A Conflict of Interests

I'm comfortable and relaxed with conflicting positions coexisting in my head. I can have wildly juxtaposed opinions and theories at the same time and I don't need to apologise to anyone for having them. They're mostly private, so who cares?

A simple case in point: I can simultaneously loathe Jeremy Clarkson as a person, while laughing at and enjoying his daft antics on his car shows. I'm pretty sure he would merrily continue being an arrogant, odious arse whether I watched or not - I'm not going to achieve anything by depriving myself that bit of mindless escape now and then. I don't see him getting out of his ridiculous car and in a moment of epiphany, staring into the distance, exclaiming:
"By jove, I need to change my ways! That chap in New Zealand doesn't entirely approve of my actions!"
He would of course, and quite rightly, not give a flying shit. So I enjoy The Grand Tour road-trip editions occasionally, and don't feel too bad about it.

I'm in a similar boat (sorry), only much more so, with the cruise ship industry. The first cruise ship to return to New Zealand waters in the three years since Covid19 rearing it's ugly head, was the 'Majestic Princess', silently gliding into Tauranga port in yesterday's predawn quiet. She's a behemoth - not the biggest in our waters with 144,000 gross tonnage, a little lighter than Royal Carribean's 169,000 GT 'Ovation of the Seas' - but she's up there, befitting her name. She's a truly impressive sight, a vast ocean-going enterprise bringing 3,500-ish tourists to the bay, and with about 1,500 crew it's 5,000+ people arriving at our wharf.

Honestly, I'm delighted to see throngs of foreign tourists around again. Some looked a little sheepish, and roughly half of them were carefully masked. N95's were in abundance, and those I saw were worn properly. I'm sure at least some of them felt a bit uncomfortable, acutely aware of some suspicious side-eye they were getting from a few of the locals.

But I was quietly thrilled to see them here. As a long-term resident immigrant, I feel pride in seeing people coming to 'our' town, fresh off the boat in wide-eyed wonder. I've done a lot of work with the tourism industry over the years and it's so good to see them back. Come and enjoy our hospitality (please ignore the Clint Eastwood-eque squints from some of the locals) and maybe spend some of that holiday cash while you're here. Our mildly rusty local economy could certainly use a little of that fiscal grease (I saw a single One US Dollar tip in the tip jar in a bar yesterday. I guess it ain't much, but it's something, and something I haven't seen for a while!).

So yes, maybe the ships - quite correctly - have a whiff of the old 'plague ship' about them. Our pandemic still rages, much as people want to pretend it doesn't. But my opinion on this will not change a thing. They're coming, whether we like it or not, and being good sorts, we should welcome them regardless. Besides, maybe I've misread the respectful masking from those passengers: We're not exactly clean ourselves any more. Pretty wise to be masking up in Aotearoa these days to protect yourself. Maybe there'll be more Covid exported than imported, a little something to remember us by as you wave your soggy hanky from your ocean-view balcony.

Of course, though, the 'plague ship' whiff isn't the biggest problem with these Manhatten-esque Mammoths coming to town. What I love about them - the size, the audacious engineering, the staggering silent pirouettes these vertical town-sized beasts perform in docking, the imposing cliff-face sides of these ships - their sheer scale also surfaces their primary evil. No matter how much we marvel at their magnificence, we all hear the voice at the back our minds reciting the undeniable ecological toll of these follies.

We know well the cost: we know that a large cruise ship can have a carbon footprint greater than 12,000 cars. We are all too aware that they use disgusting fuel, the very cheapest obtainable, and they belch black toxic clouds from their stacks. We know they leak grey water, and frankly, sewage, as they make their way around the world. It's not just the filth, but the planet-heating that results from their voyages is plain and evident, and unconscionable in these times. We know.

Still: I can hold the conflicting positions in my head. I truly hate them, but also, somehow, love them. Through the two-and-a-half to three years without them, I know I've been feeling that our local wildlife and ecology have taken a much needed, cleansing breather. I don't know for a fact but I feel like things have been healing.

But I would be a rotten liar if I didn't admit to a little shiver of a thrill as I left home yesterday, a touch of the goosebumps as I looked across the harbour and saw the giant white beast looming over the cranes of our port. Like an unwise, toxic love affair, I know how bad you are for me but it is so good to see you return to my doorstep. Of course I know I should avert my gaze, take a deep breath and be a better person, but I rushed to your side anyway. You're back, and it's going to take a lot more than good sense and a little counselling to fix this one.