25,000 guests? – Of course, come right this way.
Martinborough had its twice annual Rotary fair last weekend, and for the first time in a while the Wairarapa delivered decent weather. So rather than donning galoshers and a storm coat, we headed out in shorts, t-shirt & a lather of sun block.
The first time we went was exciting and an early start – a two hour drive from Wellington to get there before many of the crowds, so that we could get a BBQ’d steak sandwich breakfast and not have to park in Featherston.
We have a slightly more relaxed approach to the fair these days. It’s still a special breakfast at home in the morning, but now only a 15 minute drive to our side of town. You can tell there’s something special happening in Martinborough, on account of seeing more than three other vehicles on the road as you drive there.
Still I get the impression the fair is unofficially starting earlier & earlier each year. I was over hearing someone in a café during the week say they intended to be there by 7:00am, and be all done before 8:30am so they could go home and have breakfast. If it gets any earlier, they’ll have to turn it into a Christmas fair. By 2pm some stall holders were packing up. While that’s not a surprise from the food stalls who have run out of stuff to cook or sell, it was a surprise for other stalls. You might have thought they had something more important to get to, like the rugby sevens back in Wellington.
The fair is less crowded of an afternoon. It’s hot, it’s dry, the pub beckons, as does the beach, the wineries, the ice cream stall or anywhere with air conditioning really. So it’s easier wandering around all the stalls in the afternoon. You can tell some of the stall holders are wilting a little though, as you politely cough and they wake up from an afternoon nap in the deckchairs. Which is perfectly fine, since by the time we get home, it’s either time for a nap ourselves, or a dive in the pool to cool off. All told it took about three hours to work our way round everything. I tend to walk around the event in circles (well, squares actually), since the whole town centre is symmetrical and I just can’t get my sense of direction stable. Circles is less confusing.
There’s normally something new to discover, so this years hot tips are;
‘home made’ fudge (looking identical & in identical packaging, so I don’t know whose home it came from!) is out. Only three stalls selling it this year instead of the 50 there seemed to be last year.
Hats are still in – of course. But then I’m of the ‘I have a hat and one head, how many more hats do I need?’ school of thought.
The BNZ bank has really good air conditioning – although they’re only open until lunch time for you to get cash out.
The (small) supermarket doesn’t jack up its prices because it’s fair weekend. Unlike many of the cafés who charge an extra 15% – 20%. Still, given that it was Waitangi day and Bank Holiday surcharges apply I don’t think they won quite so much this year.
We’ll be back next weekend, time to sample some new local wines in the village winery. We’ll park in the square, take all of ten minutes to visit every open shop, and just appreciate how nice it can be to wander round Martinborough on it’s usual tranquil day.
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One Land.
This weekend was the first episode of a TV series on New Zealand TV called One Land. It follows 3 families as they try to live in 1850’s New Zealand.
Its great!
The Pa (Settlement) where the Maori Families live.
I normally have no time at all for NZ TV – as its basically rubbish (which seems to be the consensus from just about everyone). Our personal taste is for Sci Fi, and we are years behind on most things – so the ability to download is pretty essential to avoid going nuts.
In this case – we missed the first episode – but caught it on TVNZ’s On Demand Service. (Hopefully this is viewable from outside New Zealand).
Of the 3 families: one is a Maori Family who are what is know as “Total Immersion” – that is they not only speak fluent Maori, but also live fully in their culture, and while they can speak English – choose not to in their daily lives. The second family has Maori roots, but does not speak Te Reo Maori or have any connection to the Maori culture or history. Both these families live together on a Pa (Settlement).
The third family are “Pakeha” – white settlers – sourced from Christchurch – and have almost no prior contact with the Maori Culture. They will be living on a separate piece of land, in a “house”.
For a start, watching it gave me a pang of homesickness for summers going to Medieval fairs – but that aside – it is a truly interesting show – and I can’t wait for the next episode. The two cultures have to learn to trade with each other and survive.
