I've only been back in New Zealand for a few weeks and already I'm sick of hearing about "the principles of the treaty".

A typical example is today's visit by a UN representative on indigenous peoples James Anaya, who said from what he has observed during his visit to New Zealand, treaty principles are too vulnerable to political discretion. Mr Anaya used the example of Te Reo Māori being made an official language, yet not made compulsory in schools.

What the F***?

Is learning the Aboriginal language compulsory in Australia? Are the Swedes all learning Sami? Are any of the native American languages compulsory in the US? I don't see the Chinese making Tibetan a compulsory language or the Northern Iraqi's making Kurdish compulsory. Who is this bozo and what medication is he being prescribed?

Of course this prompted yet another solo protest. A chap named Ropata Paora parked a beaten up old Isuzu 4x4 across the only road leading to and from One tree hill in Auckland. The 4x4 had been hastily painted up to resemble a UN vehicle and Paora stated: "Without the treaty, they'd be illegal aliens. So unless they acknowledge the treaty, my korero [speech] to them is 'I'm not the trespasser, you are,'".

Amusingly, the police cited Paora as the 4x4 had at least one deflated/unsafe tyre and no warrant of fitness (the NZ version of an MOT) since 2007.

While clowns like Paora are at least entertaining, it's ironic to see how time and political fashion have turned on the treaty of Waitangi. When I emigrated from New Zealand almost 20 years ago, Māori activists were loudly proclaiming the treaty to be "a fraud". Two decades later, protesters like Paora are complaining that it isn't being acknowledged.

What exactly is not being acknowledged?

The Treaty of Waitangi is actually a very simple document and contains only three articles:-

1. Article 1 puts all of New Zealand under the rule of the British crown.
2. Article 2 guarantees the Māori chiefs their existing lands and prevents them being sold to anyone but the crown. This was intended to protect Māori from the kinds of shady land purchases which had alienated indigenous people in other parts of the world from their land with minimal compensation.
3. Article 3 guarantees to all Māori the same rights as all other British subjects.

While it's true that complications arose (the most major one being the differences between the English and Māori versions of the treaty) and that some Māori got the shitty end of the stick in a handful of dodgy real estate deals, the fact is that this all happened over 170 years ago. Decades of discussion and billions of dollars have changed hands. From the Iwi Trust to Tāngata whenua, a huge range of social initiatives have been funded, all designed to redress the wrongs done to the self-proclaimed "indigineous" people of this land.

I have 3 words for the likes of Paora; boo fucking hoo!

It's way past the time to put this ancient crap to bed, stop thinking of ourselves as members of this ethnic group or that tribe/part of society, class and what not, stop playing the race card or waving the flag of victim-hood and start thinking of ourselves as New Zealanders first and foremost.

And maybe the first step, should be either re-defining the term: indigenous or re-examining it's use in the current context...

The Oxford English Dictionary definition of: indigenous is:-

originating or occurring naturally in a particular place; native:

By that definition, anyone born here or even those who have lived here for a major portion of their lives are...indigenous.

We have real economic, social and environmental issues we should be concentrating on. We should be focusing on creating and maintaining our schools, roads, hospitals, on global economic and environmental issues and how we can play our part in making a better world for ourselves and each other. Instead, we remain focused on the things that divide us instead of those that unite us.

Let's be the change that we want to see in the world...

Let's ALL be indigenous

Television in New Zealand can be largely summed up in 4 words: seven channels of shite.

It's full to the brim with loud, brash, unfunny American and Australian crap, interspersed with even louder and brasher ads for half-price sales at Harvey the Rabbit or some such, about every 10 minutes. It's basically a noise factory that in a very short period of time leaves the viewer numbed to the seemingly endless flow of static it spouts.

I'm not really sure why I turned the TV on, during a dark and stormy night as I sat in a comfy armchair in front of the flickering embers of a cozy fire. I'd been reading a novel by the light of a solitary lamp and listening to the rain pounding on the tin roof, when I set my book down and flicked on the boob-tube, for no particular reason that I can recall.

What I heard was a track that made me sit up and listen.

The song was called: Careful and the artist was Flip Grater.

With a distinctively smooth coffee-and-cream voice that is reminiscent of both Stevie Nicks' vocal performance in Fleetwood Mac's Dreams and Wire Daisies vocalist Treana Morris, Flip Grater has created a masterpiece of Indie subtlety in her new album While I'm Awake I'm At War.

