A few not so interesting observations:

--Strolled into the movie rental store which doubles as an Internet cafe. New release: "The Puppetry of the Penis: A Show of Genital Origami."

I think Spielberg was busy when that phone call came in.

--The elevator in my hostel was manufactured by Schindler. I guess that makes it Schindler's Lift.

Thank you. I'll be here all year. Tip your waitress.

--Auckland will heretofore be known as Tokyo South. Japan may not have an army and may have a declining birth rate, but that's only because they're all overseas taking over foreign lands....again.

--Hungry for something different? Go to the grocery store here and have your choice of beef or chicken, sure. But, come on. You're in New Zealand. How about some Lamb Knuckle (a hoovy delight), Lamb Liver (complement with a Merlot), Lamb Heart (veiny, sure, but any warrior knows it'll give you the fighting spirit of a lamb), and Lamb Brain (yes, it looks exactly as you imagine...wrapped in plastic).

No wonder Clarice needed therapy from Hannibal Lecter.

Oh, don't forget to grab some Pig Liver (hey, they don't drink beer), Pig Heart (plumpier than their lamb counterparts), and Ostrich meat.

What is this? The Amazon? The Old Testament? It just goes to show: we're all just walking, talking, pieces of meat.

Clarice isn't the only one searching for the silence of the lambs. I think I'm having an existential crisis.

I can't remember if Publix sells any Lamb Mince. Maybe Piggly Wiggly?

--Everything here (at least on the North Island) is geared to make you remember Maori culture. I can't decide if its genuine appreciation or one, big, collective apology from the country's European descendants. The National Museum here in Wellington is called Te Papa, which I'm pretty sure is Maori for "Who's your Daddy?" I think every male Maori on his 18th birthday sings the "Cha-ching" song. It goes like this: "Go to the museum, cha-ching. Breathe the air, cha-ching. White people, cha-ching."

John Lennon, eat your (lamb) heart out. It's better with the melody.

They have a Government council here, after all, that is continually looking to give back to the different Maori tribes land that was dispossessed from the indigenous peoples beginning back in the 19th century. If the American Indians were smart, they'd buy a plane ticket, get a pow-wow together with the Maoris, and figure out how to get it done.

Granted, the Atlanta City Council would probably have to re-route the Connector around the new casinos, but just we should just consider it atonement for the polio blankets. And all those John Wayne movies. As an added bonus, new highway tolls could be a direct fund for the Bill Clinton Slavery Reparations program.

Just don't let Bill Campbell near it.

The real question, however is this: what drives New Zealand's communal guilt? Why here and not elsewhere? When is Britney going to get her parental rights back?

--I had to sidestep vomit on the hallway floor on the way to the bathroom this morning. Hostel living, baby, fantastic.