Power Drill Envy

On my birthday, I decided to buy a power drill and some wooden shelves to build a cabinet for my 200 plus pairs of shoes (not including boots). I went to a big DIY shop and a very nice guy called Mack in the timber section helped me to choose what I needed for my little project. He was very friendly so I asked if they gave any discount for birthday girls. And he did! I suspect it had something to do with that demure yet tight-fitted sleeveless summer dress I was wearing although I am not entirely sure.

After Mack cut out all the shelves for me, he took me to find a power drill. We found a good one on sale so he asked his colleague there how much. The guy looked at me and my cheeky smile then said it was free with a smile like that. But of course I paid for it later. It’s my first power drill and I bet it’s hard for my friends back in Tokyo to imagine me using one in my high-heels.

When I was leaving, Mack helped and carried all my purchase to the car. At the exit we saw some other staff loading a truck outside. He announced to them that it was my birthday. So I walked away accompanied by the chorus of “Happy Birthday” sung in top volume by about 15 big burly men. It was the most bizarrely funny birthday experience I’ve ever had.

DIY is huge here. Many Kiwis are quite handy at home. They build the deck in the backyard, mend the fence, retile the bathroom, paint the kitchen and re-carpet the living room. And it’s not only men doing DIY here, Kiwi women are very much into it too.

In fact, I was thoroughly tempted to buy this beautiful pink tool kit there once. It’s specifically designed for women. But in the end I didn’t get it because it only had a power screwdriver instead of the traditional ones. I suppose they think women are too weak to use men’s tools properly without any help of batteries.

Many DIY shops also offer lessons for women. So I’m planning to go back to that shop and find my buddy Mack and let him impress me with his (DIY) skills. Perhaps one day I will learn to build a 4-bedroom house complete with a garage full of different power tools. Now that would be really cool!

Christmas Fever

Most people like Christmas and we all love summer. So it makes sense to have Christmas in the summer, don’t you think?

Back in Tokyo, Christmas is for couples. But here in Kiwiland, it’s usually for families although a civilized dinner with your family doesn't really sound much like a celebration. Perhaps we should treat each day like it's Christmas when it comes to family, just as we are always told to treat each day like it's our birthday.

This year is my first summer Christmas and it is deliciously hot. I celebrated with a quarter of million people at an outdoor concert in Auckland. The fireworks at the end were very impressive because they exploded right above everyone’s head. And the concert was truly a feast of music. Although I didn’t know most of the singers that night, I still enjoyed the songs – so much so that I joined the other people and danced.

While I was busy dancing, a group of teenage girls suddenly appeared out of nowhere and cheered me on. One of them came dancing next to me and invited me to dance together. So I did. We danced away happily and I didn’t feel I was among strangers anymore. Music connected us instantly.

There is certainly something powerful and mysterious about music. For example, an extremely talented band I discovered yesterday made me feel so alive again today. Of course an engaging book, an inspiring speech, a thought-provoking film, or an intellectual conversation, all has similar effect on me. The easiest way to seduce a woman like me is through words, music, and art. I find intelligence and creativity simply irresistible.

But I must admit that it is music that can touch me the deepest and on the most primal level. And I always feel that music can bring people together much faster than words or images.

So I am 100% for celebrating Christmas with music. But please kill me first if you really have to play “Jingle Bells” again. Arghhhhh!

So Tomorrow Is the End of the World - Woohooooo!

I’m really looking forward to it. No, I’m not kidding. I’ve always liked to try everything at least once! 

According to BBC yesterday, Chinese police have arrested more than 500 members of a doomsday cult for spreading rumors about the imminent end of the world. I don’t blame them for trying. Fear is the best way to sell not only stuff like anti-aging moisturizer or insurance but also religions and wars.

In the Kiwiland, people seem to be quite calm though. In fact, I heard some of them are going to have parties tomorrow to celebrate the end of the world. Now there is no better way to go than being with your friends and loved ones, is there?

But seriously, if the world were to end one day, I mean before you die of a natural cause obviously, what would you do except partying day and night, night and day - until the big finale?

Of course you might also feel compelled to say sorry to your high-school sweetheart for the way you dumped her, to tell your father how much you appreciate him, to add something to your boss’s coffee and make it more interesting, to try skydiving AND bungee-jumping at the same time or better yet, the all-time favorite fantasy for many guys, threesome.

I don’t know what the others expect tomorrow, but personally I am going to a nice restaurant for dinner and then watch the movie “Hobbit” in 3D because the doomsday happens to be a very special day for me.