Every aspect of the album speaks of craft; simple, clear guitar licks and a softly-played violin which carries the listener down a dark river. Minimal bass lines and a muted rhythm give the album a soft-spoken, melancholy sound that makes the heart ache and the mind reminisce and remember. The lyrics are intelligent, thought-provoking and meaningful.

It has a little bit of a country feel, but not of checkered-scarf-and-square-dancing ilk; instead it's a more folk-like sound, which evokes images of windy Celtic landscapes and salty driftwood scattered over a long stretch of lonely, wind-swept beaches. It does make use of the much-maligned steel guitar in tracks such as I am gone, but the effect is more along the lines of Chris Isaak's Wicked Game, which - coincidentally - followed on the TV almost immediately afterward.

Dark and evocative (as the best Folk music always is), but with a thin vein of light running through it (in tracks such as Bullet that I ride), While I'm Awake I'm At War is a superb arrangement by any measure and an absolute must for any fans' collection.

Play it on a dark and stormy night, when the rain pours and the wind howls. Pour yourself a dram while staring at the embers of a dying fire...and (re)discover a sound that caresses the mind and heart, a sound that evokes thoughts and feelings...

Rediscover music.

One of my bugbears is dysfunctional packaging (in the UK), which appears to be a large percentage of it.

For some reason (and I have no idea what has changed to initiate it) certain packaging has become almost impregnable to the average unadorned human being (hands, teeth, feet etc). Flimsy plastic wrapping is now something a superhero could be proud to use in their fight against crime. Try opening for example a plastic bag of sugar, herbs, nuts or anything other than certain snack foods (a few of which are still designed to be opened with just our hands) and you will need tools; a knife or a pair of scissors, a hedge trimmer maybe. Because if you manage to open them by hand and don't give yourself a hernia in the process, then the bag will split (presumably in order to punish your precocity) and the contents will spill all over the place, often dramatically. A result I call CSE (contents spewing everywhere).

Ok fine I have scissors in the kitchen, so I use them. But the way the bag has been designed - folded and glued - means that it is not possible to do a clean cut straight across or even a clean straight cut of a corner, unless you are a origami expert twice removed (some dishwasher salt bag designers please take note). So the top or corner is now zigzagged shaped, which means that pouring anything out of it involves, yes you guessed it, 'contents spewing everywhere' again. Ok, so I quite like the bottom of my dishwasher covered in salt crystals ... looks kinda festive don'tya think?

Or ... bags of sugar which are so full that to cut below the top glue line means (unless you have a steady hand, good eyesight and are really careful) 'contents spewing ... ' yeah I think you get what I mean. Then they add insult to injury and include that useless large piece of sticky tape, which is <sarcasm type="extreme">really handy</sarcasm> for you to stick down the top after opening, even though the bag is so full that it bursts open a few nanoseconds later; then when the bag becomes more comfortably empty the tape loses its stickiness anyway.

I am beginning to think that packaging designers are just taking the proverbial ... Ok maybe a tad paranoid, but I wouldn't be writing this if it was just an occasional occurrence; because just lately it appears to be that too many packaging items have some sort of dysfunction. It's a trend of sorts. I'm sure that there are all kinds of security, health & safety and other reasons that it happens - but it still annoys the heck out of me, because it just feels gratuitous or badly thought out.

Anyway here's just a few initial items on my personal aggravation list:

