreciate how lucky my family and I were being born here. And I love to share it with you…….

I couldn’t get out of the office fast enough toward the end of December. For Immagine NZ, 2011 was most definitely a year of two halves. The first presented difficult trading conditions given the ongoing (but still unofficial) cuts to migrant numbers and the difficulties many potential clients continued to experience selling up their homes in order to free up the cash to make migrating possible, but the second half was strong with December being our best in 23 years. Either world property markets are starting to free up or people are just a little more desperate to get somewhere civilised and are taking whatever equity they can extract from their houses and just doing it. Possibly before things get worse.

We appear to have hit the ground running in 2012 with a busy first week. Having a working knowledge of the crazy Australian General Skills Category and related visa categories has allowed us to offer clients greater ‘offerings’ and as I have mentioned before I enjoy using Australia as a backdoor to New Zealand as it often presents a far less complex visa pathway than coming directly to New Zealand. 

I want to tell you a little more about a special part of New Zealand where my family and I spent a few days last week with close friends.

Matapouri Bay. Shortly after finishing posting this I am heading back up there for a few more days (the sun is out – what am I to do?) to pick up my youngest son and enjoy a friend’s 50th  birthday tonight. Alfresco dining under a balmy summer sky, big trestle tables with brightly coloured tablecloths groaning under a heavy load of barbequed meats and seafood, with crisp salads prepared from local gardens, sweet hot summer corn dripping in melted butter, lit by large candles , a few beers and wine – I cannot wait!

For me there is nothing like spending time around a barbeque (braai to our South African friends) at night with close friends and family, a good local boutique brewery produced beer or world class local wine in one hand eating the best of the local produce and kai moana (seafood) with the other. 

The fishing, when the weather has allowed, has been fantastic the past few weeks. They are biting and biting hard and we have eaten and given away many a good sized snapper over the past ten days. So many I confess I am almost all fished out. Catching and consuming I mean. Well, almost…….

Matapouri is an absolute gem. If I could upload a few photos to The Letter you could see what I am talking about but as I can’t(!) you will need to rely on http://www.tutukakacoastnz.com/matapouri-bay/ in the meantime. Check it out.

A smallish coastal village about two and a half hours drive north of Auckland on the East coast (my favourite side of the island) this sickle shaped bay is protected from the open ocean that lies beyond its two headlands. An estuary flows out at one end and is guarded by mangrove forests which are the spawning grounds for many types of inshore fish including sharks (yes, really), home to sting rays and provide predator free nesting sites for many native birds. The headlands are covered in dense native forest.

Last Thursday we took a walk around the northern end of the bay to visit and swim in the (locally famous) Mermaid Pools. Virtually inaccessible to all but mountain goats and very determined humans the afternoon began with a wander though a reserve covered in regenerating and mature native forest. The sun was out and the humidity was high as it always is at this time of year. It was a 25 degree day and the humidity was probably around 90%. The enormous trees acting to keep the sun off us also provided thick, sultry warm air – the type you can feel when you breathe it in.  With the village on one side and steep forested hills on the other, a great track has been carved into the soft dark soils by the local Council making the initial climb somewhat comfortable but none the less by the time we got to the top of the first hill after perhaps 10 minutes the heart was pumping pretty hard.

From the top we enjoyed a spectacular view north all the way up to Cape Brett (home to the Hole in the Rock for those of you that have been to the Bay of Islands) which was shimmering blue on a distant horizon. Five minutes or so of further walking along the ridge we arrived at the first lookout and rest stop. Picture sheer cliffs on both sides of you with trees clinging by their root systems (if they were humans I’d be thinking toenails) and a drop of probably 100 metres to the roiling sea, whitecaps and swells generated by a strong ocean breeze lining up to throw themselves at the shoreline. The two metre swells crashed against the craggy greywacke rocks that lined the pebble strewn beaches. Below us Gannets wheeled and dived into the bay, like bunker busting bombs, popping up to the surface with a plump wiggling silver fish in their beaks more often than not. A cooling breeze demanded rest and a few holiday snapshots.

We set off along the trail again and as we walked stole glimpses of the ocean to our left. Sheep grazed in the fields to our right – the old New Zealand and the new. I definitely prefer the old.

Having picked our way down onto the sand dunes we enjoyed a different assortment of native plants – the sand was covered in native flax and blankets of grasses with seed pods that look and feel like rabbits’ tails waving in the breeze.