One thing that really struck me is that 160 years on – some things haven’t changed. There were some classic comments made by both the participants and the historian – which shows me that no matter where in history you are – emigrating throws up some interesting dilemmas:
“Many People came here to make some money, go home and buy land.” (From the Historian narating the show).
(Now – you leave New Zealand to make money, come home and buy land!)
“One of the inducements we used to get settlers to New Zealand, was offering them parcels of land. These were purchased in Britain or Ireland. And when Migrants came out and saw those places for the first time, they found they were very inaccessible or quite different from what they were led to believe they were.”
(Aka, come to New Zealand, the property is cheap, ( you can tell – look at it on the Internet) – and you wont need a decent wage because the cost of living is so cheap!)
And the very best quote:
“That’s not a house – it’s a shack, mate!”
(The call of many a recent immigrants on seeing the state of new Zealand housing!)
There’s also a really good explanation of what the word Pakeha means: Pa (To come upon) Ke (something strange) Ha (a presence), so the word actually means To come upon a strange presence. Hmm – I didn’t know that.
I really hope you can watch this from outside New Zealand – it’s a fascinating look at how this land became what it is today. I know very little New Zealand history – I think this is not a bad way to start.
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Windy Wellington
Filed under: Hubby's Views, Life in New Zealand, Things to do
We spotted this at the St James’s theatre the other day;
Which of course should be compared with the wind during Toast Martinborough the other weekend, where honking big tractors were used as anchors for the marques;
Toast Martinborough 2009 – the aftermath.
Bloody hell I ache all over today.
It’s a good ache mind you – it means I had a great time and went dancing – not something you get a lot of chance to do in the back of beyond.
Toast Martinborough is one of the three days a year that the tumbleweed strewn streets of Martinborough become packed with people. In this case, 99% drunken people staggering from vineyard to vineyard in a pretty spectacular “Pub Crawl”. It is a truly brilliant day out, and I think it’s one of the “most do’s” for anyone living in the lower north island.
The Wairarapa is a major wine growing area in New Zealand – and Martinborough is the epicentre (though it has to be said that some of the other wineries in the region are definitely better than some of the Martinborough ones). That being said – it was the town of Martinborough that decided to have the festival – and they do it exceeding well.
11 Wineries this year – we skipped 3 cos the bus drivers went the wrong way or missed stops which was a bit annoying. This year the biggest problem was gale force winds – which made getting around a bit tricky (and was pretty miserable for those not tanked up on masses of alcohol – I was driving). Every time we have been before the biggest issue of the day was getting out of the scorchin sun. Yesterdays issue was finding some space out of the wind.
Elvis at Alana Estate
My favourites of the day:
Best Food:
Salute’s Lamb Croquettes at Palliser winery
Best Band
The Jedi Knights playing at Tirohana, and of course The Beat Girls at Palliser for giving us something to really “boogie-oogie” to (that is NOT my word!)
Best Coffee
Ripe at Martinborough Vineyard – because it was there when I needed defrosting the most.
Most Outrageous food rip-off
The Crayfish at Alana Estate. It is a mark of how sorry hubby felt for me that he (unknown to me) swapped enough Festival Franks for a small piece of seafood to have allowed our group a glass of wine each.
Best Customer Service (in the end).
Ruth Pretty Catering. I ordered a Coq Au Vin pie (had them before – they are delish) and got a steak and kidney. Took it back and they replaced it – with a steak and \Kidney. Took it back again and they finally worked out they had mixed up some trays – so they took a fresh tray our and got me a piping hot Coc Au Vin pie. They were lovely and apologetic and took the time to sort me out even though it was a huge event and they were really busy.
Best Wines (from the general view of the group)
Alana Estate. (Which is up for sale if you have a few million lurking under the sofa cushions).
