6 Feb 2006
It was just another day at work, 6th of Feb, 2006.
I was vaguely aware of the fact that it was Waitangi Day (New Zealand’s National Holiday) but since I was at work, it didn’t mean much. Then something on the radio grabbed my attention.
“It’s Way-Tan-Guy Day in New Zealand and Bru Bar in McCurtain St is celebrating with special drink prices for kiwis.”
It was a Monday but how could we resist?
I flung on my All Blacks jersey and we headed on down there.
It was odd. We’ve never actively sought out New Zealanders while we’ve been here, despite the fact that Bru is run by a kiwi bloke and is only a two minute walk from here, but that night it made sense. We observed the boat races, listened to the familiar female squawk and I even won a hat for wearing a patriotic jersey. We were on our way out when someone tapped me on the shoulder with a “Kia Ora mate”
We got talking, as you do.
The conversation will be familiar to any of you who have travelled and met up with fellow kiwis while travelling.
“Where ya from? ”he asks.
“Palmerston North” I reply, (apologetically.)
“Faaarkorf!!!! So am I!”
“Yeah? I was a music teacher at Monrad.”
“Noshitmate? I went there.”
“Jim Booth’s still there”
“Faaarkingell, he was my form two teacher!…Hey youse fullas, this guy’s from Palmerston North!!”
And so on.
It’s a small world, and wherever you go there’s a pissed kiwi who knows someone that you know.
I’ve heard that Waitangi day is becoming quite a party in kiwi enclaves all around the world, especially London, and all I can say is fair enough.
Home or away, but perhaps especially away, it should be a day to celebrate our national identity. And if that means a midwinter barbecue and piss up in a pub in Ireland, so be it.
It’s just a shame they forgot the Wattie’s sauce.
Ich bin ein Frankfurter
I studied German for 3 and a half years in high school. By the time I finished, I had a reasonable grasp on the language and looked forward to trying it out on some future trip to the Fatherland.
The passing years have taken their toll on my Deutche sprechen abilities and all that is left is a remnant of that desire to actually set foot in Germany.
Well, it’s finally going to happen. At the end of March I’m off to Frankfurt for the day.
Yep. One day.
The nights are too expensive.
I leave Dublin early in the morning and I’m back in Cork by midnight.
It’s a business trip, but sadly, business isn’t good enough at the moment to justify a night in Frankfurt for the music fair. There’s 4 of us going and apparently, 4 single rooms in Frankfurt that week, plus a night on the Kaiserstrasse could very well undo all the good work I put in last year.
So I’ll get to see Germany in daylight, and maybe make some business deals, blitzkreig style.
But like Murphy’s, I’m not bitter.
