Monday and Tuesday - The Last Post - Parades and Airports

Mike slept in until ten but Fi frocked up and headed out to Vulcan Lane for a breakfast of Moorish Eggs at Tasca in Vulcan Lane about eight thirty. The coffee was atrocious but the eggs were great. There was a wonderful write up of the previous night's match in the newspaper. Outside, like the words from the Simple Minds song, the description "the streets are empty" was very true. Nothing stirred but by some miracle the Auckland council workers had cleared all the debris off the streets during the very early morning and all was pristine and sparkling.

Pescado

So Fi got Mike up and they wandered off towards the Viaduct fanzone to find a place for brunch and buy some T-shirts for the nephews. We walked the whole Viaduct area in the heat and then took refuge at a North Wharf tapas bar called Pescado where we had some nice albondigas and chorizo with mushrooms for lunch. As we padded back into the city centre, Fi spotted people lining up on the pavements. When she asked a blue-coated volunteer why the people were gathering, he said that there would a victory parade by the All Blacks through the streets in about an hours time.


So we were fortunate to get a box seat position at the bottom of the hill on the corner of Wyndham and Albert Streets, an hour ahead of the 2:30 pm parade start. There was a TV3 crew in front of us to film and interview players as they passed and the crew did their best to rev up the crowd. The roars alerted us to the approach of the first bands and the first cars. Dan Carter appeared in the first vehicle (Fi was just about swooning on the spot) and then Piri Weepu appeared about ten minutes later to rapturous applause. Then the truck bearing Graham Henry, Richie McCaw and the cup swung into view to a rousing cheer. All the players were grinning from ear to ear although many were wearing sunnies, a sign of a good nights partying. We tried to follow the tail of the parade but the police blocked the way so we were stunned to get around into Queen Street and see something like 100,000 people milling around. The street was awash with a confetti of coloured tape and the vibe was amazing, people were just wandering around in a kind of euphoric daze.

Andrew Hore and Aaron Cruden

Dan Carter and Steve Hansen

Piri Weepu

Skipper and coach with Bill plus Brad Thorn, Mils Muliaina and Wayne Smith

Crowds in Queen Street after the parade

 
After a wrap up like that to our tournament and the buzz of being able to see all the players so close up, there was only one thing to do and that was to party. So we headed off to Mezze for some Spanish beers at about four, thinking we would go for a fancy pants dinner later at the Hotel de Brett.
 


But we wandered around after leaving Mezze and stumbled across a great Irish freehouse in Vulcan Lane called O'Carrolls which had a huge variety of interesting beers on tap including the Renaissance Stonecutter Scotch ale. Fi quickly spotted all the stouts on the extensive beer-by-the-pint-bottle menu and decided to try as many as her liver would allow, starting with the Renaissance Elemental Porter (9/10), followed by the Three Boys Oyster Stout (8/10) followed by the 8-wired iStout (yes that's eye-stout, i for imperial) which has 10% alcohol and is real rocket fuel (8/10). So we were very merry and much enjoyed our pie and mash dinner. In fact it was just about the perfect way to end the tour although the missing ingredient for the evening was our mates from Pirates. We meandered the 100 m back to the backpackers, closed our suitcases and collapsed into bed about nine, not looking forward to the 5 am alarm call so we could catch the 6 o'clock airbus to the airport the next morning, marking the start of our farewell to NZ and the long trip home.

We got up in the dark and checked out of Nomads and caught the airbus on Queen Street at 6 am but our heads were mildly foggy and we didn't really wake up until we saw Dave Callon from Pirates board our Jetstar flight to Christchurch about five minutes after we had taken our seats. That was a nice surprise, but the not-so-nice surprise was the forty five minute wait on the tarmac at Auckland while an engineer sorted a problem with an oxygen mask in the pilots cabin. We got to Christchurch about nine but missed talking to Dave as he had to bolt for his connecting Dunedin flight. We met a young Scottish couple in a cafe while waiting to board our Sydney flight and we dissected the tournament with relish and shared our delight at the welcome that New Zealand has provided us all. Then it was time for some duty free shopping and we loaded up with two bottles of Bombay Sapphire and a bottle of Ardbeg and then it was time for our 2:30 flight after our five hour wait. That flight was in a brand new 737-800 with a great back-of-seat entertainment system so it seemed not long until we landed at Kingsford Smith and were dashing through customs and onto the bus for the domestic terminal. By the time we finally landed in Perth at 7 pm local time, we had been in the air for nine hours on three different aircraft and we had been sitting around for nine and a half hours, an unreasonably long time for such a relatively short distance. Next time we go to South Island it will not be with Qantas but with Virgin, Pacific Blue or Air New Zealand.

