10 Movies that are better than the books

In the last couple of weeks, I have both read the book Atonement and seen the movie. As to be expected, the book was far, far better. I mean, that's the way it usually is, books are generally like drinking a smoothie as opposed to cordial made from a packet. Tane and I were talking the other night, though, about books which are worse than the movies, movies that are the smoothie to the powdered cordial of the book. This is my list:

1. Brokeback Mountain. The movie was fabulous, and captured the relationship between the two men far better than the book. The book didn't have me thinking "I can't quit you!" (A random aside - is it just me that looks twice at the guys in the Speights ads now?)

2. Once Were Warriors. Alan Duff cannot write. The movie was good, but I would rather poke nails through my eyelids than read anything else written by that man.

3. Zodiac. I loved the movie, but found that in the book the author was too busy telling the story of himself being fantastic to hold my interest.

4. The English Patient. The movie was beautiful. The book was good, but also quite pretentious, at times so over-written I wanted to vomit in my own mouth, and much clumsier in its execution than the movie. Apparently, the book is 'post-colonialism', which explains why it is the way it is. I don't care. Putting an 'ism' on the end of a phrase doesn't necessarily make the book in question a great book. Sometimes I wonder if people are scared to criticise pretentious writing as they fear looking stupid, like they didn't "get" it, when all we need is the little child to yell "but the Emperor is wearing no clothes!"

5. Children of Men. They were both flawed, but the way P.D. James painted the world inhabited by the characters was not as strong as that shown in the movie. I also preferred the adapted plot in the movie.

6. The Constant Gardener. The book was good, but the movie had a heart and soul to it that the book lacked. I empathised with the characters in the movie far more than in the book, and got much more emotionally involved.

7. The Three Musketeers. At least I could finish the movie. The book still sits on our bedside table with a book mark permanently living about half way through.

8. Forest Gump. The book really disappointed me on account of being wayyyy too random.

9. The Joy Luck Club. While the book is lovely, the movie is more coherent and, as a result, better.

10. Clueless / Emma. This was a left field adaption, but I just got more pleasure from Clueless than I did from Emma. Maybe it was because Emma didn't carry a phone that looked like a brick. Heh.

Some other people have come up with a few more that I can't comment on as haven't read the books, but thought I'd post anyway. Namely Sense and Sensibility, Whale Rider, The Pianist, and Bladerunner/Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep. Disagree? Got more to add?

Look down!

And not just to the cool pic of Lauren in the leaves. We've done an awards entry for our trip, but due to the vagaries of the blog (and me starting it weeks ago), it's appeared way down the page. You'll find it here.

Autumn leaves

Ahhhh, Autumn leaves. So pretty. So much fun. If Autumn leaves could talk, they would say "kick me". Although, given how cold it is now when the leaves are still falling, I am getting slightly nervous about the winter to come .....

In London Town

Life in London is going well. We have a lovely flat, we both have jobs, and feeling like an underground lemming during the commute to work is better than expected.

Our flat. OK, no, but that would be cool.

This, below, is the Ealing Common, near where we live. Apparently, Ealing is the greenest part of London. Score. Of note, Ealing also has a burger shop run by New Zealanders that sells an All Blacks burger. I am too scared to ask how the sales have done since the game of DOOM against France a few weeks ago.

The thing that is great about London is that so many cool things are either in the city or nearby. Last weekend, we travelled to the small town of Rochester, home to a huge church and Norman castle. The castle was especially impressive, and from a distance looked like the type of castle that gets drawn with crayons by a child. It was even better on the inside, with its winding staircases and high turrets. Living in that castle must really have been a testosterone boost.

On the subject of castles and testosterone, we also saw Henry the Eight's suit of armour the other day. The codpiece was so obscene that I have decided not to publish the photo should children be viewing it. I felt sorry for the harassed looking father looking at it the same time as me who was asked by his young daughter "Daddy, what's that?" I don't know what he replied as he whispered the answer to her after turning a funny shade of pink, but the young girl sure found it funny.

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After two and a half weeks, both Tane and I are enjoying London. It's getting cold, and my Turkey tan is becoming a distant memory, and soon we will be spending far too many waking hours in darkness. I still think though that London is choice.