All in all – as ever it was a great day out. Despite the vast quantities of alcohol consumed – its always a friendly event. No fights, just fun. I do have some tips for people thinking about going though.
- Become a Friend.
Friends get to buy 6 tickets before they go on general release. It’s a must if you really want to go. It costs $120 for the first year, and $75 a year after that. With tickets at about $60 it makes it expensive if there’s only 2 of you, but when you know there’s a group going – it’s worth it.
- Buy Festival Franks in stages.
You cannot get refunds on your Franks. Only franks are taken on the day- you buy them with real cash or EftPOS. Each of the vineyards has “banks” so its best to remember to take out small quantities and then you are not left with unusable money at the end of the day. You can always buy bottles of wine back at the square with any leftover – but why should you?
- End up at Palliser.
This should always be your last stop – its where the Beat Girls play and its the best for a good party atmosphere.
- Don’t be stupid and Drink & Drive.
Drink Driving doesn’t always have the same bad rap here as it does back home – here many people think its acceptable. It’s not. And every road out of town has a breathalyser stop on it. Don’t be an arse. If you are the driver – don’t be tempted just soak up the atmosphere and make notes about the antics of your drunken companions.
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Carterton’s Best Kept Secret Garden.
I actually think its a shame that so many people ignore Carterton as a possible place to move to when they consider living in the Wairarapa. The thinking generally goes like this:
- Ill go to Featherston because the commute to Welly is shorter.
- Ill go to Greytown because its posh.
- Ill go to Masterton because its the only place in the area with a population bigger than 10.
But even though I have unashamedly fallen in love with this place – even after 4 years here – I am still discovering some amazing hidden gems. Carterton’s biggest fault is that it doesn’t really like to show itself off.
Last weekend we went to the Italian Day at Richmond Gardens. This is a private house, that opens its doors once a year to the public (and at other times by appointment.). Once in off the street you would not know you were in New Zealand. And it is at the end of a very normal New Zealand town street. A true secret garden.
You can find contact details here, and they also sell their Topiary Box and bay trees – which I may well buy one of for the herb garden my dad is going to build me real soon.
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The French Bistro Martinborough **
Martinborough: home of the day long vineyard crawl Toast Martinborough, Martinborough Fair and tumbleweeds. A great place to go if you want peace and quiet – and wine. Because there ain’t much else.
So we spent a really lovely evening there staying at the Martinborough Hotel (highly recommended), but decided to go for dinner to The French Bistro.
That was our first mistake.
The second error was not turning round when we discovered that the name had changed to “Wendy Campbell’s The French Bistro”. I’ve been wanting to go there for years – but never got round to it. Then in 2007 the Bistro won an award – Best Restaurant – from Cuisine Magazine. At that point – it became known that the bistro was owned by John Campbell’s mum. John Campbell, for those who don’t live here yet is the presenter of a TV current affairs program: Campbell live. I guess it’s a marketing buzz to trade on the name rather than the food.
Well we went in anyway and asked to see the menu. And thus we come to our third mistake – not walking out at this point. For some reason I cannot fathom, the menu was a photocopy of a handwritten sheet, with crabbed writing we had to squint to read – and even then we had to ask for help in deciphering it. I’m not suggesting that all menus being computer designed – but it does help if the diners can actually see what they are about to eat. It was even hard to see the prices – but you are looking at about $36 – $40 for a main – which is about the price for Boulcott St Bistro – where you can actually read the menu.
I really wish I had taken a photo to show how bad it was.
We stuck at it, and Hubby order “Duck a l’orange” (we think) and I ordered the lamb in a Mint Jus.
What we were presented with was identical bowls of brown meat in brown “gravy” with vegetables. Call me thick but shouldn’t orange sauce look a little distinct from watery gravy? And I swear I could have counted the flecks of mint in the “mint jus” which was more the consistency of stock, and tasted like it too.
In fact – in the whole meal – the only thing that was nice was the meat – which was really nice. But hubby could do that on our barbie at home – for considerably less than $40.