Then up the next headland and on toward the Mermaid Pools. I suspect this headland is an abandoned Maori pa (fortified village). What appeared to be old kumara (sweet potato) pits were dotted throughout this forest but now trees grow where once the food was stored. These sorts of headlands were popular with Maori as they were easy to defend thanks to their extremely (death defying actually) steep slopes. So steep in places we were hauling ourselves up for 30 metres on (and between) the twisted root systems of ancient Pohutukawa trees and thinking crampons may have been the order of the day! Saplings provided handholds. You hoped like hell you didn’t slip.

When we got to the top and had caught our breath I marvelled at the power of nature to take back what is hers when we leave her to it. Now covered in regenerating forest of Nikau palms, Karaka and Kowhai trees the light filtered through and provided us with an explosion of differently hued greens courtesy of the trees around us. The ground was thick with seedlings wherever there was enough light and I stopped and collected seeds of some of my favourite native trees for planting back at my beach house.  There was that pleasant, mother earth smell of rainforest – damp soils, sweating vegetation and rotting wood.  

When we emerged on the other side of the summit the view was magnificent – directly out to sea lies the Poor Knights Islands – a marine reserve and one of the top ten dive sites in the world. The sea a deep deep blue, the rocks jagged, intimidating and unforgiving. The spray of the waves as they crashed onto their hardness the purest white. And below us the Mermaid Pools. Two swimming pool size rock pools that lie just above the high tide mark they have only one opening to the ocean. The pools themselves were about 3 metres deep in their middle. Just for a second I thought I saw two mermaids swimming in the largest pool but they turned out to be a couple of female German tourists – close, but no cigar……

We wound our way carefully down the path toward the ocean and the very inviting looking pools. Slipping and sliding, grabbing at the flaxes that lined the path we were being beaten by the sun again but fanned by the ocean breeze. Ahead of us the land disappeared abruptly into the deep churning Pacific Ocean. 

Off with the shirt, Raybans and Fedora and into the pool!

Because the ocean never reaches it but the sea gently flushes it through one narrow opening the water never stagnates and was as clear as any seawater I have ever been in. There were kina (prickly sea eggs) and crabs a plenty. Strands of smooth seaweed provided shelter for tiny fish and shrimp that had been washed in on a passing swell. The walls of the pool were dotted with limpets, cats-eyes and other assorted molluscs. Surrounded by sharp angular rocks the pools themselves were very conveniently full of small motorcar sized boulders covered in a light salmon coloured seaweed. Pale, soft on the feet and very inviting.

A truly wonderful place to cool off.

At the end of the pool where the rock face heads back up the headland is the ‘jumping rock’. It doesn’t – you are meant to.  Wedged like a gargoyle about 20 metres above the deep water below it is a favourite place for teenage lads to impress the girls by jumping, bombing or to really make a statement, dive off. Shades of cliff diving at Acapulco and no less scary. 

Although my days of being interested in impressing teenage girls are far behind me I none the less had to fight the urge to at least make one jump myself. I’ve jumped out of planes enough to think this couldn’t be scarier. Just wetter. However with the words of my far more sensible wife ringing in my ears I resisted the temptation.

A truly amazing spot and one you should try and visit on a hot summer’s day.

As close to paradise as I suspect there is.

On a slightly more mundane and back to work note I am returning to South Africa for seminars in early February. Click here for details. For those of you in Malaysia and Singapore, click here.

Until next week

Iain MacLeod – Southern Man

Year end wrap up!

 

This is my last Southern Man Letter from New Zealand for 2011.

My bags are packed, I’m going to do the family thing and then it is off to the peace and quiet of Lang’s Beach in northland for three weeks of not very much.

What a year it has been.

It began as 2010 finished – uncomfortable trading conditions thanks to our Government’s ongoing (but unofficial) cut in migrant numbers, flat property markets in the countries so many of our migrants are sourced from, fewer people being able to realise the equity in their homes that funds the move to New Zealand, a tight labour market here making the prospect of finding work (often to secure residence) daunting and the uncertainty in the global economy causing many a would be migrant to ask themselves if they were jumping out of a local fire into a New Zealand frying pan.

I can tell you though that it has ended on a very positive note – for us anyway. The last few months have been pretty good. Although we all have to work far harder for our clients given their heightened fears about what they are doing and the risks they are taking I am not aware of any client who did not find work and we haven’t had a residence case declined yet that has meant our ‘money back guarantee’ required a refund.

I suspect 2012 will continue to be challenging given the uncertainty in international markets.

It is funny though how we view the world. This week there was a business headline in the local rag that trumpeted a fall in business confidence in the last quarter of 2011. Reading through the survey what it actually said was ‘I am worried about everyone else’s business but actually we are doing pretty well in our own and think the next year will be better than this year for us’.

