"De train, de train!"

I don't know how many of you remember the late 70's, early 80's tv show called Fantasy Island. In it each week, as the airplane bringing the current crop of visitors to the island arrived, Tattoo would point and excitedly say, with his unique accent, "De plane, de plane."

I guess for me, New Zeland Is a fantasy island of a sort. I'll go in to that more a little later. In this post though I thought I'd show you our new electric trains. The old diesels (in the header photo) were always noisy and sometimes smelly. They got the job done, but were clearly aged.  

The new trains are sleek, quiet, pollution free, easier to board and have an 'openness' that is very pleasent. Take a look. You'll see what I mean.          

"De train, de train."  Jeanne and I always knew when the diesels were arriving. These a so quiet that they have sometimes surprised us as they arrive. 

Notice the little step beneath the doors that has the yelow border. That extends out from the train after it stops and closes the gap between the platform and the tain. Wheelchair users roll right on and parents don't have to worry that their toddler is going to fall under the train. These cars are wider than the old ones too. Even without the step, there is much less gap between the platform and the train.

This is looking forward. The open arrangement between the cars means that we can see farther and move easily between the cars if we want to.

This is looking back.  You can see the wide accordian-like joint between the cars that give one that feeling of roominess.

There it goes, having deposited us in Henderson. I want to ride it soon, all the way to Britomart in Auckland, and see how much faster it does the trip than the diesels used to.  Today, as you can see, is a very gloomy day. If the sun were out, these photos would be even nicer.  

I can't wait to turn 65. I'll be able to ride 'de train,' and the buses too for free. Woohoo!  -djf

Remembering the Pasty

One of my memories of growing up was sometimes going in to Ironwood, usually with Mom, and shopping for clothes, or to the Piggly Wiggly for groceries, and later having lunch.  

We couldn't afford the luxury of eating out very often, so when we did, it was usually at a restaurant that fit Mom's budget. Happily, Joe's Pasty Shop was a place that offered a filling meal at a bargain price. I loved it there. 

The day I'm remembering was a winter day, but it must have been toward spring, because the sun was making the snow sloppy. We had had a fairly heavy snowfall the night before, and the streets were still half blocked by snow that had been plowed into the center of most streets but had not yet been hauled away. The sidewalks too had snow plowed over at least half of their width and the pedestrians shuffling along had to stay very close to the buildings if they wanted to keep their feet dry. This meant that we kids had to follow Mom single file as she crossed South Lowell Street and carefully made her way up the block to Joe's. I had glasses at the time because I remember them instantly steaming up as I stepped into the warmth and aromas that greeted us as we crossed Joe's threshold, and like the good Yooper kids we were, immediately stamped our feet to knock off any snow on our boots. Mom herded us into one of the booths that were along one wall. 

One of the great things about Joe's was that you never had to wonder what to eat. It was a PASTY shop afterall. What else would anyone expect to eat there? Mom decided how many pasties to order and how to divy them up among us. I remember whining going round the tables as we all assured her that we could eat a whole pasty. I remember getting my own pasty since I was the oldest. And a glass of chocolate milk. Life didn't get much better than that. 

Now, here I am 50 + years later in a country where I have yet to find anything resembling a proper (U. P. style) pasty. You'd think they'd be all over the place. On the rare occasion that I found what is called a pasty, and purchased one, it turned out to be quite different than what I had hoped it would be.

I've got to give the Kiwis credit though. They sure like a good meat pie and they have quite a few varieties to choose from. Below are a few that I've run across.

Chunks of chicken, spinich I think and onions. I didn't notice any mushrooms.

Not surprisingly, this one is beef, spinach I think and onions.

Here they are, nicely baked

And sliced open. It's a puff pastry crust that is quite flakey.

Close up of the beef wellington

This is a meat pie (and cookie) shop in our local mall.  Lots of varieties.

Jeanne had a chicken and I chose a steak and kidney. 

This is a cold pork pie and it was pruchased at the Green Dragon Inn in Hobbiton. Quite good although the dark colored gel between the meat and the crust was Very salty.

This is NZ's version of a Cornish Pasty. I found it in a bakery in Glen Eden. Not many places make any sort of pasty.

There is ground beef, onion, peas, carrots, corn and a little potato. It's not bad, but not pasty-like at all. The dough is a puff-pastry like stuff. 

