Columnist Craig Orr reaches new heights with the Mt Everest Challenge
Our Bayleys columnist is hitting new heights at work and play, and has ideas for how you can too.
Our Bayleys columnist is hitting new heights at work and play, and has ideas for how you can too.
Well, I did it! I officially conquered the More FM Mt Everest Challenge, and I’m stoked to be able to say that I raised more than $1000 for St John. Climbing the Mount 38 times in 50 days was so tough that I gave myself two weeks off walking up any kind of hill afterwards.
We’re so lucky to have Mauao Mt Maunganui to exercise on. I love the way it sits proudly at the end of the peninsula and has such an amazing presence to it. My seven-year-old daughter was one of my best supporters. She has a real competitive streak and would join me walking up the Mount a couple of times each week, often picking a fellow climber halfway up and trying to beat them to the summit. I made it my mission to beat my best time of 13 minutes from the base to the top. I ended up 11 seconds off it! But I definitely felt my fitness improve.
I recruited some of my colleagues to join me for the odd climb and managed to get a few other mates up off the couch. Overall, it was super fun and a fulfilling experience – particularly the mental challenge and camaraderie. I’d highly recommend anyone considering tackling it next year to go for it.
Speaking of the couch, my wife Natasha and I have recently finished some exciting home renovations at our place at the Mount. We’ve just had a pool dropped in, and added a cabana and done up the deck. It completely opens up our property and stretches out to our neighbour’s. We feel really lucky to be part of such a cool neighbourhood.
Tash and I lived here before we had our daughters, and we’ve always loved it. Investing in our first house in Bethlehem was a big step. It was a big home with plenty of space inside, but two years ago we found a 1960s-style home at the Mount and couldn’t resist getting back to beach life.
Our kids don’t seem to mind having less space – they’re happy being by the beach, the mountain and their friends. It’s super convenient and offers a really relaxed lifestyle. I’ve enjoyed getting involved in my daughters’ school, establishing local friendships, giving back and feeling like we’re part of the community.
At Bayleys, I’ve just had the biggest month ever. I’m 10 years into marketing properties for sale and I couldn’t imagine doing anything else. I’m a bit of a late bloomer in terms of my career trajectory, as I didn’t know what I wanted to do until I was about 35. Real estate was always of interest, but it wasn’t until I took the leap that I realised how much of a passion it was. I just love helping make people’s dreams become reality.
We’ve been in a really buoyant market recently, but it feels like it’s beginning to cool slightly. With a short supply of options for potential vendors to purchase and a tight market, replacing housing stock can be challenging. That’s why winter’s the perfect time for people considering selling to take that step, because there’s less competition.
I’ve been sharing some videos about open homes and the market on my Instagram page, so have a look for the inside scoop. I do free market appraisals, so if you’re curious as to what your place is worth, give me a shout and I’ll be happy to help.
Serving in the Bosnian War
Stationed at the UN headquarters in Zagreb, I have many memories in that role. But one evening stands out in particular.
The Bosnian war involving the breakup of the former Yugoslavia in 1992 was a violent and bloody affair. The nations of the world under the banner of the United Nations decided to deploy humanitarian relief and armed forces to enforce a peaceful solution. I felt privileged to serve in this noble mission along with around 40,000 other people from many nations, including a good number from the New Zealand army.
New Zealand has a proud record of involvement, leadership and success in the realm of the United Nations. Helen Clark was the Administrator of the United Nations Development Programme from 2009 to 2017 and was a candidate for the top job of Secretary General last year.
The whole United Nations show in The Bosnian War was lead by a very experienced, clever Japanese diplomat called Yasushi Akashi and the military chief was a short, fit, tough Frenchman called Lieutenant General Bernard Janvier who spoke little English, had a scar on his cheek, and had spent most of his life leading his legionnaires in active combat. I was proud to serve alongside him as his ‘Air General,’ arranging and advising on all matters of airpower and support, on behalf of the North Atlantic Treaty Organisation (NATO). The challenges were immense and there were some very dark times but, eventually, the conflict was suppressed and the warring factions came to a pretty much peaceful agreement which holds today.