This was a typical survey finding over the past two years here. We worry about the economy but feel relaxed about our own prospects. Weird how it works but everyone I know from manufacturing through construction to real estate is feeling positive about the year ahead.

New Zealand remains well placed to ride it out with low Government debt (albeit climbing) and everyone I know doing their utmost to pay down their own private debt.

The next few years will see further reform of the welfare system which is simply too generous to too many people and the public servants will be twitching as Government signals they will have to keep delivering quality ‘service’ with fewer people. Should be interesting!

Our Australian operation, Immagine Australia has made great strides and it has been a lot of fun learning Australian policy (just to prove our own Government policy makers aren’t the only people on Earth who understand little about migration and the realities of labour markets). Really good fun to use Australia as the welcome doormat to New Zealand.

We are looking forward to growing that business through 2012.

And so it ends for another year.

Christmas here is not so much religious any more, it is a day pass from the day job. With summer heating up it marks the first day of a well deserved summer break. Beaches, books, good food and family time. If you are lucky a few days at the beach – its free, its clean and the water warming with every passing day.

For me it is as I say off to the beach house up north. The fishing rods are ready, the new fire pit has the wood stacked in it, the wine is stacked, the freezer full of food.

All that remains is for me to thank my dedicated team of consummate professionals for their efforts this year. Jo, Kay, Chris, Paul and Karina all take this break knowing that not only is it well deserved but they can pat themselves on the back for another year in which they made a real difference to people’s lives. We all know how hard migration is – leaving friends and family, homes. Security, jobs and settling in a new country is never easy and is always stressful. This small but dedicated team takes away so much of the fear and I can but thank them all and salute them on behalf of all our clients.

And to finish on a lighter note a Christmas ditty put together by Paul. I promise it won’t fry your computer but will bring a smile to your face.

http://sendables.jibjab.com/view/KYzYHLJm15Q8DbQCZOWG

Take care, look after yourselves, have as Merry Christmas and all the best for 2012.

Until, well, next year

 

Iain MacLeod - Southern Man

 

Auckland comes third in Global survey

 

I have always been a straight shooter. I am not into telling people what I think they want to hear and this I suspect is why the consultancy I established all those years ago has been as successful as it has (he typed immodestly). 

If you have not spent much time in New Zealand, you might be forgiven for thinking that this is just a trait of mine.

In fact it isn’t. One of the traits of most New Zealanders is that we call it as we see it although many apply greater subtlety than me given it is also a New Zealand thing to try not to offend. I’ve probably just spent too much time around South Africans…….

I am acutely aware as I share with you my insights, views and opinions into my city, my country and my life that you might think I am in fact just trying to be a good salesman to boost the income by enticing people to New Zealand. That what you read in this blog might be me putting a positive spin on everything and that surely New Zealand cannot be as good as I describe.

It is nice therefore to see the results of Mercer’s 2011 Quality of Living Survey which once again ranks my home town of Auckland the third ‘best’ place to live in the world based on 39 criteria, including for the first time ‘personal safety’.

Year after year Auckland consistently ranks among the top 221 cities surveyed.

How does Mercer gauge this? Is it objective and what are the criteria they examine?

According to their website:

Quality of Living, for the purposes Mercer’s survey, analysis, and city rankings, differs from “quality of life.” Quality of life may involve a subjective assessment or opinion about one’s personal state and circumstances in a given city, but Mercer’s criteria for Quality of Living are objective, neutral and unbiased. Our objective system measures the quality of living for expatriates based on 39 criteria grouped into 10 key categories. We weigh each category to reflect its importance for overall quality of living. We assess the degree to which expatriates enjoy the standard of living in each host location, factoring in the interaction of political, socio-economic and environmental factors in the host location.

For Mercer’s Quality of Living rankings, New York serves as the base city. All other cities are ranked in relation to it.

Okay, we’ll take your word for it.

Mercer’s ten criteria are:

• Political and social environment – including internal stability, crime, relationships with other countries, law enforcement and ease of entry and exit
• Schools and Education
• Economic Environment
• Socio-Cultural Environment – personal freedom, media and censorship
• Recreation – variety of restaurants, theatres, sport and leisure activities
• Consumer Goods – availability of and access to
• Housing
• Medical and Health Considerations – hospitals, infectious diseases, sewage, waste removal, air pollution, troublesome insects and destructive animals
• Public services and transport

It is then pretty comprehensive.

To rank third overall is very impressive and says much about the place I call home.

Vienna in Austria came top and Baghdad finished last in a field of 221. 

Sydney came in at 11, Wellington at 13, Melbourne at 18 and Perth at 27.

Not bad Australasia!!

Vancouver came in at 5th and always seems to rank very highly in this and similar surveys.

