Top of the morning. Regrettably I'm not writing this from New Zealand, but from Taiwan, in the midst of the Great SARS Epidemic. The Taiwan government's reponse will become a case study in corruption, mendacity, incompetence and sheer bloody-mindedness. We have legislators profiteering on surgical masks, presidential contenders playing media tag by pointing out little princes and princesses who who ought to be slaving away heroically on military bases and in hospitals instead cruising the streets in brand new Jaguars or just chilling out at home, doctors & nurses resigning en masse rather than care for SARS patients. Nor does this reflect well on the Taiwan public at large, their absolute and bloody minded refusal to cooperate with even the most minimal and reasonable restrictions on their activity ensures that the epidemc will rage long into the summer and perhaps the autumn. When the cyclone season brings its floods, the sewers will overflow as they always do, and the virus will be off and running again. Well, at least it's an island and easily quarantined.

Good morning New Zealand and anyone else who loves this beautiful and civilised country. I came here by long, strange road through America, Mexico and Asia, and I could have chosen to live in any of those places. On my first visit here, made after much arm-twisting by a Kiwi friend, I was overwhelmed both by the physical beauty of the place and by the good attitude that generally prevails. The "road to Damascus" moment came when my friend and I drove into Kaikoura on a stunning late October day, the afternoon sun fell on the snow-capped mountains that seemed to drop right into the sea. It had been a day of good wine and good food, a day when every bend in the road revealed another impossibly beautiful landscape, a day when I wished a thousand times for the artistic talent to capture even a fraction of what I saw. The only thought in my mind was "Why live anywhere else?" I call this blog Cold Mountain after the view that day and after the serenity of a Buddhist poet who went by that name.

I've been in New Zealand now long enough to love her, rough bits and all, and certainly long enough to call her home. I'll be recording my thoughts on events here and those elsewhere that seem interesting. I hope you'll drop in often.

"If you're looking for a place to rest,
Cold Mountain is good for a long stay.
The breeze blowing through the dark pines
Sounds better the closer you come.
Under the trees a white haired man
Mumbles over his Taoist scroll.
Ten years now he hasn't gone home;
He's even forgotten the road he came by.
Poems of Han Shan #50
translated by Burton Watson