Stationed at the UN headquarters in Zagreb, I have many memories in that role. But one evening stands out in particular.
I was the only non-Frenchman in a military tent on Mount Igman (home of the winter Olympics in 1984), overlooking war-wrecked Sarajevo. The other 30 or so were foreign legion officers, hosting a formal dinner in honour of General Janvier. It was bitterly cold, pitch black, and howling.
The evening started with great drama as the youngest officer smashed off the top of a bottle of champagne with a razor sharp sabre. After the meal the officers sang mournful songs about comrades who had died in combat and they also sang about women, both real and imaginary, loved and long lost. Later Janvier gave a short speech and said of the singing, "tous les chansons des soldats sont tristes." (all soldiers’ songs are sad). I told him later that should be the title of his memoirs. The evening was moving, eerie, and beautiful.
I have worked in the military and later as a businessman in multinational organisations. It carries much in the way of frustration, challenge and, to a degree, inefficiency, when compared to single nation institutions. But I can say with conviction that working with others on big challenges in the end produces better, more durable and more satisfying outcomes. The big portion of my teenage life growing up in New Zealand taught me that the ability to work with other cultures is very much part of the Kiwi values and skill set. And I am grateful to have acquired it in this great country.
Food is the answer
Cook, author, and actor Sam Mannering dusts off his pen and paper and starts writing invitations.
Cook, author and actor Sam Mannering dusts off his pen and paper and starts writing invitations.
I have so many friends within walking distance of my house. Some of them I barely see twice a year. I’ve always felt bad about that sort of thing. We only ever get together at some forced event, and horribly enough, it always seems to be funerals. Even weddings don’t get people together. I’ve been to far too many where everyone stands around afterwards in the same haze of realisation as someone blurts out that we all must start catching up more often. It never happens. We get too caught up with the littlenesses, the trivial.
I’ve decided that food is the answer. It always has been.
I often find myself drawn to cultures who have been through more than their fair share of strife, because it’s there you’ll see the most love. And it’s always expressed through food. I think of places like China, the Middle East, Vietnam; cradles of conflict and oppression for thousands of years; and yet the people are always so generous, their cuisines so powerful, so important to their way of life. Cooking is love; no matter what, whether you are sitting around a pot in a bomb shelter or hiding out in the jungle it means that you get to be fed soon and that you will make it through another day; it means that for a few brief moments everyone is safe, contented, together.
I’ve recently discovered Chef’s Table on Netflix. I generally cotton on to popular culture approximately two years after everybody else. One episode features Jeong Kwan, a South Korean monk whose simple vegetarian food has blown the minds of the global culinary elite, from Eric Ripert to the New York Times. What drives the beautiful essence is her unselfishness, her generosity. A separation from ego; a simple desire to do good through food. And it is as much the attitude itself that makes her work so stunning.
We’re too damn lucky here, but it seems to be pushing us apart. I don’t want to sound to tediously pious here but food should be bringing us together. I’ve realised that being a chef should make me a bit of a torchbearer. I can’t think of a better way to express generosity and love than through food.
Where am I going with this?
We don’t have much to complain about here. Things seem all a bit grim elsewhere at the moment what with maniacal toupees and xenophobia on the rise as if the twentieth century never happened. Others dribble on about Finland or Denmark being so wonderful but then again who wants to have Putin breathing down your neck at the promise of some nice new lebensraum. We do pretty well down here in our little corner of the Pacific; perhaps going that little extra mile to make more of an effort isn’t quite so hard after all.
I’m going to start inviting my friends around for dinner more. And you should too. I’m getting tired of the ‘oh we must catch up’ and then ten years go by and we’re at a funeral.
It probably won’t make you as zen as Jeong Kwan, but it’ll remind you how lucky we are.