At the end of a long holiday .....

It's hard to summarise in a few sentences what going to this tournament and what our seven week holiday meant to us. That the Cup was staged in New Zealand was a masterstroke because the welcome and hospitality offered to us by the folks of Dunedin (and other ports of call) could not (and never will) be surpassed. The really telling factor is that rugby (and the talk about it) is very much a critical part of the fabric of community in NZ so the local club activities contribute greatly to a general awareness of all things rugby. The people embraced this tournament as if it was a wedding - they put all the flagging and decoration up that they could find, they wore every piece of fancy dress they could muster and at every opportunity they put on the makeup (the face paint). It didn't matter who was playing who, the New Zealanders favoured all without prejudice and revelled in the chance to celebrate their love of rugby with others. We were so fortunate to see the whole tournament from start to finish, to make so many friends, to see so much amazing scenery, to drink so much amazing beer in the most amazing pubs and to see that fantastic new Forsyth Barr stadium in Dunedin. We'll never forget the intensity of the experiences that we had or the warmth of the welcome that we encountered, so thank you South Island, Dunedin, Pirates and RWC for the time of our lives.

We learnt a few new words to add to our vocabulary while we were there too, so Fi now knows what the trundler park at Countdown is and also the meaning of the following distinctly NZ terms and features: puffer jacket, Kapiti icecream, blue cod, cheese rolls, kaka, kakapo, Buccaneer, Agria, karakaberry, possum wool, section, Bluebird green onion chips, Tip Top boysenberry icecream, WOF, buckethead party, Sin Bin, Emerson's, McDuff's, wild thyme, sweet as, etc

Oh and by the way, we have a few "best of" shortlists to sign off with:

Best pubs: Albar in Dunedin, Careys Bay Hotel in Port Chalmers and O'Carrolls Freehouse in Auckland
Best beer (Mike): Anything produced by Renaissance Brewery;  Emerson's Brewer's Reserve Brown Ale
Best beer (Fi): Emerson's Southern Clam Stout followed by Renaissance Elemental Porter, 8-wired iStout, Emerson's Grace Jones and McDuffs Black Diamond
Most Unusual beer: Captain Cooker Manuka Ale
Best coffee: Mazagran in Dunedin
Best cafes: No7 Balmac in Dunedin, the Best Cafe in Dunedin and The Tin Goose in Alexandra
Best restaurant: Fleur's Place in Moeraki
Best food overall: anything you can buy at Otago Farmers Market, unbelievably good quality, especially the raspberries, the potatoes and the Havoc Pork;  South Island smoked salmon
Best beaches: Tomahawk, Long
Best people: Pirates Rugby Club and all who sail in her including Tommo, Hammo, Binnsy, Dave C, Mark H and Leah

Best people: our landlord Mr Somerville
Best people: Sally and Phil from Oamaru
Best scenery (macro scale): Poolburn Dam area and any view of Dunedin from a high point
Best scenery (micro scale): freshly poured Emerson's Southern Clam Stout in an Emerson's pint glass
Best stadium: Forsyth Barr Stadium in Dunedin
Best matches: Ireland v Italy, All Blacks v France
Best fans: Argentina and Ireland
Places we would visit again (and again): the Old Dunstan Road, Orokonui, Taiaroa Head, Oamaru, Pirates, Emerson's Brewery (he he)

Sunday - The Final Countdown

Vulcan Lane

There was lots of noise in the street during the night (traffic, burger-seeking White Lady customers, nightclub ejectees etc) but Sunday morning broke to an empty eerie quiet disturbed only by the occasional street sweeping machine. Surfacing about 8:30, we staggered off to Cafe Melba in Vulcan Lane to fortify the inner person with a good breakfast and blast ourselves awake with some strong coffee. We worked out our plans for the day and figured from the quarter final experience that we needed to be in the pub by 2 pm at the latest to get a seat. The kickoff was not until 9 pm so it would be a long wait and a good session. However, the first order of the day was to get Fi an All Blacks cape (sorry NZ, but there is no way I could bring myself to wear All Black gear) and to see if we could supplement the recycled sandpaper masquerading as towels in our room with the real thing. So we went off to The Warehouse for supporter flags and two $6 towels.



Kitted out, we decided to investigate the Queens Wharf Fan Zone, the site of the 200,000 person crush on the opening night of the tournament. The area was pleasantly buzzy with lots of people wandering around looking at the exhibits and stage area which was towered over by a P&O cruise ship. There were lots of excited French fans and a "for fun" referee who was red carding people at any opportunity!

