Thursday 30 November 2017

When out on my bike I meet Santa
One day while out on my bike I met Santa Claus. It was some years ago (about nine) when I was in Roveniemi, known as the Capital of Lapland.  With my companion we had pedalled in stages south from the Norway/Finland border to arrive in Roveniemi.
The town at 66 deg. 30 minutes North claims to represent the Artic Line. But it is in reality about six km south of the Artic Line. The Artic Line position changes each summer. It is calculated as the point north where the sun sits above the horizon at midnight. 
We had cycled to Roveniemi from the Norwegian town, Tromso, which is 300 km north of the Artic Line. Tromso also boasts the world’s most northern brewery.
A feature on the outskirts of Roveniemi is Santa Claus Village. My guide book recommended we give it a miss unless we have children in tow or were prepared to feel about age four. We ignored the warning and entered a large log cabin, a suitable looking home for Santa. I must say it was quite impressive, something like Peter Jackson’s Weta Workshop might have dreamed up. A large mechanical device in the ceiling was designed to slow down the earth’s rotation enabling Santa to travel the entire world in just one long night. Well that was one long-time mystery finally solved. We did meet Santa, deemed to be the genuine guy and dutifully had our photo taken.


He was remarkably convincing. In a cultured voice he asked where we were from. Having told him ``Christchurch, New Zealand,’’ he looked curiously thoughtful. I was compelled to ask, ``have you been there?’’
``Only on business,’’ he replied.
Other Roveniemi highlights were enjoying whisky in a pub convincingly devoted to writer Ernest Hemmingway.  (Hemmingway never visited Finland) and visiting the world’s most northerly McDonald’s. We arrived in time for breakfast only to find it did not open until midday.

I was carrying a spare rear tyre purchased in Tromso. I didn’t need it so it eventually went onto my commuter bike. I was worried about a tyre wearing out. What I should have been more worried about was my Aorta was about to peel apart. The Aorta is a principal blood channel to the heart. It peeled apart soon after arriving home in New Zealand. That’s another story.  


      

Friday 10 November 2017

Happy countries

National Geographic issue November 2017 has an inspiring cover story THE SEARCH FOR HAPPINESS.  What can we learn from Costa Rica, Denmark and Singapore –the most joyful places on the planet?




It would seem riches or possessions are not prerequisites for happiness. So New Zealand’s recent philosophy of rewarding the well off at the expense of those not so well healed is not the way to go. For all that, on world happiness surveys, we Kiwis do quite well, even slightly better than our Aussie neighbours.
Governments being seen to look after its people goes a long way. In other words social democracy. Feeling secure knowing a safety net is there when needed is appreciated. Having a purpose in life, enjoying one’s job, is another element for happiness. Being able to laugh a lot is an indicator. My employers at Christchurch Tramway score brilliantly on the laughter scale.  Happy people typically work no more than 40 hours a week and generally do some hours of voluntary work. They are likely to belong to clubs. 
I have never been to Costa Rica. Its success partly relates to it not developing large farms as did other Central American countries.  Costa Rica is therefore not dominated by an influential landholding class. Small property owners have elected presidents whose priorities include education, clean water and affordable health care.
I have been to the two remaining happy countries. Singapore did not appeal personally. Maybe I need to take another look? Singapore rewards hard work and ensures those on low salaries are supported with housing subsidies. The multi-ethnic society is also built on harmony and respect.
Denmark, on the other hand, appealled greatly and topped my expectations as a friendly country for travellers. Fact I was a long-distance bicycle traveller was undoubtedly in my favour. Denmark is a great supporter of bicycle commuting with those commuting on bikes outnumbering those in cars in the capital, Copenhagen.
Denmark’s highly-acclaimed social democracy does not come without a cost. The Danish pay higher taxes than would be tolerated with good grace in New Zealand. They agree, however, that they get excellent value for the tax they pay. Happiness appears to rely on agreeable government/society partnerships.
But are the Danes really happy? Judge for yourself from a few images I captured in the Copenhagen CBD.  


   


   

Tuesday 7 November 2017

Scott statue returns to its plinth on cnr of Oxford Tce and Worcester Boulevard
Visiting the restored Robert Falcon Scott statue a few days after it was hoisted onto its plinth was a memorable occasion for someone (myself) brought up to admire British heroes. Captain Scott was a special hero owing to his fame been built on extreme endurance and adventure. That especially appealed to me when growing up in Christchurch.


Scott and four companions reached the geographical South Pole on January 17, 1912 only to discover Norwegian Roald Amundsen he had beaten them by 33 days. Amundsen intended to be first at the North Pole but on discovering someone else had got there first. Was it Frederick A Cook or Robert E Perry? (Both Americans). In any event he turned his attention south infamously saying he was in a race with Englishman Scott) to the South Pole.
Scott, interestingly, never claimed to be in a race. He continued his expedition as planned, continuing with his considerable scientific work.
What cements Scott’s Antarctic adventure and making him a ``Boy’s Own’’ hero was his death along with his companions on their return from the South Pole. His statue in Christchurch, New Zealand, is the work of Scott’s widow Kathleen Scott. She travelled to Carrara in Italy and carved the 2.5 tonne statue from marble in less than a month. Marble, she reasoned represented Antarctic snow and ice.
She was in Christchurch for the statue’s unveiling on February 9, 1917. An inscription on the statue is from Scott’s diaries he kept till he could write no more:
I do not regret the journey that shows Englishmen can endure hardship, help one another and greet death with as great a fortitude as ever in the past.  


The statue secured its pride of place in the city for the best part of a century. Then, on February 22 2011, it toppled during the devastating Christchurch earthquake. It broke into three pieces. Its eventual repair, costing around $NZ 500,000, included fitting Scott’s marble legs with four carbon fibre rods. And the base sits on a plate and a spring, the latter in the plinth. During a future seismic event Scott is likely to fare considerably better.
I did note that nothing had been done to complete the unfinished-looking hands.
A visitor from Sydney was also taking photographs.
``Aha’’ he said, Sir Edmund Hillary was a great guy.’’


As tactfully as I could, I corrected his mistake, pointing to a plaque in the pavement, unveiled by Sir Ed in September 2007, to commemorate Christchurch’s long association with Antarctic exploration.
Incredibly, just days later the Scott statue was again in the news. It had been criminally vandalised. Scott’s staff had been removed and was found, broken into three pieces, in the river. A detail, a pouch, from his jacket had been taken and has not been recovered.
Without his staff, Scott’s arm is raised in a salute, or wave. We might be persuaded it is a century-old gesture to an, arguably unscrupulous, Norwegian who claimed to be in a race to the South Pole.