Southern Crossings

Film Festival Plans

2011-07-29T18:20:00.002+12:00

I have become too precious about this blog, waiting 'til I have something really brilliant to say, and pictures to go with it. As this blog is really about keeping friends and family in touch with what's going on in my life here in New Zealand, I'm going to try for regular (perhaps weekly?) short, and imperfect posts about what's going on with me. So here goes.

I'm watching an orange-salmon-electric pink sunset over the hills of Johnsonville, and sipping my tea, and feeling self-satisfied for having gotten my Wellington International Film Festival tickets sorted this year.

Last year we were in 'hibernation' mode, exacerbated by the fact that we'd moved to the suburbs but hadn't yet accepted that we needed to buy a car. We ended up missing the Film Festival entirely, and this made me sad. So this year I got myself organised, reading the festival guide and picking out films ahead of time. I bought my tickets today, the first day of the festival, and still struggled to find good seats, and twice had picked something that was sold out and had to go with my second pick. Now, for some this would be considered leaving it to the last minute, but it was far more organised and planned out than anything I'd done in the past.

I love the film festival because I've never lived in a place that has one. Actually Wellington has more film festivals than I can keep track of, but this is The Big One, the one everyone looks forward to, a bright spot in an otherwise cold, rainy, windy antipodian Winter bereft of holidays. Loren and I don't tend to see many movies in the theatre the rest of the year. Movies are so expensive, and so often not worth the money. But the film festival is a far better bet; any movie you pick is likely to be quite good, even if it isn't your kind of movie.

I've picked four films this year. A Japanese animated film based on the children's book The Borrowers, which I am looking forward to seeing by myself. A rom-com about a son and father and their respective romantic entanglements, which I will be seeing with friends. And two documentaries - one about the portrayal of women in media, the other about the nefarious things corporations do to protect themselves from lawsuits - which I will be seeing with Loren next weekend.

I ended up with a range of genre, which I is a good thing. It was hard to restrain myself from buying twice as many tickets. Indeed there are folks who take weeks off of work to see as much of the Film Festival as they can. I am not that crazy, but flipping through all the possibilities on offer, I can understand the urge.

Despite the fact that we don't go to the movies much, I like the move theatre experience. I am looking forward to spending some time eating popcorn (or scoffing jaffas, or sipping flat whites) in dark theatres this weekend.

Day Five: Hamilton to Rotorua

2011-05-04T11:28:00.000+12:00

In the morning we asked our host at the backpackers what there was to see in Hamilton. The only sight I knew of was the Riff Raff statue, but our host was clearly unimpressed by both the statue and the movie it represents, and stated that the botanic gardens were the best attraction Hamilton had to offer. Having already seen the Riff Raff statue in all its splendour the night before, I was dubious of this claim, but we decided to check it out on the way out of town.

It did not disappoint. I have never before experienced a garden that appeared not just planned and tended, but actually curated. We entered a central courtyard, and picked one of many doorways labelled as various garden collections. We chose the "Paradise Collection" which took us to a hedge-walled courtyard with a plaque explaining what the collection was about. There were archways in the hedge walls, labelled with the names of six different gardens, each representative of the style of a particular place and time. Following the one to the far right, we started with the Japanese Garden of Contemplation, and found that by simply following the paths, one garden lead eventually on to the next. Walking through a gate or archway to each new garden felt like entering a separate place, complete with architectural features representative of the culture and era. And each garden had a plaque, putting the garden in both cultural and philosophical context. It's hard to explain the effect of this. I'll have to rely on a few of the many pictures I took:

Indian Char Bagh Garden

Italian Renaissance Garden

Chinese Scholars Garden

As you can see, this is no mere display of plants; it is an exhibition of the art of gardens themselves. The Waikato River runs right behind much of these gardens, and river outlooks are incorporated into many of them, so that you can alternately imagine the Waikato is any one of a number of famous rivers around the world.

From here we pushed on all the way to Rotorua. We stayed at a holiday park right on the lake, which we were pleased to discover made good use of the geothermal activity in the area. The bathrooms, and all common rooms were heated by geothermal steam directed through radiators, and the same treatment was given to the cabin Loren and I stayed in. They also had several thermal hot pools available, and a thermal hangi. A hangi is a Maori tern for an oven made constructed by heating stones in a pit in the ground, similar to the Hawaiian imu. But a thermal hangi uses thermal steam for heat. And in this case the structures the steam diverted into were built above ground level:

Steam rising from the hangi catches the morning sunlight

We were fortunate enough to find an excellent South American restaurant that evening called Sabroso, which featured dishes from various countries of that continent. And of course we had a lovely soak in the thermal hot pools before heading to bed in our delightfully thermal-heated cabin.

Day Four: Sheep World to Hamilton

2011-01-11T10:43:00.000+13:00

When we woke, it was still raining. I could hear it quite loudly from my bunk-bed; it was hitting the roof approximately one foot above my head. We cosidered checking out Sheep World, but didn't make it past the gift shop. Entry was somewhere in the $20+ range, which seemed a bit steep for an attraction which appeared to consist mainly of watching people sheer sheep.

Back on the road, our plan was to make it as far as Auckland by the end of the day to pick up Loren. We picked a nice beach park to visit along the way, involving a short detour along scenic ridge of land, one of many little peninsulas making up the convoluted coastline along the Maharangi Harbour. We ended up at a lovely little beach near the mouth of the harbour. Retracing our steps, my best guess puts us at Otarawao Bay. We had picked it more or less at random, but it was a beautiful spot, with little islands dotting the harbour. The rain and clounds cleared out for a little while, and we had ourselves a nice walk on the beach.

Mom and I spent some time exploring the interesting cliffs along one end of the beach

The surrounding area was mostly farmland, so we felt pretty lucky to find a cafe along our path, and even luckier when the food turned out to be good. I had a memorable twice-baked kumera - the guy was reluctant to divulge the secret recipe but would admit it involved sour cream and curry. We were the only patrons in the place and the owner (who turned out to be the guy behind the counter) came out and chatted with us. Dad soon discovered that the motorbike out front was his, which gave them something to talk about. He described the dangers of not only the winding roads, but also the pukeko - a colourful native bird that doesn't always have the good sense to get out of the way of a speeding motorbike. We had spotted a few in the pastures on our drive; we would encounter them in greater abundance when we got to Rotorua.

Our next stop was Orewa so I could pick up a pair of pants I had so cleverly left in the laundry room during our stay. We were in an internet cafe plotting our route through Auckland to pick up Loren at the convention centre when he text-ed to say he'd had some bad luck and dropped out of the running early, and couldn't wait to get out of Auckland. So we made one more daunting trip through Auckland's motorways in our campervan, picked up Loren, and promptly got back on the road again, putting Auckland behind us without a second thought. We had thought to stop at the nearest holiday park, but the appeal of a real bed for the night was too great, and we pushed on to Hamilton. It was a long trip for us drivers (me and Dad) but we did appreciate cozy Eagle's Nest Backpackers where we landed at the end of our day's journey.

Day Three: Whangarei to Sheep World

2010-11-24T12:35:00.000+13:00

We woke up in Whangarei to a moody overcast morning. Dad made poached eggs on toast with the free-range eggs we bought the day before. I went down to reception to see if they would sell me some salt and pepper for our breakfast. The lady came out in her bathrobe and sleepily gave me a handful of individual salt and pepper packets for free.

Our first stop was the Quarry Arts Centre on the outskirts of town. This turned out to be a pleasantly rambling chaos of artist studios and sculpture, every nook and cranny - down the niches in the brick walls - filled with art.

Mom under lanterns, Dad in the background

Me in front of one of the artist studios

Weird and wonderful sculpture pond/fountain

After a leisurely walk through the grounds, Mom and I followed some vague signs pointing the way to a pa site. Our trusty guidebook told us that a pa site was some kind of ancient Maori military encampment or fortification - we'd been seeing signs for them here and there and decided to find out what all the fuss was about. The trail lead us on a pleasant hike up the wooded hills that rise up directly behind the artist village. I was expecting the ruins of some kind of fort, maybe some crumbling rock walls - but when we got there it was just a flat piece of land with a good view overlooking Whangarei.

