What is Christopher Luxon doing on top of a mountain?

The Spinoff

2 days ago

He's just a man, standing on a mountain, asking a pavlova to love him.
Christopher Luxon is a man on top of a mountain. The prime minister of New Zealand is standing high above Queenstown, the soft white powder of fresh snow beneath his feet and crisp blue skies of a winter's day above him. Australian prime minister Anthony Albanese stands next to Luxon, wearing a yellow and green scarf around his neck. The view across the Southern Alps is spectacular, but neither leader is looking at it. Instead, both men are busy staring intently at something far more impressive in front of them.
They are gazing at a pavlova.
Christopher Luxon's social media video about pavlova marked the climax of last weekend's 24-hour political lovefest between Albanese and Luxon. Albanese flew into Queenstown for the annual leaders meeting between Australia and Aotearoa, and boy, did they have fun. They laughed, they cuddled, they hung out at a billionaire's private retreat. In between, they discussed trade and defence issues, talked about 501 deportees and Gaza. Mostly, they just had a lovely time together.
The most bromantic moment of all came when they took a helicopter up a mountain, where they dined on a feast of sweet treats arranged on the snow. Even when standing in one of the most peaceful and unspoiled parts of the world, Luxon couldn't resist tackling one last critical political issue: who really invented the pavlova, Australia or New Zealand?
The identities of two nations rest entirely on what is about to unfold. 'Well look, to all our Australian and Kiwi friends,' Luxon begins in the video, holding a cream-splattered knife in one hand and a paper plate in the other. 'Anthony and I have resolved…'
We're only three seconds in, but already Albanese has had enough. 'Quite clearly, it's half-half,' he pipes up. The Australian prime minister points his finger at the pav, first to one half, then the other. One side is artfully covered in sliced kiwifruit, while the other is topped with strawberries and Tim Tam biscuits. Job done, let's move on.
The bilateral dessert sits on a table covered with a black cloth, which was also presumably hoiked up the mountain in a helicopter. Also visible is a platter of date scones and two containers of butter. Put these delicious treats together with all the eggs and cream in the pavlova, and at Queenstown prices, that tucker is valued at approximately eight million dollars.
Can you put a price on pavlova? Luxon doesn't think so. 'This is a compromise solution, we all know the Kiwis invented the pavlova,' he continues bravely. 'They stole it, they try and claim it.' It's a killer blow. Australia might be tempting record numbers of New Zealanders over with its superior pay, better living conditions and greater job opportunities, but there's one thing we won't let them get away with, and that's having the audacity to claim they were the first to put cream on meringue and name it after a Russian ballerina.
It could be the altitude or the alarming sight of Tim Tams on top of a pav, but Luxon starts to ramble. 'But you've seen pieces broken out of it up here on this mountain today, in the South Island, eh?' he asks Albanese. Albanese is too distracted by which half is his half to answer. 'This is clearly Australia,' Albanese repeats, pointing at the pav again. 'That's Australia with your Tim Tams,' Luxon agrees, as if he's speaking to a confused uncle who thinks a pudding is a world map. 'And that's us with our kiwifruit, see?'
Suddenly, all is right with the world. These leaders have never been more relatable and everything bad has faded away: the collapse of the health system, the rising cost of living, the prolonged recession, the increase in unemployment and homelessness, whether or not to recognise Palestinian statehood (Albanese has since gone with yes, Luxon is still solving that problem). Now, there is only pavlova. 'Problem solved,' Albanese cheers. 'We have solved a centuries-old debate,' adds Luxon, surprising even himself. 'And we had to come up here…' 'To do it,' both leaders say in unison.
Pavlova deep, mountain high. This is exactly what happens when powerful men dine from a silver platter on a mountaintop: they solve the big issues. Some may say pavlova is an issue that nobody gives a shit about, but when was the last time they took a helicopter up a mountain and stared destiny in the face? Have they ever put two Tim Tams on a pudding and lived to tell the tale? Only losers eat dessert at sea level, anyway. Christopher Luxon has solved the great pavlova mystery, once and for all: both nations invented it, which also means, nobody invented it. What more do you want, New Zealand?