Tag 80: Even the simple proletarian wears a hat

09/17/2016

This day begins with the question of what we actually have about us that we are treated as second class beings. So today, not for the first time on this journey, we are once again rebooked on a later ferry. Except that this time it's not a plane but a boat, nothing unknown to us. The journey through the majestic waters towards the North Island is worth the wait - as we are told. We can confirm that the posters really show beautiful pictures. But even so, we only see clouds of fog that are so dense that we sometimes wonder if it is even possible to maneuver the giant ship through the narrow fjords. Well: it is possible, and we finally arrive in Wellington, the capital of New Zealand.

There we park ourselves and explore the city. The rain, which has not diminished despite our escape towards the equator, becomes more and more persistent, which is why we soon find ourselves sitting in a typical hipster cafe. I long for a pup atmosphere, as today is the big rugby match against South Africa and you can feel the heated atmosphere on the street, but Gudi desires something more refined. So we explore the menu of the restaurant and can report afterwards that the New Zealanders have been cooking in the cafe since we arrived and they are getting better every time. Obviously, we are a source of inspiration. According to Gudi's description, the cakes are "not a Sachertorte, but so sweet that it doesn't matter!".

Later, we change to a real, typical, original and literally sticky with beer, New Zealand pub. I am ready to experience my first live rugby game and I expect wild bar fights and the occasional pool cue or bar stool on my head. For preventive pain relief, we order a jug of beer (1.1 liters), which is served to us with two glasses that are hardly bigger than shot glasses. So I am eager to make sure no glass is ever empty. Mainly with my glass, since Gudi probably swallows at most two of these miniature pints all evening.

Before the game starts, the New Zealand players position themselves in a triangle and perform a dance that is so funny and wannabe - strong that I burst out laughing quite loudly. As a result, I don't dare to look around, but I'm sure to be at the center of the obligatory pub brawl soon.

Shortly after kickoff, the unbelievable happens. South Africa scores - and the New Zealand fans around me applaud. I am puzzled. I was firmly convinced that I had landed in a hooligan-infested rugby hotspot. Instead, the successful opponent is also given ovations. A ritual that is somewhat unfamiliar to me from Austrian football. When I take a closer look, I also notice that absolutely no one is interested in my skull and its division, but everyone is just captivated by the game. Slowly but surely, I realize what Gudi has been trying to explain to me all along: rugby is only brutal on the field, but otherwise a family sport. Hmm, nice on the one hand, but on the other hand, I have to honestly say that it makes me somewhat furious to cheer for the opponents.

After closer observation of the game proceedings, I also realize that I have lost a talent. In principle, the men on the screen are doing exactly what I have been doing as a defender in the soccer club for years: preventing the opponent from advancing with feet and especially hands. A mess, as Gudi would say.

Despite the fact that I was not allowed to witness a fight (starting one would probably not have been possible with these gentlemen anyway), I can only describe the atmosphere in the pub and the game as very appealing in the end. A nice, new experience.

Gudi's glorious laws:

I know it from Wales, they are not that brutal, it's a family sport.

Before the game, I dismiss this statement as a figment of my imagination, but I am already desperately searching for hooligans or other brawny bald heads. Afterwards, nothing surprises me anymore, as the New Zealanders are so friendly that I have a great desire for a typical grumpy Austrian sausage stand. Initially, I appreciated the kindness of the islanders, but now it honestly annoys me a little to see smiling faces everywhere. Sometimes I wonder if all of New Zealand has been put under some sort of drug or sedative, or what else could be the reason for the general satisfaction here.