I was so disappointed. All that time waiting for a chance to go – and the meal was crap. And I had given the restaurant at the Martinborough Hotel a miss in order to go there – and I know the food there is stunning.
So while I recommend a night in Martinborough anyday – skip The French Bistro. I’ve also heard that Est Wine Bar is brilliant for food –so there is some choice without having to settle for brown gloop.
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Zorbing – the number one reason to come to New Zealand.
While surfing the net (as you do when trying desperately to avoid having to clean the bathroom) – I came across this wonderful comic strip from xkcd.com
If you hover over the “Hamster Ball” it asks where you can get one these from.
Well, from New Zealand of course.
The “Zorb” is basically a double skinned giant ball, which you can fit inside and go hurtling down a hill in. What more could you ask for in life indeed!
This was on my “List of things I have to do” when we first came here on our honeymoon, and I highly recommend it. Its not scary, unlike Bungy Jumping or the Skyjump – (Unless you happen to suffer from Claustrophobia – and then perhaps its not gonna be too much fun). Its just wild and whacky and hysterically funny.
There are three option for chucking yourself down a hill in a giant rubber ball:
Zorbit: You ride single, and are strapped into a harness and as the Zorbanauts say ” you are sent on your trip down the hill rolling head over heels, heels over head as the ground and sky go whizzing past in a beautiful mosaic of blue… green … blue … green … blu … gree … blu … gre…bl…gr…b…g…bgbgbg…while your body is subjected to the soft and relaxing feeling of weightlessness and g-force.”
Zydro: You ride with upto two friends, and a bucket of water and get chucked down the hill. Its like being in a huge washing machine. You start off standing up – and attempt to stay that way as you run down the hill – with hilarious (and wet) results. Recommended!
Zig Zag Zydro: A lone ride, just you and a bucket of water, on a specially built zig-zag track. They don’t even start you off standing up – because there is just no point. Highly recommended.
Either way – its fun, its safe and only a Kiwi could have come up with the idea of asking people to part with money to roll down a hill in a giant hamster ball.
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Carterton Daffodil Carnival
For the first time since moving here (nearly 4 years ago) we actually made it to the annual Daffodil Carnival.
It’s probably a little known fact that Carterton is indeed the “Daffodil Capital of New Zealand”. This apparently dates back to 1890 when Alfred Booth bought Middle Run and planted the 7-acre garden with half a ton of Daffodil bulbs. From 1925 the daffodils were sold in Wellington to raise funds for the Plunket Society, and this continued until the work became too much and at that point, Middle Run was opened to the public on Sundays during September.
In 1996, the council decided to name the town the Daffodil Capital of New Zealand and stated planting an awful lot of daffodils, and the local people started doing it as well: a total of 12,000 bulbs were planted, on council and private land. The town even has a special bulb named after it – the Carterton Belle. *
Now we have the Daffodil Carnival, which is basically a street fair, not unlike the Martinborough fair – just a lot smaller. It actually makes a nice change to see the town so alive and full of people. The cafes were all doing a roaring trade, and the pavements were full of stalls and people spending money, or just wandering around in the sun and browsing. I counted 7 separate bands playing at different points along the high street – with a bit of something for everyone from the ubiquitous Pan Pipe music, to folk and rock and roll. Not the sort of think you generally expect in sleepy Carterton.
In fact – the only thing that let the whole day down – was the almost total absence of any – erm – daffodils.
It seems that usually we would expect a trail of gold to be leading people into Carterton – starting at an area of planting at the Entrance to the town which spells out “Carterton”. Apart from a few hardy yellow blooms round the edge of it – its not covered in Daffs. And not one of the council owned flowerbeds has any daffs in them either – in fact all of the new ones (we have had some extensive alterations) were bare soil. Its not a good look.