Next we headed to an area along the river where we strolled along the waterfront, checking out the boats on one side and the many art galleries and other shops along the other side. Our destination was Clapham's Clocks (aka The National Clock Museum). This turned out to be one large room crammed full of every type of clock imaginable. We got in half way through a tour of the museum: a docent going around the room discussing some of the highlights of the collection, making the cuckoos do their stuff, and so on. Not two clocks were in synch with each other; chimes and tinkling tunes and pirouetting miniatures were going off at random intervals. Not to mention the constant sound of thousands of clocks ticking. There were grandfather clocks and cuckoo clocks and the ticking machinery of clock towers. There were hour glasses and slick digital clocks circa 1980, and everything in between. It was more impressive than I would have thought a room full of clocks could be.

The day was winding down and it was time to hit the grocery store to restock our supplies and hit the road. We were headed back south so we could hit Auckland by Sunday evening to pick up Loren. We ended up in a holiday park that sat cozily adjacent to a tourist attraction called Sheep World. There was a paddock of bright pink sheep out by the entrance. It was raining in earnest by the time we pulled up to the reception area. Dad and I got out and knocked, rang the door bell, and attempted to use the courtesy phone all to no avail (some of the buttons seemed to have stopped working). We were starting to wonder if the place was even open when a guy about my dad's age came trundling across the park in the rain, wearing shorts and gumboots and carrying a battered umbrella, his dog in toe. He greeted us kindly and explained he had been off tending to his sheep. He got us sorted out for the night, all the while he and dad grumbling congenially to each other about politics, the weather, and the evils of modern technology.

The place was nice if a bit rustic; you could see how the open-air kitchen looking out onto a little pond complete with tiny waterfall would be lovely on a warm summer day. The caretaker mentioned glow worms down by the waterfall, but the rain was really getting going and night was falling. After settling into what turned out to be our best camping site yet (we got our own personal bathroom literally a couple steps from the sliding door of our campervan) we holed up in our camper, cooked our backup stash of pasta-and-sauce for dinner with salad on the side, took luxurious unhurried hot showers, and pretty much called it a night.

Our camp site at Sheepworld Campervan Park

Dad and I investigate the kitchen

The aforementioned pond and tiny waterfall

The Adventure

2010-11-16T16:17:00.001+13:00

This was written October 18th, and I'm just now getting around to editing and posting it. It is a partial account of an adventure I had with a friend who was visiting from the States. This happened the very day she got off the airplane in Wellington.

*************************************

First day, and already we've had an adventure. Wandered right back to that place where we were before, when we were looking for her sister's wedding tree. We walked past the same eviscerated piano, and emerged from the bush to see a lady and child walking down the dirt road. Behind her we could see the marae; it was more impressive than I remembered.

She asked us where we were from and where we were headed, and I thought for sure she we had stepped onto her land and she was there to send us on our way. Then she invited us onto her marae. "Have a wander around, I've got to go feed the chooks, but I'll catch up with you later. Just remember to take off your shoes before going inside."

Despite the explicit invitation, I was hesitant to even walk through the gate, with its ragged white flags fluttering in the wind. Carvings everywhere, in stone or in wood. And the place all simple timbers, but built so grand as to look somehow palatial. It looked all of one style, yet it had wings sprouting from it of all shapes and sizes like it had been added to over generations. We very timidly inspected those rooms which were left open (most rooms had their own entrance to the outside). And the grounds, the fountains, the gardens sprouting chard and collards, tucked into every corner. Murals of all styles on the walls, and old black and white photos, and a single poi left on a large rustic table.

We had decided we'd explored all the areas that felt public (some buildings clearly looked lived in) and were just turning to head out when we caught up with the caretaker who had invited us. We expressed our delight in the place, and she invited us to meet the builder. She ushered us into a part of the area we had skipped over because it looked lived in. We had been correct. A large man with white hair and beard sat in a wheelchair in front of a computer. The wall he sat facing was covered in crowded bookshelves.

We were invited to sit at a bench by the window, and he talked to us for some time. I do not remember all of it. The land was his. He bought it from the Sisters of Compassion - a Christian charitable organisation whose grounds adjoined his. He bought it, and then he gave it away, to be the marae, to belong to his people. He got unemployed youth to build the it "But the buildings built them" he told us. The place is actually constantly under construction, still mostly by unemployed youth. Now he is making it into a village, he is building houses. Actually he is overseeing things now that he's in the wheelchair. He said his tireless efforts at creating the marae left him disabled. He told us all they have undertaken on that land, and all he hopes to see accomplished.

A girl of maybe thirteen years came in the front door. "How are the baby chooks? Can they make it up the ramp into the house?" He asked. We just built a new chicken coop today, he said, got to make sure they settle in okay. Then he asked her to show us around some other parts of the marae. She took us outside and we pulled on tennis shoes while she stepped into some slip ons. "You have to wear slip on shoes when you live on a marae." She told us. She took us up a shaded path, onto a pavilion, across a little catwalk and opened a door for us to enter. "This room is celebrating women, the pictures show the steps a woman has to go through to prove she is a leader for her people" she said. We quietly made our way around the room, examining the carvings on each supporting beam. Meanwhile the girl and her little sister waited in the doorway, discussing their newest house cat, who cheekily tried to follow us into the room.

On the way out she pointed to a shady little garden with fountains that sprayed a fine mist over the trees. One for each of us children, she said. That one is the most rare tree in the world. Its for her (the little sister) she's the youngest. We caught up with the caretaker then, and expressed our heartfelt gratitude at being invited onto the marae and bade her farewell.

Back on the street, as we sat on the sun-warmed curb re-tying our shoe laces, I said "why is it we always end up having these sorts of adventures when you're here?"

"Oh, I thought it was just New Zealand, you know, how kind and open the people are here."

"Well, I've certainly never been invited onto a marae before."

*******************************************

When editing this today, I found a website for the marae, so you can get an idea of what it looks like.

Day Two: Orewa to Whangarei

2010-09-25T12:59:00.000+12:00

When I woke up, my parents had already left the camper. I made myself a cup of tea, and headed to the beach, where I knew I'd find them, and we had a nice walk along the shore. The water was perfectly calm, the sun just starting to burn off the morning haze in an otherwise blue sky. It was going to be a beautiful day.

My parents turned back first, and when I caught up with them, Dad was suggesting they start the process of applying for residency when that option becomes available to them next year. Just to keep their options open. On the road less that twenty four hours, and I know what Dad was thinking: Living like this, driving around the country, wouldn't be a bad thing to do full time. Hole up in a Northern beach town such as this in the Winter, make their way down to Wellington to visit their daughter in the Spring. A leisurely tour across the South Island in the height of Summer, perhaps? It wouldn't be the first time my parents had lived out of a camper van.

We set our sights on Whangarei that morning, figuring it was probably all the farther we'd go North before needing to head back to Auckland to pick up Loren on Sunday (day four). We wanted to set a leisurely pace.

This was our first 'real' day on the road, and I was determined to take spur of the moment detours whenever I felt like. The first was The Honey Centre in Warkworth. (Incindentally, Mom and I found the name of this town to be so silly-sounding, that we couldn't help exclaiming "WARK-worth!" like some kind of anthropomorphic duck every time it came up.) The Honey Centre had hexagonal windows, doors, and rooms, and a working bee hive behind glass took up most of one wall of the gift shop. The whole place reminded me of the "Betty's Bees" set from the show Pushing Daisies:

We made good use of the honey-tasting counter. I bought some lemon-honey for toast, and my parents bought sever small jars for gifts. Sadly the mead shop was closed, on account of the guy with the liquor license having the day off.

A little down the road stopped for a hand-painted sign advertising free-range eggs. The sign led us to a lady's house. She opened the sliding-glass door of her living room to sell us half a dozen eggs, and asked us where we were from. We had a conversation that would be repeated several times while during our visit in Northland.

