Kia Kaha Christchurch

Christchurch was not on top of the list of cities we want to migrate to when we decided to go to New Zealand. In fact it was the distant third. But, as fate intervened, my wife and I landed here first, and this city has captivated us since.

This is where my wife and I got our first jobs in New Zealand. This is where we met friends, old and new. This is where we experienced this country’s quirkiness that we learned to love.

Then, sometime in February, what started as a typical day turned out to be New Zealand’s darkest day by midday. Christchurch was struck by a devastating earthquake that left at least 165 people dead (as of this writing). Damage cost to properties is conservatively estimated to be in billion dollars. Two weeks after, the Central Business District is still cordoned off as the city is trying to start the tremendous task of rebuilding it.

Every business in the city is affected in one way or another, albeit to different degrees. But most are utterly crushed, and it saddens me to know that I will not see anymore that familiar store in that corner of that street on my way to work. I may not even see for quite a while the familiar faces that I get to greet on the bus or at the lunch haunts that I go to regularly.

But I realized that in spite of everything, we feel thankful; thankful that we are alive, thankful that all of our friends are alive, thankful that nothing bad happened to our home, thankful that we have friends all over New Zealand that cares for us.

Most of all, I am thankful that we are in New Zealand. I am thankful that civil servants here do really serve. I am thankful that the government really does its part in helping us in Christchurch.

With the support of our local leaders, the government, and even the whole of New Zealand, we are optimistic that Christchurch will rise once again and be a better city.

But support is never enough. A city is defined by its residents. I am a part of Christchurch, and the task of rebuilding is up to us. That’s what keeps us going. Proud, resilient, Kia Kaha!

The Truth About Love

Allow me to tell you this. Yes, love is a choice. But there is a reason for all the choices that we made. And it is that reason that we remain in love and with love.

Needless to say, if a reason for love vanishes, then we fall out of love.

Love = Choice + Reason

The absence of one in that equation negates love.

And with this in mind, let me tell you the formula for a long relationship. Be consistent with who you are. Change confuses the reason. Always remember that moment when you fell in love with each other. I am not talking about the time when you felt the physical attraction, but the moment when you knew he or she is the one you want to live your life with for the rest of eternity.

That was you whom he or she fell in love with. That was the reason for love that he or she made the choice with.

Separations happen when one of you no longer see a reason to choose to love the other. It is when one of you has changed and the other doesn't see the perceived "real you" anymore. It makes letting go as easy as saying it.

So be the person that your partner fell in love with and stay that way. If it is not the "real you", but you want to stay in that relationship, then by George, train yourself to remain that way, and in time it will become the "new you"!

An Open Love Letter to my Wife

Dear Onie,

There never was, and never will be, a moment that you are not in my mind. I breathe the love that we share, and it is what keeps me happy with life.

I still remember the first time we met like it was just yesterday. Although we joke about it now, you really had me long before we even said hello. I don't know what got into me, but the sight of you and your long black hair against the afternoon sun made my heart flutter like hummingbird wings in mid air. And it never had stopped since.

You came into a life that has been boring for me, but became alive when you joined me.

We married at a young age, lived with just the two of us for most of our lives, and yet I still look forward to waking up with you every morning of every day.

I do not know how our fairytale would end, but this I am very sure. I love you, and will always do, until I breathe the last of my life.

For Always,

Peetol

Nurture is not such a big word

For as far as I can remember, I have been always around a piano. In fact, the earliest memory that I have of playtime involved the black and white keys. I remember I would start my day by opening the lid on the upright piano by the lounge in our house and strike a few tune. All the others would make of this as their cue to start preparing breakfast. This would go on, day after day, during my pre-schooling age.

I was not on the piano the whole day, though. My other passion during my younger years was my bike. My first was given to me by my father and it was built up. I assembled my next from scratch.

But music was in my soul, and the haunting tone of a piano kept on pulling me to that cerebral realm that I tried to explain to many a countless times and failed. I see logic in music. This is why I can play any song on the piano with just its chords in front of me. What differentiates it from being a 'music widow' is that I use reason in playing, while they play it by their heart.