Well, at least there is one thing I’m certain of - my birthday is not doomed!

Racism For Sale

I thought I would never experience cultural shock here but I was speechless yesterday when someone told me that only the rich can afford to be racists. When you don’t have money, you don’t have any choice. But if you have money, you can go to the shops or restaurants owned by your preferred races.

I suppose it also applies to whom you marry to. If you have money, you can easily buy a bride/groom of your preferred races. But if you don’t, well tough luck, you have to settle for something within your budget.

When I lived in Asia and the States, I never felt being discriminated. But here most people seem to think very differently. It’s 100% safe to voice racist opinions out loud because it’s considered socially acceptable.

And the core value here is money. People are judged mainly by what they own. The rich are not only to be respected but also envied because they can afford to be racists.

I might not live till the day when most of the doctors, lawyers and politicians here are the children of the second-class citizens now. But I know it will happen one day. In fact, it’s happening right now. But it still saddens me to witness such ignorance around.

And it sickens me to be with those who believe racism is a commodity.

Drum It Up A Notch, Will You?

There are not many Japanese here in Kiwiland. But I managed to find many last Saturday at Auckland Museum. It was a festival called “Tate Of Japan” with only 5 food stalls (yatai) serving up octopus balls, fried noodles, etc, as well as an art exhibition, performances such as taiko, koto/shamisen, and demonstrations like calligraphy, sushi-cooking, origami, tea ceremony.

It was a shame that most of the people there already know too much about everything presented there - being Japanese themselves. The festival was to celebrate 60 years of diplomatic relationship between Japan and New Zealand, although not really a big deal to the Kiwis judging by the turnout.

Many girls were walking around in their beautiful kimonos and yukatas. I regretted not wearing mine. But then again, with that kind of turnout, I might as well have a private fashion show in front of my bedroom mirror.

The organizer, NZ Japan Society of Auckland, has obviously made a lot of effort. You can’t find a better venue than the magnificent Auckland Museum. All the programs were expertly planned too. But my guess is they didn’t make enough noise to promote it.

However my greatest disappointment is the total number of food stalls. 5! Are you kidding me? How dare they called it “Taste Of Japan”!

I don’t need too much culture. I want my food!!

To Kiss Or Not To Kiss

After meeting the principal of a prestigious local college for some volunteer work – OK, to beg for any excuse to keep me from staying home all day long every day, I got off the bus and started walking home when I heard a car tooting the horn behind me. So I braced myself for what I was certain to come next. Just as I expected, two guys drove past slowly. One stuck his head out of the window and shouted hello while waving at me frantically. I guess they haven’t learned to wolf-whistle yet.

I never know what to do in a situation like that. Shall I smile and wave back or shall I just pretend to go deaf plus blind suddenly?

It has nothing to do with what a girl is wearing, I can assure you. For instance, I was all decked out in my sternest school teacher outfit on the aforementioned occasion. And no, I don’t think they’ve got that kind of fantasy either.

So what’s their excuse then? Of course it’s not Kiwi-specific. However, I suspect it’s gender-specific or at least I’ve never felt the urge of tooting the horn whenever I see a delicious male specimen of man walking on the street, although I can’t really speak for other women.

Sure, I am flattered and I can certainly appreciate the fun side of it. But now I am wondering what to do next time? Shall I try throwing kisses enthusiastically at the guys when it happens again? You know, just to make it more interesting. What do you think?

Thrills And Frills

Last night at a burlesque show, I found that I am not the only woman who enjoys the fun and art of teasing. In fact, men were spectacularly outnumbered by women last night, even if we don’t count the hen party. And the place is not a lesbian bar either, although many of the women there were as big as the men.

While waiting for the show to start, the girls at the hen party were obviously determined to have a good time. Clad in plus-size skimpy lingerie, lacy stockings and hot pink boas, they danced and bounced with the vivacious bride-to-be who for the night assumed the name Candelicious.

There were four performers last night. All of them were quite professional. Their attention to detail showed in the cleverly put-together choreography, carefully tailored costumes and well-rehearsed routines. But I am not sure how much of that was taken in by the audience. Most of the men there were probably there only for the visual titillation anyway. Tits and ass – and they would be happy enough.

I must admit there is a certain charm in the simple way of thinking though. I used to believe that the art of seduction was all about demure smiles, flirtatious glances, and subtle body language. But sex and the city is too sophisticated to understand or analyze sometimes. Perhaps a roll in the hay is far more appealing when you live in the country?