A New Look For The New Decade

Sitting in the office, listening to piano by Jim Brickman, waiting for my flight to London. Another year has passed, and very soon we will enter a new decade. The eighties, nineties, and the soon-to-be-passed "noughties" are now just memories committed to my own memory.

I've had a chance this month to reflect not only on what's happened this year, but over the past ten years. From the Dot-com bubble burst to the Global Financial Crisis. From the 9/11 attacks to the Swine Flu pandemic. From the meteoric rise of Tiger Woods to the equally meteoric fall of Tiger Woods. And, personally for me, from the tumultuous times of university to the equally tumultuous times of working and travelling.

It begs the question: what have I done this decade? There are far too many activities to enumerate so, year by year, in this decade I'll outline the most significant and the most memorable.

• 2000 - Study (enough said), turned 21.
  
• 2001 - More study (enough said). Finished my conjoint degree.
  
• 2002 - Graduated with a conjoint degree, decide to study at postgraduate level.
• 2003 - Graduated with first class honours, secured my first full time job at The University of Auckland.
• 2004 - Started work at my current company, Orion Health.
  
• 2005 - Started running as a hobby, resumed playing indoor cricket.
  
• 2006 - Made my marathon running debut, harboured initial thoughts of going overseas, joined Orion Health Toastmasters.
  
• 2007 - Became President of Orion Health Toastmasters, won the Area Speech Competition in humourous speaking, submitted an idea for the most expensive Christmas party the company ever had, met Joe Cotton and Amber Claire in person.
  
• 2008 - Achieved Presidents Distinguished Club status for Orion Health Toastmasters, changed my career path into consulting, left New Zealand to live an exciting life in the UK.
  
• 2009 - Left UK to live a new life in Spain, learned French, German and Spanish, ran a huge personal best in the Berlin Marathon, met Hayley Westenra.
  

What will "the tens" have in store for me? Well I already have 2010 set in stone with a gruelling running season and more travel, but that still leaves nine more years for the scriptwriter to develop new stories, new characters, new settings, new themes, new plot twists and new cliff-hanger endings. An exciting time ahead, I'm sure. As a twenty-something this decade, the past 10 years were memorable. As a thirty-something in the next, the next 10 years will hopefully be spectacular.

I've also changed the layout of the blog to represent change and the coming in of the new year and the new decade.

Finally Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year everyone. Hope the year 2010 brings peace, joy, happiness and success in whatever you choose to embark on. And may the new decade be even more exciting than the one about to give way.

As always I'll be back blogging again in 2010. Better head off and catch my flight to London. I'll be in London for Christmas, and Switzerland for New Years holiday. Snowboarding in the Swiss Alps - can't think of a better way to close a good year. No, a great year!

The Top Ten of 2009 Part 2

Continuing where I left off last time, here is part 2 of my Top Ten of 2009, which also brings us to my Final Five. Without further ado, I'll continue the countdown, starting at number 5.

5: Meeting New Zealand superstar, Hayley Westenra
What a talent, and what an extremely nice person she is! I was probably the only New Zealander at her concert that cold night, and I was extremely fortunate to have met her as she was leaving the venue. A few stragglers were waiting for autographs, and like a true Kiwi, she was only too happy to oblige. When I first asked her for a photo in my real thick Kiwi accent, she immediately knew I was from her side of the world, and luckily she didn't turn her fellow Kiwi down!
Awwwwwww, don't we make a lovely couple! Only lasted 3 minutes, but easily the best 3 minutes to make it into my Final Five!

4: New Years in the French Alps
A week of snowboarding mayhem, living in a little cosy chalet, fun with friends, snowboarding down the red and black runs, new years parties and drinking mulled wine to warm our cold bodies. Great fun and great times!
I've done skiing before, but this was my first attempt at snowboarding. I have to say that snowboarding is easier, and far more enjoyable, than skiing! Despite falling on my head and butt numerous times, and experiencing sore muscles I didn't even know I had, it was great fun going down the mountains. The rest of the folks in the chalet were a cool bunch of people to be around with as well. I'm going to do it all again in a couple of weeks, this time in Switzerland, so that should be a laugh! Look out for another snowboarding report near you!

3: Moving to Spain
Moving to Spain has presented new challenges, both professionally and personally. Professionally, because I am now the technical lead for the project I am involved in. Personally, because of the new environment, culture, the Spanish way of life, and the most obvious challenge being the language barrier. Before I moved to Spain, I knew absolutely no Spanish whatsoever. But having been here for just over a month, it's amazing how much Spanish I've picked up. There's still a long way to go to be truly fluent, but I've made a solid start, even impressing the locals. Moving to Spain also allows more opportunities for travel, such as Madrid, Barcelona, Valencia, and the infamous party island of Ibiza! And I must say that Spanish food is absolutely wicked! If there were any concerns that I would miss the nice pastries and curries in the UK, then these were all dispelled when I ate this paella.
Not sure why I have my eyes closed though. I'm probably thinking about how on earth I'm going to eat the whole thing!

2: Dining at The Ritz Hotel in London (The Most Famous Hotel in the World)
Nothing can quite prepare you for the first time you step into The Ritz! The sheer grandeur, opulence and beauty of this legendary hotel is absolutely breathtaking. An experience unrivaled anywhere else, dining at The Ritz Restaurant will give true meaning to the phrase 'wined and dined'. Absolutely no photos allowed..... but I still kept taking the camera out.
The event was organised by BritBound, a social group that tends to attract a lot of Kiwis and Aussies. So the evening was pretty much a trans-tasman affair. The 3-course dinner was absolutely amazing, coupled with the most ambient setting and flawless service you can imagine. You certainly will not get this kind of experience in a Chinese restaurant!
It cost £50 for dinner, but I took my good friend along for a birthday treat, so £100 for the both of us.
Awwwwwww, don't we make a lovely couple! Okay, enough of that! Moving on to Number 1.

1: Running the real Berlin Marathon
Ich bin ein Berliner. One of the best marathons in the world, if not the best in the world. Running in a city and country once divided and now reunited, running in both East and West Berlin, running through the Brandenburg Gate 400 metres out from the finish line is such a thrill.
A poignant reminder of the loss of life, the division and reunification of a city, a nation, and the German people. And when I ran through that middle column of the Brandenburg Gate, I knew I was taking part in something very special.
At the end, I crossed the finish line in a new personal best time of 3:22:45. I didn't qualify for Boston, but then again, I'm going to have another crack at this coveted goal in 2010. Watch this space!
Epilogue

This concludes my Top Ten and my Final Five of 2009. After much deliberation and reflection over the last couple of weeks, I believe this is it. Of course, I've had a bunch of other unforgettable experiences this year, such as visiting Cornwall, celebrating Chinese New Year, the Waitangi Day pub crawl, watching the very best musicals on London's West End, seeing some huge tennis stars at Wimbledon, watching the Black Caps take on the world in the ICC World Twenty20 championship in London, etc, so it was a pretty difficult task to choose what should be included in the Top Ten and Final Five of this year, and which position it should occupy in the list. Hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I have enjoyed creating it.

P.S. 150 blog posts!

The Top Ten of 2009 Part 1

Over the last couple of weeks, I have been producing a short 15 minute video for the folks back home in New Zealand, which basically narrates what I've been up to abroad, my experiences and the 2009 year in general. A script was written, which I recorded in the most natural way possible. And I filmed both static images and movie clips to complement the narration. I was very pleased with the end result; I might have a future as a movie maker!

At the end of the video I highlighted my Final Five, where the idea was borrowed from Rove, the Australian talk show programme, which unfortunately met its end just recently. Instead of guests answering random questions in Rove's final five, my final five listed my top five experiences of 2009.

Here in this exclusive two-part entry, the lucky reader will not only read about my final five experiences that I included in the video. They'll be getting twice the number, which I've labelled my Top Ten of 2009.

So without any further ado, I'll start the countdown, starting at number 10.