East Side vs West Side

Last weekend, we joined Stephen for a visit to the most important line in the World. Yeah, it just looks like a boring old line. Black, on a white background. But, it's really very exciting, as we were in Greenwich, the place where time begins and ends. And that line, albeit a somewhat boring line, is the line between East and West, the place where the time zones begin and end. As you can see, Tane is Westside, and Stephen is Eastside. I don't know if I was Southside or Northside from where I took the photo as the sun always seems to be in the wrong place in the Northern Hemisphere and my sense of direction is as accurate as trying to count multiples of ten with your hands while missing a thumb.

Westside! Eastside!

As well as the line where time begins and ends, Greenwich is a lovely place to visit. There are beautiful old buildings, some fabulous churches, and while we were there, a period movie being made also.

It was very funny seeing the extras talking on cellphones. Note the mist: it got pumped out of a machine to make the scene look grimy and old school

We stood around to watch them shoot a 30 second sequence involving a carriage and lots of yelling. It was all very exciting, and gave us a really good appreciation of all the work that goes into making movies as that sequence was all they shot in the three hours we were there.

The best part of Greenwich, though, was the park. The park was huge, green, and contained hills perfect for rolling down. So, naturally, westside and eastside had to compete for the honour of being hill roller supreme master. Westside takes the lead

But no, Eastside races ahead...

Dizzy yet victorious

Why I'll be backing South Africa

It's a rare occasion that a New Zealander finds themselves supporting South Africa in the rugby, but that's what I and I suspect most of my rugby-following countrymen will be doing on Saturday night. I'll be watching the World Cup Final with my South African flatmate, who served in the British Army and probably knows more ways to kill me than I've cooked dinners with spiral pasta, but that's not the reason why I'm behind the Boks.
It's England. Not that I have any bias against my new home - I support their football side and don't mind their cricket team, but oh, how I hate the rugby team.
I do, reluctantly, have to give them credit. From looking like they would struggle to beat Opotiki United a few weeks ago, they've showed a huge amount of guts and intelligence in getting this far. They've tackled strongly, their forwards are tough, they've played to their limitations. And Johnny Wilkinson, though far from the messiah he's portrayed in the media here, has kicked enough points to get them through. But boy, are they boring.
The excellent Jason Robinson aside, they have the attacking flair of a beached whale. South Africa at least know how to throw the ball around. In fact, after rubbish refereeing, ferocious French defence and some stupid decision-making saw the All Blacks go home, South Africa are the most complete team in the competition.
Let's hope, for the good of the game, they win and 10-man rugby doesn't.

P.S. Why is it that, time and again, France play well enough to beat the best team in the world, then fall flat the next game?

P.P.S. Given the number of friends who've told me how little they care about the rugby, I think the next World Cup might be the game's last chance to maintain its key place in New Zealand national identity. Which will probably be a good thing, though it's always nice to be consistently the best in the world at something.

Stonehenge and Salisbury. Yay!

A photo of the Tower Bridge I took while wandering. This photo does not relate to the entry whatsoever, I just felt like adding it!


Last weekend, Tane and I joined Stephen and Erica for a day trip to Stonehenge and Salisbury.
Stonehenge has got to be the most famous pile of rocks in the world. There is something really cool about the idea of a pile of huge rocks perfectly placed so that the sun hits at various angles at different times of the year, so we all boarded a giant red double decker bus and paid fees to enter the site that felt a tad like extortion to see what the fuss was about.

Tane does his Spinal Tap impersonation - 'Stonehenge, where the demons dwell/and the banshees live and they do live well'

Stonehenge was very cool and did not disappoint. The tacky attempt at Druid music and drums on the free audio guide was an added bonus. The thing with Stonehenge, though, is that while it is very cool, once you have looked at it from all angles and managed to manoeuvre yourself in order to take photos without the hordes of tourists in the background, there is not much else to see. Awe struck "ooohs" and "aaaaahs" start sounding a little silly after a while. It was about at this time that Stephen discovered the hardened sheep poop on the ground and began to amuse himself by throwing large chunks at me. Apparently it was quite funny seeing me try to remove it from my hair and jacket hood. I also learnt at Stonehenge something new about myself - my poop throwing skills are crap. I think I need to train for next time. Look at that evil glint in his eye