When I turned 10, I discovered that I can figure out and play almost any musical instrument on my own if given some time on it. And this was when I first picked up a guitar. It is my brother's, and he was being given lessons by a friend of my mother. I was not able to listen to any of the lessons, and yet, there I was, sneaking out the guitar when my brother was not looking, and played it.

By 12, my parents may have recognised my inclination towards music and enrolled me for piano lessons. I, on the other hand, did not want it because I felt I knew already what was being taught. So, after just two days, I quit. This may have been the biggest mistake of my life because my parents thought that I was not really interested in music, and never nurtured my passion for it from then on.

In fact, a funny story that I think would be very appropriate to share right now is that my mother was pleasantly surprised a few years back that I can read piano sheets and play it. All this time, 34 years to be exact, she never realised that I can.

My point is, to all you parents out there, recognise early what your children likes and nurture it before it becomes too late. I don't blame my parents for any of this, because even without their help, I was able to learn as much of music as I can possibly do on my own. But it would have been a lot easier if I was helped along.

Home Is Where We Find Our Way

Staring out the window, looking at the orange leafed trees of our neighbour's yard, I cannot help but feel nostalgic. It has not even been three days since I got back from the balut eating country of where I lived for most part of my existence, and here I am missing all the things and people I wanted to escape from, even though not so long ago we decided to pack our bags and head out to a country that has less of the people and intrigue, and more of nature and freedom.

Flying into Christchurch, I was seated with a Malaysian who emigrated to Australia and was on his way to the South Island for the first time. We talked about politics and how each of our native countries are faring in today's world. I can't help but notice how he was so passionate with telling me about Malaysia; a stark contrast to my drab account of the Philippines. Here he was, transplanted to Australia for more than ten years now, and yet he still knows a lot about his native country. Seated beside him was a neophyte emigrant who was only detached from his native country for just a little more than a year, and yet he doesn't have a single clue as to the current state of the Philippines.

I have been critical of Filipinos who were born and grew up with the most part of their childhood in the Philippines, but was transplanted to the U.S. in particular, and has begun denying their roots by pretending that they don't remember the language and the culture any more. I would imitate their accent and make fun of them. Little did I know that I will be turning into one eventually.

Leaving is all about finding your way home. When we go away, it is always to find our way home, no matter where that would lead us. We get to choose our way. Some will opt for the more scenic route that adds spice to our lives, the fastest one, or even one that avoid toll ways. But no matter what, home is where we find our way.

Soul Unraveled

I climbed a mountain recently, the effects of which I still can feel a good two days later. It is not only physically draining, but mentally as well. But I get to ponder on life up there. In spite of being in a group, I was alone and in silence I get to listen.

I have made mistakes in the past that shaped my life and what I became today. I have squandered fortunes and lost opportunities that could have been my crowning glory. I have hurt a lot of people for choices I made because of pride and prejudices.

Reality shatters every notion of a good life that you have unconsciously built to shelter you from the world. And up there where you are exposed and vulnerable, you begin to see the big picture. Life isn't as rosy as you have perceived. But acceptance makes it better.

Now that I am back on the ground, I begin my heartbreaking task to unravel the wall, brick by brick, and by my own hands. Only I can see this wall and only I can detach myself from this shelter.

It is good to sometimes make a hasty retreat, and in solitude you will discover yourself.

Summer is Here

After 9 months of living in Christchurch, there are some words that I have not the liberty of using and have been completely erased from my consciousness. But one of them have suddenly sprouted back into my brain. It is like inadvertently stepping on a rake and it suddenly springs up and hits you right on the nose. You are quickly reminded that it is there on the ground and that you must be wary of what it can do to you.

I am talking of the word 'heat'. After all, it is already summer in this part of the hemisphere. It is that time of the year when you "dream of a white Christmas" and "folks dress up like eskimos", but you see Santa perspiring profusely as he is hurrying down the street to buy some ice cream from the corner dairy. It is like being back in that little coconut island by the great sea.