French fans with Madamoiselle La Baguette

Referee rewards bad behaviour, ooh la la

Then we waited at the Britomart for the train to Eden Park, arriving at the Kingslander at about 1 pm and settling in at a table close to the window with our pints of Monteiths and Murphys. The atmosphere and the crowd were different today - quiet, more inwardly focused. Admittedly it was a long haul until the 9 pm kick off, but everyone seemed to be in their table sized groups and a lot of the general banter that we had enjoyed the last time was missing. Maybe part of it was that there was much less diversity of jumpers and nationalities on display - nine out of ten people were in All Blacks gear (or at least black in my case as I was wearing my Pirates shirt) and the rest were in blue. I also think that there was a sense of the weight of history pressing on the match - either NZ would get the monkey off their back or France would finally win the trophy.

Then about 3 pm the power went out - not just in the Kingslander but in half the street - packed cafes, restaurants and pubs were powerless. Talk about timing! Fortunately the taps were still dispensing beer and the kitchen staff were cooking by the light of torches! An hour or so later, some power was restored but unfortunately the pub manager subscribed to the theory that nothing encourages people to talk more than playing loud music and he turned the sound system on. And the atmosphere continued to be subdued so we left for Eden Park at about six.

Temporary stand - Eden Park

I hadn't checked the tickets for our seating location so that meant we had to walk to the far diagonal corner of the ground at Gate E and we had also missed out on the chance of a visit to the Clare Inn, but it didn't matter really. House parties were in full swing and there were lots of fans swarming all the entrances. We had to get up to our seats in the temporary stands (the main danger was that low cloud might obscure our view), up about 15 flights of stairs (see right). And all the toilets were at ground level. That certainly set the tone for liquid consumption! So up we went and found our seats. Altitude notwithstanding, we had a great view of the ground. You get a very different impression of the game from up there - you tend to focus more on the overall picture, rather than the individual contests. Fi took some photos of me (see below) for the record to show me wearing black (*shock*). The ground was slowly filling up with the ratio of All Black supporters to Les Bleus supporters at about 4:1. The wind picked up a bit (at least at our altitude) and Fi was really feeling the cold, so I trekked down the stairs to add a NZ RWC2011 scarf to her collection (which now stands at three - Australia, NZ and Georgia) and to stave off my own hypothermia. Despite the brisk and somewhat chilly evening, you couldn't get a hot drink anywhere in the ground. So it was up the stairs again to wait for the match to begin.

A dream come true

Honorary Pirate nurses Final programme

The teams line up for the anthems, packed house

The buzz in the ground grew slowly as the fans filled up the seats. Then came the roar as the teams appeared on the pitch and the anthems were sung and the game started. It was all very exciting but finals are not usually great games from a playing point of view. There is too much at stake and the teams tend to play very conservatively. However, the All Blacks came out of the blocks strongly - not as strongly as against Australia in the semi final, but they definitely took it to the French. The question that was on everyone's mind was would we get a French performance like the quarters (magnificent) or the semis (lacklustre)?



Fifteen minutes into the match, Tony Woodcock scored the first try for the All Blacks - a superbly timed set piece move from a lineout on the French 5 metre line. Weepu failed to convert - the start of a half of kicking that must have left him feeling like Johnny Wilkinson, as the form that had crushed the Wallabies deserted him completely. So both teams soldiered on, with the All Blacks dominant and several penalty kicks were missed. But the French defence stayed strong and the All Blacks could not penetrate the line. Unlike the Wallabies, the French did not kick possession away, but instead held onto the ball at every opportunity. However, the curse of the fly halves continued with both Aaron Cruden (NZ) and Morgan Parra (France) having to be substituted for injuries. The score at half time remained unchanged at 5 - 0 to NZ.


The second half started and the French offended within kicking distance. Steven Donald was given the kicking duties and landed a good penalty. We had a clear sightline down the flight path of that ball and it swerved unnervingly at least three times before suddenly at the last second dipping left between the posts. The crowd roared. The score was now 8 - 0 and the fans sensed that the All Blacks might be about to put the French to the sword. Then the game came alive. The French threw everything against the All Blacks and Dusautoir scored a try against a post. The conversion was slotted and the scores were now 8 - 7. And so it stayed for the rest of the match. For the next 30 minutes, the All Blacks looked nervous and unsure for the first time in the tournament, suddenly they seemed sluggish and tired. The French threw themselves at the black line again and again, but were unable to penetrate and the All Blacks not only defended magnificently, but did not give away a single kickable penalty. Finally the whistle blew for the end of the match and the All Blacks players jumped all over the place in jubilation while the French stood looking dejectedly at the turf.