Us: "The weather is so nice and warm here!"
Lady: "This is awful weather. I'm sorry you're having to put up with it on your holiday."
Us: "Well its a heck of a lot better than Wellington!"

We waved good-bye to the free-ranging chickens in her side garden and went on our way.

Our next stop was Cafe Eutopia:

This crazy art sculpture of a building was hard to miss and even harder to resist checking out. The food was good and unsurprisingly featured a lot of veggie/vegan/gluten free/organic fare. But the real draw was this crazy artsy building and decor inside and out, right down to the bathrooms which used water piped from a nearby stream. Needless to say Mom and I had a lot of fun photographing this place. A few of the results below:

By the time we arrived at Whangarei, it was nearly evening. We chose the one holiday park that was located right in town. It was not particularly flash, but it had all we needed (most importantly hot showers) and the owners were nice. When we asked them for a restaurant recommendation, they readily admitted that they'd eaten out all of once in the several years they'd lived there. Mom wasn't feeling well, so she stayed in the camper while Dad and I set out to try our luck in town.

That's how we ended up standing outside of a flower shop which our Lonely Planet guide strongly indicated was supposed to be a Cuban restaurant. Two ladies at the flower shop were just closing up, and asked if they could help us find something. We explained ourselves, and they happily recommended a couple of tasty and inexpensive restaurants, one of which they were headed to that very night. We aimed for an Israeli restaurant called the Camel-something-or-other and were pleased to discover it was exactly what we were looking for: tasty, healthy, and reasonably priced. We made a pleasant evening of it, and brought Mom back plenty of left-overs.

Road Trip Day One: Auckland Airport to Orewa

2010-09-13T13:24:00.000+12:00

Mom, Dad, and I flew up to Auckland, arriving late in the morning. Getting our camper van, finding a grocery store, and stocking up of food and other supplies took quite some time. Our route north took us straight through the centre of Auckland and a big tangle of motorways. Our goal for the first day was simply to get out of Auckland and find a nice holiday park for the night. We landed at Orewa Top Ten Holiday Park, a nice enough place flanked by a lovely beach along Whangaparaoa Bay.

That first day, we did little more than check out our camper van and walk along the coast and into Orewa's small shopping area for dinner. The holiday park had an unusually high concentration of 'motorhomes' that looked like they hadn't moved in over a decade. That is, a lot of long-termers, with flower beds out front and kayaks pulled up under the eaves.

Despite the winter chill in the air, the place had the feel of a beach town, such as can be found scattered along the coast of California. We could imagine it would be a bustling little tourist destination come summer.

Mom and me consulting the Lonely Planet guide as we discuss our plans for the next day

Blogs from Wellington

2010-09-09T09:46:00.000+12:00

I am completely charmed by my friend's new-ish fiction blog It's A Wellington Life. It's characters live in the same Wellington as the rest of us, and are subject to the same weather conditions, current events, and general goings-on. In fact, this blog captures the Wellington experience better than anything I've ever read.

Another blog I am really into lately is Bat Bean Beam. It is written by a Wellintonian who is originally from Italy. His post often wander across a wide range of topics, but are always insightful and leave you with plenty to think about.

Kiwi Survey - Part II

2010-09-07T09:29:00.001+12:00

(Written 17th July 2010)

I left us frozen in the dark, our ears prickling with the strain of trying to hear kiwi footsteps in the dark. No luck. We moved on to a new area, and got into position again. The recorded call rang out several times before we heard a genuine response. I thought then that it was a mating call, that we were trying to lure an amorous kiwi into our trap. Later I learned it is a territorial call, prompting the kiwi to show up and defend his territory.

After what felt like a long time of stillness and dark, and cocking my head at every tiny susurrus of leaf against leaf, I heard the distinct sound of footsteps. A kiwi is not a small bird. It is a heavy bird, and when it walks through the forest, it is not very stealthy. And step by step, the thing was getting closer to me! I could feel my heart start to pound, and hear my pulse thudding in my ears. Friends, it is my sad duty to report, that for a moment, I froze. Then I remembered what I was supposed to do. Whistle. When The Scientist gave us this instruction, I failed to admit even to myself that I am terrible at whistling. I finally got a pitiful shrill sound out between dry lips. But the bird sounded so close now. Was I meant to turn on my head lamp and go after it? I paused, hand on my headlamp, uncertain. In truth, we hadn't been given much instruction. But we had been given nets.

Eventually the Scientist turned on his headlamp, so I turned on mine and indicated the location of the most recent footsteps. The were headed away from the trap at this point. The Scientist spotted/heard the bird, and gave chase, but it was too late. Once they get ahead of you, he said, its hard to catch up. They may not be quiet but the can be fast. That's why the basic plan is to lure it into the circle of kiwi-catchers such that it is surrounded.

We didn't catch a single Kiwi that night. We laid a couple more traps, and even chased a kiwi the Scientist spotted along the trail as we headed back. That's when I got my first actual glimpse of the elusive bird. A very brief glimpse, composed more of moving branches than of feathers.

I don't need to tell you that I was disappointed. I even felt a bit disappointed in myself for not giving chase to the one kiwi who came so close to me. After that episode, the Scientist told us that in that situation - the bird headed AWAY from us, outside of the circle of us, that it was okay to chase it ourselves. I felt this information was given a little too late. And looking back on it now, I don't think any of us were really given any idea of what we were doing or what was expected of us.

On the final trail out of the Sanctuary, we met up with the two dog teams - teams that had gone out with a kiwi-tracking dog. We soon discovered that they had each caught a kiwi or two. As we all walked out together, one of the volunteers from our team asked one of the dog team volunteers, "So what do their feathers feel like? Are they soft, or..?"

That's the secret, I thought. We hardly had a chance without a dog.

Kiwi Survey - Part I

2010-05-13T17:13:00.001+12:00

The Scientist leading us through the forest stops suddenly. This is where we'll lay our trap. He sends each of us in a different direction, then starts setting up his equipment. One by one our head lamps wink out, until I'm standing there in the astonishing darkness of a forest at night. On the bank across the river I can see tiny points of pale blue light: glow worms glittering like a false night sky. If I look way up, I can see a little patch of real stars. I lucked out; I got a good night, calm and clear.

In fact, its amazing that I'm here at all. I was so blase about it when I got the email asking if I wanted to participate in the kiwi survey. Somewhere deep down I knew that I wanted nothing more than to chase down kiwi in the native forest of Karori Sanctuary. But life had gotten so.. busy. And do you know how hard it is to get home on public transit at one in the morning? But one by one the stars aligned. I'm only rostered on for one day a week at my vet clinic most of this month. And then there's the remarkable fact that I asked to borrow a friend's car last week and he decided I could just hang onto it indefinitely.

So there I was, standing perfectly still in the dark, clutching my net at the ready, ears straining for any sign of an approaching kiwi, even though I hardly knew what such a thing might sound like. The Scientist started up his recording of kiwi mating calls, the sound ringing in my ear and then back to silence. Actually, not silence. The nearby river was babbling away, playing tricks on my ears. Every tiny sound was a potential kiwi approaching my little spot of forest. And then there was the ringing in my ears. We live in a world so saturated with noises; how long had I been walking around with this ringing in my ears? There was no way to know for certain.

After what felt like ages, I saw the flood of light as the Scientist turned his head lamp back on. No luck this time. We set our nets down and broke out our energy bars. Time for a break. The Scientist explained that this was pretty average results for one of these missions. This was our second 'trap' of the evening, and no luck yet. In fact the closest we'd gotten was when we were first setting out. Someone spotted (or heard?) a kiwi and the Scientist ordered us to spread out, creeping through the forest to close in on it. One of our team actually got a net over it, but it was up against a steep ridge, and she couldn't get the net flat, and the bird just ducked underneath and made a run for it. The Scientist gave chase, but as he explained, when they're headed uphill through the forest like that they can easily outrun a human.

Then, as we're all busy with our snacks and our water bottles, we hear a kiwi calling, and its close. Everyone's picked up a net and in a few seconds, and we've all scrambled back into position. And there we all are, waiting in the dark once more.