10: Getting a front row standing position at the BBC Proms
In order to secure a front row standing position near the stage, I queued up 9 hours before the concert started. A great use of my time! The concert itself was stunning, it featured one of my very favourite classical works, and standing less than a metre away from the stage was unforgettable. And, being in the front row, I got plenty of screen time on live BBC TV on a Saturday night.
Would I do it again? Absolutely not! I may be a classical music fan, but I don't think I'd spend 9 hours waiting in a queue again. Maybe I'll have a different view when I've aged a little.

9: Appearing in the Reading Evening Post
In the lead-up to the Reading Half Marathon, I was featured in an article in the Reading Evening Post as the runner who travelled further than most to compete in the Reading Half Marathon. The article was inaccurate in reporting that I was a gap year student. That would make me the oldest gap year student around! Oh well, what do you expect from a tabloid?
The article raised my profile both in Reading, and back home in NZ! And this event has taught me the finer points of public relations. Would I do it again? Absolutely! I'm doing the Reading Half Marathon again in 2010, the reporter has my email address, so perhaps I might feature in another article? Hopefully they won't call me a gap year student again.

8: Visiting Paris
A romantic city, but my trip there was not for romantic reasons. Though, visiting Paris did remind me of that ABBA song, Our Last Summer. Activities included climbing the Eiffel Tower, visiting the Louvre to see the Mona Lisa, walking the Champs-Élysées, cruising on the Seine, checking out Moulin Rouge, and so much more.
Drinking red wine, which I am a big fan of, in a swanky French restaurant was also a plus! Eating baguettes and pain au chocolat - yummy! Drinking coffee in a French cafe and watching the world go by - magic! Would I go back again? Oh definitely, but I'd have to bring a date next time. I do have a few names in mind!

7: Setting a personal best in the Reading Half Marathon
The event that made me believe that I could go faster. I shattered my half marathon personal best time by over 10 minutes, which went over and above my personal expectations for the race. After a pretty average 2008 in terms of my running, I think I found an extra running gear within me this year, and my running has improved in leaps and bounds since.
The RHM was the first event I did in the UK, so it was pretty special for me. Also, the RHM is the second biggest half marathon event in the UK in terms of participation, and it boasted an elite field, so this wasn't just a casual Sunday fun-run. What was great to see was the large number of participants taking part. Whether they were seasoned runners or first timers, it was great to see people having a go. Would I run the RHM again? Well I've already signed up for RHM 2010, so yes! And after that? Well, I'll see what kind of time I'll manage next year.

6: Living in Reading
As ridiculous as it sounds, living in Reading makes it into my Top Ten of 2009, as high as number 6. It's a small town with not a lot going for it. But it was also my first UK town, and that, to me, makes it very special. I was also very fortunate to live in such a nice house, which made me stay in Reading a lot longer than I planned. My housemate, Tina, is such a wonderful person. I learned so much from her, and generally enjoyed living with her. Check out this picture, I was very impressed!
Tina is German, so in the process, I managed to learn how to speak German, and appreciate the German traditions surrounding Easter (hence the Easter bunnies above) and Christmas. I'm also very privileged to have met her parents and sister who have travelled from Germany to visit her for a time. And since her parents speak very little English it was an opportunity for me to practice my new found German. It was an interesting experience, but not without a couple of embarrassments and laughs at my expense. Sometimes I can't help thinking about that end scene from the movie Love Actually to see how my attempt at foreign languages comes across to the other person! Will I live in Reading again? It's hard to say. I can only hope that our paths will cross again in the future.

That's all the time I have for today. Stay tuned for the second half of my Top Ten of 2009, which brings us to my Final Five.

Paving The Road To Boston

Every single journey begins with a single step...

Every single road begins with a single brick...

It's been two months since my marathon effort at Berlin. I met my initial goal of sub 3:30:00 with a solid run of 3:22:45. I was on track for 3:20:00, until the Berlin weather (or maybe my lack of endurance, or mental distractions, or both) decided that it wasn't time for me to break that magical barrier.

But I also harboured a secret goal - to qualify for Boston in 2010. I never told anyone about my Boston aspirations. It was an ambitious undertaking, having not run a marathon in two years, and also never going faster than 3:50:00. Qualifying for Boston required me to run Berlin within 3:10:59. It was a lofty goal at the time, but I believe that lofty goal I set for myself made me work much harder in training. I've never ran this fast, this hard, or this long in my entire training experience! Unfortunately it wasn't enough; I failed to qualify for Boston 2010.

I've had a couple of months to reflect on my running this year, and my running goals for 2010. I've made great improvements in my running this year, far exceeding my expectations. At the start of the year, I never even thought I would go as fast as 3:22:45. It was a pleasing result compared to what I managed last year. I think the good work that I've done in the year will be a solid foundation for my running in the next year. As well as being fitter, faster and stronger, I'm also more experienced, and can draw on this experience to help with my future runs.

My running goals for 2010 are twofold. Firstly, I want to qualify for Boston 2011. Having reflected for a couple of months on what I want to do in 2010, I believe the desire is still very strong. But, why Boston? Boston is one of the few marathons where runners have to qualify to gain entry. There is no first-come first-served registration system like Berlin, Chicago or other marathons. There is no public ballot like London or New York where public demand far exceeds supply of places. This marathon requires a high standard of running. It's also the oldest annual marathon event in the world, inspired by the first marathon competition in the first Olympic Games of 1896. Because of this, it's considered the most prestigious marathon in the world. Thus, for many marathoners to qualify for Boston is an achievement in itself, making it a "people's Olympic event."

My second goal is more peripheral to running, and that is to travel more widely around Europe. I believe that running through a city is a great way to travel, and an easy way to visit a city I'm interested in. Instead of saying I travelled around Rome, I could proudly say that I ran the Rome Marathon and travelled around Rome. Of course I could just travel to Rome without needing to run the marathon, and that's a fair point. There will be cities that I would like to visit without needing to run a marathon in that city.

However, as I found out in 2009, travelling can be disruptive to marathon training, especially when I have a trip scheduled in a high intensity training period. It happens, and it's unavoidable. From a training perspective, these things have to be managed. After some convincing, I believe I've found a way of doing this. And that is to run a marathon in a city that you want to travel to.

By running a marathon and treating it as a training run, I think the benefits are several. You do the most important run in your marathon training - the long slow run. And 42 km is more than enough mileage required for a typical long slow run. You also get to run around a new city and take in the sights. And you can soak up the marathon experience in a foreign country. I think doing a long run in a marathon setting in another country is more preferable to doing long runs on your own in training in our own neighbourhood. But your mileage may vary in that regard.

But surely, you could still travel and do a couple of shorter, faster runs during your holiday. Yes, that's true. However, which would you rather do? A marathon event with thousands of other runners, or just a couple of shorter faster runs by yourself. Marathon legend, Emil Zatopek, said it best: "If you want to win something, run the 100 metres. If you want to experience something, run the marathon."

So having convinced myself to run more marathons in order to travel more, which marathons am I going to run, and which cities am I going to visit? I had some criteria and they were as follows:

• The marathon must be in a major city, with an elite field and with a sizeable number of participants and finishers.
  
• One of the races must be a Boston Qualifying (BQ) race to peak for.
  
• The BQ race has to be on a fast/flat course.
• The event must have a minimum of 5-6 weeks afterwards in order to be fresh and ready for the next event.
  

I checked out all the marathons in Europe for 2010, and plotted them all on the 2010 calendar. Most of the marathons are clumped in the March-May months and the September-November months, with a small handful of events in summer and winter. Lots of big marathons tended to be on the same day! But in the end, I picked five events, which I've called my final five. They are:

• Rotterdam (11th April 2010)
• Stockholm (5th June 2010)
• Helsinki (14th August 2010)
• Berlin (26th September 2010)
• Athens (31st October 2010)

These races will pave the road to Boston, that is, these are the races that I will be running in my journey to qualify for Boston. Having only run Berlin before, I have singled out Berlin as the race to get the BQ time as it is currently the fastest course in the world. The other 4 marathons are going to be for fun/training purposes. I chose Rotterdam and Stockholm, as they've been named as one of the top 10 marathons in the world according to Runners World Magazine. I've always wanted to visit Finland and Sweden. And now I have a chance to travel around these Scandanavian countries and run a marathon in each. Finally I chose Greece as it's the home of the marathon. Athens 2010 will mark 2500 years since the Greek hero Pheidippides ran from the Battle of Marathon to Athens to announce the Greeks' victory over the Persians. So I am absolutely certain that this round-number anniversary will lead to a rush of registration entries, and a quick cut-off date.