It was a great day, and an excellent first glimpse at what life outside London is like. Salisbury is a cute little town with a great church, not to mention poky old buildings that were built about the time the moa still roamed around New Zealand. Despite only being a couple of hours away, Salisbury has a very different feel to London. The foot traffic didn't have me fearing a stampede, and we did not feel compelled to use escalators while always standing on the right (to do otherwise is to risk nasty death stares from commuters moving so quickly through the subways that their training for the London Marathon can be the only explanation). Salisbury was also filled with white old people, rather than cosmopolitan young people. In short, it really felt like small(er) town England that what I'd seen so far. And while it's nice enough, I am still glad to be living in London. I can lift up a house! Ra!

London - first impressions

Here I am, writing from London, our new home. We have lived in London now for a week and a day, and so far it is working out very well. We have a lovely flat, Tane has a job, and I have been spending my days wandering the streets being a tourist between job hunting myself. Yay! First impressions are that there is an awful lot about London to like - the buildings, the parks, and the shopping in particular. After hearing so many horror stories about the tube I was pleasantly surprised by that also. I think that the problems Wellington had with buses earlier this year was good practice for the tube, and so far nothing has come close to being just as crap as that was, which is saying something as Tane and I have even had the experience of the tube in rush hour wearing backpacks.

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After a week and a day, I like London. It's exciting and vibrant, and I am enjoying getting to know one of the biggest cities in the world. One of the worst parts so far is actually not being able to find anywhere to upload photos, hence the lack of pics in this entry. I'm sure than in a little while I may be a little less positive, but thought there was no harm in writing a Pollyanna-esque entry about London while it's so fresh. And at least when London starts to grind me down, I ought to know where to upload photos from my digital camera :)

The end of the beginning - and travel awards

So here we are in London. We've been so busy since we arrived, with job and recruitment company interviews, starting work, bank appointments, shopping and sorting out our new flat, there's barely been a spare moment to reflect on our fabulous trip. Right now, we'd like to look back on it, hand out a few awards and find excuses to stick up some of the best photos we've not already posted.

Before I do that, special thanks to Kat, Stephen, Erica, Lucy, Chris and Sal for hosting us at various times. You're all awesome.

Lauren's top five places, in no particular order:

1) Fethiye, Turkey

2) Halong Bay, Vietnam

3) Dubai, UAE

4) Bergama, Turkey

5) Luang Phrabang, Laos

Tane's top five places:

1) Goreme

2) Halong Bay

3) Fethiye

4) Istanbul

5) Luang Phrabang

Ireland: some craic to be sure to be sure

There are certain things that typically only ever happen right at the end of something. Like, the time I lived in a flat up over 170 dodgy looking stairs, and only once fell down them - while I was moving out. Or, how at our last place, Tane parked his car in one spot the whole time. We only ever got one parking ticket for doing so though - the day before we left. I was reminded of these things when, on the last day of a two month trip around parts of the world where hygiene practices are dubious, both Tane and I got really ill.

Tane tries to smile his pain away. I am less polite.
While not indulging in self-pity and moaning, though, we have managed to have a very pleasant time in both London and Ireland. We weren't in London long, but it was long enough to find a flat as well and a job interview for Tane. Yay! Ireland, also, has been excellent.

Tane on the north coast of Ireland. So green. If you ignore the tiny brick houses and hedgerows, in fact, Ireland really reminded us of parts of NZ.

Unfortunately, this time around there has only been time to visit Dublin and Northern Ireland. These were both fabulous, though. Kat was an excellent host in Dublin, squeezing us into her flat and showing us around Trinity College. Tane and I also loved Northern Ireland, in particular getting into nature and seeing the countryside. All the corny cliches are true, we decided. Ireland is beautiful. Tane grinning on a swing bridge that he described as having "really good bounce". Given the drop below, all I remember about it was concentrating on getting to the other side.