That magic moment - Richie lifts Bill

Fireworks at Eden Park to celebrate AB victory

It took about fifteen minutes for the groundsmen to instal the presentation podium and during the wait they played some really classic loud pop music over the PA and people sang along. It was a wonderful thing to see the normally pragmatic and restrained New Zealanders jumping around in pure joy with fists pumping in the air yelling out the words to "April Sun in Cuba" by Dragon. When Graham Henry stepped up to be interviewed he literally couldn't hear what he was saying to the Sky TV presenter as the noise from the 60,000-strong crowd was deafening. Then the IRB president and the NZ prime minister John Key stepped up for the medal and cup ceremony and Richie McCaw became the second All Black captain to lift the dark gold William Webb Ellis trophy (known in the Rugby community as "Bill") as fireworks went off around the roofline of the stadium. Israel Dagg was seen rolling around in the white confetti around the podium and the team did a lap of the stadium with the cup to thank their supporters. The atmosphere was a strange mix of utter euphoria and sheer relief and we knew it would be a sleepless night of partying for many proud New Zealanders.







We waited until the stadium celebrations were over and then headed back to Kingsland station to catch the packed train back into town. The quiet reticence that had hung over the fans before the match had evaporated and the match was discussed (and congratulations or commiserations offered as appropriate) as we rolled into Britomart about half past midnight.

The streets were packed and people were partying. We were still wound up from the emotion of the game and thought a drink might be nice, but the chances of getting into any venue selling alcohol were non-existent, so we thought we'd settle for a coffee instead. A 30 minute walk around central Auckland in search of a coffee shop resulted in us finding a Coffee Club about 200 m away from where we started. So we collapsed into some seats and drank a welcome hot chocolate and discussed the match with some other patrons before heading back to Nomads at 2 am.

The sounds of fans celebrating in the streets below were no match for the dearth of sleep the previous night and the events of the superb but emotionally draining cup final day, so we dropped off to sleep with the replay of the cup presentation ceremony playing on the TV. We'd had the full-on experience of a live Cup Final and what a fantastic day it had been for New Zealand! A day we will never forget.

Friday and Saturday - Bronze Play-off and Farewell to Dunedin

Friday felt very strange as it was our last full day in Dunedin. Such a weird mix of emotions - sadness that the feast of rugby was nearly over and melancholic at the very thought of leaving Dunedin, but all tempered with the huge anticipation of going to our first RWC final. Fiona was heard whingeing loudly that she didn't want to go home at all, full stop, end of story. So we got bloody minded about turning our last day in Dunedin into a celebration rather than a wake by visiting our two most favourite places - Albar and Pirates.

We went into town at midday for the opening of the new Havoc Pork shop but their pig on the spit wasn't ready and we decided to head to the Albar for a long farewell lunch, where we met up again with that wonderful seasonal Emerson's brew - the Grace Jones. Many NZ breweries do seasonal beers, but Emerson's seem to make them more than most. Personally, I think it's a great idea, as you don't have to have too many recipes on the go at once, but can still make a much wider range of beers than you would otherwise. It also has a nice feel to it. We tend to buy fresh food at farmer's markets wherever we are, so you get into the habit of mostly eating what is in season. It lends a certain anticipation to parts of the year (for instance broad beans, fresh peas, asparagus, plums and cherries are coming up), and I like having the same degree of anticipation about what beers and ales are available. Grace is a lovely rich dark beer with a decidedly bitter edge to it. Stephen in the Albar kitchen outdid himself in producing a meatlovers quadruple-stacker roll with black pudding, bacon, haggis and Lorne sausage. After a few pints and some banter, it was with heavy heart (clogged with cholesterol and emotion) that we shook hands with Stewart and Stephen at 2:30 and headed home to finish our packing.

Mike and Tommo discussing the match

After dinner we headed down to Pirates for the Bronze play-off game (Australia v Wales) and our final session at the club for RWC 2011. There was a great crowd with most of the friends we've met over the past seven weeks present and after the two of us standing proudly to sing Advance Australia Fair, we sat down to watch the match with hardly any disparaging remarks about the Wallabies playing for third. This match is usually the most lacklustre of the tournament, but both sides managed to put some life into the match with Australia beating Wales. The game was marred by a high injury count, with both Quade Cooper and Kurtley Beale coming off with injuries. Cooper in particular was starting to show some great form in the match, more so than in other games this tournament, when an ligament injury took him out of the game. It looks like he'll be missing the next six months with surgery and rehabilitation. Australia played some of their best rugby of the tournament, although it never matched the standard of the Tri-Nations defeat of the All Blacks. Wales seemed to really miss Rhys Priestland. Their attack went side to side (which is partly tactical), but failed to make any great penetration until the final try, when it was all over. So well done to the Wallabies for finishing third and well done to Wales for a great tournament. They showed great promise and with most of the team being in their early twenties, we should see some great things from them in the future. In fact, Wales and Australia meet again on December 3rd and I am looking forward to seeing how that match will go, when we will be missing Quade Cooper and they will have Sam Warburton back.