The hardy (or irony-loving) proprietors of one of the stalls did their best to bring a bit of humour to the event by planting some plastic flowers in the council bed next to them.
* This information was taken from a letter by Margaret Leach to the Carterton Crier, which acknowledges the Carterton District Historical Society and Carterton: Biography of a Country Town and District by David Yerex.
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Fathers Day In New Zealand.
Warning: Its on a different day.
So is Mothers day. Which means you need to make sure someone in the UK reminds you about a week in advance of the respective days over there so you can arrange cards and flowers or whatever else takes your fancy. Bear in mind, that you will be unable to find said cards in New Zealand at the same time as UK mothers and fathers day. Its all a bit of a drama, added to the fact that you aren’t anywhere near your parents.
This is the first time I’ve even been in the same hemisphere as my dad for Fathers day in 5 years – so it was a real treat today. Missing Birthdays and special days with family has always been one of the hardest things about emigrating for me to deal with.
It’s been a stunning spring day here in the Wairarapa. We did have an icy burst of winter last week, but today the sun was shining and it was lovely and warm. So we went for lunch to the nearby Gladstone Inn, and sat our in the “Garden Bar” (aka the garden).
You don’t go to the Gladstone Inn for fine dining and poncy food. You go there because it’s a country pub, that sells decent food in a lovely location. It’s quite a haunt for bikers. We came home for pudding because there was only two choices, and neither of them appealed, but other than that – it was a wonderful lunch out.
I hope everyone had a wonderful day today, whether fathers were near or not.
And here’s the present that I didn’t buy my dad:
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Last Night of The Proms – Kiwi Style.
Well, in a much need break from immigration stress and finding out that I’m breaking the law – some friends invited us to a night of sheer unadulterated patriotism and Britishness.
I’ve never been to a Last Night of The Proms – and very rarely to a Proms concert in the first place. The nearest I ever got was the Schools Proms – where each night was basically a last night.
Well, Wellington holds its own Last Night every year, and for the first time we got to go. Now – it has to be said that I’m one of those migrants that does miss the UK. I actually love the UK, and I am proud to be English (as distinct from hubby who considers himself British). I’m proud of our culture and heritage, and our amazingly colourful history. So something like this is right up my street. And oddly enough – it helps with any lingering homesickness.
It was also a bloody good concert. It was the first time I ever got to hear the New Zealand National Anthem: God Defend New Zealand. (Possibly because I don’t watch rugby – or indeed any sport which is up there with watching paint dry in my book). It’s sung in Maori and then English. And it’s rather beautiful. It was followed by our Own National anthem. One thing I did notice: the New Zealand anthem is about the country, the UK one is all about the queen. Not bad in my book as I’m an unashamed monarchist – but I can imagine that it would peeve some people.
Then the first part of the concert got underway. Some of it did nothing for me, but the rousing Polovtisan Dances were right up my alley. The rush for the loos and the bar in the interval were as expected – but something did make me laugh: there was free tea available! How typically English! And the Morris Dancers who were in the standing section put on some entertainment (much to the utter disgust of one of our friends – an Englishman through and through who has no time for that sort of silliness!) I thought it was rather good myself.
But the second half is where the fun begins, in keeping with the whole Last Nigh tradition. The flags come out; people talk and laugh, bob up and down and sing their hearts out and stamp to the Hornpipe. Flags were available for a $1 donation for those of us too tardy to bring our own, as were streamers. (Note to self – stock up on party poppers next time).
What really made this a stunning event were things like the Conductor – an American, – who had a real sense of humour – he also took a break for some tea during the second half, while we got a lullaby from the oboes. And Helen Medlyn who sang some arias in the first half but some Noel Coward in the second. She was a right scream – hammed it up for all she was worth and then led the crowd in Land of Hope and Glory and Rule Britannia dressed in a union jack pant suit.
Seriously – we had an amazing night. Good friends, food, and a great night of entertainment. Something I heartily recommend.
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