Tane at the Giant's Causeway, a series of funky rock formations on the North Coast. According to local legend, it used to be part of the bridge giants used to walk to Scotland. Cool.

Ireland is also a fabulous place for getting a good history fix. In Dublin, the Post Office that was the site of the 1916 Easter Rising sits smack bang in the middle of town. It was quite eerie when I recognised it from some grainy photographs I saw once. While in Northern Ireland, we also spent some time in Derry. Derry was the home of Bloody Sunday, where 26 protesters were shot by the British in 1972. It's a pretty intense history, and Derry is filled with reminders of what happened, most memorably a series of murals around the area Bloody Sunday took place. After being in Derry I listened to U2's Sunday Bloody Sunday on my i-pod and actually understood the lyrics a little better. Before Derry, it was just a catchy tune.
I was also a bit surprised to see the Bloody Sunday museum filled with my surname - I had known that my ancestor was from Ireland and probably from Ulster, but didn't have many details. The curator of the museum told me that there were loads of us in Ulster though, and winking at me told me not to worry. They were all Republican, not pro-British.
Ireland is great. The fields are green, the Guinness is tasty, and the pubs are everywhere. Given the history fix as well, I am totally coming back one day.

A few days in Bedrock

We are currently spending a few days in Goreme, Central Turkey. Moving inland seemed like a good idea after lazing on the beach days in a row caused both of us to have sunburn that made it look like we were wearing red stockings. Plus, we had noticed that when people talk about Goreme, they seem to get this wistful look in their eye. So, we ventured on the long journey inland to conservative heartland Turkey where, given the looks locals gave me in my knee-length skirt and Tane in his shorts, legs are not seen in public very often, and on to Goreme.

Tane swimming at Olympos, blissfully unaware of the sunburn that is forming. Turns out the cyrillic on the sunscreen we got in Bulgaria did not mean "water resistant"

After a few days in Goreme, we can see why this is such a favourite amongst travellers. It is FANTASTIC here. So fantastic, even, only capital letters will suffice in describing it. First, the landscape is amazing. The land is covered in rocks and caves that have been lived in for centuries, nicknamed "fairy chimneys" by the locals. I am sure that given their shape the pointy formations have been given plenty of other nicknames over the centuries as well.

It feels like we have stumbled upon a movie set. Or, at the very least, Bedrock. The room we are staying in looks like Fred Flinstone should be yabber dabber do-ing from inside and that cars ought to be operated by feet. I think that Goreme could easily market itself as Bedrock with hot running water.

Tane on the roof of our room

Goreme is a lovely town, and half the magic of this part of the world is how it's managed to retain its charm while having so many tourists coming through each day. Our photos are totally inadequate to capture how cool it is here, but will give it a go anyway ..

A nunnery

Just to top off a visit in a FANTASTIC place, Goreme is also home to the first evil eye tree that we have found in Turkey. The evil eye is a blue and yellow design that the Turks have everywhere, believing that it somehow deflects the evil eye. It is in cars, on buses, on websites, and on cups and plates. We have also seen it on tablecloths, bracelets, necklaces, ornaments, carpets and magnets. Apparently I look like I need help warding off the evil eye - I have been gifted two while here, a magnet from an old man in Istanbul, and a brooch by a guy in Ephesus. As no-one has given one to Tane, he decided to suck up his deeply suppressed feelings of rejection (so deep only I know he had them) and buy a t-shirt with it on. He happened to be wearing it when we saw the evil eye tree.

To the tune of "He's got the wandering eye": He's got the evil eye .. doo doo do do do do doooo

At risk of sounding repetitive, Goreme rocks. If you go no-where else in Turkey, come here. Yay!

It's a hard life on the road

Warning - this entry contains a number of photos that may make you wish you were here. Lauren and Tane take no responsibility for any jealousy that may occur.

Fethiye is, frankly, fabulous. In many ways it is the Luang Prabang of Turkey. With pine-covered mountains meeting the deep blue Meditteranean, the scenery is spectacular. The atmosphere is relaxed, there are heaps of activities and sites to see nearby, and plenty of tourist infrastructure without a suffocating number of tourists. Fortunately, most of the British package tour types are in a nearby town filled with hotels with names like The Sun Trap and restaurants that quote prices in pounds.