Singapore came in at 9th.

Cape Town came in at 88th and Johannesburg at 94th. Oh dear. But that helps explain why 100,000 ex-pat South Africans are living here in New Zealand. 

‘Drilling down’, as the horrible trendy saying goes, a little further when it comes to personal safety Luxembourg came out on top, Singapore took 8th spot (no surprises there - I am in fact a little surprised it wasn’t even higher), Auckland came in at 9th (tied with Wellington), Melbourne came in 25th equal (too many mobsters) along with Canberra, Sydney and Perth.

Overall the top five cities for 2011 were:

? Vienna, Austria (1st)

? Zurich, Switzerland (2nd)

? Auckland, New Zealand (3rd)

? Munich, Germany (4th)

? Vancouver, Canada (tied 5th)

? Düsseldorf, Germany (tied 5th)

 

In terms of personal safety they were:

? Luxembourg, Luxembourg(1st)

? Bern, Switzerland (tied 2nd)

? Helsinki, Finland (tied 2nd

? Zurich, Switzerland (tied 2nd)

? Vienna, Austria (5th)

 

So you see, it isn’t just me talking it up!

What does this all mean to me and the way my family live our lives?

• There is nowhere in this city I will not walk after dark or at any time.

• My wife walks 5km to the gym before and after dark without fear (in fact without a second thought let alone fear). 

• My sons disappear on buses into Auckland city to see movies and do teenage stuff (and sometimes they don’t reappear for two days – they end up at friends’ places and play Xbox to all hours and sleep on floors – during school holidays of course).

• I don’t need to bribe a public official to get my car license renewed in three minutes, organise a birth certificate in 5 or a passport in two days. 

• I bank online, pay bills online, order stuff online – actually Mrs Southern Man does that – I can’t work it out (but I know it’s there).

• I can drink the tap water.

• I can go to my local liquor store and buy about 50 varieties of locally produced boutique beer (now that’s reason enough to move here).

• I can swim in the harbour.

• I can eat the local fish.

• I have about 15 golf courses I can slice balls at within 20 minutes drive.

• I have countless parks to walk the dog and throw a ball (if I had a dog which I don’t) without bumping into anyone.

• I can dine at one of 1500 eateries serving local and international cuisine (many of them dirt cheap).

• I can see stage shows and musicals any day of the week.

• I can enjoy, virtually weekly, big name bands at Vector Arena with 12,000 other people.

• I can bungy jump off the Sky Tower (can, note not do).

So Auckland continues to offer a very attractive possibility to those that want a comfortable, safe, first world existence, where as I said last week the politics is so stable as to be the perfect cure for insomnia, far from the car bombs of Iraq, the threats of terrorism; the corruption of Africa and the population of Asia.

Being so multi cultural with 40% of Aucklanders not now being born in Auckland it has become a little United Nations or even a baby New York. 

Living in the information age it is easy to do business here, the hand of Government regulation remains light, we continue to rank in the top handful of countries for ‘ease of doing business’ and we are consistently one of those least corrupt countries on Planet Earth (wonder who we paid off to give us that ranking? ?).

As I always say it ain’t perfect but it most definitely remains to my mind the best Big Little City in the world if you are looking for a quality of life, education opportunities for your children, a live and let live society that does not judge and a climate that is extremely benign.

And it seems many others agree.

What a pity we can’t play test cricket or all would be good within our world.

But hey, you can’t have everything I suppose.

I’d love to hear from those living in Auckland what they like about living here. And for balance, what they don’t.

Until next week

 

Iain MacLeod – Southern Man

 

Waiheke Island

Waiheke Island is often referred as the “jewel” of the Hauraki Gulf.

Lying 45 minutes ferry ride to the east of downtown Auckland it is an island of incredible contrasts and beauty.

I had the opportunity of spending the day exploring the island with my wife, cruising in her VW Beetle with the soft top down this past Sunday.  The reason for being there is that a very good friend of mine is the Chairman of a Trust which he set up to honour the brief life of his 13 year old daughter who died suddenly a number of years ago of meningococcal disease.  The Trust raises money to support the locals with medical, travel and accommodation expenses given if they have anything serious they often need to come to the mainland for treatment.

The Trust that he established 11 years ago organizes an annual “garden safari” and he musters the support of 80 volunteers to make it happen.  People like me were afforded the privilege of buying a ticket, putting the car on the ferry, heading down the harbour and enjoying a wonderful day in the sun touring some of the most magnificent properties I have ever seen.

