Thursday 30 September 2021

Glory box

Hmm, the connection fairies have been listening. Today, the courier driver having once again been frightened off by our long, steep drive and blatantly lying on his card about my having been "unavailable", I went to the depot to collect my mystery parcel. Which turned out to be a goodie box that is very much a step up from the goodie bags I wrote about last post.

It's a stylish big, black box with a magnetised lid, which contains all you see above, all of it high quality and summer-themed (visor, sunnies, sunscreen, fancy soft woven (Turkish-made) throw, Negroni and glass) plus a few extras. What a delight! Thank you very much, the new and soon-to-open Marriott Hotel Docklands, Melbourne. And thanks for conceding that we're not likely to meet up for quite a while - but it's a pleasing thought that one day I might, as you promise, "be reclining by the infinity-edge rooftop pool while enjoying an aperitif and revelling in the magical views of the city".

Melbourne has had a rough time of it, Covid-wise, and is still struggling - as, in fact, are we in Aotearoa after our gloriously long Level 1 almost-before-times holiday. The single Delta case we were mocked for going into Level 4 lockdown over ballooned to over 1200  (out of an overall Covid total of almost 4000)  and today, six weeks later, still has Auckland confined to quarters, with our hoped-for release next week rapidly retreating in the face of persistent new cases, despite vaccination numbers climbing encouragingly. 

There are, of course, worse places to be trapped than right here. Strolling the beach today I shared the sand with a scattering of families, couples, dogs, even several nude sunbathers and an actual swimmer which, given that we're only just into daylight saving, is a bold move on their part. In Level 3 now (and for the foreseeable...), there are takeaways, tradesmen working, and noticeably more people out and about (distanced, masked) but it's still a very small step towards normality. 

It's hard to imagine walking into the big marble foyer of the shiny and curvaceous Marriott Docklands hotel, being whisked up to a spacious fancy room, exploring the amenities and the bathroom, and then heading further up to the rooftop pool to wallow while looking out over that lovely city, with all its glass skyscrapers, heritage buildings, brilliant art gallery, and the river. Feels like ages since I was last there, fan-girling Matthew Flinders (though it was actually only on the last day of 2019). Feels like it'll still be ages before I'm there again.

Friday 17 September 2021

When life gives you lemons...

...make Guinness. Or at least sea glass Guinness to display in yesterday's sadly dishwasher-cracked glass that I've been drinking from for years since I was given it at a Tourism Ireland event. 

Back when tourism was giving agriculture a proper run for its money as NZ's biggest industry, events like that were fairly frequent and sociable treats for us solitary WFH travel writers. We'd gather happily at whatever venue had been selected - pub, restaurant, fancy hotel - and chat with our hosts and each other, enjoying the drinks and the snacks. We'd listen to the presentation with often genuine interest, pretend not to be disappointed when we didn't score the giveaway prize, chat again afterwards and eat and drink some more, before eventually trailing away home again. Not before, though, we had claimed our goodie bag containing pamphlets and flash-drives, yes, but also a selection of pens, notebooks, caps, chocolates, toiletries, scented candles, and, in TI's case, the glass we'd drunk our welcome Guinness from.

Not that, to be blunt, Guinness is actually welcomed by me as a drink - I much prefer a lighter brew, ideally (as regular 😀 readers are by now all too well aware) Montana-made Blue Moon. I still mourn its disappearance from bottle stores here, remembering the joy that accompanied its discovery just round the block from home, after being introduced to it in the exotic setting of Popeye's restaurant in Lake Geneva, Wisconsin. But Guinness? Not a fan, despite having toured through the Guinness Storehouse in Dublin, full of earnest and eager information, culminating on the top floor at the bar with the complimentary pint. I'm not alone, to judge by the sipped-and-discarded glasses left on tables by other visitors, which were then shamelessly claimed and emptied by proper enthusiasts.

No, what I enjoyed much more was the evening I spent in 2009 at Matt Molloy's pub in Westport (er, the Irish Westport) - not just because I was drinking cider, but because of the music and general vibe. Matt himself was there, but didn't sing, which would have been more disappointing if there hadn't been other people doing so well at generating such a mighty craic. There was an old man doing funny songs, a younger man full of enthusiasm on the eve of departing for New York to seek his fortune, a drunken Declan dancing, and in the main bar a casual gathering of session musicians: two fiddlers, a man on bodhrĂĄn (drum), someone on another sort of stringed instrument... they came and went, playing long medleys, everyone familiar with all the tunes. It was great.

Wednesday 1 September 2021

Yes, I'm sorry about the Ida floods in Louisiana and New York, but this is LOCAL!

This photo in the NZ Herald this morning shows a different view of Te Henga/Bethells Beach from how I (eventually) saw it back in February. The big storm that swept through West Auckland, dropping 6 weeks' worth of rain in a single day, has caused a lot of misery for people already beleaguered by two weeks of Level 4 lockdown - with at least another fortnight of restrictions to come. I can only imagine how it is for them, poor things, trying to sort out and live in their flooded houses in the current chilly weather, under lockdown restrictions. No fun at all.
Back in February, though, it was lovely, and I could quite understand why people choose to live there, at the very end of a long and winding road. If it feels remote now, that's nothing to how it was way back in the day, and it still has a strong community vibe - especially, apparently, on Friday nights at the summertime café truck in the beach carpark, when people play games and music. Naturally, I was there on a Wednesday.
Still, it was lovely to be tucked up in my quirky little cottage up on the hill looking down over the long surf beach, the dunes and the headland. I had a teddy bear on the bed to keep me company, and lots of local history to read, supplied by the friendly 5th generation Bethell lady who owns the accommodation. I especially liked the toilet cistern, which is a sentence few people have written, I'm betting.

A section of the road got washed away by the torrents rushing down the Waitakere River to the sea, so the locals are stuck at home. Just like the rest of us in Auckland - but (the ones up on the high ground anyway) I bet they mind the least.


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