To be continued

2010-04-18T10:31:00.000+12:00

I'm reproducing two entries today, one from before we moved into our house, and the next from just after.

***************************************************************

View of the back of our house, the day of our house warming party

January 18th, 2010 - twenty-three

3:04 pm
I woke up this morning, with one thing finally sinking in about buying the house: New roots. I did the roll call of every place I've ever called 'home.' My number is twenty-two. That's every place I've lived with my parents, that's counting the trimaran, and every dorm room I've lived in, every apartment rented with friends, and the two apartments rented with Loren. Every place I've ever hung my posters on the walls, learned the quirks of the kitchen, every place I've ever love, and lived in, made new friends and lost track of the old, investigated the cupboards and figured out which wall to place my bed against.

I loved them all, my little 'hobbit hole' in Oakland's Dimond district, our beach house on Harbour Island, my little bunk above the kitchen table in the boat. I embraced each completely as my own, even as I knew that on some level it was always temporary. The longest I have lived in one place, is a few months shy of four years.

I guess I just started to feel the permanence of this thing we are doing, the buying of a home. And not just in the scary commitment of a 30 year mortgage kind of way. But in the finally being able to relax all the way. Embrace a place all the way. See it as yours all the way through. Paint the walls any colour you like. Plant whatever you like in the garden. Pull up the lino and put down some tile. Install a coat rack without worrying what the landlord might think. Plan on renovating the kitchen some time in the next ten years. Turn the garage into a guest room some time down the road. That kind of time scale. I don't know. It's a type of 'roots' I've never had. Ever. The first time my parents bought a house, was mere months before I moved out.

Our sunny little lounge (aka living room)

February 24th, 2010 - A sense of place

7:04 pm
I heard a radio interview once with this lady who had written a book about how to connect with your house's history. Like genealogy for your house. I thought it was a silly idea. One more way our transient generation, feeling disconnected from a sense of community and a sense of place, try to create a sense of connection for ourselves.

But here I am, slowly getting to know my new home. I still think it's a silly idea, and yet... I have become obsessed with these vintage light shades. These house is 1950's, but the current decor is all over the map. The light shades in question, though, are so clearly from another era. There's two in the kitchen, one in the older bathroom. Then there's some anonymous modern stuff, and a bare bulb in each bedroom. Then I found four more of the vintage shades in a cupboard down in the workshop. I've identified two that I'd like to restore to their former glory. So instead of getting modern shades installed in the bedrooms, we're living with the bare bulbs until I figure out how to make that happen.

Today, I was changing the light bulb in my favourite kitchen light - a sort of spherical honeycomb blown glass thing - and realised it was really filthy. I just spent half an hour carefully cleaning it with a washcloth and some dish soap. When I was done, I held it up to the light and wondered when it had last looked this shinny and new. I thought of the people who purchased it, and wondered whether they were proud of this lovely modern thing. Or maybe it was just a common, ubiquitous light shade when it was new. Something no one gave much thought to until I came along.

I found myself wondering about these people, how they lived and what they were thinking when they picked the appalling wallpaper in the bathroom. And suddenly the idea of doing genealogy on your house didn't sound so silly.

The honey-coloured lamp shade, newly cleaned

Apartment vs. House

2010-03-23T13:54:00.000+13:00

The one big thing that happened in the last three months is I got skin cancer, and we bought a house. I know that sounds like two big things, but they happened right on top of each other, so it feels like one really big thing to me. After two surgeries, I am all recovered now and have been declared cancer-free. As for the house, here's the first of a series of entries on the experience.

January 30th, 2010 - apartment vs. house

10:14 am
At 9:30 am, I head to the dairy (aka convenience store) down the street to pick up a banana and tinned fruit salad to go in my morning yogurt. It's already over twenty degrees C, and not a speck of cloud in the bright blue sky. Rarest of all, there's hardly more than a flutter of wind this morning. I have some chewy rye bread at home that I got from the Italian bakery around the corner, with which I intend to make toast with cream cheese. If I were in the new house, I would eat my breakfast at our new outdoor table and chairs, under cover of the umbrella. I would soak in this brilliant summer weather, out in the open air. Maybe I would bring a book.

Through the gate, up the stairs, around the corner, down a dark hallway, and through a door is my apartment. As I walk, I'm thinking about security. Despite the central city location, inside my apartment I feel safe and secure. I leave windows open, even the deck door open. Anyone who would go through the effort of scaling the wall to get to my deck would not be stopped by a locked door anyway. In the new house, I anticipate I might feel a bit... exposed at first. Outside the door, there will just be The Outside, not a series of other doors, some of them locked. I'm thinking about a story I heard, about some tribe living in a dense jungle. If one of them traveled out of that jungle, they would be very disoriented, because they wouldn't be able to focus on anything more than fifteen feet away from them. Because they'd never had to before. Even an anthropologist living with them for any length of time, would find themselves temporarily nearsighted.

Back in the apartment, it's stuffy and warm, even with the lack of sunlight. The living room windows are open, but they all face one way. I open our bedroom window, but the smell of the restaurants behind our building is too much for me. Instead I crack the guest room window, which I normally hate to do because the soot from the car park next door builds up on the window seal so quickly, and Goodness knows how much of it we end up inhaling. But we'll be out of here soon enough, so I'll chance it. In the new house, sunlight is angling in the North-facing windows in the lounge (living room) and master bedroom right now. If we threw open some windows, the worst we'd be facing is a little white noise from the freeway. Probably not much more than the hum of the city I'm hearing from our apartment windows right now.

This Friday the 5th, the new house will be ours. At 4:30pm we will be sitting in the empty house, waiting for the power to be switched on. We'll drink bubbly, and we'll eat take-away, and we'll talk about where we want to put the furniture.

The Day After Thanksgiving - Part II

2010-03-10T15:22:00.000+13:00

I have been neglecting this blog. In my defense, my life got a bit hectic there for a while. The dust having more or less settled, I look around to find I haven't posted in exactly three months! I have not stopped writing in my journal, however. So I will be pulling entries from it to get things caught up. Starting with the second half of the Day After Thanksgiving story.

January 23rd, 2010
7:36 pm
Thanksgiving morning, my parent's elderly neighbor brought over the paper, as she always does. And although we are all various shades of liberal, socialist, anti-consumerist lefties, every one of us eventually found ourselves enthusiastically browsing the large stack of Black Friday sale inserts. The Tribune Herald's front page, above-the-fold story that day was about the fact that Wal Mart would be having a massive sale. Among us, Dad is clearly the most radical anti-consumerist, which is why none of us could fathom his level of interest in the subject. Turned out he was plotting to buy Mom an ipod and ipod-compatable stereo system for her birthday.

So now here we are, at the town's one and only mall, 7am on Black Friday morning. There's free egg nogg on offer at the door, and I'm actually a bit disappointed that the crowds aren't as massive as anticipated. That doesn't stop the lines from being painfully long at the electronics store, though, so I feel I've gotten a sufficient taste of my first ever Black Friday shopping experience.

On the ride home, Dad hatches a plan. How can Mom wait 'til her birthday to open these presents? We still have the flowers and decorations, the tasty left-overs, the coolers full of drinks... everything set up from the Thanksgiving dinner party the night before. Why don't we just go ahead and have her birthday party today?

We get back to the house, and stash the presents. By now Loren's up, and he'd like to go to the mall to check out the sales at the video game store. So back we go... Round Two: The crowd is picking up, and the lines at EB Games are decidedly less pleasant. By the time we get back, Dad has announced his Plan to everyone else, and discovered that A's husband also has a birthday coming up. So now it's a double birthday party, and of course A now needs to go to the mall to get her husband a birthday present.

So, Round Three: A and my mother in tow, back we go. This time the crowd has reached a level I'd call appropriate to my expectations, and we actually duck out fairly quickly in favour of shopping at Borders. When we get back, A and I establish an undisclosed secret location for present-wrapping (the kitchenette in the downstairs office) and I manage to track down a cupboard full of present-wrapping paraphernalia. I grab us sodas, snacks, and cushions to sit on, and we settle into gift-wrapping mode.

