Go Confidently in the Direction of Your Dreams...You'll Get to Watch Rugby!

The World Cup began a little less than two weeks ago, and things have been going just as swimmingly as they were before it began. Except now there's rugby to be watched - all the time. Some of you may recall that my vague plan for my first few months in New Zealand was to be in one of the larger cities hosting World Cup matches and find work to support myself during the tournament, perhaps in a bar or café that showed rugby, and maybe, through luck or hard work, I'd be able to see a match or two. I am absolutely astounded at how close to reality that vague dream has become. Being in Wellington has allowed me to not only watch rugby on television and live at the stadium, but I've also seen the Welsh, South African, and American rugby teams around town. The Australians are here as well, but keeping a low profile (with good reason). My job does not show rugby, and indeed many of my coworkers aren't the least bit interested in it, but my schedule allows me the time to watch almost all of the matches. In my numerous overseas experiences, my expectations have never been so closely matched by my actual experience.

Being slightly superstitious as any Red Sox fan is bound to be, I can't help fearing that I'm tempting fate by having such a good time. I was recently brought down by a fairly serious cold - after my bout with pneumonia earlier this year, any illness is worrisome - which has put a bit of a damper on things, but it hasn't kept me from finding my way to a television at the start of almost every World Cup match. Although I was excited just to watch rugby's biggest tournament, I have been even more impressed with the quality of play. This version of the World Cup tends to be much more predictable than its more famous (football/soccer) cousin, but the minnow nations have been much stronger this time around. I was absolutely thrilled with Canada's 25-20 win over Tonga, a team of almost entirely amateur players beating a team of professional Pacific Islanders. Teams like Japan and Romania have also been giving the typical superpowers a run for their money, a fantastic demonstration of the spread of rugby union. Every time I watch a game, I seem to see even more of the strategy and planning behind this sport that I've really only been following for a little over two years. Even more satisfying is when my mental analysis gets repeated by commentators or newspaper columnists, which has happened several times.

I've been told many times since I began wandering that I'm living a very "exciting" period of my life. It's always been true and I've always agreed, but this is the first time I've felt it almost constantly. I have already begun planning to head to the South Island when I leave Wellington, and I recently found out that two of my new friends here are heading in the same direction at the same time. If things keep falling into place like this, I might just have to buy a lottery ticket.

Wales and South Africa line up for their national anthems.

Not the best seats, but we did get to see François Hougaard's game-winning try right in front of us.

New Zealand's version of the "God's on our side" argument.

Outside the same church...and in Māori to boot!

The Giddy Good Week That Was

Those of you who read this blog regularly may have noticed that I tend to publish less frequently after I've been in one place for a while. Things that were new and exciting become normal, and it becomes difficult to discern what is and is not interesting to people back home. I've gone over a week without writing anything, but this time it's not because of the onset of normalcy - in fact, it's exactly the opposite. The past week has been so full of new and exciting events that I haven't had time to tell you about them.

Last Monday was my day off, and I used it to go for a hike in some of the further reaches of Wellington's Town Belt, a series of nature reserves that surround the original city of Wellington. I walked south from my flat in Aro Valley to the suburb of Brooklyn along Ohiro and Happy Valley Roads. At Landfill Road - guess where it got its name - I turned off the road and took a footpath up to Hawkins Hill, one of the highest points in the area. The walk took me back to my time on the West Highland Way and the Kerry Way, and I kept marveling at the fact that this was all effectively in my backyard. At one point I looked east and realized that the next significant land mass in that direction was South America (apologies to the Pacific Islands). But none of the early parts of the walk prepared me for the sudden appearance of an ostrich less than ten feet from me. Fortunately, it was behind a fence (the path followed the boundary between the reserve and a private farm), but it was quite a shock. Ostriches don't look friendly, and they're gigantic. This one kept following me along the fence until it ran out of space, and then made the oddest call I've ever heard a bird make - some sort of barking sound in its throat. Needless to say, I was shaken out of the almost meditative state I'd been in as I walked by myself. The rest of my route took me past the Brooklyn wind turbine and down through some really dense forest before almost dropping me on my doorstep.

The rest of the week included some extra hours at work and my first trivia night victory after four tries. But the real highlight was Sunday night, when I happened to be in the same bar as the Welsh rugby team. While chatting with a group of friends, I looked up to see Andy Powell - one of my favorite rugby players - getting a tour of the pub, the only Welsh bar in the southern hemisphere. As with my sighting of Orlando Bloom, it took me a minute to convince myself that seeing Andy Powell was even a possibility. I knew that the Welsh had arrived in Wellington, and that their first match is here on Sunday, and when Powell's teammate Mike Phillips came in to join him, I was absolutely certain. I was starstruck, but the rest of the patrons hardly seemed to notice until the players left, when they received a hearty goodbye and best wishes. It was just another reminder of the fact that Wellington is the largest city I've ever lived in - not only was I in the same bar as the Welsh rugby team, but no one made a big deal out of it. It's a good thing I managed to recognize them, or this small-town boy would have missed out on quite a thrill!

Now that I've calmed down from that encounter, I can look forward to six weeks of world-class rugby. The world cup begins on Friday, and I've managed to obtain tickets via my flatmate Marcus - so when my fellow bar patrons take on South Africa on Sunday at Westpac Stadium, I'll be there. I'll try to keep you updated, but if I don't, you'll know why.

P.S. My camera battery died as I tried to take a picture of the ostrich, and I didn't have it when I saw Andy Powell, so...sorry.

The Beehive, New Zealand's Parliament Building. I walk past it every day.

In the hills above Wellington - the city is behind me, but you might not guess that.

Looking South over Cook Strait.

I'm pretty sure the next landmass in that direction is South America. You can't quite see it, but it's cloudy.

Bicycle polo in Aro Valley. Or hipsters on fixies, if you're jaded.