We have spend three great days here. The first day featured a cruise around various islands and harbours. The highlights were:


Butterfly Valley. Unlike one young woman, Lauren did not attempt to clamber up the rock-filled path in heels and a bikini.



A cove with hot and cold springs feeding into the sea right next to each other. Swimming there was amazing - one moment you were chilly, the next warm.

Day two was our Birds Without Wings day. We went to the inspiration for the novel, the ghost town of Kayakoy, which was largely abandoned after the Turkish Greeks were sent away following the Greek-Turkish war in the 1920s. It was a melancholy place, though we were glad to see that some people (including a woman form Noo Yoick and some random camels) still lived there. We are big fans of the book, and it was touching to hear that one of the characters in it is based on a 112 year old woman who lives nearby. She is still keeping a box her friend Maria left her when Maria was forced to go to Cyprus. Maria has never returned, but the ancient woman has never opened the box.

From Kayakoy we gave our rather untoned legs a bit of torture by walking over some hills to the beautiful Oludinez Lagoon. The view was totally worth it.


On the way we discovered that the track was only marked by irregular yellow and red stripes painted onto rocks, and that often it looked exactly the same as the rest of the stony, scrub-covered ground. Spoilt by as we Kiwis are by clear paths Department of Conservation signs listing how long it is to walk somewhere, we had to stop a few times and have a debate where to go. However, as we were descending the last hill we started following a couple in front of us - who turned out to have lost the track. So we ended up taking a bit of a short cut.

Driven by the prospect of a Diet Coke by a lagoon, Lauren wades through leg-slicing bushes and ankle-twisting rocks.

Today was the jaw-dropping Saklikent Gorge, which is a largely dry canyon that has a bottom made of smooth, milky stone. It is so narrow it feels like a marble alleyway.

Parts of it are so tight it basically becomes a cave. We walked into it for about 45 minutes, before it got blocked by boulders and it looked like we might have to do more climbing than we could be bothered with.

The Gorge is also notable for the river that tumbeles out of its entrance. You have to cross it to get further in. It was great to lounge around next to on a hot day, but wading up to our thighs became physically painful. To paraphrase Outkast, what's cooler than being cool? Saklikent Gorge's river, that's what.

The Death of Robert Jordan

Way back ın 1991, when I was even skinnier and curlier than I am now, I was browsing around the Opotiki Public Library and I came across a fat paperback book called The Eye of the World, by Robert Jordan. It was the best kind of fantasy novel, rich in detail and imagination, packed with action, with likeable heroes and memorable villains. The kind of book that lets you into a world you spend days in.

A while later, I discovered that there was a sequel. For more than a decade, I would eagerly await the next installment of The Wheel of Time, a series that would eventually spin out for no less than 11 books, each of which was more than 600 pages long. I remember a holiday to Rotorua when I discovered Book 3 in the public library and got a special card so that I could take it back home and read it. A year later, I was tearing open a new box of books inside the Opotiki College Library, so that I could read Book 4 as soon as possible.

As the series went on it got more bloated and sluggish, though it was still a good and occasionally gripping read. I lost my burning passion for it, the kind that drives you to read huge websites dedicated to theories about what this or that prophecy contained in the books meant, who had killed a particular character and the many other mysteries of the series. The first time I ever went on the Internet was at Aaron C's house, when I spent hours reading such a site.

Despite my flagging enthusiasm, I was hopeful that things were at last set up for the series to end, with Book 11 dealing with a bunch of plotlines and clearing the decks for what Jordan promised would be the final installment.

Today I found out that Robert Jordan has died.

Though I knew he had an incurable illness, his death came as a shock. Selfishly, my first reaction was frustration that I would never get to see the series finished as it should have been (though I am sure that last book will come out based on the notes he left) and that he had taken such a long, lucrative time getting to the end.

Then I read fantasy great George RR Martin's tribute, which put things into perspective. He turned Jordan into something more than a book writing machine, and made me realise what a sad thing it is to die with your life's great work incomplete.

Rest in peace, Robert Jordan. Thank you for giving me so many, many hours of pleasure.

