The short snooze after lunch yesterday was cut short in order to go down town for the All Blacks match. I decided it would be best to get an hour in even though I actually felt ok, but when I was awoken, I felt like I hadn’t slept in weeks. After almost gouging my own eyes out and groaning like an old man needing a hip replacement, we went for food and some watering hole to find the match. The night was cold, very chilly walking in the wind, I was not only regretting my decision not to bring a jacket, but to also only have one thin jumper. With a pizza nestled in the belly, we wandered around, seeing where might be good to see the game. Like any good Irish folk worth their salt we decided the Irish bar would do, it was almost kick off and did not want to miss the haka. There is something ironic to travelling half ways around the world to watch the local team surrounded by your own people. The bar was full, but waiting in the queue demonstrated why sometimes Irish folk abroad are just not the sharpest tools in the box. The two bouncers were your typical Maori’s, large and physically striking, they must have been at least 15 stone each. An Irish lad, who I am going to hazard a guess was from Tipp (had the typical checkered shirt, a full pot of gel in the hair, that unmistakeable brogue, and the look of a man that was missing his hurley), leaned up beside him, and asked in a serious tone “Who are you going for in the match?” Bearing in mind the All Blacks were playing Japan, I assumed he was being sarcastic, until he waited patiently for an answer. On hearing the bouncer’s response, he roared out “Up Japan” as if he was in Croke Park and the national anthem was just about to finish. And with that he staggered back in.
The match itself was a bit of a cricket score, and should keep the locals happy for a while, and the media. The papers are quite critical here; one headline read “Halfbacks too slow”, so that will appease them for a while. We then made tracks towards the harbour area, where the general hustle and bustle is. Puma had set-up a Social Bar, which had ping pong tables, pool, basketball throwing, arcades etc, and of course a bar. The added bonus was that it was free in and to play the games, though I won’t be threatening any big guns with my game. When you are spending more time looking and picking the ball off the ground you know there is room for improvement. Then it was a couple of more bars, before off to hit the cot.
Waking up with a mouth as dry as the Sahara was quickly put aside as we remembered that buffet breakfast was waiting below. And what a breakfast it was. I'll have to confess that I have not stayed in many 4 star hotels before, and maybe this is more common that I had thought, but walking into the restaurant where it was held, I felt how a fat kid must feel if given keys to Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory. Nothing short of glorious. In the bread and pastries section there were 11 different offerings, then onto cereals with a choice of 7, also a good offering of dried fruit (who in their right mind eats dried bananas?), then your usual beans, eggs, rashers, “sausages” (frankfurters in reality). After this is crackers, cheese, 8 different types of fresh fruit, yoghurts. If this is not enough, salamis, smoked salmon and ham can finish you off. The longing to have everything in sight is overpowering, and my first mistake was to park myself at the juice dispenser and throwing back the juice to quench the thirst. This amateurish start only served to bloat me and reduce my capacity. It’s a learning curve and I will know better for tomorrow.
Again, the breakfast is fascinating from a cultural point of view. We went down just after 9, and the buffet is open from 6 – 11, so it was full of Aussie’s, too early for many of the Irish guests. As the Australian mentioned at the table next to us “the Irish are still coming home from last night”. The first thing evident is the difference in the number of plates at the tables. They have many plates, with a slice or two of bread on one, hot food on another, croissants on another etc. The few Irish in the room, and myself included, seem to operate from the “lets fill one plate as high as we can” school of thought. The mentality is that it is either your last meal, or they will be closing in 5 minutes. The appearance of the guests is another. The Aussies, and indeed Kiwis look fresh as daisies, while any of the Paddies in there looked as rough as a bears bum, wearing the same clothes as the night before, beer stains on the jerseys. The other major difference is the contrasting conversation. Our southern hemisphere counterparts are chirpy and loud, very different to ourselves. In fact there is no conversation whatsoever. This is partly due to their overindulgence the night before, but mainly due to the surroundings. When you talk, you cannot eat, and when you cannot eat in a buffet breakfast, you are doing yourself a dis-service. You can talk when you are full!
After dragging myself away, I needed to rest after the food. After this the plan is to us relax for the day, and make our way towards Eden Park for the match. Hopefully it will be a good match, and a win would be great, though with one win against a southern hemisphere side on their home turf in the last 30 years, it is cautious optimism, more in hope than expectation.
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