Waiheke is a very interesting place.  Until about 25 years ago it was very much viewed as a hippie hangout where dropouts and dope smokers used to go to escape Auckland’s rat race and ‘do’ pottery.  It has an almost Mediterranean climate which sees 25% less rainfall than downtown Auckland, with around 750mm, even though it is literally only 20 kilometres down the harbour. 

The soil is poor and predominantly clay and in summer baked to the hardness of concrete.  After European settlement this island which is 20 kilometres long was largely cleared of its native forest and turned into farmland.  Around 20 years ago, however, Aucklanders with money along with migrants or foreign investors realized what a treasure this island was with its pristine beaches with golden sand, clear waters and many safe anchorages and harbours which was perfect for building holiday homes, permanent residences and parking the super yacht.

Vineyards and olive groves were planted and are now common.  Some of New Zealand’s best world class wines are produced on Waiheke; there are now many cafés and restaurants and it has become a bit of a Mecca for day trippers and boaties of Auckland who will often head down there for a night or two.

One thing which really struck me about Waiheke is that it is something of a microcosm of New Zealand but without much in the way of middle classes. In some ways it represents what New Zealand used to be i.e. a population overwhelmingly of European ethnicity unlike Auckland which is these days so multi ethnic and diverse with 40% of its residents not having been born in New Zealand. 

Equally and of some surprise if not shock is the amount of wealth that is now down on that island.

Nestled (or standing out like the proverbial dogs bollocks) among magnificent rolling gardens attended by full-time garden staff are stunning architecturally designed houses with helipads alongside and some even have landings to tie up the super yacht or very large pleasure craft.

That these people have opened up their properties to the Trust is quite wonderful and allowed a few nosey Aucklanders to get a glimpse of some of the sculpture and other artworks these people possess.  I can tell you it is jaw dropping.

Sometimes clients who come to New Zealand question how much wealth is here but I can tell you after an afternoon on Waiheke it becomes quite obvious – there is far, far more than what first appearances might suggest.  I only visited five properties and at least two of them had sculptures in their garden which cost tens of thousands of dollars each.

A close family member of mine who met us out there also told me of a friend of his who recently spent NZ$500,000 on a sculpture for her property.  I understand she has several.  She is, with due respect, a ‘no name” in New Zealand as in if I mentioned her name to any of my friends no-one would ever have heard of her, yet she is clearly utterly loaded.  Out on Waiheke she is one of many.

At the other end of the spectrum I believe a few of the hippies or their offspring are still there.  With their unkempt hair and sandals many are driving around in cars that wouldn’t fetch much more than $200.  Their houses are modest.

I suspect that there are many people out on that island who are reliant on Social Welfare to a greater or lesser extent and it makes for interesting public meetings from all accounts.  For example, one of the wealthy owners wants to put in a marina for the boaties who use the island or who live on it.  Of course those of more “green” persuasion are fervently opposed and I understand that it can take an eternity to find compromise and decide on whether projects should go ahead.

For all that it is an utterly wonderful environment and it must be great to raise kids out there.  We sat in one garden, perched on a sandstone promontory of land watching a flock of Gannets diving into a bay 150 metres below us and coming up with their mouths full of fish.  Other friends of ours were out on Waiheke enjoying the same garden safari and they were lucky to sit in one of the local cafés and watch three Orca (killer whales) cruise through the bay below them.

As Waiheke has grappled with population growth and sub-division it is, to my way of thinking, another great example of how coastal development and compromise can, in fact, enhance the natural environment.  Waiheke has incredibly strict environmental controls designed to protect the intrinsic beauty of the place, yet it does not stifle development.  It seems to me most people who live out there are also incredibly generous and some of the extremely wealthy people have covenanted large areas of their land and are allowing it to return to its natural state.  Native bird life abounds. The fishing is sublime. The sea is clear and warm.

There were twelve gardens on display and we only got to see five.  Or should I say my wife got to see five, when I got to the fifth it was such a warm sunny day I couldn’t get out of her VW Beetle Cabriolet but reclined the seat, tipped my Panama hat over my face and proceeded to doze for an hour.  Sublime. Paradise...

If you live in Auckland or have recently moved here, spend a day or two out at Waiheke – take your car on the ferry, it is not too expensive and enjoy the beaches, the secluded and private bays, the vineyards, the olive plantations, the cafés and restaurants, the fresh air and the beautiful scenery.

Seminars – Malaysia & Singapore

Don’t forget our final seminars of the year will take place in Kuala Lumpur on 26 November 11.00 a.m. and Singapore a week later on 3 December at 11.00 a.m.

We are not going to be back in that neck of the woods until March next year so if you wish to attend or have friends or family considering a move to New Zealand I woudl urge them to attend.

Until next week...

