From hongi to 'happy and you know it'.....

It was optimistic of me to think I was over the jetlag after only 4 days.  Jetlag is like childbirth - you keep thinking you've recovered, then one day you just realise you have!

It's been a week of great contrasts.  Last Wednesday evening was my first event at the museum - the opening of the new (small) Maori gallery celebrating the Maori contribution to international rugby over the last century, which is considerable.  Just in time for the World Cup.  Famous names and faces (to those in the know, not me) from Maori rugby history were lined up in the front row of guest seats opposite those of us on the museum side.  There were speeches - in Maori, no translation.  There were songs - in Maori, no songsheets.  And then there was the 'hongi'....the traditional Maori greeting where two people incline their heads and touch foreheads and noses simultaneously. Man to man that's all that happens: man to woman there's usually a kiss to the right cheek.  Sometimes there's no hongi, just the kiss.  It's a wait-and-see moment.  I hongi-ed Buck Shelford amongst others - he was Captain of the last All Blacks side that won the World Cup back in 1987 (though I was later told that he didn't actually Captain the side during the final game...).  My claim to fame for the night, anyway, and I'm sticking to it.  A jolly occasion and my first real introduction to the biculturalism of New Zealand.  Roy made a very good speech, too, with a Maori top-and-tailing.

The following morning found me up at St Philip's, on the floor, patting my head and shoulders (and various other parts of my body) and showing how happy I was, in two consecutive sessions of Mainly Music - getting down with the 0-4 yrs of St Heliers parish, eyeballing both children and parents.  They come to Mainly Music every week, so many of them that there have to be two identical sessions......but mostly they don't come to church on Sunday - yet!

Then a whistlestop introduction to 'how to Deacon during Sunday services', lots of choreography of movement and action.  Somehow it stayed in my brain enough for me to recall it all 3 days later.

Friday - who can forget the World Cup opening ceremony?  Well, we didn't see any of that bit, not live anyway.  But we did see the fireworks, from a 35' yacht anchored in the harbour.  Up close and personal.  Just the 7 of us, some bubbly, nibbles and chicken salad - and dozens of other maritime spectators, warmly wrapped up to experience the pyrotechnics from close quarters.  I'd made Anzac biscuits that morning - main ingredients coconut and rolled oats; apparently quite authentic.  Worth the culinary compromises, then.

Saturday, and a 40-minute trip up to Albany, North Shore, to test drive a Toyota Rav4.  Diesel models hard to come by but they tow 2000kg, 500kg more than the petrol versions - which is important when it comes to hills and boat/trailers.  Metallic beige, it said on the sheet.  Beige? I said. Surely not. More of a champagne colour, he quickly amended.  I can live with that.  We pick up 'Charlie' this Saturday.....

I think I'll gloss over the rugby.  I fell asleep...... England won.

Sunday, and my licensing to St Philip's.  Blue skies and crisp visibility replaced by scudding grey, gales and heavy rain.  Just in time for me to transfer my robes to the church.  A text from Jessa (Roy's EA) reads: 'it rains on auspicious occasions'.  Phew!  Amongst the 80-strong congregation are Haare Williams (Maori broadcaster and elder) and the Revd Iritana Hankins (President of the Mothers' Union) who, thanks to Roy, have come to offer me a Maori welcome to the church. Not sure St Philip's has experienced anything quite like it.  Very special.  More hongi followed by the more traditional Anglican peace.  I am now officially Deacon Assistant at St Philip's.

By Sunday afternoon it's as if I've been run over by a truck.  That night I finally sleep for 12 hours.  Monday dawns with more squally showers and strong winds.   Time for some theological reflection (though the journal still hasn't been written - perhaps this afternoon?).  A blustery walk midday yields much-needed oxygen, and a chance encounter in Eden Market Foodstore in St Heliers yields a new friend, a Californian from Sacramento named Julie, who's also just moved here and whose face and eyes shine with life and joy.  We're having lunch together this Friday.

The new bike arrives Monday evening.  Power-assisted, black, shiny, workmanlike.  It has its first outing on Tuesday morning in the wind and the rain when I battle my way to St Philip's for my first full day as curate.  Did I mention the hill?  It's steep.  Very, very steep.  Something to do with volcanoes.  Need all the bike's power and arrive head and heart pounding for morning prayer and staff meeting.  Later I meet the new (female) Archdeacon and the newish (female) head of what is still called 'Potty Training' here.  [Fellow Deacons will recognise the term. POT - Post Ordination Training.  In Chelmsford diocese it's now known as CME - Continuing Ministerial Education, and IME 4-7.  You'll have to ask someone else what the last bit means.]  She's also called Sarah.  A lot of us about, apparently.  All very positive.  I'm now signed up for the next training session in October.  It seems we meet 3 times a year, for 24 hours.  No essays, thankfully.  Enough of that, already.

On the way home we visit 94 year old Eileen, who's currently stuck at home with her foot in a boot.  It means she can't drive herself anywhere, including to church, something she chafes against.  Doesn't stop her making tea and bringing it to us on a tray, though.  Originally she came from Ilford.  Maybe that explains it.

Last night (still Tuesday) our first concert at the museum.  The fabulous nztrio, piano, cello and violin, playing a mixture of old and new.  Such energy and pizzazz (is that how you spell it?).  Julie joins us and we give her a lift back to St Heliers.

Today it's Wednesday.  I've just had coffee in the fashionable Cafe Kohi (just round the corner from the flat) with Val Gilbert, sister of the lovely Gill Crayston who forms part of a great tennis four back in UK. Great fun, with promise of more to come.   Drat - forgot to ask her about tennis...........

And still the wind blows.