One thing I'm concerned about is that by singling out Berlin as the race to gain a BQ time, I only have one shot to qualify for Boston 2011. All five events are certified events to gain a BQ time, but as Berlin is the fastest out of all the five, and since I am currently not in the required shape to get a BQ time, I need all the time available to me to be in prime form for Berlin. I guess the one shot approach is what makes it more exciting - the thrill of success on the first go, or the sudden crash of failure at having missed out on my only shot for Boston. There is always next year though. But I hope it doesn't happen, after all I have 10 months to plan and get ready for Berlin.

I'm quite excited about how my running in 2010 will pan out. I've never taken on anything like this before when it comes to running multiple marathons. But I guess if I put my mind to it, and keep my eyes on the original goal of qualifying for Boston 2011, and believe, then who knows what I can achieve.

Hopefully a BQ time. Maybe a new personal best. And some long-lasting memories of the cities I've managed to travel to.

Starting Over, Again

Hola!

I've just passed one year being away from NZ, and in that time I've managed to end up in Spain, a place that I had never anticipated working in from the time I left the green shores of Aotearoa. My departure from the UK has basically ended a chapter of my life and opened up a new and exciting one. After nearly a year in the UK, I am now in Palma de Mallorca.

Getting to Spain was a turbulent journey from the time I was asked to go. In particular, the month of October has more or less been hell-on-earth for me, which has no doubt affected those people close to me. I've had a roller coaster of emotions, and I feel it is time to write some of these thoughts down.

October was the month that I knew I had to prepare for the move to Spain. I knew it was imminent, it was just a matter of what day I had to move. This uncertainty drove me crazy to no end. It was like receiving a death sentence from a trial judge and not knowing the exact date and time of your execution. On top of that, I received news from the people above me that I had to apply for a Spanish visa myself, which they never informed me about before! Hence I had been running around like a headless chicken trying to organise documents to get this process moving. I managed to do so just before I left the UK, but knowing from past experience, it will take a long time before I see this precious stamp in my passport. October was a trying month, which has taken a toll on me physically and emotionally. But it was also a character-building month, which I can learn from and hopefully apply in the future when I encounter more of life's trials.

But the uncertainty of moving didn't start in October. I wrote earlier that my move to Spain was determined way back in June. The time that I got called into the meeting room for a talk with the manager is still very clear in my mind. And I can still play out the silent reaction that I felt when I heard the news. I felt afraid. I was actually pretty scared about the move. It felt like my life in the UK was over, and that I had to start afresh in a new country where English isn't the norm. From that time I heard the fateful news, I had six weeks to prepare to move to Spain. But as the scriptwriter wrote it, it was closer to six months. So why did it take so long?

The reason that it took so long for me to get to Spain was that the customer took a long time to sign the contract. It was made absolutely clear that I wouldn't start work until we had a signed contract. Every time I asked about the contract I got the same response. Time went on and on, and in the end it was over four months overdue. I was hanging by a thread for over four months! Imagine your life being put on hold for four months, not knowing when you had to make the big move. Your plans get disrupted, your goals get changed. I had plans and goals, most of them blown away while I was waiting in anticipation for that signature. It was unfair to say the least. I won't hesitate in pointing fingers at every single party who kept me in the dark for so long. But in the end, that doesn't really achieve anything. That's life, and I had to learn to roll with the punches.

There was a positive though. I am thankful that I managed to spend four more precious months in the UK. When I first got the news that I had to go to Spain, I was just about to ramp up the marathon training. I had already bought tickets to watch Diana Krall in concert at the Royal Albert Hall. I was just beginning to know Tina a little better. Having fateful news hastily announced to me there and then disrupted everything I worked so hard towards. Of course I could pick up the pieces when I moved to Spain, but the stress of relocation, and last minute plan changes, would have been too much.

But I managed to hold on for four more months, and in that time, especially when I knew I would lose out on training days, I worked a lot harder in marathon training, concentrating mainly on tempo runs and speedwork. The extra effort paid off; I was able to give it my best at Berlin. Having four more months in the UK meant that I didn't need to change my flight plans, as I had already booked my flights to Germany in April.

I also purchased tickets to see Diana Krall in late October, and I thought it was nigh on impossible to even see the concert, unless I was willing to travel back to the UK to see her. But it turned out that I managed to see the concert five days before I left the UK. It was an amazing concert in an intimate setting, which changed my outlook of jazz music significantly. Diana Krall exhibited a masterclass of silky jazz and piano playing. I think I've become a jazz convert.

But I'll always be thankful for the extra time that I spent in Reading, and with Tina. When I first broke the news to her that I would be leaving the UK, I couldn't help fighting back the tears. It was one of the most difficult things I have had to do. I'm pretty sure she felt a bit of emotion there too, but she was way too composed to show it. She even gave me a valuable piece of advice there and then and I am truly indebted to her for that. During my four months, I felt that I got to know her a lot better in that time. I even had the courage to ask her out to dinner. It was in July during the time when I thought I only had six weeks in the UK. Some people may think it would've been awkward, or even off-limits, to ask a housemate out to dinner. But it turned out to be a fantastic time and I hope she enjoyed it too.

In the end I wanted closure before moving to Spain. And, in the midst of the October chaos, I managed to do that. People who I got to know in Reading, I made a point to let them know I was leaving. From my neighbours, to the owner of the sandwich shop that I always visited in town. On the day I left the UK, I farewelled Tina at the train station as she left for work. I gave her a big hug, a sealed letter and another big hug, and watched her climb the elevator to the platform. The final parting glance and wave she gave me on the elevator was the last time I saw her. When it was time for me to leave Reading on a train to Gatwick Airport, I couldn't help shedding a few tears, knowing that all good things have to come to an end.

Living in Spain for nearly two weeks hasn't been as difficult as I initially thought. I have my own apartment with everything provided for me, and the life skills that I learnt when I first arrived in the UK has greatly helped me here. The food has been excellent, and I thought I would suffer from major withdrawl symptoms missing out on the pasties and paninis that I normally had in the UK. The obvious challenge is the Spanish language, and I'm trying very hard to learn Spanish as quickly as possible to get around the place and talk with the locals. So far, I'm doing quite well in these two weeks, and hopefully in a month or so I could get by comfortably. I believe that I'll have at least 12 months in Spain, but as I learnt so suddenly in Reading, plans change and perhaps I'll end up living in Spain a lot longer, or maybe even less than that.

I won't discount moving back to the UK, but if I do, it will be a new chapter all together. Maybe I'll move back to Reading, maybe I won't. Hopefully I'll cross paths with Tina again, but maybe I won't get another chance. Living in Reading for 12 months was a significant chapter in my life, filled with many great moments that I'll always remember with clarity. The networks and friends that I've managed to establish and build up are precious and I'll try my absolute hardest to maintain them whilst living here in Spain.

To close this rather deep and meaningful entry, the title of this blog post was inspired by DEEN, a long-running popular music group in Japan, with their track also titled Starting Over. Having closed a chapter and starting an entirely different one, I feel like I have been doing just that.

Saludos!

20 Years of Running Without Borders

It was an overwhelming moment for everyone on September 30, 1990, when about 25000 marathon runners passed through the Brandenburg Gate for the first time. This year's Berlin Marathon commemorated this day under the motto: 20 years of running without borders.

When I ran through that middle column of the Brandenburg Gate, I knew I was taking part in something very special. To run in a city and country divided by one of the most devastating events in history, aside from the pain I was experiencing in my legs, I couldn't help but feel a few more emotions when running through that gate. Sadness, for those that lost their lives needlessly through man's cruelty. Happiness, for those reunited after the fall of Die Mauer 20 years ago. And pride, for all the hard work that I put in over the past six months to get ready for this event, and the vast improvements that I've made in my running. And I believe that my best is still yet to come.

