Tana power
06/11/05 22:30 Filed in: Kids
In a cafe just off the
Arc de Triomphe late on Saturday afternoon there were
groups of Parisiens sitting at tables sipping coffees
and wine, smoking, talking, flirting, arguing.
A lone New Zealander leant on the bar watching the TV. The barman turned up the volume a little for national anthems. The New Zealand anthem, sung beautifully in Maori by Hayley Westenra, turned a few heads. People looked around to see what was going on, saw it was sport, rugby, smiled and kept chatting.
And then the All Black haka began and the cafe went totally silent. Every head turned to the screen. Tana Umaga strutted and slapped and Ka Mate rang.It was as if passers-by stopped on the street outside. It was the moment in a western movie when the protagonist walks through the saloon's swing doors. The breath of the room seemed to be sucked away by the ferocity..
How could you not be a proud New Zealander? The admiration filled the room. The snatches of pleasure afterwards...All Blacks! Nouvelle Zelande!
Superbe.
And what followed? Heh. No one paid much attention save that lone New Zealander. Even he didn't recognise a few of the All Blacks now. The wizened old men in the bar would look up and saying something admiring every time Rico Gear scorched over the pays-de-Galle line or Dan Carter racked up more points. Which, lets face it, was pretty often. Heh.
A lone New Zealander leant on the bar watching the TV. The barman turned up the volume a little for national anthems. The New Zealand anthem, sung beautifully in Maori by Hayley Westenra, turned a few heads. People looked around to see what was going on, saw it was sport, rugby, smiled and kept chatting.
And then the All Black haka began and the cafe went totally silent. Every head turned to the screen. Tana Umaga strutted and slapped and Ka Mate rang.It was as if passers-by stopped on the street outside. It was the moment in a western movie when the protagonist walks through the saloon's swing doors. The breath of the room seemed to be sucked away by the ferocity..
How could you not be a proud New Zealander? The admiration filled the room. The snatches of pleasure afterwards...All Blacks! Nouvelle Zelande!
Superbe.
And what followed? Heh. No one paid much attention save that lone New Zealander. Even he didn't recognise a few of the All Blacks now. The wizened old men in the bar would look up and saying something admiring every time Rico Gear scorched over the pays-de-Galle line or Dan Carter racked up more points. Which, lets face it, was pretty often. Heh.
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