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Road Tripping | Dec 21, 2005 22:09

So it goes like this. A series of happy coincidences has me heading to Auckland to not one, but no less than two humungous feeds. As you can well imagine, the prospect of such a conjunction of fortuitous events has this perpetually hungry blogger feeling very interested.

As it was though a flight wouldn't cut it, on account of having to be in two different towns and a number of suburbs over the course of four days. I found myself driving then, on that seemingly endless trip along State Highway One.

There's a couple of things a man thinks when he's barrelling along the open road at 1[0]0 Km/h.

"I'm bored."
"Damn I wished that stereo worked."

Oh, and also, "when in the hell is someone going to finally build a big diversion around Hamilton/Cambridge/Taupo/Levin?"

Regardless of these minor problems, the need to attend my paternal grandparents Diamond Anniversary meant I was happily suffering the inevitable hassle of driving past hectares of gorgeous scenery I've only seen about a million times before.

A Diamond Anniversary. How many of those things do you think you'll see in this day and age? I'll tell you. Probably none.

So. Many. Lamingtons.

Anyhow, distraction and a pesky good-naturedness drove me to stop for a couple of hitchers. The first guy wasn't too bad. Decent young fulla, learning to be a dive instructor after doing some dole course. He got a passion for the sport, and was forking out something like $11k to make something out of himself. Good news story that.

The next dude was this young student. Bright-eyed and bushy tailed chap. Didn't know his ass from a hole in the ground but. When we picked up another hitcher, he even asked, "what are the Hells Angels?" That one stopped me in my tracks.

You see, the third hitcher was a slightly scary looking dude. The first guy had jumped out to head to Palmerston, and me and the student eventually collected this poor dude stuck in some impossible sun-soaked spot. Nice guy. Only had half his teeth, but dentistry does not maketh the man.

When I deliberately turned the conversation to P he was happy to show us a certificate where the Doctor told him he wasn't allowed to take the stuff anymore. Pesky damn sixth sense... How was I to know it gave him fits though?

Ok. So flash certificate man turns out to have the occasional gang tatt on his arms, black t-shirt, the whole nine yards. He was on his way back from somewhere in the South where he'd been visiting his kids and selling 60 tabs of acid to the neighbours. As you do.

Turns out that the guy was either an ex-Hells Angel or a current affiliate, not sure. He'd gotten a shitload of tabs from somewhere and kindly offered a few of them to us at a special mates rate. I declined, but when the student looked like he was about to part with a serious amount of money I thought that Che was best out of the picture. No witnessing A Class transactions for this driver.

I dropped them at a BP where they went to find some scissors to cut up the sheet, using the weak excuse, "gotta go to the $2 shop to buy a present for X".

For someone who didn't know much, that student was a surprising candidate for a couple of tabs under the eyelids. As it was the Hells Angel had already dropped a quarter before I even left the servo. Viva rock and roll I say, even if it is only 4 in the afternoon.

From there I made my way up to Papamoa to visit some family. Things didn't get any less weird.

Caught up for a meal with my mum and brother, after which me and the bro decided to put in a little time at the local tavern. The place is waaaay the hell out in the middle of no-where, and we guessed the only patrons would be locals. How wrong you can be.

As it was we strolled into the public bar, and stopped dead in our tracks. Instead of a few guys in jandals and singlets, we had a room full of guys dressed in little fairy costumes. Wings, little pants, tight halter-tops and fake boobs, wands. But... the other half of the room is full of guys in these giant Santa suits, red hats, beards, big black boots. Someone should have sent the elves to a beter store.

Of course, I can tell that you've immediately assumed that I must have been financially involved with the Hells Angel, but no. Although, it might have made me laugh a little more, and look a little less nervous.

I whispered to my bro, "Rugby club Christmas?" He just nodded.

We grabbed a pint each, sat in the corner and watched the evening unfold in all its weirdness.

And all this is only Friday.

