Flooded

One of the many interesting things about living in New Zealand is that Christmas marks the start of summer. The entire country listens to songs like “Jingle Bells” and “Winter Wonderland” while they tan themselves on the beach. It's sort of like going to Wal-Mart in August, except with an ozone hole to add to the challenge.

I shopped very carefully this year, because I knew that if I didn't get my wife exactly the right present, divorce would certainly follow—or at least serious bodily injury. And I found the perfect gift: a rubber stamp that you can press into a piece of bread so that when you put it in the toaster, it gets an image of a kiwi bird. What could say “I love you” better than a kiwi toast stamp? Sure enough, she adored it. I immediately checked her into a hospital for psychiatric evaluation.

After Christmas we headed to the West Coast for a brief vacation. New Zealand's South Island is divided into two parts by the Southern Alps. The east section, where we live, is a populous but bucolic paradise of sheep “stations” (ranches), sheep stations, and sheep stations, occasionally interrupted by a cattle station. The summer weather is warm and pleasant, except when it's not, which this year seems to be most of the time.

(Note: if you know what “bucolic” means, please let me know. It just sounded good here.)

By contrast, the West Coast is a bucolic paradise of sheep stations, sheep stations, and sheep stations, with a few cows intermixed for good measure. It's true that the West is reputed to be a bit damper, thanks to the mountains that make the clouds dump all their rain on that side. But it still sounded like a great vacation spot.

OK, I'll admit it. We kind of blew the timing thing. We hopped on the “Tranz Alpine Scenic Railway” (as I've said before, Kiwis can't spell for squat) for our gorgeous ride through the mountains. Only first we had to roll past about a zillion miles of sheep stations, with only the occasional cow pie for scenic variety. But eventually we got into the mountains…whereupon it started to rain. A lot. In fact, it was hard to see anything more than ten feet outside the windows.

But did that stop me from having fun? Not on your life. I have some of the best pictures of rain-spattered windows you've ever seen. If you squint, you can see a vague blob that might be a stunning mountain vista.

When we finally got to the coast, we found out that it seems to rain all the time. We drove north to see coastal scenery, and were driven back by rain and wind. We drove further north to see seals, and were drenched. We went even further to visit the lovely hamlet of Westport, and didn't even get out of the stupid car because we would have needed scuba gear. So we drove back to the motel and settled down for a raindrop-soothed night's sleep.

In the morning, our daughter announced, “You have to look at this.” Since she says that every time she sees a new rock, we ignored her. “Really, you have to look at this.” Yawn. “Seriously!”

My wife wandered to the patio door and glanced outside. “Honey, look!” I figured it must be a really big rock.

What I found instead was one of the Great Lakes, transported in toto to New Zealand. The water was only inches below the doorsill. My wife bravely put on boots and waded in to recover the patio furniture, which was floating just beyond reach. Apparently she had forgotten that we were on the second floor; she immediately disappeared into the torrent and resurfaced a hundred feet away clutching an upside-down umbrella, screaming for me to get the luggage into the car immediately. For once I followed her advice. Then I drove down to rescue her just as she was swept into the ocean. (Some Kiwi cars come with a snorkel. Really. My only complaint is that when you breathe through it, the air has a distinct diesel smell.)

Eventually the rain stopped—just in time to climb on the train and head home. It's fortunate that the train station is built on pontoons. And that the train is inflatable.

Next time, maybe I'll check the forecast first—if it's not raining too hard to see the computer.