This is certainly the shortest-notice birthday party I've ever been involved in. It reminds me of a story about a friend of mine who helped throw a surprise wedding for her friend. I tell A about it - how it sounds like and appalling idea, but in context it actually made sense and was a great success. We kind of loose track of time, and forget that we haven't actually told anyone that we were going to hide out in our undisclosed secret location. Some time later, we're just finishing up wrapping and the boys come in, saying they looked for us everywhere, and had given up finding us. They'd actually come into the kithchenette to use the microwave to heat up left overs.

And that's how the party got started. Low-key, impromptu, and completely lovely. And that turkey soup Dad and I put together in the morning was the best I've ever had.

The table all set for Thanksgiving dinner. This room is normally Mom's art studio.

The Day After Thanksgiving - Part I

2009-12-11T17:12:00.000+13:00

The living room clock says 4:15 am when I get out of bed the day after Thanksgiving. In the kitchen the turkey bones are simmering away on the stove, just as we left them last night. The simmering stock pot keeps me company as I drink my tea, eat my Cheerios. Everyone else is asleep. It's a rare thing to be up before Dad. He's usually up by five, but when he's on holiday he does tend to sleep in. The house is very dark and only a few coqui frogs are still doing their shrill calls at this hour. Eventually it seems like the only thing to do is slip out the back door and finish my tea on the lanai. It smells like green growing things out here, but there's no hint of dawn yet. I can see a few stars winking through the clouds.

It occurs to me that I haven't had this much time alone since I got to Hilo. And I haven't been this pleased to have some time to myself in a long time. It's been nonstop visiting with one person or another since I arrived. First trip back in about four years. Friends of mine and my parents keep coming by the house to seeing me again or meeting me for the first time. I'm starting to feel like a visiting dignitary. But the five people currently sleeping in the house upstairs are the ones I've really been joyously spending every minute with - my mother, father, partner, cousin, and cousin's husband. It's been so lovely, I didn't realize 'til this moment that it's also exhausting.

Presently it occurs to me that I'd like to do sun salutations right here on the porch, as the first glow of dawn starts to show. I thought maybe it was silly to pack my yoga mat, but this is actually about the fifth time I've used it on this trip. I start with the slow stretches, yawning all the while and feeling my body begin to warm. I go through the salutations with ritualistic deliberateness, rejoicing in the fact that I have the health and strength to carry out these now familiar movements.

By the time I'm finished, I've made up my mind about something. Dad suggested yesterday that we go shopping for Mom's birthday present today, on account of the Black Friday sales. Neither of us are big on shopping, even when it's not the busiest shopping day of the year. But I don't know when I've last been home for Mom's birthday, and I won't be there this year either, but going with Dad to pick out her present feels like the next best thing. When Dad gets up, I have the pleasure of seeing the surprise on his face when he sees I'm up already. We get to work fishing all the bones out of the stock pot and as we're adding some left-over veggies, I tell Dad I want to go to the mall with him. It opens at 6am today, and if we sneak out of the house now we may even return before anyone gets around to missing us.

Two Year Anniversary of living in New Zealand: Day Two

2009-10-23T17:50:00.000+13:00

Yeah, I know, this is WAY overdue...

We drove along the coast on Day Two, getting a gorgeous view all the way along.

Palliser Bay coastal road

We hiked up through a dry creek bed see the Pinacles, a sight that reminded me very much of the hoodoos of Bryce Canyon in Utah:

Next we stopped in Ngawi for refreshments. This is a tiny fishing village, known for it tractors, of all things. Because the sea is so rough and the coast is so rugged, there is no harbour so they keep the boats dry docked on trailers pulled far up the long stretches of beach. These trailers are hauled by tractors. It's quit a site, these tractors lined up on the beach. I didn't get a photo, but I'll include one my Mom too last time they were here:

Mom's photo of the tractors

Loren and I at the dairy in Ngawi

The area past Ngawi is known for its seal colonies. There's a 'bachelor colony' here that can be seen year round. You can also see mothers with babies the right time of year. (It was not the right time of year)

These guys were basking just meters from the road, and completely unafraid of people.

Our last stop was the light house. We ignored the warning signs and braved the rickety stairs, though the were literally falling apart in places.

The trip down was especially harrowing. But we were rewarded with a stunning view.

View from the lighthouse

And that was pretty much Day Two. Where will we go next year? At the moment Nelson is on the top of our list of places to visit next.

Soaking in The Culture

2009-10-15T14:55:00.000+13:00

I fell asleep last night thinking of my experience of Yayoi Kusama's exhibit. Artwork that you can walk into the middle of, be surrounded by, the outside world obliterated. I have a lot of fanciful ideas of what kind of art I would create, if I had a lot of money and time on my hands. I would love to make sculptures so big that they became architecture, something you walk into and climb upon and experience. I never considered you could create that effect with a a room, some paint, and a bunch of custom-made inflatable objects. I walked around inside "Dots Obsession - Day" until I found a vantage point where I could no longer see the door. I was floating in a little world of bright yellow that made the black dots look like endless black holes. Large amorphous objects loomed, floated, leaned against walls, in the same colour scheme. The yellow dots on black of "Dot's Obsession - Night" was a little easier on the eyes. Another piece was a room set up as a mundane living room, down to the tea cups on the coffee table, every surface covered with coloured dots. The only illumination was black lights - which made the dots light up with a pale glow. Walking through this room was peaceful after 'dot's obsession' but also deeply eerie.

(Image shamelessly taken from www.stuff.co.nz)

My favourite piece was a room fitted on all walls and ceiling with mirrors, the floor was still water with a mirrored platform to stand on. From black chords tiny coloured lights hung at different heights all over the room - the only illumination. People were let in only in ones or twos, the door closed behind them for the full effect. The effect was that of floating in an endless world of little lights, like a starry night sky stretching in every direction. It was beautiful and peaceful. My two minutes was over too soon. I wanted a room like that in my home. When life got too overwhelming, I would just go in there and lie on my back, looking up at the endless sky.

Two Year Anniversary of living in New Zealand

2009-06-02T15:11:00.000+12:00

This is my much belated post about our trip to Lake Ferry and Cape Palliser. For our two-year anniversary of moving to New Zealand, I wanted to take a road trip to somewhere we hadn't been before. When I talked to Loren about where we might want to go, he told me to surprise him, which just made it more fun to plan.

Our route took us through Martinborough, so of course we stopped there for lunch and to check out some wineries we hadn't been to yet. It was the end of harvest season and the leaves on the grape vines were turning yellow.

One of our stops was a little family run winery called The Cabbage Tree. Often the tiniest operations make for to the most memorable winery visits. The elderly lady pouring our wine was also co-owner with her husband. After we bought a bottle each of their '04 pinot noir and their rose, she asked if we'd like a tour of their facilities. Turned out the converted barn we were in housed their entire operation, from tasting room to cellar. She lifted the lid off steel barrels so we could get a peek at their bright red merlot and watch her stir it with a huge red-stained wooden paddle. We saw their de-stemmer in action (a metal machine that pulls the stems off harvested grapes). Then we got to put our ears up to the hole in the top of a barrel of chardonnay, so we could hear the hiss of the juice fermenting. Our next stop was Murdoch James, where we got a real surprise when we tasted a syrah that we actually liked. Harvest was under way there as well, so after we bought a bottle of syrah, we got a look at their grapes and they let us taste fresh syrah and a pinot gris grapes. Here's Loren with the syrah grapes:

And crates of pinot gris:

Our accommodation was a tiny cabin just outside of Lake Ferry. Lake Ferry is a tiny village situated next to Lake Onoke and Palliser Bay. After settling into our cabin we took a walk along the beach at Lake Ferry. The beach is composed of tiny black pebbles, and it goes on for ages. The lake is brackish; a narrow strip of beach separates it from the ocean, and a break in this strip allows water to flow between lake and ocean. There were a few brave surfers out there. We had already been warned against swimming; the currents can be treacherous and there's nothing else out there between that particular strip of coast and Antarctica.