• Juice cartons, you know the hard to open, cardboard/foil/plastic/whatever combination cartons which are practicably unrecyclable and will only pour anything if allowed to gurgle-slop and then more often than not 'spew contents everywhere'. I've lost count of the amount of times the plastic ring-pull security seal thingy has snapped off, so that you cannot open them without some kind of electrical equipment and a sort of grim determination.
• Sugar, herbs, nuts for cooking etc or anything that has that horrible stiff plastic wrapping and is glued up the whazzoo (in order I presume to stop people opening them in the store, wandering around whilst snacking out and perhaps doing a little shopping in the meantime). Thus trying to open them by hand (as previously mentioned) almost always results in CSE (contents spewing everywhere) in your kitchen and possible starvation if you are in the 'field' caught short without a Swiss knife, machete or ice pick to hand.
• Wine bottles with foil tops, that have no tab to help peal them off, although it is one way to spend an almost Zen-like and rather thoughtful afternoon pealing off the foil top, micromillimeter by micromillimeter. Just keep a packet of plasters handy (... if you can open them that is ... sob).
• Milk bottles (plastic), those with foil security tops that occasionally are overglued and just will not come off, resulting in ... once you do get them off and before calling emergency to treat your dislocated shoulder, more blooming CSE!
• Teabag boxes, with that flimsy plastic outer covering that is fiddly to open and peal off ... piece by piece by ... and then you have to 'unseal' the cardboard box underneath anyway (whereby you learn that paper/cardboard is actually strongest at the perforations). But I guess the plastic outer cover stops damage to the teabags when the packets fall in water; which could be handy if you keep them say in the shower stall instead of the cupboard, or the delivery lorry drivers forget to batten the hatches in a rainstorm, or a 100ft tidal wave ...
• Crackers, you know the 'fragile' ones that come in micron thin plastic wrapping which affords zero protection against percussion damage. In fact my guess is that this wrapping creates a minus protection factor (anti-packaging!) ... in other words crackers in this stuff are more likely to be damaged than if they were completely loose. Then they have that <sarcasm type="major">handy</sarcasm> tab you pull to guillotine the top off ... which works only when the moon is full and you aren't in any kind of hurry.
• Any kind of packaging which is that spongy, soft plastic wrap (the type that your bread comes in), or other types of flimsy plastic that you screw up and put in the bin ... but then quietly unwraps itself over the next few minutes to a size that is actually larger than it was beforehand; thus defying several laws of physics in the process. This causes an inverse square mass issue inside your bin, necessitating the use of heavy items in order to weigh down the plastic 'explosion' and make room for anything else.
• Margarine tub lids, a fiddle to get off, almost impossible to put back on, without specialist equipment, so that they 'click' properly. Which means you make a grab for the marge in the fridge and the loose lid flips off ... you lose your grip (in more ways than one I might add) and the tub somersaults impressively into the air ... it lands on the floor with a splat (and we all know which way round it lands) and results in another major CSE event.
• That stupid, useless and aggravating push-lock-plastic-strip thingy (don't know the official name ... don't care). On certain packaging you have a plastic strip on the inside of the opened edge, which when pressed together grips and seals the package opening (hahahahahah - if only) like a zip.  As you can guess by my maniacal laughter they just hardly ever and I mean ever work, ever, ever, ever! Arggghhhhhhh ... [takes deep breath] ...

There are more examples I'm sure, but I think I've just blocked them from memory.

So [another deep breath] every time I see a <sarcasm type="global" class="of its own">handy</sarcasm> 'pull here to open' message or tab on any type of packaging: I grit my teeth, gird my loins (at least I think I do as, like Terry Pratchett's Rev Oats, I'm not entirely sure how you do that) and make a mental note of where the knives/scissors/chain saw ... tissues/soap/biohazard suit are located ... I'll let you know how I get on.

Su

Most people probably don't need further reasons, but for the undecided among you, consider these:-

1. Allegations by BP's deepwater rig partner Andarko Petroleum who have openly accused the company of being "reckless". James Hackett, chief executive of Anadarko Petroleum, said it was considering "contractual remedies" for what the company has described as BP's "gross negligence or wilful misconduct" over the spill.
2. BP's increasingly desperate attempts to stop the flow of crude oil following the rig explosion have demonstrated a total lack of workable disaster / contingency planning.
3. Thanks to lax US and UK laws (allegedly watered down by oil-industry lobbyists), BP was permitted to operate the rig without the use of safety devices such as the acoustic switch blowout system. This fail-safe device costs a half a million dollars to implement, but BP appears to have decided that this was an unnecessary expense. Yet another legacy of the Bush/Cheney administration.
4. While people died and others continue to risk their lives to contain the disaster, BP top dog Tony Hayward swanned off on a rich-boy's yacht race.
5. Instead of gratefully accepting their help and focusing on the problem at hand, BP's lawyers attempted to gag fisherman volunteering to help with oil spill clean-up efforts, by forcing them to sign away their right to free speech, from holding BP harmless for any accidents that might occur, and requiring them to give the oil giant a month's notice before filing any legal claims.
6. Despite preliminary estimates of a cleanup cost running into billions, along with BP's average net earnings of close to $20bn per year for the last 3 years, sailing-boy CEO Tony Hayward has decided to proceed with dividend payments, before the cleanup costs can even be properly estimated.
7. BP has a poor environmental and safety record that dates back for decades. It was named by Mother Jones Magazine as one of the "ten worst corporations" in both 2001 and 2005 based on its environmental and human rights records. Between January 1997 and March 1998, BP was responsible for 104 oil spills.
8. In recent years, BP has been implicated in a number of gas price manipulation scandals. Detailed allegations by federal investigators that BP traders illegally manipulated propane prices in 2004 and formal charges brought against BP by the Oklahoma Attorney General left BP executives squirming and red-faced, but did little to change their ways.
9. On the local front, BP has a long history of always being the first to increase fuel prices at the pumps and the last to reduce them - so much so that fuel price increases are refereed to in New Zealand as: "the BP subsidy".
10. At the same time, BP have demonstrated that they don't give a damn about their forecourt customers and have managed to take the last remaining vestiges of "Service" out of the "Service station" by mumbling something incoherent about health and safety laws, without being able to quote chapter and verse when pressed. This has even extended to one station refusing to assist a disabled driver and ordering him off the forecourt for apparently "creating a safety hazard".