Alas, the white Christmas remains a dream for this brownie after being transplanted into the land where the water flushes in the opposite direction (or so they say, but I have not made an official study on that yet). But don't get me wrong. After almost a year of being in a white Christmasy climate, you begin to be thankful that there is such a thing as global warming. Of course I am against mass destruction, and I wholeheartedly support self preservation, but sometimes I get distracted and wander from my path. Then prolonged exposure to heat snaps me back to reality like being violently nudged by my wife after almost falling asleep on a boring speaker. And then you wish for Autumn to come long before you have opened your Christmas presents!

The Kiwi Balut is Back

It has already been more than two months since the last time I wrote here. Suffice to say that I have been too busy on other matters that needed much attention... (and that is just my lame excuse for being too lazy to write! *wide grin*)

A lot happened in those brief span of time. First, my wife and I celebrated our 13th year of marriage with a gourmet banquet that only I can whip up. Of course, having no budget for a fancy restaurant helped, but it was my sheer genius with the pots and pans and my ability to convince my wife that eating together in the house was more romantic are what made this magical moment a night she never forgot. But let's not delve on why. Instead let us move on, shall we?

And then we got our permanent residence status here in New Zealand. Yes, Onie and I can now live indefinitely here in the land where the kiwis roam. We are indeed kiwi baluts now.

Shortly, my big family decided to come and visit us, and to see for themselves why we chose to live here in this far away land. It was a fun week for everyone and most of them wanted to stay or come back. But I know a couple of them still pray and deeply wishes that we change our minds and come back to the coconut land (and I think it is pretty much obvious who they are!). But with 'Neanderthal' massacres and such, it would take a very compelling reason for me to return to the country of my birth.

Lastly, we have moved to a new home. It is a three level, three bedroom apartment very near the Christchurch Central Business District. That sounded posh and big, but in reality it isn't. Wait until you come over and visit and you would know why. :)

Until then...

Asian Rules?

It has been quite a while since my last post here. And as I write this piece I am sitting on a chair on the third floor of the Christchurch Central Library overlooking the Avon River. It is a lazy Sunday morning and a perfect cloudless day.

The warm temperature means the kiwis are all out today to the woods, or the lakes, or the mountains, or to anywhere the great outdoor beckons them. That leaves us Asians, and a number of white tourists, in charge of the city. Yes, Christchurch has turned yellow (or brown) even for just a day.

Which made me thinking what if we balut eating people were really in charged of this city? I would imagine all the fishes gone in the Avon. Bigger malls would be littered everywhere. And the smell of asian spices would fill the air.

On the other hand, I would imagine that Christchurch would have been more progressive and bigger with all sorts of businesses being put up.

But the question is would you like a bigger Christchurch. Er, I think I would like this city the way it is. And if I crave for something Asian, I can always fly to Auckland.

Things I Know You Know About Me!

I have been doing nothing this weekend and decided to just browse the internet on my bed. I was getting bored by the minute until I chanced upon "Peetol's 25" on my facebook account. I remember I had fun writing this and I just want to share it again here. For those who have not read it yet, here it is. For those who have, well, just go over it again and you will surely enjoy it for the second time.

Here goes....

1) I usually score very high on IQ tests...so, there is hope for mankind!

2) When I was still young, my ambition was to become an engineer who build bridges...so don't be baffled when I do crazy things with the mahjong tiles.

3) I can sit or stand still for half a day without getting bored...which makes me a very good security guard if ever I need to change profession.

4) I (with a capital I) consider myself musically gifted. (Onie, please stop smirking!)

5) I learned to play the piano by myself when I was 5 years old. I was considered too young to be taught by a piano teacher, so I studied the basics and observed my mother's piano technique.

6) At age 7, I used to play "Ballade Pour Adeline" on the piano during parties at home to impress girls my age, but ended up being smooched by my mom's friends, so I decided to end my career early.

7) I started formal piano lessons at age 10, but my teacher always left me to learn by myself, because she somehow knew I was not learning from her (not that she is a bad teacher...it is just that I am the worst student!)

8) When I was in grade six, I developed a crush on a girl 4 years older than me. I would participate in essay writing contests just so I can sit beside her and join her on stage during awarding ceremonies. *GRIN*

9) My parents bought Peps a band set (drums, 2 electric guitars, and a bass electric guitar) as a Christmas gift when I was in first year high school. I ended up owning the set and learned to play the guitars and drums.

