St. Pat’s Day last year I was working/playing/drinking heavily at a wee bar in the even wee-er town of Blackball, New Zealand. I can’t believe it’s already been a year!! Click here for the one picture I appear to have taken during the night (hmmm…i wonder why it’s blurry…)
I’m a sucker for nostalgia. Thinking back on that day makes me reeeeally miss the land of the Kiwi. The most beautifully random things would happen on a near regular basis. That day I was mowing the lawn outside when a stranger tapped me on the shoulder and said, simply, “come on now, we’re off to play cricket.” I didn’t know this guy, had never seen him before, but with only a second of hesitation I left the mower where it stopped and hopped into his van. New Zealand is definitely that kind of magical place if you let it be.
I’d never once played cricket…and it showed. Even so I can now say I was once a part of the Blackball Cricket Team that lost so miserably the the Bob Marley clad look-a-like (complete with fake dreads) team that comes all the way across the island from Christchurch every year to play a game with the locals (and a few of their tourists) in this small, laid-back town.
The story of how I hitched there is one of my favorite short stories. If you didn’t read it last year here’s the link.