New Zealand - Dunedin - Criminal Activity

We recently went for dinner with some of Mike's Scottish relatives from the Watters side of his family... whom he had never met before. It was particularly interesting walking into the appointed restaurant when Mike had no idea what they looked like or what their names were. We agreed that to resolve this problem, he would enter and loudly announce that he was Mike from Canada and hope they identified themselves. It played out exactly that way. Bonus: they treated us. Nice.

On our way home, our party broke apart. Ashley headed off to the gym, while Mike and I caught the bus home. Now everytime we leave the house all together, we take a poll to see who has the key. There are only two keys between the three of us and generally one key cannot be found when it is needed. Hence, we double-check. This excursion had been no exception and Ashley assured us vehemently that she in fact had a key.

Unfortunately said key remained with her upon our parting. Mike and I arrived back to the flat and realized this. Couldn't we call Ashley, some might say? No, since none of us have a cell phone. Couldn't we wait until she got back then? Estimated time until Ashley returned home: 60-80 minutes. Too long for those of us who'd worn shorts to dinner.

We were obliged to consider criminal acts to force entry into the flat. Sadly, this is not the first time I've had to break into the place I call home. I also had to do so with my sister when I was younger when we got locked out. It was frighteningly easy with a little imagination.

I took stock of the situation while Mike tried to pry open the downstairs windows with little success. We had at our disposal: one second floor open window. One garden ledge. Two bobby pins. One broken clothes-drying horse. One garbage can. One baby plant. Two reasonably useful individuals. One kitten. All in all, not great resources. Surveying the upstairs window, the height and potential for serious damage should a climber fall made it an unappealing choice. We brainstormed for solutions.

Mike suggested we throw the kitten through the open window so that the kitty could then come open the door for us. He then bargained with the kitty, reminding her that she owed him for the bacon treat of the day before. The kitten responded by playing with a ball of garbage. Mike was fired from brainstorming.



Now Mike generally boasts his ninja talents to anyone who will listen (not many people, since he has zero ninja skills), I asked if they extended to lock picking skills and loaned him my bobby pins. Turns out he (and I) have zero lock picking skills too.



That left us with the dodgy option of scaling the wall to the open window. Seeing as neither of us were Spiderman, that meant someone was going to be a human ladder and someone was going to put their life at risk. No surprises, I volunteered to be the ladder with the condition that he not stand on my head. Shockingly, this plan worked extremely well. Mike stood on my knee as I boosted his other foot up to my shoulder and slid up the wall till I was standing, at which point he somehow moved his feet to the ledge of the window frame and then chin-up'ed through the open window above.




Not to be a nay-sayer, but I definitely didn't think he could do it. Way to prove me wrong, Mike!

New Zealand - Dunedin - Not the Wonka Factory and the Pride of the South

Saturday we were feeling ambitious. Ashley and I decided to tour the Cadbury Chocolate Factory before hitting up the farmer's market. We presented ourselves at 9am sharp for the tour, after busting a move to walk there in less than twenty minutes. I had already been warned the tour was a bit disappointing, and it was if only because there is so much more they could have done with it. You're not allowed to take any pictures inside the factory (trade secrets, etc.), but seeing as the factory itself was closed because it was the weekend, I really didn't see anything worth taking a photo of, let alone pirating.


We did learn a fair bit about the history of chocolate and how to make it. For instance, most white chocolate is not real chocolate because many companies make it with artificial flavours instead of with cocoa butter. And Cadbury chocolate tastes far better here than in Canada because they get their cream from Otago Holstein cows, as opposed to the Jersey cows used in the North American factories.

And of course, we saw the famous Chocolate Fall. While watching 1 tonne of liquid chocolate drop the length of the 750 tonne silo we were standing in was fairly impressive, I secretly wished it had been more of a chocolate waterfall like in the Wonka Factory. Plus, the fall itself is only aesthetic; it serves no functional purpose at all (except luring tourists in, I guess). Ashley almost got caught in the splash zone of chocolate too - the entire inner railing was splattered in deliciousness. We did get free treats out of the deal though.

Far far far better was the Speight's Brewery tour that Mike joined us for that evening. We were guided through the history of beer from Ancient Egypt to the foundation of the brewery in Dunedin.


Interesting trivia fact of the day: the expression skull/skol in Australia and Scandinavia derives from the Vikings' practice of honouring their fallen enemies by hollowing out their skulls and using them as beer mugs. No joke.




We also learned about beer is brewed. A lot of the information was really boring, so here are the highlight facts.


1) Malt dust is highly combustible. They use wood shovels to move it because any spark from contact between a metal shovel and the ground could ignite the dust. The malt warehouse burned down in the 1940s because some dummy used a metal shovel.







2) Hops is the only other plant in the same genus as marijuana.








We also really enjoyed the continuous showings of the Southern Man ad campaign for Speight's beer. Mike asked if it bothered us at all how the commercials were entirely geared towards men and honestly, at least they were shameless about their target demographic. In North America, they're also targeting the male audience but are sly about it. The Southern Man heavily draws on the beer's motto of Pride of the South too, which means all the scenery in said commercials is spectacular South Island vistas. And I know some of my more feminism and gender studies-inclined friends would probably be very critical of the identity construction of the Southern Man - have a peek here: http://www.speights.co.nz/Southern-Values/Southern-Man-ID-Chart.aspx

Obviously the best part of the tour was the half hour at the end dedicated to tasting six types of beer brewed by Speight's: Harvest, Summit, Gold Medal, Distinction, Old Dark, and Porter.

Did I mention it was unlimited supply? We were encouraged to at least try all of them and work our way from lightest to darkest. Seeing as we were drinking... I mean 'tasting'... alongside two Aussies and three Germans guys, there was some pressure to keep up. Mediocre fan of beer that I am, I am proud to say I did try all of them (and then some - I think I made it through eight glasses in 30 minutes). I figured I'd like the Harvest one the best, since it was the girly apricot flavoured pale lager, but I was surprised to discover that my favourite was Distinction, followed by the Gold Medal ale.