10) I eventually formed a band in high school and we played Fra Lippo Lippi and other 80's cheesy songs. We had at least 1 major concert per year...yup, I was rich back then!

11) I used to excel in academics until grade 3, when I lost interest in achieving anything in school because of a neighbor who deliberately did not give me a gift for just placing third, and rewarded my older brothers who came in 2nd and 1st respectively in their classes.

12) I was so lazy at school that I only used up 4 notebooks for subjects in 4 years of high school... but I had dozens of other notebooks filled up with drawings and scribbles.

12) I suffered my first "cinco" in life when I was in college. It was in Algebra (first year), which I thought I did not deserve, so I retook it that summer and redeemed myself by getting an "uno".

13) After tasting my first "cinco", I suddenly got the hang of it and collected quite a few thereafter!

14) I did not graduate on time in college. It took me 9 years to get a college degree...and I am not a doctor!

15) I am a frustrated basketball player. In elementary, I was taller than basketball player Kenneth Duremdes by three inches (we are of the same age, although I am a batch higher than him). I took up the game during my second year in high school and, together with Kenneth, was a reserve on the varsity team. On my third year, Kenneth suddenly grew to 6 ft, and I remained at 5'7". Not surprisingly, he was elevated to the varsity team, and I quit playing on top of my game!

16) I used to play soccer in my younger days, but has to stop when I grew rounder than the ball.

17) If I did not took up business in college, I would have been an infamous rock star by now.

18) I seriously considered auditioning for "Ang TV" way back when I was still within the show's age limit.

19) I used to sleep on the same bed with a girl named Cheska from high school and all through college. (Most intriguing indeed!)

20) I would ride my BMX bike every afternoon from when I was 5 years old until I reached 15 years old.

21) When I was a child, I would climb up trees but did not know how to get down.

22) I walk funny, a trait I seem to have inherited...just observe my brothers' walk!

23) I learned Mu Do Kwan (Martial Arts) when I was young, but never got to use it...one of my useless talents!

24) I recently added a removable body part, and now I have two! (guess what! harhar..harkkk...*gurgle*...!)

25) I married Onie at a young age, and this has been my only shining achievement in life!

The Fog

Have you ever seen John Carpenter's The Fog in the '80s? It starred Jamie Lee Curtis (yes, in one of her horror/slasher films) and Janet Leigh. I distinctly remember this movie because my little brother was scarred for life after watching it.

For years he would be terrified of the fog and thought it would bring with it the power to make the dead undead.

Well, it didn't. And I know this because Christchurch has been in a fog for almost a week. Yes, I am not kidding. You wake up in the morning to a mist covered sun. You walk to the city with just a few meters of visibility. And you sleep soundly at night knowing that the fog will not be missed the following morning.

After a day or so, you begin to get used to it. And now that it is sunny again, you kind of miss that feel of Evian spray on your face as soon as you walk outside that door. Plus, it seems to be warmer when the fog descends and stays on the ground than on a clear day like this.

Now it's back to a wintry morning day. I woke up to a freezing 0 deg Celsius temperature and hoping that spring will hastily make its way to the land of the big white cloud. One more week to go and winter will officially be over!

The Pollen, Me, and the Sneeze

Spring is just around the corner! I know this because I was sneezing my way to work this morning. No, its not New Zealand's more famous breed of swine flu that's causing me to sound like a sputtering engine submerged in the Avon River. It is that yellowish and powdery substance known to modern science simply as the pollen.

Yes, pollen do cause some people to sneeze. And in temperate climates like here in Christchurch, plants and trees throw a multitude of them away at the very first chance they get after hibernating for almost three months.

Think of it this way. After spending about three months cooped up in your house, there is that certain urge to just throw open the door and party with anyone you might come upon. There is of course a better analogy, but only Papo with his not so clean mind would be able to get it.

But who is complaining about these sneezes. It is in fact a welcoming sound. It means warmer days are just around the corner, and I can't wait to see the flowers bloom again.