I still remember the day that I registered for the event. It was February 23, 2009. At that time, I couldn't believe that I had entered one of the biggest marathons in the world so easily. Before I came to Europe, I had always wanted to do Berlin, just like I always wanted to do London or Paris. I knew it was one of the fastest marathons in the world and that the world record was broken at Berlin three times in the last five years. What I didn't know was the significance of the course and the history behind the city. To me, that increases the profile of running the Berlin Marathon ever so highly, and why it is arguably the 2nd best marathon in the world.

Even though I registered in February, I didn't start proper marathon training until April as I was still training for the Reading Half Marathon in March. I was excited, and a little afraid at the same time. I hadn't run a marathon in nearly 18 months. A half marathon is manageable, but a marathon is an entirely different beast. I had no idea how I would perform on the day, or how I would react to the demands of training. So I kept mum about the news and only told a couple of people, namely my parents and my housemate, Tina, as she is German. When I ran the Reading Half Marathon much faster than expected, I knew I was capable of getting a fast time at Berlin.

So from April to September, I dedicated myself to a training programme designed to give a fast time. Initially I wanted sub 3:30:00, then I modified it to 3:20:00. When my training picked up the intensity in the latter half of the programme, I started to believe that 3:10:00 was possible. To be fair, I really didn't know what I was capable of. Sometimes I doubted myself, other times I was optimistic. Looking back, I may have been too optimistic aiming for 3:10:00, but as they say, if you shoot for the moon and miss, at least you'll land among the stars. In the end, and given perfect conditions on the day, I wasn't too far off. But one thing was clear - at the end of my last training run I was in the best running form of my life, and I was due to smash my marathon PB to bits.

Berlin is such a fantastic city. The day before the race, I walked around parts of the city, which were closed off for the marathon, just to appreciate the surroundings and to get a feel for the course. I had a great chance to learn about the history of the Berlin Wall, and to see the remains of the wall, now in the form of a brick line on the ground to show where the wall once stood. The course starts west of the wall, then crosses to the east at around 6-7 km. After 12-13 km, the course crosses west again, which is where most of the course is run. Only from the 38th km onwards does the course cross east, until the runner reaches the Brandenburg Gate. The course crosses west one more time after the gate, with another 400 metres to the finish.

The race was extremely organised in typical German fashion. The start was so orderly, until the starting gun sounded. And then the chaos began. Over 45000 runners ran through the start line in Tiergarten on Straße des 17. Juni. It took me 5 minutes to cross the start line, but I used this time to prepare myself mentally and to get ready for the race. The theme music of Chariots of Fire was playing from the loudspeakers, coupled with the release of hundreds of yellow balloons slowly rising high in the air. Such symbolic imagery, it was a special moment before I even took my first stride.

And when I crossed the start line, I was in full swing. For the first couple of kms, I was mostly weaving through the masses of runners, sometimes pushing through them, and also getting a few nudges from behind. The first 5 kms were very comfortable. I was going at around 4.7 mins/km pace, which is slower than the required pace for 3:10:00, but I believed I could claw back the deficit. I did claw back some time, getting slightly faster with each 5 km split up to the half way mark. I was hoping that I would still have enough in me in the second half to go faster or just hold on.

The crowds along the street were fantastic, the best atmosphere I have encountered in any running event I have done. Kids were putting out their hands and I was more than happy to give high-fives. Some of the older women gave me high-fives when I stuck my hand out to them. I had my name on my race number so occasionally they were shouting my name as I ran past. It was such an uplifting feeling when you can feel the support of the crowd. Live bands were also out in force on the streets, but I was running to the music from my iPod, to provide me with the extra kick I needed at certain stages of the race.

The second half saw me go a bit slower than the required pace. It was a combination of tiredness, dehydration, and the uncharacteristic hot temperature Berlin had on the day. I tried pushing the pace, and the effort lasted for a couple of minutes. But in the end I had to slow down. At that time I knew that sub 3:10:00 was asking too much; at the half way point I was over 2 minutes out from the required split, and I wasn't able to claw back the deficit or maintain the required pace. However, I was still on target for sub 3:20:00. It was just a matter of holding on.

As it turned out, the conditions got hotter, and I wasn't taking in enough fluid. I was dehydrated and my core temperature was rising to the point that I felt like a hot car radiator. The last few water stations were a godsend. I had to stop briefly to get water in the system, but also to pour water on my head and body to cool down. The benefits were immediate, but short-lived. As soon as I poured water on myself, my breathing got faster and my heart was racing. It was like a surge of cold adreneline in my system. It helped me to run faster for a brief moment, but not long enough to last to the next water station. Of course, I began to overheat and slowed down yet again. In the last 12 km of the race, I slowed down from around 4.6 mins/km pace to around 5.0 - 5.2 mins/km pace.

Eventually I made it to Potsdamer Platz, the important square of Berlin and once a wasteland during the days of the Berlin Wall. I had just run 38 km. I looked at my splits and worked out that to get under 3:20:00 I need to finish the race in approximately 20 minutes. This was going to be tough since my current pace had dropped to 5.2 mins/km and still slowing. But I kept pushing onwards, ignoring the pain, but wary that I could still suffer from a cramp attack anytime.

At 40 km, the last water stop was available. I grabbed as much water as I could, poured it on my head and ran hard. I knew I was very close, but the last stretch of road on the course, Unter den Linden, was extremely long and extremely straight. The Brandenburg Gate was so small in the distance that when I kept running it still stayed the same size. It was the ultimate psychological test. At this time, I noticed that one of my shoelaces became untied. A Danish runner pointed it out to me, but I was so close to the finish that I didn't even stop to tie it up. I just did the only thing that I knew how. I just kept on running.

Eventually the Brandenburg Gate became the size of a monument, and I consciously made my way towards the middle column of the structure. Running through the gate was once in a lifetime thrill, and it was there and then that I started to throw all coals into the fire and run as hard as I could to the finish line 400 metres away. As soon as I crossed the line, I raised my arms up like a champion. I honestly felt like a champion. Even though I ran the last 2.195 km faster than the pace during the 35-40 km split, in the end I didn't get under 3:20:00. My official time was 3:22:45.

The euphoria of completing Berlin was brief though because the pain started to kick in in my legs. Remembering the inspiration throughout my training, I shouted, "Yo Tina! I DID IT!", in reference to that famous line that Rocky Balboa said when he won the world heavyweight championship. I got a few weird looks from the other runners at the finish, but I was so inspired by the Rocky movies that I wanted to do it anyway. Next I had to keep on moving. I started to walk towards the water stations and took in as much water and electrolyte drinks as I could. Occasionally I would scream in discomfort. One German runner wanted to know if I was alright, but he only spoke German. I spoke back to him in German saying that I didn't understand him. He replied back in German and gave me a pat on the back. I didn't understand anything he said, but I felt a camaraderie between us, as if we were team mates. All marathon runners share a special unspoken bond, and even though I didn't know the man I definitely felt it there and then.

I've had the chance to reflect on my performance, and I can honestly say that I gave it everything. I was not good enough to run 3:10:00, but I believe I can run 3:20:00 on a good day. I couldn't do anything about the weather, so I'm happy with 3:22:45. For 6 months, I have managed to turn up to training everytime, always managing to deliver, even when my mind and body sometimes had other ideas. I am proud of the way I stuck to my training, and how much I have achieved in my running performances this year. And on race day, I can't think of anything I would do differently. I ran a good solid race, but unfortunately the weather has a part to play, and in my case it was decisive. That's marathon running, and I have to accept it.