Seen enough? Join the boycott

The only thing that governments and corporate interests still fear, is public opinion.

I'm expecting to get quite a lot of flak from fellow Kiwi's for what I'm about to say, but I'll say it anyway...

Australia is awesome!

I haven't been to Sydney since I was 6 or 7 and I've never visited Melbourne at all. So when a rather serendipitous set of circumstances set me on a Qantas flight bound for the other Great Southern land, I jumped at the chance.

Stunning Sydney

Even arriving in the middle of a fairly massive thunderstorm did little to dampen my spirits and within an hour we were checked into the conveniently located, mid-range Park Regis hotel.

One point worth noting for those contemplating a stay in Sydney's CBD; if Auckland is the "City of sails" then Sydney seems to be the "City of sirens". In the 6 days I spent in Sydney I estimate that I saw/heard a daily average of between 15 and 20 fire-trucks go racing through the city with lights flashing and sirens screaming - quite a few of them after 2am in the morning! However, I understand from the locals that the vast bulk of these are false alarms, often triggered by office workers having a crafty smoke in some cupboard and tripping the alarm. Whatever the cause, it must be as frustrating for the firemen and women as it is for the hapless Park Regis guests, woken up at 3am for the 3rd time by squealing sirens!

Anyway, an hour after settling in, we were wandering through the Queen Victoria Building. In many ways the building represents the culmination of the Victorian architectural concepts; it's striking features include the dominant central dome, fantastic mosaics throughout and a number of eye-catching stained glass panels (one of which includes a cartwheel window depicting the arms of the City of Sydney). Two mechanical clocks, both featuring dioramas and moving figures from moments in history, can be seen from the adjacent railed walkways.

In a brass-bound case on one wall is a sealed letter from Queen Elizabeth II, "To be opened in 2085 by the future Lord Mayor of Sydney and read aloud to the People of Sydney". We can of course only speculate about what it might say, but I am willing to offer very long odds on the following:-

• Sorry, but one prefers Melbourne
• Waaaasssssssuuuuupppppppp!
• Wasn't John Howard a prat?
• Can one still get a foot-long Subway with Meatballs and cheese?
• Get orf one's land!
• As Australians, you are all shining examples of how well the British penal system used to function.

The following day dawned bright and clear, so my folks and I decided to take a stroll around Sydney's CBD. We meandered through the fig-lined avenues of Sydney's Hyde Park, through the adjoining domain and onto the rather spectacular Royal Botanical Gardens.

There are several noteworthy differences between green spaces in Aussie and those in many other parts of the world. Firstly, the grounds are spotless; not a single fag butt or chewing-gum stain marks the well-maintained paths and walkways, yet there are relatively few trash bins around the place and no shortage of people slurping on a coke or munching on a sandwich from a paper bag as they walk through the gardens. Aussies seem to care enough about their home towns to carry their trash as far as necessary to dispose of it properly (something both the Brits and kiwis could learn a lesson from).

Secondly, the grounds are obviously intended for real use by locals and visitors alike. Not once did I see a "keep off the grass" sign anywhere and throughout the park areas, people were making good use of all the space available; from physical pursuits including a couple of 5-a-side football matches, an open air kickboxing class and a frisbee-throwing rally involving about 20 people and a dozen pet dogs, to more contemplative pursuits such as lying under the shade of a tree with a book, or sketching a particular scene.

Everywhere you looked, people were interacting with the environment and each other; Families with young kids held picnics or held the hands of their kids as they toddled around the grounds or in a pool of water. Young couples sprawled on the grass, chatting, laughing and making the affectionate gestures of the newly in-love. Older folks strolled through the network of paths, pausing to admire a particular specimen of flora or to shake hands with a friend or two that they met along the way. When architects sit down to design these kind of open spaces, I'm sure that this is the kind of picture they have in mind.

Heading north down Macquarie St, we headed down to the famous Circular Quay, home of two of Sydney's most iconic landmarks; the Harbour Bridge and the Opera house.