A Haircut At Last

After five whole months since arriving in New Zealand, I finally had my first haircut. And why did it took me that long? Well for starters, the price of getting one scared the hell out of me. With my limited grooming budget of $5, which is almost PhP160, I seem to fail to chance upon any establishment that offer their services at such balut-reasonable price.

And so to be kiwi-reasonable, I then increased that urgently important grooming budget to double the previous amount. I was able to find some dubious shops within that budget but it was always closed when I get there. You see, shops do open in Christchurch, but by the time you get off from work, the shops people are hurriedly going home as well. Talk about enthusiasm for work.

Some shops do open beyond office hours, but it will cost you, and, having our strict set of priorities, I do not want to eat into our shopping budget.

And so my hair grew and grew to proportions that would have Samson able to carry the world. Delilah would have deliriously wanted to cut it if she had chanced upon me.

But being in winter, long hair has its own perks. It kept my head and neck warm enough that I begun to miss my fancy caps and beanies. And so as the cold days gone by getting a haircut just drifted out of my consciousness.

Then the signs of spring pulled me back to reality. After a hearty meal at a Korean restaurant last Sunday, Onie and I made that big decision to borrow from our shopping budget and go for the $17 haircut that was open that day, a whopping 70% increase in previously rated acceptable amount.

We were greeted at the door by an old Japanese gentleman with long hair. Think of Doc from the 'Back to the Future' series but with slanted eyes. Onie engaged in small talk as I was being prepared for the eventful haircut, and the only useful information we had was that his name is Osaka, or something similar.

When prodded as to what type of haircut I wanted, I pointed to a picture in the wall of a handsome young man with short hair. And to his delight, he started clipping away making grunts and moaning sounds that are reminiscent of artists engrossed with their work on their masterpieces.

A full hour later, he stepped back and admired his work, while I sneaked a smile towards Onie who was bemused at the way a PhP540 haircut turned out. Having owned a hair salon in that small town in the boondocks of the balut eating nation, I would say we were not amused.

But, as the saying goes, a bad haircut is just two weeks away from a good one. All I have to do is wait!

To Wellington and Back

I'm back at the office now, staring blankly at the white screen of my computer. Just yesterday, we were in windy Wellington, skipping happily to anywhere our feet would take us. The big smile on our faces only accentuated our 'asian-ish' features, pushing our eyes to slits like a Chinese drawing. But who cares when you are in Welly. We balut eating brownies scatter the streets of the central business district.

In fact, our taxi driver to the airport on our last day was an ilonggo from Bacolod, and I was thrilled to brush up with the language that I have grown up with in the quaint little town of Marbel (which is now a city, by the way).

On our first day in Wellington, we also met up with a small group of Filipino friends, most of which know Poms from ACI Systems, and over indulged on Filipino food while watching a movie on DVD that is coincidentally currently showing on all cinemas all over the world. (*wink*) How more brown skinned can you get?

The next day, we met up with some friends from my university days and had lunch at a Japanese restaurant. Yup, we want our rice! After that, we had authentic gelato on a winter's day. But that's our way of giving tribute to our kiwi brethren.

On our last day, we rode the Wellington Cable Car (which is actually a funicular) up to the Botanic Gardens, and walked our way down the hill towards the Parliament buildings and on to both the old and new St. Paul Anglican Church, both icons in New Zealand architecture.

The evening saw us riding Air New Zealand back towards Christchurch to a sea of white skins. For a brief period there, we felt alone again, but the cold air of the South Island slapped us back to a grin as moonlight bathes the snow covered Alps in the distant horizon.

Winter Rambling

It has been a while since my last post here. Nothing much has change, really. Except I have noticed that longer days are slowly creeping back.

Ah, the sun! I used to hide from the sun. Now I chase it around like a dog does to its tail. And yes, I do the tongue flapping as well with much gusto.

It has been a harsh winter here in Christchurch lately. Not that it snowed. It just rained and rained. Last week was a respite with beautiful bright sunny days, but today the rain came back with a vengeance.

This morning the winds were even strong rendering my puny little umbrella useless. But if the rains were relentless, I was even more adamant. I braved it and rode the bus to work. Luckily I did not multiply, reinforcing the fact that my similarity with a Gremlin comes only to appearances.