I just want to thank all those that supported me during this event. Even though I didn't have a support crew that travelled with me to Berlin, there were many people that helped and kept encouraging me along the way. Shaun and Shanta, for procuring and transporting the energy gels across to the UK. Lance, for his encouragement and humour and constantly reminding me about Hayley and the headlines. The folks in the office, for their constant reminders on food intake and leaving me with more than my usual portions of jam donuts and heavy pastries that I could manage. And finally to my housemate, Tina, who doesn't share the same level of interest in running as me, and has called me crazy on more than one occasion, but has quietly supported me throughout those long months of hard training. After I downed copious amounts of fluid at the finish line, I got my phone and texted her from the finish line, saying, in true Rocky fashion, Yo Tina, I did it.........I did it.

Shanghai Kiss

I gotta get back to my roots...

A couple of weeks ago I watched a movie, called Shanghai Kiss, about a Chinese-American guy named Liam (played by Ken Leung of Rush Hour, Lost and X-Men 3) living in Los Angeles. While on a bus, he meets Adelaide, a young high school student (played by the very cute Hayden Panettiere of Heroes), and they become quick friends. The age difference between them is 12 years. Liam feels guilt for becoming friends with such a young girl, but they connect instantly on an intellectual level.

Liam suddenly has to go to China after learning from his father that he has inherited his grandmother's home in Shanghai. He's not very appreciative of his Chinese roots and at first only wants to sell the house and get back to Los Angeles as fast as possible. But he gets a taste of the Chinese culture after meeting Micki, a Chinese girl (played by Kelly Hu of Martial Law), and ends up having some big decisions to make.

Does he stay in China and live as a Chinese person in his grandmother's house with Micki? Or does he reconcile with Adelaide back in Los Angeles?

I absolutely enjoyed this movie. It was funny, romantic, dramatic and raises some Asian stereotypes that still exist in our society. But the main reason I enjoyed this movie was because it was so easy for me to relate to the main character, Liam. Liam is a Chinese-American who doesn't speak Chinese, whereas I am a Chinese-New Zealander who also doesn't speak Chinese. And both of us don't know much about our Chinese roots. The best part of the movie was when Liam tries to speak Chinese to the taxi driver, and the taxi driver takes him on a longer-than-anticipated ride through Shanghai, due to the taxi driver not understanding Liam's Chinese.

Despite the huge age difference, and the unlikely relationship of a Chinese guy with a White high school girl, Liam and Adelaide displayed a chemistry in their friendship that was so sweet and convincing. The chemistry between Liam and Micki was just as sincere. I have only seen Ken Leung in a few movies, mostly in minor roles. But he proved he is a great actor and did a great job in the leading role in this film. Hayden Panettiere is Hayden Panettiere; she oozed cuteness throughout the movie, but also did a great job as Liam's "girlfriend".

I won't be going to China any time soon, but after watching the movie I was moved to know a lot more about my culture, language and my roots. However I will always be a Chinese-New Zealander, and I am proud to be a Kiwi too.

Daffy like a duck...

The Quarter-Life Crisis / Is Change Good? Part 2

What do you do when the Head says "Go!" but the Heart says "Stay!"?

A couple of weeks later, my manager dropped a bombshell. He wanted me to consider going to Spain to work on a big project there.

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. It felt as if something dear to me was being taken away, never to be given back.

Initially I was very hesitant to go. But I said I would think about it. Deep down in my heart I didn't wish to leave the UK. I have a fantastic house, a nice housemate, and a quiet town to live in. And having been in the UK for eight months, I felt I was not ready to make another big move. But I also started thinking back on my quarter-life crisis episode earlier in the month. This was an opportunity that I was being presented with, and I'm thinking of turning it down? How many times have I turned down opportunities in the past, only to regret that decision down the track?

It was a very tough decision. And it basically boiled down to who I should listen to? Should I listen to my heart and stay, or should I listen to my head and go? On one day, my head persuaded me to go over to Spain, only for the heart to present an equally convincing counter-argument persuading me to stay in the UK.

But it seemed that the heart was stronger in the battle. The quarter-life crisis episode, so clear in my mind, wasn't enough to persuade me to move. So I decided to turn down the opportunity. When it was time to catch-up with my manager, I told him that I wasn't ready to move. He basically qualified the situation and paraphrased something like this: This is the situation. After your current project in the UK, I cannot guarantee any more work if you stay.

I was shell-shocked. I had always suspected that the region was getting a bit slim on work, but I had to hear it from him myself. He asked me to think it over again in the weekend.

The cards had been dealt on the table, and I didn't have a good hand. In my mind, I was basically forced to fold. After a weekend to think about it further (but more like going through the denial, anger, bargaining, depression and coming to acceptance stages, like in the grieving process), I acknowledged to my manager that I have accepted the opportunity.

All the plans that I had made in the UK had suddenly disappeared and a new series of events had been put into motion. My current to-do list was completely scrapped and replaced with an even longer to-do list just to prepare for the relocation, which is happening in early August.

The first thing I had to do was to inform Tina that I was leaving, and it was one of the most difficult things I have had to do. We sat in the lounge and, holding back the tears, I told her that I had to leave Reading.

She asked whether I was leaving my job.
"No, not exactly. I'm just relocating."
"Where will you be going?"
"To Spain."

She had a surprised look on her face, followed by a "I'm pleased for you" look. It was obvious from her reaction that she saw something that I didn't.

I explained to her that I wanted to stay here in Reading, but Spain has more work and that I was the obvious person from the UK region to go over. To which she replied that I had no choice but to keep my job and go to Spain, or risk being made jobless and fight with thousands of other unemployed people out there, most of whom had been made redundant and desperate to find work. One of the anecdotes that she shared was that McDonald's receives hundreds of job applications every day, even from redundant bankers desperate for work.

She just made perfect sense, and I knew it. Out of all the options out there, this was by far the simplest. I couldn't believe other people had suggested that I look for a new job just for the sake of staying in the UK.

After I told my bad news, due to the present economic climate, I learned that she also is facing uncertainty over her job. This made me realise that if you have a job, in difficult times like these, you should do whatever you can to keep your job secure. Hence her common sense answer.

She reassured me that I will like Spain, and shared her experiences. From dining in Tapas bars, to the beautiful Spanish weather, to kicking water barefoot during a heavy thunderstorm, and knowing which parts of Majorca have English and German tourists. I couldn't help laugh, despite feeling bad on the inside. After all, I admit that I have developed a fondness for Reading, the house, and my housemate. And I was reluctant to give it all up.

I'm not happy that I have to leave Reading, but accepting the move to Spain was the right thing to do, given the circumstances. I won't need to feel despondent about missing out on yet another opportunity, but as ridiculous as it sounds I just hope there aren't any nagging feelings about what could have been if I stayed in Reading. Then again, if I had to choose between Reading UK and Palma Spain, without having been there before, I would definitely choose Palma Spain.

The month of June has taught me a lot about myself. It taught me that I am mostly resistant to change. I shouldn't be so resistant, and that I should learn to embrace and accept it more readily. I also learned that I should be grabbing more opportunities, and that I shouldn't be tied down to anything if there is no concrete reason to do so. Here in the UK, I should be making the most of every opportunity, rather than piss my life away. That was what I was doing back in New Zealand, and it was one of the many regrets I had during that quarter-life crisis episode. Overall, the month was difficult, but I learned a lot and hopefully I can move forward from this.

What do you do when the Head says "Go!" but the Heart says "Stay!"? Just ask someone else who understands.

The Quarter-Life Crisis / Is Change Good? Part 1

Everything happens for a reason...

It's been over a month since my last post. I could have done some lazy posting, but that's not what I want to achieve with my blog. Over the past month, I've had a roller coaster of experiences and emotions, and I feel it is time to write some of these thoughts down.

At the beginning of last month, I went through a bit of a depression period. Obviously I didn't need to take Prozac, or even feel the urge to take anti-depressants, but the feelings were pretty strong and at times I got quite upset and frustrated with myself. There were events in my life that I questioned. In particular, I thought about all the things that could have been... if things had turned out differently. Why didn't I do more in high school? Why wasn't I more involved at university? Why did I stay in university for five long years? Why didn't I accept that job offer instead of working at the university for a year? Why did it take so long to finally go travelling? Why, why, why?

And there were many more questions I kept asking myself, and I couldn't come up with any reasonable answers.

