Monday, 17 December 2018

Activity 2:North and South

Activity 2:North and South

Kia ora. My name is Rebekah and I live in Greymouth, on
the West Coast of the South Island of New Zealand. Greymouth
has lots of outdoor opportunities. Following the coast is the West
Coast wilderness trail, good for biking and walking. Surfing is a great sport,
and a cool way to use the Tasman sea. In Greymouth there is a big skatepark,
cafes and shops, two high schools, numerous primary schools and a big
regent theatre. Greymouth has the ‘Westland Recreation Centre’,
which has the town pools and waterslides, basketball courts and a big gym.
Greymouth is a town in between bush and sea, so there are lots of walks
and tramps in the area, perfect for outdoor people.

Activity 3: Ice, Ice Baby.

Activity 1: The Legend of New Zealand

  • The Māori name of New Zealand is Aotearoa, which means the land of the long white cloud.
  • New Zealand was the first country for woman to be allowed to vote.
  • The Auckland City Sky Tower is the tallest freestanding structure in the Southern Hemisphere
  • at 328 metres high.


I didn’t know that the Auckland Sky tower was that tall!

Wednesday, 5 December 2018

MOTUARA ISLAND

Motuara Island:


“Derrick, Clark, Zara!” Mrs Kennedy’s temper is wearing short.
“Come on. We’re waiting. Your father wants to go before lunch.”
Three kids come tumbling out onto the back porch, all squabbling at the
tops of their voices. Mrs Kennedy shuffles them into the car like a dog,
rounding up sheep. Locking the door and getting into the car, Mr Kennedy
looks the perfect picture of a serious businessman. Checking the time he
reverses the car onto the road, heading for the chaotic Christchurch motorway.










This hot summer weekend the Kennedy family are going to Wellington,
for one of Mr Kennedy’s time consuming conferences. Their three kids,
Derrick, Clark and little Zara sit in the back, amidst the bulging bags
and loose gear that they have packed for the weekend.
“Zara, look! Where leaving Christchurch!” Zara’s fair haired head
turns slightly to glance out the back window, at the city they live in.
Thick grey smog covers the city, like a sheet full of dust.


Derrick is the eldest. He has just turned 10, and is pouring over books,
squished between Clark and Zara. Clark is next. Unlike Derrick he
loves to muck about and get outdoors. Zara is only a little girl and
has just started school. If you have to name her strength and
weakness at the same time, it probably would be fighting and arguing with Clark.


“Hello. Mrs Kennedy here,” Mrs Kennedy places the phone to
her ear as she fiddles in her bag, “yes. We’ll be coming through Picton.
Oh, really.” She bites her lip and pulls out a map from her bag.
Suddenly her expression changes. “Great! Awesome! The kids will love that!
Bye. See you soon.” Placing the phone in her bag she swivels
round to look at the kids who are watching her intently. “Guess what?”
Mrs Kennedy’s face shows unbretrayed excitement.
“Where going to take a floatplane from Picton to Wellington.”
She doesn’t even get to finish her sentence, for the car is instantly
filled with shouts and screams of excitement.
*
Pushing and shoving her way out of the car, Zara jumps out
onto the paved path leading up to the floatplane hire building.
Stretching her arms she twirls around, breathing in all the fresh air
she can get. Clark slowly clambers out of the packed in car and moans
loudly. “Ahh. That’s the last time I ever sit in the back with you,”
he glares at Zara who pokes her tongue out.
“What,” Zara shoots back, “it was you that was talking and humming
the whole way. I’d rather sit in the crammed boot than sit next to you!”
Clark is quick to defend himself. “Be quiet because you don’t know anything!
All you know is how to wrap Mum round your little finger!”


“Enough!,” Mrs Kennedy’s eyes rage with anger, so much that not
even Clark can find an excuse. “Enough of that Clark Kennedy!
You think YOU can get away with that, well, your wrong.” Clark
quakes for a bit, but not for long. He opens his mouth to argue
back but Mrs Kennedy stops him. “Ah. None of that.” She turns to
grab her handbag. Clark makes a face.
“C'mon kids. Zara, Derrick,  come on. CLARK! Stop that!”
Mrs Kennedy hurries up to the floatplane hires, already tired from
her children's petty squabbles.
                                          *
“Mum. Where are we? I’m tired.” Zara yawns as she puts her head
on Mrs Kennedy’s shoulder. Mrs Kennedy puts her arm around Zara
saying, “It’s alright sweetie, we’ll be there soon.” But looking out the
window, Mrs Kennedy doesn’t look so sure. “Um, excuse me?”
Tapping on the pilot’s seat she asks, “Where exactly are we?
We must have been flying for at least two hours, and this trip was only
going to take half an hour, or a little bit more.” The pilot turns to look
at Mrs Kennedy, he gives a toothy grin. “Oh, just thought you guys
might want a look around the sounds. Their pretty cool at this time of year.”
“Yes, I know,” Mrs Kennedy sounds exasperated, “but that was not
part of our agreement, and you know it.” She turns to look out the window.


The pilot smirks, “Well Miss, this is my tours, you are my customers,
you must go along with what is planed.” Derrick and Clark look at their Mum.
They know that when she is annoyed, she is annoyed. “Uh oh,” Derrick breathes.
Clark nudges him, Mrs Kennedy looks like she will explode.
“Will you please go to Wellington! You are holding us up! I will not allow it!”
She stands up and, swaying as she walks she tells the pilot just what
she thinks of him. Suddenly she falls back into her seat, the plane is
plummeting to earth.