Where Lake Onoke meets Palliser Bay

We had pasta from Wishbone for dinner, and opened the rose from Cabbage Tree to go with it.

(this post is getting long. I'll do Day Two later)

An afternoon spent in the presence of rare birds

2009-04-25T13:14:00.000+12:00

I'm hiking up Turbine Track looking for hihi and bell birds. I'd picked out a little stitch call amongst the noisy Tui chattering. Stepping off the track, I followed one of the transect lines that stripe the entire park, allowing rough access and creating a sort of physical grid. I spotted the male first, bright and proud with his yellow flash along the shoulders, singing out a territorial call here and there. Then I saw the subdued browns of a female keeping company with him. I stood there a long time trying to get a clear view of her bands as she darted from branch to branch. I deduced they were some of the transplants from Mount Bruce; they use three coloured leg bands, while Karori Sanctuary uses four. I was just watching them, wondering how long it had been since they'd been seen last, if this spot up a little-used trail was their territory. My primary goal was to spot juveniles that had fledged this season, but these two might be a valuable find as well.

It was then I noticed an owl sleeping in a tree branch not four paces from me. It was startling to notice it sitting so near and in plain view. I knew it's mottled brown colouring had hid it from my eyes. As if sensing my gaze upon it, the owl opened it's eyes just them and fixed its attention on my with a piercing stare. I edged closer, but that spooked it and it flew a few meters away, finding itself another perch.

As I made my way back via Fantail Track, I passed through one area with a disconcertingly large concentration of Tui. I heard them more than saw them. One or a few tui make a lovely exotic music. They have an amazing range, easily outdoing any mockingbird as they ramble through a repertoire so varied that they sound like at least three birds singing at once. What I learned this day was that encountering a large gang of these birds can be a disorienting experience. They are largish, mostly black birds and they like to perch very high in the branches. So as I walked my path down into this particular valley I could hear an overwhelming chorus of birdsong, could hear the rustling of tree branches everywhere, but when I looked around I could barely catch a glimpse of any of them. I may have known intellectually that I was safe, but a part of me still found it spooky to be surrounded by so many creatures and not be able to see any of them.

Wandering through the woods, on the look out for birds, there's a pleasant kind of alertness one must tune into. There's something very fundamental about it, being absorbed in what is currently going on in the present moment. It's part of what keeps me coming back every week.

In case you're curious about the birds I've mentioned today:
Hihi (aka stitch birds)
Morepork (aka Ruru) the owl I saw
Tui
Tui song

On that last link, hover over the birds to see a photo, and click to download a short bird song clip. The korimako (aka bell bird), tieke (aka saddleback), Pipiwharauroa (aka fantail), and kaka are also commonly seen in the Sanctuary.

what's massage school like?

2009-04-14T09:13:00.000+12:00

I'm lying face down on the table while three students regard my bare back. I can see their shoes through the face hole in the massage table. A fourth pair of shoes appear.
"Southern cross?"
It's our instructor. He's just making conversation with me while he observes my classmates pressing their hands into my back, marking the borders of my trapesius muscle.
I'm pleased he recognises the constellation. It's done in diamonds-like shapes, which tends to throw people off.
"Did you have a freckle removed?" My classmate C asks as he touches the scar on my right shoulder (They're on to the rhomboid muscles now).
"I had a mole removed. Turned out not to be cancerous."
(Mostly I forget that scar even exists. I've been reminded of it twice in the last week)
"You've got an awful lot of tension here. Man, what were these shoulders like before you worked on them, D?" He asks the pair of sensible shoes on my right.
D was my partner for our assessment the day before. And she did a great job on my shoulders, actually.

Just another day at massage college. You get to know your classmates pretty quick.

For me it's been a great class so far. I've got a break for a couple weeks now.

Kyoto part VII (last one - I swear!)

2009-04-09T10:19:00.000+12:00

Monday (continued)

I don't know if the day got colder then, or if we realized how cold it was because of the snow. We were after a tea shop recommended in our book. After walking past the place marked on our map a couple times, I went into a shop selling chopsticks and pottery to ask directions. I repeated the name of the tea shop - along with the word matcha - to the ancient lady behind the counter. She grabbed a cane and hobbled out to the street to point at a nondescript store front with neither English signage nor plastic food. I gave her a thank-you in Japanese (about the only thing I can say in Japanese other than names of food items). The tea shop was in an tiny old building, everything made of wood from floor to ceiling. Inside it was cosy and warm, with a space heater humming away in one corner. We both ordered matcha, which came with two sweets made of rice and adzuki beans, and took our time sipping the rich green tea as our hands and toes warmed up.

Tuesday

It was even colder, with the weather report calling for rain. Despite the large number of shrines, temples, and gardens we hadn't seen yet, there was no way we were doing anything out of doors in that weather. So we planned a trip to some sake breweries. This was meant to be easy, requiring very little time out of doors. However, or map led us astray. First up was Gekkeikan brewery, but we ended up at their central brewery, which is not open to the public. I am pleased to report, I was able to make out from the Japanese characters that we were in Gekkeikan territory of some kind, and I walked into their offices asking for the location of the sake museum (their tourist facilities, where we might learn about sake and also taste some). After waiting patiently while the staff discussed the matter at length, someone showed up who could speak a little English. He gave us a map, and better instructions. We thanked him profusely and headed out. That's when the snow started coming down in earnest, and we started to realise we had been unwise to leave the hostel without umbrellas. We had just started down the street, when a lady hurried up to us and asked us to wait here: someone would drive us to the sake museum! We were very thankful for the ride. The museum was interesting, and the sake was tasty. We bought a bottle of sake and a bottle of plum wine as well.

Loren with large sake fermentation tank at Gekkeikan Sake Museum

A short venture in the snow found us at stop number two: Kizakura Kappa Country, a sake and beer brewery. We got a very tasty lunch at their restaurant, and a flight of three little glasses of beer to taste. We guessed them as a lager, an Irish red style, and a hefewizen style. They were all tasty, and unsurprisingly we both liked the hefewizen best. They had a museum as well, though it was smaller and we were glad we'd seen Gekkeikan's first as this one had no English signs. In addition, however, they had a little museum dedicated to the kappa, a mythical creature, that apparently is know for being sneaky, and looks something like an anthropomorphic cross between a frog and a turtle.

Loren slurping noodles at Kizakura's restaurant

Somewhat lewd kappa sculpture at Kizakura's kappa museum

After that we called it a day. The weather was miserable; we bought a cheap umbrella at a corner store and headed home.

Wednesday.

It was my turn to be sick. Spent most of the day on the couch in the lounge drinking tea and reading my book. Loren did some wandering around the city without me.

Thursday.

Last day. I was feeling a little better, we mostly just got ourselves packed and headed to the airport around mid-day.

Kyoto part VI

2009-04-08T10:17:00.000+12:00

Sunday.
Loren didn't make Day Three. That was not a surprise; it is only for the top 8 players. He made 80-somethingth out of nearly 400, which is not bad for his first time playing at this level. We didn't do much this day, as Loren was not feeling well. We started out to check out a shrine in Southern Higashiyama, but by the time we got there Loren was feeling sick. We stopped in a very tasty soba restaurant on our way back to the hostel. Loren ordered a dish with 'thick broth' which neither of us much liked. It was like a typical broth that someone had then added a lot of corn starch or other thickener to, it was sickeningly thick and made the soba sticky so that it was hard to pry out of the bowl with chopsticks. We did nothing much the rest of the day. I enjoyed another bath in the hostel's luxurious tub.