These feelings are symptomatic to what is known as a Quarter-life Crisis, which is named by analogy with the mid-life crisis. Indeed, I was going through a quarter-life crisis of my own. I've been through these feelings before and normally got through it unscathed. But this episode was particularly crippling, going as far as to affect my work and personal life. It was fair to say that I was a bit of a wreck.

It all started when I was flicking through one of my friend's photo albums. I wanted to see what they were like, what they got up to, and their life experiences, when they were just starting to step into adulthood, around the 18-20 year-old mark. These albums were very comprehensive, and I immediately learned that this person liked to keep memories of all that happened to them at the time.

And then I immediately started questioning why I didn't have these kinds of experiences when I was at, or around, the same stage in my life. It all felt so unfair. It felt like I had failed an exam and had to be held back an extra year just to make it up. I didn't realise it at the time, but I was already feeling insecure about my past and present accomplishments. And the fact that I will be turning 30 next month, and the nostalgic memories contained in the albums, triggered such a strong unhealthy emotional response.

I thought about all the possible scenarios that could have resulted if I had done something differently in life. For example, if I had chosen that job offer, instead of working at the university, I could have gained more work experience starting from a younger age, and I would have gotten further along in my chosen career. Instead, I spent a year working at the university doing an unsatisfying job. Another example was why didn't I go travelling a lot earlier in my life. I recall the possibility of living in Japan for a time after I had finished high school. If I had gone down that path I would have gained an enormous life experience at such a young age, which would have served me well later on. Instead I went to university, and stayed there for five years. The more I entertained these fantasy scenarios in my mind, the more I got depressed with reality. But to relieve the depression I would entertain more fantasy scenarios in my mind thinking how good life could have been... only to get myself even more depressed with my current situation when I realised that it didn't happen at all.

I didn't realise it at the time, but I was caught up in a vicious cycle.

Whilst going through my mp3 collection for some melancholic tracks to reflect the mood I was in, I listened to one track which I haven't heard for a very long time. The song is a soundtrack from one of my favourite animated movies, Joseph: King of Dreams. If you're not familiar with the biblical account of Joseph, Joseph was sold into slavery by his brothers, and is made a servant of a wealthy Egyptian named Potiphar, eventually becoming the head of the household. When Potiphar's wife tries to seduce Joseph and accuses him of rape, Potiphar casts Joseph into jail.

The song that he sang in jail struck a chord in me. The song is called Better Than I. Have a listen to it, and decide for yourself whether it speaks to you as clearly as it spoke to me.

When I heard those words "You know better than I, You know the way, I've let go the need to know why, for you know better than I", I knew that there was no point entertaining any fantasy scenarios in my head. I had to drop what I was feeling and just put my trust in Him. And then I thought of Romans 8:28 - And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose. Everything happens for a reason. And whatever things that happened in the past happened for a particular reason. And even up till now, I still don't know the reasons, but I've slowly let go the need to know why. Slowly, but surely, I managed to cut away the internal conflict that was haunting me during the month. Playing this track on repeat has been more-or-less therapeutic to me during this difficult time.

It took a while to get over these negative feelings, but I think I've gotten through the worst of it. I'm now travelling in the UK, which is what I've always wanted, so I'm happy that I've managed to make it happen, even if it did take a lot longer than I would have liked. The number one objective while I am here is to do as much as I can. But I also need to put my trust in God because he has a plan for me.

I want to continue onto my next topic Is Change Good?, but I feel that this would make this blog post very long. So I will split it into two parts, and will write the second part once I've managed to articulate my thoughts better on the subject. To be continued.....

I thought I did what's right
I thought I had the answers
I thought I chose the surest road
But that road brought me here

So I put up a fight
And told you how to help me
Now just when I have given up
The truth is coming clear

You know better than I
You know the way
I've let go the need to know why
For you know better than I

If this has been a test
I cannot see the reason
But maybe knowing I don't know
Is part of getting through

I try to do what's best
And faith has made it easy
To see the best thing I can do
Is put my trust in you

For You know better than I
You know the way
I've let go the need to know why
For you know better than I

I saw one cloud and thought it was a sky
I saw a bird and thought that I could follow
But it was you who taught that bird to fly
If I let you reach me will you teach me

For You know better than I
You know the way
I've let go the need to know why
I'll take what answers you supply
You know better than I

Six Months In A Leaky Boat

I've just managed to survive six months in the UK since I arrived here in mid-November. It hasn't all been plain sailing (hence the subject of the entry), but it has been a valuable learning experience. Time seems to have passed very quickly in those six months, so I would like to take stock and reflect on my six months in a leaky boat.

I suppose I've been fortunate already having a job lined up before coming over here to the UK. In addition, my company agreed to help me with accommodation for up to one month. All I needed to do was to find a nice place to live and weather the storm of settling in to a new country. A lot of other people have come here with hopes and dreams of having a good experience in the UK, but they don't have a job. Not finding a job as soon as you would like is a very stressful time for everyone, and unless you have a job your experience in the UK hasn't really started. So I'm glad that I don't have to sail in the same boat as those other people, and I know of a few people who have struggled to get jobs in the UK and have had to set a course for New Zealand.

Before I arrived in the UK, I had hopes on living in the big city that is London. It's the centre of activity, and I figured I wouldn't have any problems finding a place which suits my interests. When I arrived, I figured that a probationary period in Reading would be a good idea just to get my feet on the ground. I even told Tina that I would only intend on staying in Reading for 2-3 months. So why am I still in Reading much longer than originally planned?

Well the reasons were simple. The house I live in is comfortable and spacious, and I only share with one other person. I've found a fantastic housemate and I wouldn't want to live with anyone else any time soon. My house is also close to work, and the rent is relatively cheap by Reading standards. The area that I live in reminds me of a typical quiet suburb in Auckland. Contrast this to the sprawling big city that is London, where I could live with up to 3-4 other people and pay a hell of a lot more in rent.

Like London, Reading is close to major London airports, so overseas travelling is not a problem. However if you drive, and especially during the holiday periods, it's easier to get to other parts of the UK if you travel from Reading because of its central location. If I lived in London, it's far more difficult to travel anywhere by car.

Reading is not the most exciting town, but it has all that I need at present. It's close to London, but I am finding that I don't need to travel to London all that often. It took me a while to realise this fact. Given the location of my house in Reading, and Reading's location in the UK, it all came down to location, location, location. For me, location is very important. It doesn't mean that I will stay in Reading forever. I still would like to experience living in London, or I may live in an entirely different town altogether, e.g. Amsterdam! Time will tell.

Adjusting to life in the UK was a challenge in itself. Setting up bank accounts, and a national insurance number was quite a mission. I took these all for granted in New Zealand because these were set up for me by my parents. Dealing with HSBC UK was a very frustrating experience and the customer service was awful. When my bank card didn't arrive on time, and my cash ran out, I was forced to withdraw another large sum of money directly from the bank.

Then there was the credit card. HSBC UK declined my application on the spot as I had no credit history in the UK. I was flabbergasted. I had a huge credit limit in New Zealand, so why couldn't they check that? So I had to start over again. I applied for a credit card with another company who offered much smaller credit limits. After using this card for around a month and a half, I applied again to HSBC UK. This time, and completely by surprise, HSBC UK gave me a "real" credit card, with a very nice credit limit too. I suppose it's their way of saying sorry after screwing me over in the first place!

As soon as I arrived, I got straight into running, with the Reading Half Marathon as the goal. I didn't bring any running shoes with me, so I had to buy a new pair from a specialist running shop, and ask my folks in New Zealand to send up my main pair. I have to thank my boss for spurring me into registering for the Reading Half Marathon, as without my gear or a goal to work towards I would have no motivation to run in the UK. But I had a goal, I have my shoes and I devoted quite a lot of time training for the event. In the end, I surpassed my own expectations, smashing my previous personal best with a time of 1:36:40. I'm certainly getting faster and stronger with my running, and hopefully while I'm here I can keep up the hard work and get even faster. Currently I'm training for the Berlin Marathon, and I've already set a lofty goal in the hopes of setting another big personal best.

