It would be impossible to write about this country without mentioning a certain world sporting event happening right now in New Zealand. As much as it seems strange to me surrounded by the constant excitement and euphoria, I'm guessing that some of you might not know that the Rugby World Cup is happening here, in full swing and flourishing.
For the hospitable Kiwi's, it is a chance to revel in hosting the rugby playing nations of the world and for others an opportunity to boast in their true heritage and origins. Never has patriotism been so apparent, the full flavours of different countries showing themselves in proudly flown car flags, painted faces, and when it comes to the game, fiercely declared loyalties.
Around our office in Otahuhu, the open and expressive natures of the Samoan, Tongan and other pacific island people demonstrates itself in a cacophony of colours, with cars trailing audaciously draped flags and shops coated in balloons and dancing streamers.
On the opening night of the world cup some of us go down to The Viaduct, central Auckland's sail stuffed harbour. We watch as traditional Waka's (the boats the Maori people used to reach New Zealand) glide past the watching crowd, the proud red vessels slicing through the calm harbour, their stony faced occupants striking the soft silken waters with swift and meticulous strokes.
After several other events, including a mass Haka (the traditional challenge of the Maori people, adopted by the New Zealand All Blacks team before the start of every game), the long anticipated fireworks display blooms in the night sky in a mass of golden roses, pink azaleas, and sapphire daises falling with a sound like silver.
As the last star fades away, the roar of the crowd declares their welcome to the world as it comes to play.
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