And I know what you are thinking, but nope! I have curbed my appetite already. In fact, I am down 10 pounds since I arrived here in New Zealand. My daily walks and weekend treks are all coming to fruition.

I just wish winter would end so I can start running again.

So bye for now. This weekend, Christine, Onie and I will be heading out to Wellington for a windy weekend bivouac (except that we are staying in a four star hotel)! See you there?

My Camera is Back

I got my camera back from the repairs last week. They had to replace the shutter switch after just below 50,000 clicks. And they claimed the shutter will be good to a 100,000 clicks. Oh well, that is consumer electronics in a nutshell. We consumers are still easily drawn into buying products that are hastily and shabbily built by companies to beat the competition to a draw, knowing that they are bound to release an "improved" product iteration probably in a year's time.

But there is only us to blame.

So I trooped down to New Brighton Beach here in Christchurch last Saturday morning to test drive my camera. It was a good sunny winter's day and perfect for a walk.

All seem to be back to normal for my camera. Here are a couple of pics I took from it.

The Bus+The Driver = Memories

I ride the bus home from work almost everyday. I always arrive at the bus stop a quarter past five and just in time to see my ride manage the corner of Colombo St and Gloucester St.

Yesterday was the same, except that it was one nostalgic trip. Let me narrate the events for you.

As I boarded the bus, I was greeted by a thickly accented Chinese guy. Before I can even tap my card on the machine, the bus was rolling already. And faster than an express, I found myself at the doorstep of where we are staying in Parklands a mere 20 minutes later. En route we passed on two Number 70 buses, the same numbered bus that I was on, and one of which was an Express. Now that normally should never happen since buses are spaced at least 15 minutes from each other. But our driver banged the pedal to the metal, not minding the 15 ton weight that he was lagging behind the wheels. The big round visible signs with the number 50 signifying the speed limit does not seem to bother him. And on the roundabouts, he seem to think that he has the right of way, always.

Ah, yesterday brought back memories of the Philippines. The feeling of terror when riding the bus jolts me back to the streets of Manila, where there is a significant chance you could get into an accident on the road. Everyday when you step on that bus in that big metropolitan city of the brownies, you just feel numb from praying that you could get to work and back in one piece.

As I disembarked yesterday's bus, the cold air brought me back to New Zealand and made me ponder on the state of my life at this stage. But that is another story. And until then, let us hope that that is the last time I got on a trip down memory lane, so to speak. :)

No More Shopping, Mother

I have been to the street bazaars of Hong Kong, and to the souqs of Dubai. I have spent time inside Istanbul's Grand Bazaar, and on Champs Elysees in Paris. I have seen the fashion streets of Milan, and London's High Street. I also had a stroll through Beverly Hills and even the Wal Marts and Targets of that large consumer country known as the United States of America.

You will find in them all the goodies and stuff that you can ever imagine money can buy. You will drown in the people that flock to these hallowed grounds of shopping. I always was fascinated by this phenomenon. Consumerism was always king in the Philippines, sharing the same philosophy in spending as that of the Americans. In fact, this little country has two of the largest malls in the world.

Arriving in New Zealand changed all that. It is not that consumer products here are lacking. You can almost buy everything you need and want, albeit limited. But it is just that there are a lot more things to do than being boxed in a mall. Here, you would rather go to the grocery and buy food to bring to that special place in the mountains. You would rather spend the day mountain biking through the woods, or go tramping to see the scenic views of the hills.

It is the kiwi way of life. In fact, for being a first world country, the average age of cars here in New Zealand is 12.5 years, more than double that of the United Kingdom at 6 years. What does that mean? It means that an average kiwi really do not care that they have the newest and shiniest cars in life. It means that they would rather spend their money on houses, as evident on household expenditure numbers from Statistics New Zealand. And this further points to the fact that there is that everlasting kiwi dream of someday owning that magnificent house with a view of the mountains and the sea (or is it just me?).

So if you are planning to go to New Zealand for a shopping spree, then you should better think twice, or you will just end up with a bunch of kiwi wools that would probably be useless in the hot paradaisal islands collectively called the Philippines. But I promise you there are a lot more fun activities you can do to spend your money with.