Back to work
UNO’s new columnist might be a comedy big shot, but he’s not immune to that first-week-back-at-work feeling, from which he’s still recovering.
UNO’s new columnist might be a comedy big shot, but he’s not immune to that first-week-back-at-work feeling, from which he’s still recovering.
PHOTOS BRYDIE THOMPSON
No one really clocks on mentally until after Waitangi Day. Sure, your body is at work but your mind is not – it’s still riding those breakers at Papamoa, drinking cocktails for morning tea, or avoiding a flying Virat Kohli six at the Bay Oval. It’s just too bloody hot, and we’re still digesting the 4kg of ham we ate over Christmas.
It’s a wonderful time of year, and it’s also very frustrating. Trying to enlist the services of a tradesperson during January is a fruitless exercise. They know full well that you have money to give them in exchange for their services, but who needs money when you have sunshine and cold beer? They’ll get to you, but not till at least February 7.
The television shows I work on take a break over summer as well. 7 Days does about 40 episodes a year but thankfully is off air during the time when all the news cycle seems to consist of is record temperatures and the odd shark sighting. However, The Project comes back a little earlier – and it was its return that knocked me out of my hammock.
I’ve been contributing to The Project since it started in early 2017. I fill in on the panel sometimes when Jeremy Corbett is away and recently they’ve asked me to do some interviews with some big names in music. It’s not overstating it to say that this is a dream job for me, an ageing Taranaki-bred bogan whose hearing is missing a few frequencies, due to listening to Nirvana and AC/DC at louder than recommended volumes in my mum’s 1989 Ford Laser back in the day.
So far, my interviewees have included Weezer, Queens of the Stone Age, Cat Stevens, Tom Morello of Rage Against The Machine and Corey Taylor of Slipknot, so when my producer emailed to ask if I’d interview my favourite guitarist, Slash, I ignored the fact that it was January 24, well shy of my official Waitangi Day work kick-off, and shook myself awake.
Saul Hudson, aka Slash, the iconic lead guitarist from Guns N’ Roses, all top hat and black curls, was to play two shows in Tauranga and Auckland with his new band Myles Kennedy & the Conspirators and had agreed to his first television interview in five years. With me. I still have no idea why.
So, first day back at work in 2019, and I’m in a lift heading up to the penthouse at Auckland’s Pullman hotel. I was feeling the pressure; idol worship aside, Slash doesn’t really ‘do’ interviews because he’s shy and all anyone asks him about is why Guns N’ Roses broke up, which he’s sick of talking about. His record label told me not to ask him anything about Guns N’ Roses or Axl Rose or Duff the bass player or Steven the drummer or the November Rain video or the ’80s or firearms or flowers of any sort. This directive came by email but was reinforced in person by his very friendly but very large, 7ft-tall head of security just before Slash came into the room. Point taken, giant security man – point taken.
Slash sat down and got out some nicotine gum. I broke the ice talking about smoking, how hard it is to quit and stay quit. He relaxed a bit as we quietly chatted about the different methods of giving up ciggies. It was a bit weird as I’ve never smoked, but I needed a way to start talking without launching into the meat of the interview. I lied, just a little, and I feel medium-bad about this.
The standard time frame for these interviews is 15 minutes, but Slash gave me 20 and I can say he’s as pleasant a man as I’ve met. For someone who’s notoriously suspicious of the media, he was generous and friendly, and I think I even made him laugh a couple of times. We covered his childhood growing up in Los Angeles, his hippy parents, how he lived on the same street as Frank Zappa and Joni Mitchell, his love of reptiles and all the usual rock ’n’ roll stuff about touring and albums and crowds and fans. And guess what? He mentioned Guns N’ Roses, like, four times.
Then he left, and I drove home, adrenaline still coursing through my bogan veins. I felt a mixture of disbelief and relieved exhaustion. The next day was the start of anniversary weekend. Thank god – I needed a few days off.