As I have been tagged by the PAgent man, I feel required to post my book entry. Now, you understand that I am 'on the road' for several months and while my abode here in Australia is comfortable and very pleasant, it is also somewhat spartan. And I brought few books with me. When the call came from the PAgent that I had duties to perform, vis a' vis this book list, the only things on the desk at that moment were:
a) a Sydney phonebook
and
b) a guidebook to Australia, which, on page 123 had listings for hotels, none of which seemed that pertinent to my struggle to be interesting (in fact, the entry was much like that in 'a' above.)
So I got some books that we will be reading here in the program I am in and I selected one, more or less at random and performed the rituals. I now give you the entrails of the literary bird I have split open at the behest of PAgent:
"Assessing pedagogical effect is never easy. The only attempt to do so for catechetical instruction during this period has been for Lutheran parts of Germany. It led to negative conclusions, hotly contested, and to the surmise that an examination of catechesis in Catholic Bavaria would show the same results."
From John O'Malley's The First Jesuits.
And so it is complete. Read the Oracle as you will.
For my tagging, I choose:
1) Hog
2) SPU
3) Chuck D. (the attorney, not the one from Public Enemy)
Those NOT having blogs of their own may post in my comments. The rules, gents, are simple:
1) Find the nearest book
2) Open to page 123
3) Type lines 6-8 of said book
4) Tag three others
You have been tagged. Proceed at your peril.
Wednesday, January 24, 2007
Saturday, January 20, 2007
Words Fail
There are these theories, elaborate constructs of quantum physics, time and space, math and language, that state that it is possible for a place to be more beautiful, more wild, more spectacular, than Great Barrier Island.
I can state, conclusively, these theories, they lie.
Last week I was treated to a 4 day fishing trip to the Great Barrier. We left Auckland about 6-6:30pm and sailed North for about 2 hours, the Coromandel Peninsula on our right and the Northland of New Zealand on our left. The sun was setting just as we arrived at the Great Barrier, a spectacular explosion of color and beauty on the South Pacific...
We entered Fitzroy Sound just as it was getting dark, settling down in one of the myriad small bays for the night; the water still as glass, two Morepork (really) owls calling gently to one another across the sound, photoluminescence made the water around our boat glow and sparkle, making the place positively other-worldly. Fitzroy Sound (and I recommend you check Google Earth or some such for more detail) is big. As in, in the 1800's it was reckoned that Fitzroy was one of only two harbors in the world that could shelter the entire British Navy. It's that big, and that spectacular.
In the morning, we woke early to go out fishing and I was greeted by the captain and this view, the sky slightly overcast with high clouds.
We headed out through Man O' War passage, which is only a couple of hundred feet across, I'm guessing and just outside of Fitzroy, we anchored next to a large rock and dropped our lines overboard. The results were almost instant. A couple small, throw back snapper later and we started pulling up a fisheries' manual of the local fauna. I landed a Trumpeter, Bede landed a John Dory and Red and I landed a couple of Parore, including this one, which weighed in at about 8 pounds.
We returned to Fitzroy, the village at about 1030am after fishing for several hours and gorged ourselves on the Trumpeter, Red's Parore and the John Dory, which you can see Bede cleaning and filleting here:
The John Dory was exquisite, I can assure you. My big Parore was held in reserve, we went back out that day and fished the north end of the island, near The Needles, way up top of the island, not really doing much, lots of small throw backs and a parade of non-eating fish graced us. Returning to Fitzroy Sound, we selected another isolated little bay, anchored and prepared for dinner. My Parore was butterflied and a smoker was produced. The fish went in, the beers came out of the cooler and we went into the water. Following brief showers to rinse off the salt water we settled onto the back deck to relax, lie about the ones that got away and enjoy the exceptionally delightful company of one another. It was incredible. The next two days we spent fishing and circumnavigating the island. The wind came up and we actually got stuck in Tryphena Harbor for a day as the winds roared through Colville Passage at 28 knots, bringing up the waves. We celebrated Mass each day we were out and it was absolutely amazing.
There are, you see, these places where language, where words are crafted. Adjectives roll off of tongues in these places and are soon sullied with overuse and unreflected application. These language mills, at the mention of the Great Barrier Island, they fall silent. The adjectives they would fashion falling uselessly to the floor, the craftsmen themselves painfully silent, like a Greek chorus that knows it cannot possibly meet the task of reducing this place into a sound which accurately captures its meaning. And this is the only place I have ever been where words positively...fail.
This was the sunsetting on the clouds my second night on the island...even the image doesn't capture it adequately. But it will suffice to stoke you to go there for yourself, perhaps...
More to follow...
I can state, conclusively, these theories, they lie.