A Most Surprising and Fascinating Trip

Yesterday (21.June.09), Simon drove us up the coast and unto a park just a few miles past Kaikoura. He was mentioning about seal pups playing while their parents are off to sea to hunt for food. Little did we know that it was a sight to behold, and one that would stick with you especially if you love animals.

The trip as it is was already a sight in its own right. We departed Christchurch through the small town of Kaiapoi and unto SH1. The scenery kept us awake the whole time, with barren trees because of winter, and the snow capped mountains of the Southern Alps clearly visible even if its a hundred miles away. Our drive swept us through some quaint towns such as the balut's favourite Omihi (which still elicits a smile on my face even though I have been past this town more than a couple of times already) and Cheviot, before winding up the mountains and down into Kaikoura District.

We also saw a hawk by the road feasting on a dead possum. We drove past sheep farms, deer farms, and even some wine estates with its vast grapevines.

The last leg took us on a coastal drive with the sea waves pounding on rocks to our right, and the gentle hills with streaks of snow at the top to our left.

As we reached Kaikoura, we stopped at a very nice cafe to get ourselves some lunch, courtesy of Simon. Onie, Christine, and Simon had pan fried fish and I got myself a very nice and creamy seafood chowder. Bea had potato wedges.

After lunch, we pressed on and reached a park just beside the road. It was a mere 10 minute walk up a slight incline to reach a small waterfalls. But that is not what we were there for. We were there for the baby seals. See for yourself!

The Most Peaceful Nation

As you may have already heard, New Zealand was judged as the most peaceful nation on Earth by the Global Peace Index, topping such countries as Denmark, Norway, Iceland, Austria and Sweden. Yes, the land of the tough kiwi blokes are full of softies after all.

Hard to believe when you often see the typical kiwi as that Marlboro cowboy sort of toughie but with no boots. And I mean that literally. They walk the streets on barefoot. Maybe they just believe in their hearts that New Zealand is the land of the 'Lord of The Rings', and that they must walk in the fashion befitting a hobbit. But you must try it sometime because it is so liberating, and it brings back memories of our childhood days when we used to kick off our shoes from school and ran loose in the house, er, garden. (No slip up there, and I still stand by my story that it was Kraut, the german shepherd, who broke the precious vase that afternoon while I was the only one in the house.)

Seriously, though, it is not surprising that New Zealand tops the list. I mean this country has the perennial history of sending scores of troops overseas to war that came back seriously depleted. These guys are lovers, not fighters. They would just not admit it. C'mon, think about Russel Crowe, who is a kiwi, and you will figure it out. Hint, he won best actor in the Academy for his work in ''The Gladiator', but most of you will remember him more as that dapper, romantic but hallucinatory professor in 'A Beautiful Mind'.

Toughness is not innate. It is taught. I have seen how the kiwis raise their children, and to be tough is instilled at the youngest age possible. Young kids the age of Nathan and Pio are left to hang on a tree, or swing as high as three times their height. You can just picture out in your mind Mommy fainting at the first sight of this.

Yes, these kiwi kids are brought up to be rugby legends the likes of Colin Meads, or the more marketable Dan Carter who earns in the millions. No wonder New Zealand never run out of superb rugby players.

But that just must be it. I mean, how in real life would you see a bunch of heavy set guys grappling and tackling each other, almost always ending up bloodied, and yet come out friends after a round of rugby game? This is tough, man, and I know because I came from a brood of four boys and no girls. Our play was not as rough as a rugby game (not even close), but if one of my brothers as much as pinched me, we would have ended throwing punches at each other that would go on way past bedtime and even until the next morning (which I can still distinctly remember doing inside the car on our way to school!).

Inside the tough exterior of a kiwi lies a soft heart. It is the country that contributes the largest to the UN Peacekeeping efforts. It is the only country that has a very good relationship with its neighboring countries (well, you might argue that there is only Australia, but let me remind you that it is considered a continent). And most of all, it is the land of that skirt wearing dude who is best remembered for his dramatic role as a scholarly professor with a beautiful mind.