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Black Between the Ears | Dec 15, 2005 21:13

Before I headed across the ditch back in '99 I seriously considered Brisbane as a place to begin the study, but was discouraged by the thought of being constantly bagged for being a Kiwi. As it was I spent waaay too much time there in Melbourne being referred to as a "fuckin' sheep-shagging Kiwi cunt".

Interestingly, even up until the time I left for Wellington the second-generation Calabrian who gave me the title would visibly flinch if I pointed out he was in fact a wog with tourette syndrome. I'd known the guy for about 5 years. I also had trouble explaining tautologies to him.

Otherwise, life is pretty easy for Kiwis in Melbourne. The place is a multicultural melting pot within the usual limits of redneckism. Brisbane on the other hand was likely to shit me within a few weeks. Sydney? A few days there was more than enough for me.

I decided to hang fire on the race riots to see what kind of stuff turned up in the media. But, now I am no long pyjamahadeen, work seems to take up most of my free reading time. Regardless, what a bunch of muppets. If you think that type of hatred is out of the ordinary for some parts of Australian society, think again.

We've all encountered racism at some time in our lives, but I've lived in Texas and I've lived in Australia. I have a hard time saying which place is worse. Look, I am sincerely sorry if this is offending any Australians. I don't think that all Aussies are racist, but there is a very, very clear vein of racism running through the nation that Māori -haters just don't equal for vitriol.

For that reason I read with interest Ben Wilson's comment put up by Mr. Brown this morning. My own experience says that he's both right and wrong. There are about 20,000 Aboriginal people in Victoria, and many hold very important jobs. One of the main reasons I stuck out the study was going to consult with a Prof. Marcia Langton of Melbourne University. She told me in no uncertain terms to "just fuckin' get on with it". Straight-shooter that Marcia.

The main reason there are few Aboriginal people in Melbourne is that many were dragged out of these prison camps called 'Missions' and dumped in rural townships to assimilate. By the 1960s the major Aboriginal populations in Victoria lived in four main locations. Lake Tyers Mission, about 5 hours East of Melbourne, in a series of humpty camps [shanty towns] along the banks of the Murray River, in the slums of Fitzroy and Collingwood, and in or near a closed Mission called Framlingham, a few hours West.

As part of the effort to assimilate Aboriginal people, they were targeted for a selective 'whitening' programme. Any person of 'mixed blood' was not allowed to marry or breed with a 'full blood' Aboriginal. The result is that a number of generations on, the Victorian Aboriginal population has whitened considerably. They still cop flak from rednecks but.

The next thing is the word 'blacks'. I'm still shocked to hear pretty much everyone here calling them 'Abos'. It's a bit like calling people niggers. Aboriginal people in Victoria tend to call themselves just that, or 'black'. A few of the old hippies call themselves 'Koori', but it seems to be going out of fashion.

During my time there I ranged across the state doing interviews with Aboriginal people in all kinds of jobs, but they were pretty hard to find. Until I got used to knowing who to ask, that is. I think Aboriginal people get used to keeping a low profile, if they can.

All that said, I know I'm becoming guilty of one-upmanship by insinuating that New Zealand doesn't possess the same vein of racism, but I'm not trying to prove we're better. The conclusion I came to a long time back is that Australians need to acknowledge that racism is endemic to their national society. Denying their racist history is one such sticking point, as it's a history that feeds into their present. With rednecks and white-trash Australia-wide unaware that their attitudes are just plain fucked, it's about time for 'the cycle to be broken' to use a cheesy colloquialism.

I've always thought that the dude with tourettes just acted out racism he'd experienced growing up in rural Victoria. But with well-documented racists like Howard in power it's hard to think that things will changes any time soon. Look at the Reconciliation marches, 500,000 people looking to symbolically bring Aboriginal people in from the cold, Howard claims it's unimportant.

Ah well. Maybe New Zealand can get together with a few other regional nations and stage an intervention. After all, a few protest marches aren't going to do it. A nation obsessed with the threat of Islam isn't going to come round anytime soon, ay?

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