At the end of the match, Pirate Mark Thompson (Tommo) pulled the Pirates club flag down and made a presentation of it to us with Murray Hamilton (Hammo) in attendance. We were completely bowled over by this gesture and rendered speechless with surprise. So then, sadly, it was time to go. Pirates had been a home away from home and we've made great friends there. We cannot thank all of you Pirates enough and as soon as the Super 15 schedule includes a Force v Highlanders game in Dunedin or there is a Big Test match, we'll be back!

Tommo presents Mike with the club flag

Mike, Fi, Tommo and Hammo ham it up for Leah

We were up at 5 am the next morning to pack and get into the car. A last check of the house and we loaded the suitcases into Enzo The Apache for our final excursion and headed up SH1 to Christchurch - a five hour drive. Fi was driving and Mike was dozing in the passenger seat. We were about three hours up the road, when Mike woke up from a doze thinking we'd left our passports behind. He'd remembered putting them in a "safe place", but couldn't remember removing them from it. After the initial *#%!*^ reactions, we put a call through to Tommo in Dunedin, who organised someone to go and collect the passports from the house while the cleaner was there. Hammo went round and searched the safe place - no passports. Now Mike was really worried. So we stopped at the side of the highway pulled his suitcase out from the car and opened it on the verge - still nothing. Then a faint glimmer of light seeped in to the stygian gloom and he checked the little red case we'd used to go to Auckland for the quarter finals. The passports were nestled quietly in the side pocket. Mike cannot afford to make this mistake again as he now only has one left! Fi was left to explain to Hammo on the phone what had happened while Mike found a convenient tree to bang his head against.


So back on the road and we finally got to Christchurch. After several loops around the airport precinct to find a petrol station, Enzo was handed back into the tender care of the hire car people, our suitcases were put into storage for Tuesday and we flew to Auckland with Jetstar.


This time our accommodation was more central. Extremely central as it turned out. We had a double room with en suite six floors up in a backpackers in Fort Street in the heart of the Auckland CBD. Some interesting facts about the backpackers:

• Ventilation and cooling was provided by a sliding door that, when opened, allowed in cool breezes, as well as all the varied and interesting comments of the people wandering around in the street below.
• The room contained a bed, a small TV, and a padded stool; nothing else, no table, no cupboard, no drawers, not even a coat hook.
• If both of you wanted to go into the en suite at once, one of you needed to stand in the shower.
• It was impossible to clean your teeth in a basin 10 cm across without getting preloved toothpaste solution all over the floor.
• The towels were made of recycled sandpaper.
• This level of luxury cost AUD300 a night at RWC World Cup Final time

White Lady 24 hr burger van outside our Nomad room

Cruise ship parked at end of street

We dumped our stuff, had a quick shower and headed out to find a pub. Auckland was crowded with thousands of people wandering around and there was not much in the way of pubs, but there were plenty of cafes and bars. We finally found the Bluestone Room, a pleasant Monteith's pub tucked away in a back alley and had a couple of pints. We then went in search of dinner and found an upmarket food hall called the Elliott Stables where we started with some Spanish tapas and Estrella beers from a cafe called Faro and ended up at Besos Latinos with Sol beer and a Che Guevara tasting plate (samples of food from Peru, Argentina and Cuba).

Auckland skyline from The Viaduct

 
Then we went for a long walk down to the Viaduct (a wharf precinct set up as a fanzone by the RWC) and checked out the Waka (a massive Maori war canoe installation with a bar, stage and great exhibition inside). The marinas and wharves were mobbed at ten o'clock at night by pedestrians looking at the multi-million dollar yachts, cabin cruisers and three cruise liners moored under the city lights. It was a balmy night and quite a stunning sight.






Tired out, we headed back to the room to sleep. This was to prove a challenge for the next five hours as approximately 87.3% of all Auckland revellers felt it necessary to pass through the street below our window, buy some fried grease from the venerable 24-hour-a-day White Lady burger van and talk, sing, remonstrate and yodel loudly. Sometime around three in the morning we passed out, relieved that we would not have to be up early on the big match day.