Father Doyle

Father Doyle picked me up on Tuesday, and we drove to the high bluffs overlooking the coast.  It reminded me a little of the houses perched above Malibu on the California coast.  No worries about mud slides, though.  These are built on volcanic rock.  I didn’t bring my camera, and it was a bit hazy, so I don’t have any pictures.  We saw some of the damage from a 7.1 earthquake last October, and I met Fr. Dan’s delightful 84 year old mum.  Over a sandwich and a pint of Guinness, the good Father gave me a language lesson. 

Now, most of you know that when you fill up with “petrol,” you check under the “bonnet”.  You stow your your luggage in the “boot”, and wash the “wind screen.”  When you need a place to park, you look for a “car park” (cah pahk).  While going through the car park, make sure to slow down for the “judder bar.”  If you’re a visitor in town you may want to “hire” a car.  If you come to an intersection, you may have to “give way” to oncoming traffic so you don’t end up with a dent in the “wing.”  If you need to dress up, you can also hire a suit.  Possibly you'd want to hire a “flat”—not for your car, but for a place to stay. When you go inside, you’ll find a sink in the kitchen and a basin (pronounced “byson”) in the bathroom, or “bog”.  There are no restrooms here, only “toilets.”  If you buy groceries, you may want to pick up a “shopping trolley.”  If you plan a walk, you may want to take a “bum bag” (just what it sounds like).  If you order a biscuit, you’ll get a cookie. 

Well, I’ve got too much time on my hands.  Let’s take a break with a few pictures.

Soon—God willing—I’ll be writing you from “the ice,” unless I catch a “boomerang,” which happens when we reach the point of “safe return,” and it doesn’t look so safe.  In that case, after a five hour flight, we turn around and fly five hours back to Christchurch.  I don’t think I would enjoy that, but if it came to a vote, I’d vote for “safe.”   The people waiting on “the ice” for a ride home don’t really appreciate a “boomerang” either.

I should say that it is considered a privilege, here, to be able to go to “the ice.”  Like the sign in the airport that I posted earlier indicated, this is as close as many (including New Zealanders) will ever get to the Antarctic.  One of the biggest tourist attractions in New Zealand is International Antarctic Center.  People from all over the world, literally line up to buy a $55 ticket to see a penguin display, feel an “arctic storm,” and ride over an obstacle course in a Hagglund snow coach.  Meanwhile, right across the street, the C-17 awaits to carry us members of the US Antarctic Program to experience the real deal.