 

 

Iain MacLeod - Southern Man

My Favourite Place on Earth

This week, rugby or my favourite place on Earth?

Rugby or my favourite place on Earth? What to do, what to do…..

Springboks back in their own beds. Hmmm. Wallabies to follow??? Hmmm, better not speak too soon. The glorious performance of New Zealand referees? Hmmm.

Nah, there’s plenty of water to pass under the Rugby World Cup bridge so let me tell you about my favourite place on Earth and we might return to the rugby if the All Blacks win against Australia this Sunday. If they don’t win we’ll discuss the varying standards of Rugby World Cup referees and blame everyone but ourselves (would put us in good company).

An easy 90 minutes drive from Mount Eden in Auckland is Lang’s Beach. I am lucky enough to own half a beach house (or ‘bach’ – as we North Islanders call it – don’t ask me why) along with my brother-in-law.

Nestled on the east coast of Northland Lang’s is a safe beach, about one and a half kilometres long and protected at each end by promontories of land. Perfect for launching my boat off the beach as it is sheltered from incoming swells.

The sand along this part of the coast is fine and a pale yellow. In summer the sea temperature is 23 degrees and during winter it gets down to a rather chilly 16 degrees. The beaches immediately to the north and south get serious regular surf and are used by the local surfing population all year round. Wetsuits in winter. Boardies in summer.

The water is clear and clean but through the months it changes from an almost grey green in winter to a deep blue green in spring to almost turquoise in summer. Near the shore the water is crystal clear. So clear you have to remind yourself there is no need to constantly watch the bottom while out catching a wave because that shadow isn’t likely to be anything more than loose seaweed and not some deadly form of sea life preparing to end your days.

Plankton abounds. And building on that a robust and healthy food chain exists. Scallop beds lie 50m offshore, lobster hide among the rocks, shellfish lie in their multitudes under the sand. Bait fish abound. Predator fish are everywhere. At certain times of the year their density is so great the water literally turns black with them and boils as the predator fish dart and charge into the masses – an absolute food frenzy. Gannets, Petrels and shearwaters attack from the top. Little Blue Penguins patrol the edges. The fishing is bountiful (for us as well as the birds) either off the beach, off the rocks or out in small boats. Sharks patrol. Harmless ones although we get the not so nice ones from time to time forcing swimmers out of the water……

I’ve seen 3m Orca (Killer Whales) that uniquely for New Zealand come in very close to shore into water as shallow as 2 meters hunting for stingray (you have to see how far a stingray can jump out of the water when it has an Orca on its tail!!).

I have even seen a pod of a half dozen Bryde’s whales fishing and ‘spy hopping’ about 2km out to sea. The largest was about 13m long. Spectacular.

About 15 kilometres out to sea lies Taranaga (The Hen) and a series of six smaller islands (the Chickens). These are protected islands and no landing by humans is allowed. These offshore jewels teem with native birds in forest as pristine as it was 1000 years ago. The ancient Tuatara are found in abundance here. This ancient reptile (it isn’t a lizard) was around when the dinosaurs walked other parts of the Earth.

We first had a holiday up there when my eldest son was about four. We stayed successive Christmases in three different beach houses before finding the one we currently own.

Perched high above Bream Bay the view is spectacular. We sit about 150 meters above sea level and have a 270 degree view north toward Whangarei, out toward New Zealand’s largest marine reserve at The Poor Knight Islands, around to the Hen and Chicks and south toward Bream Tail.

When we first stayed there everything below us was rolling hillside and grazing cows. There were few trees and fewer people. The walk down to the beach with little ones was down a steep gravelled track until we hit the coast road. On a hot summer’s day the walk down was far easier than the walk back with tired little feet soon joined by a younger brother whose preferred method of transport was stroller or dad’s back.

We are no fuss Charlies and the boys would take their afternoon nap in small shelters under a beach towel before waking up and charging off into the ‘bagoon’ as they called it (a tidal pool where a stream that meanders down the hillside met the incoming tide).

Those little boys are now 18 and 15 and prefer the company of their peers to the company of their parents so my wife and I are lucky enough to escape the rat race and two teenagers these days and steal away to our favourite spot on our own or with friends.

A couple of years ago we added a new outdoor ‘room’ – around 20 square meters of open north facing deck and it was while relaxing in a deck chair this past Saturday that made me decide to write and share my impressions ofthis place with you.

High wispy clouds dawdling eastward overhead, a warm breeze coming up from the ocean below, pleasant enough to take the heat out of the sun but not cold. The winter skin was enjoying the warmth of summer’s early rays. Sun block on nose. Looking up I watched as a Skylark, balancing on thermals of air, sung its territorial song before dipping its wings and falling in controlled flight out of the sky back to its grassy nest.