I had high hopes on taking up other interests here in the UK, but with running as my main priority it's not easy to get into them. At the start of the year I joined a chess club, hoping to get back into the game seriously. However I only went to a handful of club nights. The vast majority of members were retired old men or middle-aged men, which wasn't my idea of meeting new people in my age range. After missing a few club nights due to running training, and having lost too many games, I slowly lost interest in playing at the club, and pretty soon I stopped going to club nights. That was £45 down the toilet. Perhaps Chess isn't something I should be pursuing seriously. A couple of my friends have so many interests, and they seem to find the time to fit them in. I really need to know how they actually do it.

One of the things I realised before I moved over was the need to know the language of the country you are travelling to. When I was in France, people always spoke French to me, and I couldn't rely on them understanding broken English. So on reflection I decided to learn some French and German on my own through daily podcasts. I went to France again and managed to make some French conversation whilst over there. Learning German was partly for my upcoming Berlin Marathon, and partly because of my housemate. As with learning all languages, both languages are challenging, but satisfying to use once you have them under your lips.

Life in the UK is not wholly different to life in New Zealand, but there were a few things I had to get used to. For example, the British are very particular when it comes to queueing. Even if there isn't a solid queue forming, they still obey the first-in first-served rule, whereas that is not necessarily the case in New Zealand. And I keep saying chips when I mean to say crisps. Potato chips have a very different name here, and by saying chips the British think I am referring to the stuff served at McDonalds and KFC. I guess that's why they love serving gravy with their chips.

And then, there is my Kiwi accent. Sometimes I have to repeat myself, say things a little slower, or revert to the Queen's English when speaking to the locals. But at least Hayley Westenra knew I was a Kiwi and understood exactly what I was saying. So while I'm here, I'll be flaunting that accent to every Brit that I talk to, even if they keep asking me what a Beef Wullington is.

During my time here, I've sort of become more patriotic, for want of a better word. I'm proud of saying I am from New Zealand. I don't bother to change the way I speak, even if I become the subject of some ridicule. I still keep my eyes and ears on developments happening in New Zealand. And I'm listening to a lot of New Zealand music lately, and in my opinion there is a lot of good music from New Zealand. For Tina's birthday present, I made her a CD of New Zealand music songs, and named the CD after our street address, to add some sentiment to the gift. The CD included songs from different genres, songs from legendary artists, songs from upcoming artists, my personal favourite songs, and songs rated by New Zealanders as the best songs of all time. In the end, I think I came up with a good mix of songs, and I think she liked it.

To close, one of the songs I included on the CD was Six Months in a Leaky Boat (wow the same name as this entry), which has many references to New Zealand. Everytime I listen to that song, in a land far away from home, I can't help feeling more patriotic.

Aotearoa, rugged individual
Glisten like a pearl at the bottom of the world
The tyrany of distance didn't stop the cavalier
So why should it stop me? I'll conquer and stay free
Ah come on all you lads, let's forget and forgive
There's a world to explore, tales to tell back on shore
I just spent six months in a leaky boat
Lucky just to keep afloat

I may be living in the UK for six months, but I'm still a Kiwi at heart.

Walks Along The Seine, Laughing In The Rain, Our Last Summer, Memories That Remain

The title of this entry was inspired in part by the ABBA song, Our Last Summer, which ties in to my recent trip to Paris. But unlike the song, for me, my trip to Paris was not for romantic reasons. However, I definitely felt the romance while I was there, and Paris has it in spades.

A mate from Boston and myself decided to go to Paris while he was here. I organised the Eurostar tickets and the accommodation, and we both contributed ideas and researched the places we wanted to check out. In the end, we managed to cover quite a lot of area and attractions during our 3 days there. Paris is a very big city and 3 days wasn't enough to see everything. But we managed to see a lot of things, albeit at a rushed pace.

We saw the Arc de Triomphe, climbed the Eiffel Tower, went inside Notre Dame, Sacre Coeur, Les Invalides, Roland Garros and the Louvre, cruised down the Seine on a boat, checked out Moulin Rouge and walked down the Champs-Élysées.

Before I went to Paris, I tried to learn some French to speak to the locals. I covered greetings, etiquette, introducing yourself, where I come from and where I lived. It went rather well, as the locals seemed to want to know where I come from, so I just dished out the rehearsed line "Je viens de Nouvelle-Zélande, mais maintenant j'habite à Reading", which means "I come from New Zealand but now I live in Reading". I think I must have said that three times during my time there, and the locals seemed to be impressed (either with my French or my Kiwi heritage), with replies such as très bien and bon voyage! However the locals I spoke to also had good command of English, possibly because Paris is very cosmopolitan, so when they spoke English to me, I replied to them in beginners level French.

I can't really think of a single attraction that did it for me. The entire city of Paris captivated me, with its friendly people, tree lined streets, historic buildings, food (pain au chocolat, or chocolate croissants, are to die for), and, of course, the beautiful French ladies which I couldn't help look at! Paris is a lot like London in a way. Both are big cities, have similar public transport systems, and has a river that basically divides the city. However Paris has a certain romanticism to it, which London doesn't seem to have. Hence I found Paris to be really endearing, in particular the tree lined streets, and the French style outdoor cafes.

I wouldn't hesitate visiting her again, and when I do, I hope to arm myself with more French to really get along with the locals.

Paris restaurants
Our last summer
Morning croissants
Living for the day, worries far away
Our last summer
We could laugh and play.

The Good Samaritan Was Just Not Good Enough

I was unfortunate enough to witness a deeply disturbing incident on Thursday 30th April. Here's how it unfolded.

As I walked home from the gym, listening to music in my own little world, I noticed someone at my local bus stop trying to grab my attention. The lady was a mess. She was incoherent and she smelled of booze. I tried to ignore her, but then I noticed blood, and as I realised the severity of the situation I stopped and tried to listen to her.

From what I made out, she was assaulted by her partner. She sustained a broken nose, which troubled her breathing. Blood was on her face and her hands, and the clump of blood-soaked tissues in her hand did little to stem the bleeding. In the other hand was a large can of beer.

Distressed, she said that she needed to get to her mother's place. I initially thought that her mother's place was far away, as I thought she was catching a bus. But when I tried to reason with her I learned that her mother's place was not far from where I lived. Apparently she took the bus to her mother's place, but as she took a different numbered bus (bus number 111 instead of bus number 6), she got dropped off at a bus stop that was not the closest stop to her mother's place. Hence her current position and her current predicament.

She had a suitcase, and a carry bag. The suitcase wheels were unstable and stiff making it impossible for her in her state to drag it along. Plus it was heavy, and she kept telling me that she was going to collapse and die. I volunteered to carry the suitcase to her mother's place, knowing that when she got there she would be taken care of. An ambulance would be contacted to treat her injuries, and the police can be notified about the assault.

It only gets worse.

The suitcase was very hard to drag on the wheels, and the handle was about to break. So I carried it under my arm from the bus stop, past my house and into the little street where her mother lived. The suitcase contained pretty much all her possessions - clothes and a DVD player. As we walked, there were a few people that looked at her, but no one was interested, or showed any concern. It was as if she was the village idiot, always getting into trouble, and that no one wanted any involvement with her. Gently I suggested that she stop drinking the beer, but she replied that it helps kill the pain.

Finally we reached her mother's place. And even though I was only 100 metres away from my house, the street that we were on felt like another part of town. It was seedy and run down. I knocked on the door. There was a sound of a dog barking, but no one seemed to be at home. I knocked again, and the dog kept barking but still no one opened the door. I knocked a third time. The dog kept barking, and still no one opened the door. The dog kept barking, and the wait felt like ages. Finally a window opened from above, and a lady stuck her head out.

"What's that noise?", she sounded rather irritated. I didn't know who that lady was, and I presumed it wasn't the mother. When she looked at the lady I was helping, she got really angry and said "I don't want you in here!" It was the mother, and my heart sank when I realised that this was a case of a very dysfunctional family.

