Why Kiwi's Can't Fly

I was talking to a Kiwi the other day. Not a bird. A guy. Born and raised in small town New Zealand. Very kind person. Genuine. Honest. No bull. Like most of the people in this country. I told him I was from Canada. He said that he had worked in Queenstown, a touristy town here on the south island, well known as the place to go for zorbing, bungee jumping, and other whiplash related activities. He then asked if I knew a guy he worked with named Steve. He's a baker. From Canada.

When I left, he asked me again what my name was. The kind Kiwi stared for a second and asked: "Wait – you're not the same Thomas I know? He's a chef and a DJ. From Canada."

"No. I'm the unemployed dolphin researcher Thomas from Canada."

The south island of New Zealand is quite, how shall I say? Rural. They're a bit different at times. Apparently, the "manly" look is to wear a singlet (wifebeater) with short. Short shorts. I think that someone forgot to let these people in on a little thing we called "The Eighties".

Luckily, as you will see, I'm not here to explore the myriad intrigues of Kiwi culture. I'm here to work with dolphins...