Last week I was treated to a 4 day fishing trip to the Great Barrier. We left Auckland about 6-6:30pm and sailed North for about 2 hours, the Coromandel Peninsula on our right and the Northland of New Zealand on our left. The sun was setting just as we arrived at the Great Barrier, a spectacular explosion of color and beauty on the South Pacific...
 |
| From Great Barrier... |
We entered Fitzroy Sound just as it was getting dark, settling down in one of the myriad small bays for the night; the water still as glass, two Morepork (really) owls calling gently to one another across the sound, photoluminescence made the water around our boat glow and sparkle, making the place positively other-worldly. Fitzroy Sound (and I recommend you check Google Earth or some such for more detail) is big. As in, in the 1800's it was reckoned that Fitzroy was one of only two harbors in the world that could shelter the entire British Navy. It's that big, and that spectacular.
In the morning, we woke early to go out fishing and I was greeted by the captain and this view, the sky slightly overcast with high clouds.
 |
| From Great Barrier... |
 |
| From Great Barrier... |
We returned to Fitzroy, the village at about 1030am after fishing for several hours and gorged ourselves on the Trumpeter, Red's Parore and the John Dory, which you can see Bede cleaning and filleting here:
 |
| From Great Barrier... |
The John Dory was exquisite, I can assure you. My big Parore was held in reserve, we went back out that day and fished the north end of the island, near The Needles, way up top of the island, not really doing much, lots of small throw backs and a parade of non-eating fish graced us. Returning to Fitzroy Sound, we selected another isolated little bay, anchored and prepared for dinner. My Parore was butterflied and a smoker was produced. The fish went in, the beers came out of the cooler and we went into the water. Following brief showers to rinse off the salt water we settled onto the back deck to relax, lie about the ones that got away and enjoy the exceptionally delightful company of one another. It was incredible. The next two days we spent fishing and circumnavigating the island. The wind came up and we actually got stuck in Tryphena Harbor for a day as the winds roared through Colville Passage at 28 knots, bringing up the waves. We celebrated Mass each day we were out and it was absolutely amazing.
There are, you see, these places where language, where words are crafted. Adjectives roll off of tongues in these places and are soon sullied with overuse and unreflected application. These language mills, at the mention of the Great Barrier Island, they fall silent. The adjectives they would fashion falling uselessly to the floor, the craftsmen themselves painfully silent, like a Greek chorus that knows it cannot possibly meet the task of reducing this place into a sound which accurately captures its meaning. And this is the only place I have ever been where words positively...fail.
This was the sunsetting on the clouds my second night on the island...even the image doesn't capture it adequately. But it will suffice to stoke you to go there for yourself, perhaps...
 |
| From Great Barrier... |
More to follow...
Friday, January 19, 2007
A Big NZ Post Will Appear In The Next Few Days...
...but in the meantime, for the record, I hate leaving Aoteroa.
Saturday, January 6, 2007
Transmission from Paradise
Wow. Not sure what else I can write that will cover the last week except: Wow.
I arrived back in New Zealand on the first day of the New Year. Michelle and Steve B. picked me up at the airport and fed me and transported me up to the D's place at Hahei.
The weather, they tell me, has been inconsistent for summer weather and there has been grousing about the coldest December on record, but coming from Seattle, where we had the wettest November in recorded history, this is outrageously nice.
Sunny or broken clouds all day; temperatures in the 80's; almost no one wears shoes except maybe Jandals (what Americans call flip-flops, I'm too tenderfooted to go with out my Tevas for long). Birds I can't recognize (sorry, Tom L.) calling all day. White sand beach on a crystal blue ocean. Heaven, thy name is Hahei.
I am DEFINITELY the whitest person here. Everyone else has been taking advantage of the sun for a while and I am rather albino-esque at the moment, although steps are being taken to remedy this situation. I am, however, exercising great caution, as I have no desire to increase my already substantial chance of malanoma. I wake each day and slather SPF 30 waterproof sunblock all over my swarthy Scots complexion, paying particular attention to my nose. Sun glasses and a hat are not optional equipment here.
So far my list of activities includes swimming every day, sea kayaking to an island and exploring it (my group being the only persons on the island), snorkeling the marine reserve on the island, dredging mussels somewhere up near Cook's Beach where the good Captain came ashore for water and masts, cooking dinner for the family I'm staying with and the many people who drop by about 6pm for drinks and then just linger in an wonderful way throughout the evening, finning back from the island (approx. 1.5 kilometers), hiking, watching a fire that threatened some local homes that was started by some local youths with fireworks, and nothing. Doing NOTHING.
I have been reveling in the nothing part. I have nowhere to go and no when to be there. And it is the first time in a very, very long time when I haven't been on a vacation or some kind of break that that I wasn't worried about "what's coming next;" about focusing on getting back to work rather than just enjoying the here and now in front of me. And for me, right now, there is no 'next' because I honestly don't know what to expect from Tertianship and have no expectations of it, so I might as well take the grace God is providing at the moment. And right now that grace seems to be calling me to maxing my relaxing. And it's working. I haven't had this much fun since I can remember. So right now, think of me with envy. It is correct to do so...
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