I tried to step in, and reasoned with her mother. "Please, she needs help". The mother immediately snapped back at me. "Don't tell me what to do, you don't even know half the story!" I was immediately taken aback, and pretty soon it was mother hurling insults and expletives, and daughter pleading to be let in. The argument soon got heard by the neighbours. A black woman stuck her head out from her front door of the adjoining house, wondering what the fuss was about. Pretty soon, she jumped in telling them to be quiet. The mother was a complete battle-axe, telling her to shut up. I just stood there shocked at the situation.

The mother demanded that the daughter cannot stay at her house, telling her that she has had enough of her. "I've got my own life to live! I don't want you ruining it for me! You drink too much and your friends are into drugs! I've had enough! You're 29 for god sake, Alison!" Alison pleaded that she won't stay, she just needs to come in and get cleaned up. She said that she had found a place to live, but the tenancy agreement did not start in another 2 weeks. The mother was still unsympathetic. I feared that she might just close the window and leave us out in the cold.

She did exactly just that.

But after a couple of minutes of standing outside, she opened the front door and started laying down more demands. She gestured at the beer that Alison was carrying and said, "You can't bring that in here. I don't drink! And I don't want you staying here, you leave by the end of today!"

I helped Alison bring the heavy suitcase inside her mother's house. The inside was a big mess. Inside the house, the mother told Alison to "take her shit of the table", probably demanding that her bag be dumped on the floor. This was a very bad relationship between mother and daughter. I've never seen anything like it before. It was as if I was in a bad episode of Coronation Street. They say that you shouldn't believe everything you see on TV, but when they portray an example of dysfunctional families and domestic violence, take note! It is very real and it exists in our society!

I waited outside, itching to get home, when Alison came outside to say thank you for helping. She asked me for money. I only had a 20 pound note on me, and I just couldn't give that to her. She might use it to buy booze, drugs, or some other illicit materials. She asked for my name, which I gave her, but in her unfit state she mistook it as Gary. I didn't correct her. I believe she asked me for my contact number, and I could've given her my business card, but I basically left her and rushed home as soon as I could.

As soon as I got home, I immediately took a shower. My body was in a sweat, both from the gym and from that experience, and my hands smelt of her blood. It was very unnerving and scary, not just for Alison who will probably sleep on the streets, but for me too. As I washed myself, I immediately thought of the parable of the Good Samaritan from the Bible.

A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, when he fell into the hands of robbers. They stripped him of his clothes, beat him and went away, leaving him half dead with no clothes..... But a Samaritan, as he traveled, came where the man was; and when he saw him, he took pity on him. He went to him and bandaged his wounds, pouring on oil and wine. Then he put the man on his own donkey, took him to an inn and looked after him. The next day he took out two silver coins and gave them to the innkeeper. 'Look after him,' he said, 'and when I return, I will reimburse you for any extra expense you may have.'

From this story, I was the part of the Good Samaritan, and Alison was the unfortunate victim. But regrettably, I fell far short of being a Good Samaritan. I couldn't take her to my house. I wasn't able to take her to the nearest A&E, or the nearest women's shelter. I didn't really say much to quell the hostile situation between Alison and her mother. In fact I was pretty useless. I thought that if I was in New Zealand, I could have done more to help her, just because I had a car, and a knowledge of the local facilities. But here in the UK, I have nothing, except the bare essentials.

The realisation, combined with the situation I experienced, distressed me greatly that evening. After a hard workout at the gym, I was looking forward to a big meal, but I had lost my appetite completely. Luckily I had a housemate to talk to about this.

That night, I lay on the couch in the lounge. And like a patient visiting a psychiatrist, I retold the story to Tina. We traded stories, exchanged experiences, and even shared a few laughs. It didn't make the situation right, but at least by talking about it I felt better afterwards, knowing that I did all I could to help Alison. Even now, as I draw on that particular disturbing experience to write this entry, I still can't help wondering what if.

I don't know what happened to Alison that night, and what has become of her now. The only thing I can do is to pray that she has the courage and strength to turn her life around, and that mother and daughter can reconcile on better terms.

For the full parable of the Good Samaritan, please read Luke Chapter 10 verses 25-37.

Nah I Dun Hev A Kiwi Ex-Int

Accents. I just love a good accent, just like how I love a good curry or a good red wine. Certain accents are pretty sexy, some of them sound just so damn hot! I'm living in Europe, now and I'm fortunate that there is an abundance of these sexy accents right at my doorstep. But then again, some other accents can sound like fingernails on a blackboard. I won't name them in case I might offend my parents, hahaha! Oh well, you probably guessed which one I'm referring to.

It just so happened that when I was growing up in New Zealand I thought the Kiwi accent didn't exist at all. Out of all the English speaking countries in the world, the Kiwi accent just sounded ordinary, for want of a better word. It was as if you couldn't distinguish it from other English speaking countries, like you had to use a process of elimination to narrow it down. So I can just imagine someone from a non-English speaking nation using this particular line of reasoning:

okay so it can't be the Aussie accent because the "e" sound doesn't sound so strong, and it can't be the Yankee accent because it doesn't sound annoying at all, and it can't be the Pommy accent because it doesn't sound pompous and camp. Yep, it's gotta be a New Zealand accent.

(Again I'm doing a piss take, so please put your sarcasm filters on and take my comments with the required grain of salt.)

The reason why I love accents is because they are great for distinguishing different groups of people. They're great for stereotyping, making jokes, and generally taking the piss out on different races. That's the reason why I enjoy listening to them and trying to imitate them. Years ago, I was intrigued by the South African accent, courtesy of Lethal Weapon 2. Pretty soon I was trying to talk like a South African, which led me to impersonate a manager who was a South African. I called up one of the workers, pretended to be him and told him he got laid off. A very stupid thing to do, yes I regret it very much, but luckily it did not go out of control. However he totally fell for it. I didn't sound like my manager at all, but I employed a very convincing South African accent, and to the untrained listener it just sounds the same irrespective of who is speaking.

But I couldn't put my finger on the New Zealand accent. I always thought it was a neutral sounding accent. It wasn't strong like the Australian accent, and it didn't have a distinguishing characteristic that sets it apart from other native English-speaking countries.

Boy, was I wrong!

When I started living in England, I couldn't help notice that I sounded so much different to the locals. Of course it's obvious. Sometimes I got a few quizzical looks when I have a conversation with other people, wondering what I was saying. For example, my office manager confused my sentence "I'm getting a watch today", with "I'm getting a wash today".

But it wasn't just the sound. It was also the style of speaking as well. Kiwis tend to employ certain Kiwi mannerisms in their conversations, unique to other English-speaking groups. In particular, using the word "eh" after every sentence. It seems that this is a Kiwi habit to end a sentence with a question word, such as "eh", designed to give the other person a chance to speak. And it seems that I'm also in that category, and have been for a long time, way before I learned about this unique mannerism. Imagine this simple conversation I had with a pommie lady in the kitchen last week. Firstly, the non-Kiwi version.

A: So what did you do in the weekend?
B: Oh, I went to Paris.
A: Really? What was the weather like?
B: It was very good. Lots of sun.

Now imagine that person B is me.

A: So what did you do in the weekend?
B: Oh, I went to Paris, eh.
A: Really? What was the weather like?
B: It was awesome, eh. Lots of sun.

And it was through living here in a foreign country that I finally got an understanding of the Kiwi accent. Of course I also googled the Kiwi accent, and watched a few NZ videos on YouTube, just to hear what it sounds like, and quietly laughed when I heard something being said Kiwi style, thinking "yep that's how we speak in Aotearoa!" Even New Zealanders in the office reckon that I have a Kiwi accent, in fact a riul thuck one.

So, will I conform to the masses and try to speak differently? Adopt the Queen's English? No way! Learning about the Kiwi accent, and the way that we speak, has only made me more prouder to be a Kiwi. So while I'm here, I'll be spilling out my words and flaunting my strong Kiwi accent, much to the annoyance of others around me!

Fush 'n Chups, ini wun? Sweet as, bro!