Are you Canadian?

Since I got to New Zealand, I have been asked that question more times than I can count--'Are you Canadian?'

It's quite obvious by my accent that I am not originally from here but people don't ask where I'm from unless we have more than a 2 minute conversation. When they deduce that I am either American or Canadian, 4 out of 5 folks will opt for the Canadian question as opposed to asking if I am from the US.

Interestingly enough, my answer is usually followed by the other person leaning forward a bit and saying, quite apologetically, that Canadians are insulted if you call them Americans!

Personally, I don't have a problem with being confused with being Canadian since it's a pretty close call. But I can't, for the life of me, understand why there is a problem from the other side.

I googled 'Why do Canadians hate being called Americans?' but was quite overwhelmed with the over-a-MILLION results. Obviously, I'm not the first one to ask that question on the internet and there wasn't a definitive answer in the few articles I read.

I don't get it. If you are Canadian, can you please enlighten me, eh?

This is NZ!

 We love to watch this ad, it's so well done and the cow makes us laugh.









what cows leave behind

As I was typing the title, I realized that it could be taken differently than  what I mean, but that's ok. What I mean is that I have discovered two more plants that cows won't eat.  That brings the total to 4 including parsley and calendula. I haven't done any in-depth research to see if these 4 plants have anything in common to ward off being eaten by cows, but if I do, I will certainly let you know!

arrowhead


spurge

The things I learn by living in the middle of cow pastures paddocks.

final part of Napier trip

Our little trip had an interesting last night. We had been out wandering around all day and it was getting dark when we started back to our room. We decided to have a leisurely fish and chips dinner from the park's restaurant, which was across the road from our room, adjacent to the conference room. That way, we could settle in early for our drive home the following day.

Since Kennedy Park is on a quiet side street, we were surprised to see a police car backed into one of the visitor's spaces just outside the gate. Hmmm. We turned into the entrance and it got spookier. There was a BIG guy with a bullet-proof vest standing at the automatic gate, looking inside each car that entered. We decided that somebody had to have been attacked by a gang or something!

As we crept along, we saw an ambulance backed into a parking space and lots of people walking around in uniforms. What was going on???

We looked down the street where we should turn to get to our room and it was filled with vested police wandering about talking to each other and, apparently, people who worked there. So we drove down to the next street and saw that the conference room entrance was also covered by official-looking people. Weird.

Since the restaurant was connected to the conference room, we concluded that fish and chips from there was probably not an option, so we went into the room to get a cup of coffee and make other plans, all the while very curious about the hub-bub outside.

Hubby decided that we were out of milk for our coffee so he could go to the office and ask what was happening. He got the milk but the receptionist wouldn't tell him anything. So he decided to see what the internet had to say (he's clever like that!) and paid $1 for 7 minutes of internet. Yes, you read that right, a dollar for seven minutes on the internet! [Note to self: buy laptop for next trip!]

He found out that the Israeli ambassador was making a speech there. Of course, since the city owned the recreational park, it made perfect sense that it was the venue for a visiting dignitary, but it certainly interrupted our dinner plans!

We went back to town and got fish and chips from a take-away place and headed back to the room. Apparently, the police and the ambulance were not necessary for the night and we headed out the next morning from the quiet of an off-season holiday park.