Greece Greece Greece

Last week, Tane and I decided to go to Greece, a decision based on both of us having read Captain Correlli's Mandolin while in Laos. That, and the fact that the Greek Island Kos was so close to Turkey it seemed a pity not to go for a while.

Yay! Greek ruins in Greece! As well as satellite dishes used by the ancients ... Ruins seem so common we actually found these ones by accident and they were totally unmarked. Crazy.

Given that Greece is only an hour away from Turkey by ferry, I was surprised by how different than Turkey Kos was. For one, it was much more expensive. There were lots of other dıfferences - blue and white are the colours that are clearly the new black, scooters are everywhere and a highlight of the visit was seeing a little old Greek lady sitting reverently in her house under a painting of Jesus.

An orthodox church.

Greece, though, surprised me as it is so much more European than Turkey. I know this is a statement that will make you roll your eyes. 'Duh, Lauren' I can hear you crying out while reaching for your rubber hand for slapping. 'The fact it is in Europe might have something to do with that'.

Turkey has a real Middle Eastern feel with the regular calls to prayer, multiple mosques, and waiters hungrily oggling our food because most Turks are currently adhering to the Islamic holy month Ramadan. I think that without realising it, I had expected some of that flavour to rub off on Kos. Afterall, Turkey is filled with reminders that Greece is so close - ruins, mosques that were converted from orthodox churches. Tomorrow we are even planning on visiting a town that has been largely abondoned since the Greeks left during a population exchange after WWI. But, in Kos there is no hint of this shared history at all - the only common denomonator between the two places seemed to be the hordes of sunburnt tourists. And the glorious sun, of course.

Swimming in the sweet sweet Greek sun

I really enjoyed my first taste of Greece and hope to see more of the Greek Islands some time in the future. At the moment, though, I am happy that we decided to spend the bulk of our time in Turkey. I think that's because I love the fact that I hear the call to prayer and have learnt a lot about Islam while being yet another sunburnt tourist. Which, incidentally, I am. My tan marks are almost obscene.
Us at the beach. Note the blue and white flag - I think the Greeks are scared we will forget their national colours.

NB: Tane didn't enjoy Greece as much as I did on account of his drinking too much Zorba beer and eating too much fine Greek food. He spent most of our time there wanting to sleep.

He wasn't grinning after drinking that beer. Lucky we didn't crack out the ouzo

Ye Olde Ampitheatre Challenge of '07

The last week in Turkey has been so fabulous, if I described it in detail you would just want to get a giant rubber hand and slap me a few times for excessive bragging. The last week has been fılled with games of checkers by the beach, roof top meals and 1960s and 1970s themed karaoke.

The beach in Bodrum. Good times. Until I lost.

There have also been ruins galore. To some, ruins are boring. To others, they are only to be appreciated with solemn 'ooooh' and 'aaaaahs' at appropriate intervals, as well as quiet and subdued reverence for the ancients who walked around the ruins in times long passed. Tane and I, along with Stephen and Erica were in the latter category. Mostly.

Stephen at the St John Basilica in Selcuk. Apparently, the real St John wrote the book of Revelation here. I guess he left out his predictions regarding strange men in the crane stance when predicting what tragedy will befall the world.

Not to mention the strange cone man. That would certainly scare me.

The highlıght, though, has been the great Ye Olde Ampıtheatre Challenge of '07. The ampıtheatre at Ephesus seats 25,000 people and is a sight to behold. To honour the ancıent Romans, we did what they surely would have done back in the day. I mean, why would you build such a huge ampıtheatre and NOT race to the top? It would have been rude for us not to revıve the ancıent tradıtıon. So we dıd. Erica was the cheerleader, while Stephen, Tane and I raced to be the person that did not have to buy a round that evening.

Ready steady go! I had no ıdea my legs would burn so much ...
Afterward, in front of the ampıtheatre

Of course, I lost. The boys tell me that the beers - aptly named Efes Beer after a challenge taking place ın Efes - tasted good. Like victory, apparently.

The last week has been great. Ruins certainly get a big thumbs up from us. While I am getting sıck of museums, ruıns are still choıce.

Tane at Pergama