"God Bless America", Obama says from the television, as the sun rises over the sea in rural New Zealand. Here, it's January 21st already, 6.30 am. Wind moves in the pine trees, a woodpigeon's wings whirr through the bush, while clueless Kiwi commentators chatter about a president being sworn in half-a-world away. A clear summer's day dawns. The horizon is a hard blue line.