07 February 2012

New Zealand Chronicles | Excess

11 December 2011

A lot of latte.
I had breakfast in New Zealand. I must stress it really is  the most important meal of the day. Ang & I went back to the place we went my first day there. I ordered a soy latte in a bowl. I thought "bowl" was a figurative term, indicating a large mug. It was actually quite literal, meaning a bowl - no handle. Ang stuck to her standard Diet Coke. Boring. 

I had a variation of my new favorite breakfast over hash browns. This time it was toast, cream cheese, tomatoes and basil. Again the toast was warm and everything else was cold. Again, it was delicious. Sharron met us in between her brunch and lunch appointments - it was an honor to be squeezed in to her schedule.

After breakfast, we shopped. Rather, Angie brought me to the cutest place where I was bound to spend a lot of money - The Garden Party. I went crazy. Everything was just adorable. Did I need nesting doll measuring cups? I actually think I did. And it made sense to get the matching spoons. I totally needed a business cardholder. Who could resist the tray that made kiwi shaped ice cubes? Not this girl. And the magnets were a must. A woman asked me if I needed anything wrapped, as it was nearly Christmas. 
"Nope. It's all for me."
"Good on ya!"
Apparently that kind of unabashed selfishness is rare in Ponsonby. It takes an American such as yours truly to show it's okay to splurge. 

Let's see. 

I dumped my purchases. We stopped by Angie's job to print something. I saw a workplace Christmas tree, which had all the airs of being workplace - halfhearted, even with the pohutukawas. That afternoon we went to watch The Squash Player actually play squash, or actually tennis (since it was outside). The Ladies' Man (+1 lady) was also there, as was Grumpy Gus and Sharron. The gang was "lit-trally" all there. We womenfolk watched the menfolk play, while we giggled and drank. I immediately saw the appeal of spending afternoons at the squash club. 

O.M.G. (Pronounced Boo - lay)
The best of the worst.
I asked The Ladies' Man to bring a lemon bar, just so I could have a taste. What? I like dessert. He obliged and actually brought plenty. Don't worry, I shared. The +1 had some and enjoyed it. Grumpy Gus took a bite, spit it out, drank some water and said something about a trip to the dentist. Again, maybe he's not always grumpy. But the evidence suggests otherwise. Also on the courts, Karl Urban. You would know him as Eomer, a Rider of Rohan. He's from New Zealand and apparently is learning to play squash / tennis. We knew it was him because he was wearing a jersey with his name on it. I didn't take any pictures of him. It seems like he wanted it too badly.

Men playing tennis.
This was to be my last foray with the group. Ang & I did our thing and went to Chapel Sundays. It had been days since we had been there you know. We sat. We chatted. We drank. We mingled. I passed up a bottle of whiskey won for knowing all the words to "End of The Road" by Boyz II Men. I noticed a boy on my person. This boy had intentions. He wasn't the adorable bartender I'd been ogling since day one, or the hot bouncer who was "guttered" to hear it was my last weekend in town. If we're being honest, he was just there. I mean he was nice and "a bit taken aback by it all." We had good conversation before we were those people making out at the bar. Every now and then I came up for air and checked on Ang. She and I actually conferred on this matter. Our consensus being simply that I was on holiday. I resumed.

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