Seagulls wheeled about overhead as did the local harrier, fancying no doubt to make a meal of one of the local feral rabbits that live on the property. In the grass and underbrush pheasants called warnings to one another. Scuttling with quick steps was a covey of Californian Quail; I would like to think owing their existence to my rat eradication programme about our property.

The local boisterous bunch of Tui, a native bird I have written of before, flew from tree to tree chasing one another and warbling their melodic calls each time they were stationary long enough to do so (which wasn’t long – these birds live their lives expending energy to find more sources of energy in the next nectar bearing flowering trees and shrubs). They fly with heavy wings these guys, like so many of our native birds.

It is now early summer up north and it is spreading its warm tentacles slowly southwards. The ground, which is predominantly clay and like concrete in summer, is still soft enough to plant at this time of year. Over the years I have been investing in coastal natives in an attempt to return the grassed hillsides into something resembling what it must once have been. I love the native birds of New Zealand and most are berry or nectar feeders but many parts of the country have become like Dharfur to these native pigeons, Tui, Kakariki, Bellbird and others – a virtual food desert owing to deforestation and ‘conversion’ to grasslands.

I aim to change that - at least on our 6000 square meters of paradise by planting native trees and shrubs.

I considered, as I sat there dozing in the sun, how human coastal development can actually enhance the return of native forest and it’s inhabitants. The farms are subdivided and many of the new buyers want trees and birds and so thousands of native trees and flowering shrubs are planted every year along this coast. It will take many years for the birds to come back in the numbers that James Cook in 1769 once described as a ‘deafening dawn chorus” (the birds were so loud he had to park the Endeavour 400m offshore so his crew could get some sleep), but I have confidence one day they will return, if not in ‘deafening dawn chorus’ numbers at least in reasonable, seduce me with your song, numbers.

And so it was I sat in my deck chair enjoying a pre Ireland-Wales quarter final glass of red and day dreamed - post planting of 71 native plants I should add and I considered how lucky I really am.

Lucky to live in a country where all this is possible. Lucky that I stumbled across a piece of New Zealand I can escape to with family and friends. Lucky to find and buy before the coastal boom of the mid 2000s (and which I could not likely afford now).

A place where, when I stroll along the beach, I consciously look for a piece of rubbish, a coke can, something – anything! – that might tell me I am not imagining how beautiful and clean this place is.

Lucky to take walks along soft sand under mighty Pohutukawa which in summer are adorned in bright red flowers (a bit like those bottle brush flowers you might know if you are not from New Zealand) and listen to the waves hissing as they crawl up the beach.

A beach which is open to one and all. Where sections are roped off every year so the highly endangered New Zealand dotterel can nest in relative peace along with the raucous Pied Oyster catcher.

Where people walk their dogs (on leads of course) and the teenagers light fires and surreptitiously (and sometimes not so surreptitiously) sip their beers and imagine what might be.

She’s a special place is Langs.

I hope you get to enjoy it one day.

Until next week,

 

*** Passmark updates

In the latest pool draw 628 EOIs were selected including the following points profiles:

*All those with 140 points

*All those with 125 points or more including six years work in an area of absolute skills shortage

*All those with 100 points or more including an offer of skilled employment

The Good News Keeps Rolling in for New Zealand

Despite Dan Carter being ruled out of the rest of the Rugby World Cup with a groin tendon tear the sun still came up this morning. Never has so much attention been paid to one man’s groin in the history of humanity (as far as I can tell).   

Two other bits of good news (startling perhaps, depending on your perspective): 

New Zealand’s murder rate was the lowest for 25 years over the last 12 months with a grand total of 34 people being murdered and a drop in crime by 6%; and

The New Zealand dollar has fallen to six month lows over the last few days with a downward re-rating of our credit rating by two of the major international rating agencies. 

On the matter of the exchange rate, one might normally not applaud a downgrade in the nation’s credit worthiness but in the last two weeks since returning from South Africa, I have gone to change foreign currency locally and been rendered speechless by the exchange rates. The South African Rand was being bought at R6.99 to the NZ dollar and the Singapore Dollar was being bought at S1.06 to the NZ dollar. Needless to say I politely declined on both occasions as I simply could not see the New Zealand dollar being this high for too much longer.

And I was right.

With a readjustment of risk, the ongoing volatility around Europe, and Greece in particular, and also what is happening in the US (probably in another recession already), the New Zealand dollar has been sold off as ‘the markets’ have returned to the United States currency. I am happy to pay a little more for my petrol if like all New Zealand exporters my business becomes more competitive. A lower New Zealand dollar of course does two things for my clients – they get more New Zealand dollars when they move here and my fees cost less in their local currency. 