SPLASH! The plane hits the glassy blue waters of the Marlborough Sounds.
Mr Kennedy lurches forward crying, “what’s going on!?” Mrs Kennedy holds
onto Zara as she slides across the floor. The pilot grabs his radio and shakes it.
“No reception out here. The planes out of fuel,” he shakes his head at
Mr Kennedy, “and no. There is no extra fuel.” The pilot grabs the plane
radios and blows up a life raft. Placing it on the water, and putting the
radios in it he jumps in. Grabbing oars, he rows away from the plane,
leaving the Kennedy family behind.


“What! Come back here!” Mr Kennedy waves his arms and screams angrily
at the pilot, but it’s no use. Hours later, the floatplane drifts closely to a
olive green Island, so close that the Kennedy’s can swim the few metres
to the Island. Clark throws bags of luggage onto the Island’s stony shore,
and then swims over. Mrs Kennedy slumps to the ground. “How long do you
think we will be here for?”, she mutters, “I should’ve known the pilot would
do this because he looked a bit dodgy.”
“We don’t know that, but one thing I know for sure is that I will never get to
my conference!”, Mr Kennedy groans.
“Is that all you can think about! Here we are stuck on an Island,
in the middle of isolation and all you can think about is a boring old conference?!”
Mrs Kennedy takes a deep breath, “Besides, we may be here for a while,
let’s set up some sort of shelter.” She heads off with some bags, badly
regretting her hasty decision with the floatplane.

“Mum! Look! A motorboat!” A tall boy of 12 years runs through the
bush to a clearing. Little huts are dotted around it, like the lost boys
hideout in peter pan. Derrick catches his breath before moving on,
“Mum! Dad! You’ll never guess!” A girl, not so little as she had been
when the plane crashed emerged from a small hut,
“What is it Derrick? Mum’s cooking tea.”
“Zara! There’s a boat, on the shore!” Running into the small hut he pulls
his Mum out. A man, who’s lost his serious businessman look, and a
boy who now is not as silly as he used to be, come hurrying down a

small track to the shore. This day is about to get better.
The Kennedy Family had been stranded on an Island for two years.
Learning to survive they had built small huts to live in. Sheltering in
small caves in winter, hunting for food as best as could and trying to
survive, they had almost forgotten the old city life they had once lived.
Zara was now seven, her blonde hair darker. Clark was nine, and was
living the life he once wished to have. Derrick was 12. No books were
on the Island. Nothing he could read. He gave them up as soon as they
had crashed. He had too. Mrs Kennedy cooked wild foods every day,
and Mr Kennedy, well, he changed the most. At first he didn’t know
anything about survival but gradually he became better.


Mrs Kennedy gasps for air, clutching her side as she runs out onto
the shore. Derrick, Clark and Mr Kennedy shout and wave their arms.
Zara runs up and down the beach, getting in everyone’s way. Two men
climb out of the boat and wade onto the beach.
“Are you the Kennedy family,?” the men enquire.
Mr Kennedy nods. “Yes. We are. Our pilot left us two years ago and…,”
one man cuts him off. “My name is Mr Smith, and I’m head police at Picton.
We’ve been looking for you for a long time. We caught the pilot.
We know all the details, how he left you and what your names are.
You’re on Motuara Island, it’s a bird sanctuary,” he glances at Mr Kennedy,
“But you’re obviously hidden in a part of the Island that people don’t see.”
He looks at his companion and then at the Kennedy family,
“Go get your belongings, or what’s left of your belongings! Were going!”


“GUILTY!” The jury nods with agreement. Mr Kennedy stands and follows
them out of the courthouse. A man, in a blue uniform with a badge that says
‘Head Police’, strides over to greet him. “Good afternoon Mr Kennedy.
I see it all went well,” he pauses, “and how is your family?”
“There all well, thank you. Just getting back into routine,” answers Mr Kennedy.
“That’s good. Hope the trial wasn’t stressful?”


Mr Kennedy laughs loudly, “No actually. The only stressed person in the
building was the victim himself!” His face turns serious.
“I only hope I never go in a floatplane again. And to think that
the pilot actually attempted sabotage! He knew there was no extra fuel
when we left Picton!”
“Well, he’s had his trail and has been found guilty.
He’ll be behind bars in a short time,” Mr Smith looks at his silver chained watch,
“Well, best be off. Say hello to the family for me.” He shakes hands, then walks off.


Mr Kennedy pulls out his phone. “Hello.”
The person on the other end of the line replies, “Hello. Mrs Kennedy speaking!”
“The trails over. It’s all over! How are you going?”
Mrs Kennedy chuckles. “Yeah, I guess so. It’s going to take ages
to get used to living like this again. I’m glad the kids are going to a
country school. They’d never fit in with their old one. I’m very glad we're
now living in Havelock, it’s much more cruisy than Christchurch.
Uh oh, looks like Clark and Zara are fighting again. Have a safe trip home.
Bye!”

There's a pause on the phone, then... “By the way, don’t take a floatplane!”

Wednesday, 28 November 2018

Wednesday, 7 November 2018

Wednesday, 31 October 2018