Yaska-Jinja shrine in Southern Higashiyama (Gion district)

Monday.
Yesterday Loren was feeling better. We picked a walking self-tour recommended by our guide book. It took us through some temples in Southern Higashiyama. At the first temple, the book recommended a strange side-attraction in the temple grounds, it was hard to find as there were no English signs. We were determined though as the book said it was 'one of the strangest attractions in Kyoto.' Inside a small temple, you pay a small fee and follow stairs down into darkness. Your left hand had hold of the railing; it is a series of large wooden orbs, like prayer beads, leading your way. It leads into the kind of complete darkness I have only experienced deep in the lava tubes of Hawaii. You turn right and left, your feet tentatively sliding along the slight unevenness of the age-worn rock slabs of the floor. Then you round a corner, and there hovering in front of you is a very large circular stone, somewhat flat on top. It has a Japanese symbol carved into the top. Though I can see one slender hand placed on the stone, It appears disembodied; the lighting is illuminating the stone and nothing else. The hand of the person in front of me disappears into the darkness, and it's my turn. Holding the large wood beads with my left hand, I place my right on the stone and move it around the edge as I was directed to before descending. Slowly, silently, the stone begins to rotate under my hand, as if it were floating on something.

We followed a narrow street lined with restaurants, and shops of all kinds - selling sweets, Japanese fans, and so on. We noticed a few large raindrops starting to fall here and there. We stopped at a stand selling fresh steamed buns. Loren got one with beef inside, I got one with sweet bean paste and green tea mochi.

We walked to another shrine, it had a huge statue of Buddha sitting on top of it. Loren didn't feel like going in, so I left him to wander the grounds outside. I paid my 100 yen (that's about two Kiwi dollars) at the gate. The lady lit a fat stick of incense, handed it too me, and conveyed through gesture that I was to place it in the large incense burner in front of the shrine. Turns out the whole shrine was some sort of memorial for the unknown soldiers who died in World War Two. I strolled past a peaceful pond toward the shrine steps. The place was basically empty; I ventured up the steps alone, clutching my purple stick of incense, watching the smoke curl into the chill air. In the incense burner someone had made a swirling pattern in what looked like years of ash; I sunk my stick down into the ash in the company of several others. Just then the rain started up again, and as I looked up, I had the sudden realisation that it was not rain. I was experiencing a snow flurry! It melted the moment it hit the earth, but I opened my gloved hand and caught a snowflake. It had been snow all along.

Ryozen Kwanon

Incense burner at Ryozen Kwanon

Kyoto part V

2009-03-28T22:15:00.000+13:00

3rd March

Saturday.

Loren made it to Day Two. After a leisurely morning I took the train to the tournament site to see the artists and such. The best was this table of craftsmen who made sort of 3-dimensional versions of magic cards by taking like 10 of the same cards, and doing intricate cut-outs of the features on them. I then walked to a nearby temple. I got seriously lost getting there, the sort of lost you can only get if you can't read any of the street signs. Finally found my way back to a point I could distinguish on the map using (I swear!) the position of the sun and the time of day.

3-D Magic cards

It was all worth it because the temple (or shrine?) was really lovely. It featured inari (meaning fox, not sushi) statues, and an uncountable quantity of reddish-orange gates. These simple wooden gates were set one behind the other continuously for long stretches of pathways. It was an amazing experience to walk into the brilliant orange tunnels that the gates created. These temples are not relics; they are ancient and yet they are full of life and activity. The religion is very much alive, and interactive in a way I am not accustomed to. The many shrines on the property are visited by Japanese followers, which ring a bell, toss a coin into collection boxes, and make a wish or prayer. This is just one of the activities I observed. (there were no English signs, so I did a lot of observing). Another set of activities involved paying a small fee to write your wish/prayer on a piece of paper, a strip of wood, or other objects, which are then hung up together in the appropriate location. There were also various methods for receiving a pre-written fortune. And these are just the bits that were somewhat comprehensible to me!

Inari fox statue

Shrine Gates

I followed one path that lead through a well tended bamboo forest. I have not seen bamboo this large aside from one memorable garden on the Big Island. Eventually there was a side-path with a lot of what looked like little shrines all crowded together. Some looked well tended, others old somewhat fallen to neglect. It wasn't til I'd gotten to the second wandering path featuring similar 'shrines' that it dawned on me that I was really looking at graves. I have never seen so strange a grave-yard!

Hand print on giant bamboo

Grave at Fushimi-Inari

Another strange grave at Fushimi-Inari

Spider web on grave stones

Earth Hour

2009-03-26T22:34:00.000+13:00

Kyoto part IV

2009-03-20T15:57:00.000+13:00

27th February

3:15 pm

The weather is crap so I've only made one major trip out today, and I keep checking to see how Loren's doing. Info on the tournament is being added to Magic The Gathering's site as it happens. Loren's at 34th place if anyone cares to know. Only one lost match so far, and he's still in the top 50. Three more matches to go.

Friday

I walked Loren to the station, but didn't feel like making the treck out there with him. It was early, I was sleepy, and aside from the featured artist table there wouldn't be much for me to do. Magic doesn't make a very good spectator sport. I did a lot of nothing much in the morning, waiting for the day to warp up a bit. Then I made the trip into downtown Kyoto on the subway. I wasn't feeling very good. When I resized that I'd hardly had a vegetable since we got here - mostly just noodles, meat and fish - I figured that probably wasn't helping. The only thing along my route that sounded veggie-friendly was a French restaurant and the guide book promised the staff could speak English. I had a nicoise salad, which made me feel a lot better.

I could smell the tea shop before I saw it. Suddenly the smell of green tea was in the air - the place itself looked ancient, everything well-worn wood. Everything was in Japanese; I was relieved when one of the staff offered me a brochure in English, set out a tray of tea samples to smell, and gestured to a chair. I decided on a mid-range matcha and a roasted bancha.

********************************************************************

I didn't take any photos that day. So I'm using this photo of the teas I bought. Bancha is a category of least-refined everyday teas. The type I bought is called hojicha which is a roasted green tea, light brown in colour. It was common to get complimentary tea instead of water at restaurants in Japan, usually a bancha. Matcha on the other hand is a very special type of Japanese tea. It is usually described as "powdered green tea." This means it's actually green tea leaves ground to a fine powder. Traditionally, you add a small scoop of the powder to a bowl with hot water in it, then use a special matcha whisk to suspend the powder in the water, making the tea a bit frothy. You then drink the whole thing down, consuming the powdered tea leaf with the tea. It has a rich, distinctive taste that is unlike other types of green tea. This is what is used in the famous "Japanese tea ceremony." In the photo, the matcha is the little tin that I haven't yet taken the fancy washi paper wrapping off of.

And I'll toss one more random photo in here, since today's entry is light on photos (don't worry, the next one will more than make up for it).

Toilet with sink built in - sink water runs when toilet is flushed, and drains into the toilet bowl. Only one of the strange toilet designs we saw in Japan.

Kyoto part III

2009-03-17T22:11:00.000+13:00

27th February

7:05 am - sleepy morning update.

Woke up early this morning, my neck bothering me. As it does when I'm in a hotel bed; though I bring my travel mattress pad with me it is not the same as my memory foam haven of a bed back home. Loren is sleeping but soon the alarm will wake him so he can get up and take the subway to day one of the tournament. Day one is for everyone; the top 50 make it to day two,* and the top 8 make it to day three. Day one starts with hundreds - and it feels like half of them are staying at our hostel, even at 7am there are six magic players in the lounge talking strategy and sorting cards. This is Loren's first tournament on this level, still I hope he makes top 50 which would mean he walked away with some amount of prize money.** Ok, on to the travel log:

* editor's note: it was actually top 1/2 makes it to day two.
** It was actually top 64 players get cash prizes. You'd think I wasn't paying attention and maybe that's true.

Thursday.

We had breakfast at a bakery serving both French-style pastries and Japanese-style steam buns. I had a plum blossom steam bun with sweet bean paste. We did a tour around the massive Kyoto station complex. It's a weird sort of modern architectural style; when I get home and the the photos up, you'll see what I mean. Loren spent the middle part of the day playing and watching Magic games; preparation for the event. Apparently there is a somewhat famous Brazilian player staying at our hostel. I took the subway to down town to do some shopping which I knew Loren wouldn't be much into. I started by walking down one of the covered open-air markets, taking my time looking at exotic sweets and incense shops, pottery shops, chopstick shops, etc. In one sweet shop, there was a glass-walled kitchen where you could see them making something. It smelled like cinnamon buns in there; it turned out the were making a sort of crunchy, thin cinnamon cookie. I bought a small box of them, they were really good. Later I read in my guidebook that they are some sort of Kyoto speciality and are actually made of mochi.