Now, before you feel too bad for me, we do have a solution to my pasty deprivation. Every now and then we make our own. The boys love them. They eat them in the following manner. The pasties are allowed to cool to just above room temperature; we then cut them in half the long way, and the boys pick up and dip each half into ketchup on their plates. Their pasties are smaller ones than the adult's, sized to fit their grip of course.

Just today I suggested to Jeanne that we make another batch soon. When we do, I'm going to make our meal a 'blast from the past' and buy a couple liters of chocolate milk, just so that the boys can enjoy the full pasty experience.  Think I'll wear my Joe's Pasty hoodie too, just for old times sake.                                       -djf

We were having a 'pasty party' when this shot was taken. Note the adult vs kid's size pasties. Also the bowl of mostly eaten sausage pieces I cooked up for an appetizer, and somebodies, (probably Jeanne's) drink on thecountrer. Attending were all the Miles plus Dan's mom Angela and her husband Bruce.  

I thought you said it was winter in New Zealand?

Using the term 'winter,' when you are talking about the season in New Zealand that runs from June through August is misleading. At least it is to those of us who have a lifetime's experience with our Northern Michigan Winters. 

July is the coldest month in New Zealand since we are south of the equator and the seasons are reversed down here. Kiwi July is like January in Michigan, as far as the daylight/nightime ratio, but there are at least a couple of factors that make Kiwi winters much milder than the U.P.'s are.

We are about as far south of the equator as the State of Virginia is north of it. The other big factor is being surrounded by the Tasman Sea and the Pacific Ocean, which keeps us warmer than we otherwise would be.  

The other day, Arram helped me take pictures of the flowers that are growing in the 'dead of winter.' He did a great job. These were all taken on August 14th.

In our front yard

By our fence and mail box

At Summerland Primary

One of the swan plants recently featured in a post about butterflies.

The rest of these photos were taken between the school and our house.

Finally this is our own yard again with oranges still on the tree. They're a bit tart, but so cool to have.

Monarchs in New Zealand (No, the Queen is not visiting.)

It wasn't long after we arrived here that Jeanne and I were pleasantly surprised one day to see an old friend fluttering by. "It's a monarch," we said in unison, and had we been characters in a newspaper comic strip, the reader would also have seen a 'thought bubble' arising from each of us containing a large, bold-font question mark. Whether the question marks indicated our surprise at seeing this particular butterfly, or surprise at uttering exactly the same words at the same moment, would not be explained.  

"I didn't know there were monarchs in New Zealand," we again simultaneously wondered, and smiled as we acknowledged non-verbally that great minds really do think alike, and sometimes apparently, even speak alike. (the thought bubble question marks would be doubled in this second panel) 

This synchronised speaking, I thought fleetingly, can't possibly continue to yet another pair of identical statements and I was right. Jeanne and I returned then to voicing our very own unique sentences and have continued right up to the present day. We have often returned to the subject of monarch butterflies but have never returned to speaking duets again.  

The other day, the solution to the puzzle of how there came to be monarchs in NZ, was revealed to me in stages. 

As we arrived at Summerland Primary to pick up the boys after school one day, I noticed a little girl studying a plant intently. She was looking at a caterpillar that was crawling up a leaf. Realising that it looked very much like a monarch caterpillar, I wondered if the plant was somehow related to the milkweeds back home.  

Fortunately, just about then, Ian, the school groundskeeper came along.  He had been helpful to me in the past. The first time, when he told me about the one-of-a-kind plant Tecomanthe speciosa, and the second time when he provided a tall step ladder after school one day to retrieve Arram's glider air plane from the  top of one of the covered walkways.  

"Oh, that's a swan plant," he said, when I asked. "Monarch caterpillars eat them." 

Once I got home I found that the swan plant, and the giant swan plant, Gomphocarpus fruticosus and physocarpus respectively, had been brought to New Zealand in the late 1800's. Coincidentally, so had the monarch. I checked that story out in Te Ara, the Maori Encyclopedia, to see if it's reporting agreed with other sources. It did. 

I found too, that the swan plant is indeed related to our own milkweed at the family level and contains cardenolides, just like our milkweed does.  

Here are some photos I took that day.  

There is my little research assistant. she'll probably be a lepidopterist some day. The 'swan plant' is also called the balloon plant for obvious reasons. 

Jeanne has harvested some of the seeds from this plant and hopes to start some in our yard. The boys love monarchs so it would be great to have a (temporary) resident population at our house.  

This one we found along Harvest Drive. It's wings seemed broken or incomplete and after carrying it a while and studying it, these two young scientists left it in the grass again.  -djf