Sydney is a coastal bay city and much of it's identity is linked with 70-plus harbour and ocean beaches that are reachable either by car or by ferry or water taxi across the harbour. Both the Circular Quay and the neighboring Darling Harbour are absolutely spectacular. Each features a wide range of shops, bars and restaurants which cater to pretty much every taste imaginable. A number of street performers add color and flavour to the daytime harbour scene. In Darling harbour I met an old friend for dinner and had the best Calamari I've ever tasted. Both harbours are at their best on a warm dry night, when the lights illuminate the bars, salsa clubs and restaurants which help make the Sydney nightlife scene well worth a visit.

Magnificent Melbourne

If Sydney has one drawback, it's that (by Australian standards at least) it's a bit hectic. There are rather too many shopping malls and department stores, packed to the gills with all that chain-store and designer-brand shit. There isn't a whole lot of individuality to be found in Sydney central, although I am reliably informed that the chain-store influence is somewhat less, the further out you venture (a brief visit to Manly beach did little to confirm or deny this assertion).

Melbourne, on the other hand seems to have found a better balance; true there are no shortage of the chain-store brands around the place, but small independent shops, cafes and bars still nestle in amongst them and seem to be flourishing. Turn down any alley in Melbourne and you are likely to wander past (or into) a great little bar, music club, cafe, bakery or any other kind of small, independently run operation. Some of the more interesting places in Melbourne are to be found just off the beaten track.

Like, London, Melbourne is a river city that is divided roughly in half by the turgid waters of the river Yarra. The north bank is the home of the vast bulk of the office buildings, shopping etc, while the south bank forms a large part of the city's leisure and entertainment facilities, including a large range of waterfront bars, restaurants and the Crown Casino. There's a bridge every couple of hundred yards and no shortage of buses, trams (the largest tram network in the world) or other modes of transport to get you around the place.

For music fans, Melbourne is major centre for contemporary and traditional Australian music and has an excellent live music scene. During my short visit, I headed up to the Royal Standard Hotel on the corner of William and Walsh streets, for their weekly blues jam (Tuesday nights) and had a great time.

But the highlight of the trip happened the following evening, when a friend of mine also took me along to the Bennetts Lane Jazz club, which has been called (with some justification) the best jazz club in the southern hemisphere. The club is located down the end of a brick-lined alleyway and is open 7 nights a week. You stroll past a nice retro neon sign and in through an archetypal red door, into a dimly lit and intimate little venue with comfortable seating, loosely arranged around a slightly-elevated stage. You could easily imagine that you were in a jazz club in New York or Paris, having stepped inside out of the rain, wrapped in a James Dean-style overcoat with the collar turned up. You might bump into Miles Davis or John Coltrane heading to the bar or tuning up; it just has that kind of atmosphere.

I'd never set foot in the place before, but the charming (and rather dishy) all-female staff greeted me warmly and treated me like an old and favoured customer, who had finally returned after a prolonged absence. Straight away I felt relaxed and comfortable. It was excellent!

Pretty soon, my pal and I were settled in at the bar with a large glass of red wine each, listening to the smooth groove of the Albare band, featuring front man and Aussie acid jazz pioneer Albare, along with Evri Evripedou, Tony Floyd, Scott Griffith, Rob Burke and Joe Chindamo, performing tracks from After the Rain. By the end of the set I felt like I was walking on air and I made a solemn vow; to never again visit Melbourne without coming along to Bennetts Lane.

Like Sydney, Melbourne is very multi-cultural and has a number of thriving ethnic eateries. There are some superb Greek and Italian eateries and Chinatown serves some reasonable Dim sum for lunch of course, but for a really great Asian dining experience with a difference, you can't beat a visit to Cookie on Swanston street, as I found out when another Melbournian friend took me there for dinner.

You won't find your archetypal sweet-and-sour or something-in-black-bean-sauce dishes at Cookies! Every dish has an interesting twist in it's flavours and presentation that make dining at Cookies a must-do when in Melbourne. It's the Bennett's lane of gastronomy. I can enthusiastically recommend the Betel bliss bombs (DIY- betel leaves, peanuts, lime, coconut, ginger, onion & dried shrimp with sticky shrimp & coconut sauce). Also the steamed tapioca dumplings with pickled turnip and peanuts as well as the stir fried pork belly with red curry, kaffir lime and beans. I'm told that it's best to visit in a group of at least 6 people, in order to sample a broad range of the restaurants' fascinating and delicious menu.

All too quickly it was time to leave and as my plane rose from Tullamarine I looked out at the Melbourne with a great deal of affection; I hadn't seen much, but I was impressed.

I'll be back...