Given that we are seeing the world’s middle classes getting poorer since the onset of the GFC and in particular in South Africa this is welcome relief I can tell you. I have been predicting for the last ten years that South Africans are in danger of becoming currency prisoners in their own country and emigration when it all finally falls apart simply won’t be viable. We saw it in Zimbabwe and I expect to see it repeat in South Africa. 

With regard to crime statistics it is really heartening to see that ongoing improvement in these statistics. As if New Zealand wasn’t already safe, it has become a whole lot safer. 

On “average” New Zealanders murder approximately one person per week although in 2010 we murdered 65 (a particularly nasty and brutal year) and the year before 35. 

If we were to murder people on the same per capita rate as they do in a country like South Africa, we would still be murdering close to 1000 people per year.

The difference in the probability of becoming a victim of crime was brought home to me in South Africa two and a half weeks ago following the release of that country’s latest crime statistics. The Government was “celebrating” a fall in the national murder rate from 20,000 a year to “only” 16,000. To put that into some perspective, since the US invasion of Iraq on 19 March 2003, there has been approximately 9,500 US casualties and I believe they call that a “war”. They kill as many in South Africa in six months as US forces have lost personnel in 8 years. 

Overall in New Zealand recorded crime fell by a little under 6% over the last 12 months. 

Interestingly the largest decreases in overall crime were in the South Island and particularly Canterbury, Southland, Tasman – nothing like a good natural disaster to bring people together and be good to one another it appears!

Family violence also fell by 3.1% and there was a reduction in “family violence assaults” which also reverses trends of previous years. These statistics were of course taken before Mr Dan Carter ripped his groin tendon and while the All Blacks are still in the 2011 Rugby World Cup. There is (seriously) a spike in domestic violence in this country if the All Blacks lose a game of rugby! How pathetic and sad.

The Government here is taking credit for tougher sentences (we have one of the highest per capita prison populations in the world), three strikes and you are out (or ‘in’ – jail that is), better police resourcing (more front line police). I heard a different possible explanation for it this morning however – change in demographics – an aging population results in less crime (older, wiser, less drinking and fighting basically). The drop in our crime has parallels with other similar first world low birth rate economies. 

Regardless of the reasons it is nice to know that if it is possible for our safe streets and cities to get safer, they just have...

Speaking of excess drinking and giving a lie to the older you get the more sensible you become for those of you who are not rugby fans forgive me but I have now managed to sneak off to Eden Park to enjoy the All Blacks dismember France, Manu Samoa to arm wrestle Fiji into submission and on Saturday night enjoyed England vs. Scotland. Quite amazing really – close to 60,000 people at Eden Park (which looks truly amazing) for this northern hemisphere encounter, of which probably 10,000 where supporting England.

This doesn’t have quite so much to do with the fact that England doesn’t appear to know how to play rugby (how much kicking can you do without calling yourselves Manchester United?), but more perhaps to do with the fact Scotland were the underdogs and many New Zealanders have Scottish ancestry. A great time was had by all except we suspect the Scottish rugby team who fell at the final hurdle with 3 minutes to go and were knocked out of the World Cup.

What is truly amazing is how organised this World Cup has been. There are volunteers for Africa inside Eden Park, security has been tight but not obtrusive, burly policemen stand beside each beer stand with tightly crossed arms and bulging biceps just to remind you what you are up against if you get too silly; there are not generally queues of more than 4 or 5 minutes to get food or drink and having been in the two main stands for 2 of the 3 games, the stadium is emptied inside of about 20 minutes when it is all over. 

All of the bars and restaurants around Eden Park are pumping to all hours of the night and there is no doubt about it, this event has brought a real energy to New Zealand. We all remain nervous as we are every 4 years that the All Blacks might not go all the way but I am certainly hoping that the tens of thousands of visitors that are here sharing the festivities are having a good time. Certainly all the feedback we are getting from our many South African and English visitors to New Zealand is that they are having a whale of a time and enjoying visiting a country they might not otherwise have seen. 

We also of course, have many clients here who are enjoying the rugby while looking for work, with a view to moving here. All have reported strong interest in their skills and they are all falling in love with the little country that could. 

Onwards now to the quarter finals of the RWC which will see Wales beat Ireland by scoring a try, Australia beat South Africa (sorry loyal South African readers), New Zealand beat Argentina and England beat France (how did either even make the quarters? England will win without scoring a try). 

And we will stroll down the Eden Park for Sunday’s knockout gamers knowing the streets are safer than ever. 

Until next week...

Iain MacLeod

 

Southern Man.