Looking down from the 11th story at a series of escalators and granite stairs.

My destination was a Japanese paper merchant, I spent some time looking at elaborately-designed paper, and all manor of things made of paper. I bought some small colourful origami paper there. I then walked to Southern Higashiyama just across the river. I was headed to a tea and sweets shop. This was in the Gion area - traditional theatres. This area was just full of every type of sweet shop! By the time I found my destination, It was getting close to time to head back, and was unsure how log it would take if I ordered matcha. So I bought a box of tea sweets and then walked back along the river - the Kamo-gawa. I saw cranes in the shallow, broad river, and a hawk or falcon hunting for fish above the water.

Late afternoon, and I was back at the hostel. Needed a break from all the walking, so I read my book some in the lounge and then we headed to an area just South of the city to the place where the Magic tournament will be; Loren needed to register. We didn't have a good map of this area, and got a bit lost, wandering through a residential neighbourhood with some ancient-looking houses and some houses that were new but done in the traditional style (austere wooded construction, elaborate tiled roofing, manicured lawn with a stone lantern in it). It surprised us that here, in a still somewhat urban area, there were sizable plots full of rows of vegetables, interspersed with the houses.

We had dinner at an Italian restaurant because Loren insisted Italian pasta was the best thing to eat before a big tournament. It was actually very good, and we were amused to see the Japanese diners around us eating their pasta dishes family style, and slurping the noodles just as they would with a bowl of ramen.

The ubiquitous plastic food in restaurant windows. Even Italian restaurants. Note the fried egg on the pizza on the right.

Today the weather is bad, rainy and only meant to get to about 8 degrees Celsius. I am determined to head out there at some point and find some Japanese tea. My destination is a place down town which both serves tea and sells packages of it.

Kyoto part II

2009-03-16T22:34:00.001+13:00

25th February

Wednesday.

The rain cleared up by mid-morning and we braved a trip out in much nicer weather than yesterday's. We went to a supermarket for some basics like cereal and milk, and had to walk down every aisle fascinated by the weird and mysterious items for sale.

Adzuki bean paste kit-kats. They were pretty good.

Then we went to another temple that is in Kyoto Station area (the neighbourhood we are staying in). It was very nice, the number massive wood beams used to construct these huge buildings is truly amazing. Unfortunately this one was also partially closed due to renovation. It had a temple gate that is designated a national treasure or some such - it is a very large wooden gate with intricately carved and painted details depicting kirin and fu dogs. Then went to a sento (bath house).

This was a real treat, and figuring out what to do when there was not a scrap of English to be found was an interesting if disorienting experience. There were all manor of hot and warm spa pools, and a sauna with a television in it! My favourite was a spa pool with some kind of mineralised water in it. It was pleasantly just warmer than body temperature, and the minerals made lots of very tiny bubbles, the water felt very soft and lovely. Loren encountered an electric pool (the men and women were in separate areas). Apparently it was a pool with a very mild electrical current in it, causing a sort of tingly feeling. There were no places to hang towels, everyone was just carrying around a tiny towel that they rent to you that is no bigger than a tea towel. This towel is used to wash yourself when you come in, and at least attempt to cover yourself if you're feeling modest.

Then we walked to downtown and had dinner at a nice sushi restaurant. After that, we walked down this street that our guidebook said was very pleasant at night. It is the narrowest street I have seen yet in Kyoto and suitable only for foot traffic. But it is truly very lovely at night due to the colourful lanterns hung outside beautiful old wooden store fronts, most of them restaurants. This area apparently has some of the fanciest and most exclusive eating establishments in Kyoto; it it easy to see why as they are built right to the edge of a large river that runs through town.

Pontocho: a beautiful street at night

Second shot of Pontocho

After we finished our walk through this area, we crossed the river and found a nice pathway that was set above the river but below the level of the street, and had a nice invigorating walk all the way back down to Kyoto Station area and then back to the hostel.

I am typing this in the lounge once again, and the place is truly packed. Most of the Magic players have hit town at this point, both dinning tables and one coffee table are full of Magic players and Loren is right in the middle of it of course. I came up here for a tea and a relaxing read of my book, but the noise level at the moment is not very conducive to this.

Magic players in the lounge of our hostel

Our very cozy sleeping quarters.

Well I'd better get going. Probably I'll be back on here again tomorrow.

Kyoto part I

2009-03-14T11:01:00.000+13:00

I kept a private (online) journal in Kyoto, using the coin-op computers in our hostel. I'm now going to start porting the entries over here, and adding some photos (I took so many photos!) from the trip.

**********************************************************

24th February

Right now Loren is playing Magic with a couple of Americans he just met in the lounge of the Kiwi-style Backpackers we are staying at. I am therefore entertaining myself by feeding my internet addiction on one of the coin-op computers in said lounge.

So. I will give you the quick run-down because it is hard to type on this keyboard.

Plane ride.
Uneventful. Spotted the first Japanese people wearing surgical masks. I would say on the street I see about one person in twenty wearing one of these. Most of the airport staff at Immigration in Osaka Kansai airport were wearing them. Service on Air New Zealand flights, as usual, was great. They had a Japanese or Western option for meals, and offered a hot moist towel for the cleaning of hands and face before meals, which is common practice in Japanese restaurants.

Yesterday.
It was cold but no longer raining as it had been the night we got in. We visited a lovely garden near our hostel, which our guide book described as not particularly impressive (therefore, can not wait to see the impressive ones). And visited a Buddhist temple also not far away. It is allegedly the largest all-wooden building ever made. I would believe it too, though it would have been better if the main building had not been closed for renovation, and also so covered with scaffolding that you could not see the outside of it. We had ramen at a hole-in-the-wall ramen house for lunch. We had ramen for dinner as well (along with some gyoza), at one of these strange little ramen houses where you order and pay via a coin-op machine outside, then hand them your tickets inside to get served.

Me on one of the bridges of Shosei-en Garden

Cherry tree supported bamboo lattice. We were there just before cherry blossom season.

Dragon fountain at Higashi Hongan-ji temple

Today.
The rain is back, and it is colder. We went into dowtown Kyoto and visited two strange museums. One was a manga museum that also was a sort of manga archive; there were walls full of shelved manga and people sitting at tables reading them. The second was a kaleidoscope museum, which was more fun than it sounds. I have never seen so many kinds of kaleidoscope, nor such fancy ones. The most elaborate was a stained-glass statue of a geisha; you look into a peep hole in the top of her hair and turn one of her elaborate hair ornaments. We also checked out an open-air market in the same area. It is huge, full mostly of food vendors of all kinds. I have never seen so many strange foods, some we could only guess at what they might be. Nearly all of the signs were in Japanese. We sampled a variety of things by way of having lunch. My favorites were fresh mochi with adzuki bean paste inside and a strawberry on top, and just absolutely delicious unagi nigiri.

Nishiki market

***************************************************************

February

2009-02-05T16:22:00.000+13:00

February is the best time to visit Wellington. The weather is still warm (It's the antipodes equivalent of August). Airfare and other travel-related prices are starting to go down post-Christmas holidays. But most importantly, my goodness is there a lot going on!

Fringe Festival is almost upon us upon us (6th Feb. to 1st March) This festival prides itself on having an "open access" policy, making it easy for any artist to become a part of the events. It's an idea launching pad for up and coming artists, and the best of all, it's a festival that's easy to enjoy on the cheap. You can even get a discount card for it!

The Cuba Street Carnival (21st Feb.) does alternate years with the New Zealand International Arts Festival (26th Feb to 21st March). Last year was the Arts Festival (big, fancy, expensive showcase of artists of all kinds) and we didn't make it to anything partially due to laziness and partially due to price. This year I am looking foreword to the Cuba Street Carnival - a huge, free, Rio de Janeiro-style street party with costume contests, multiple stages, and a night parade.

New Zealand International Sevens (6th and 7th Feb.) is probably the biggest costume-wearing day of the year, which is saying a lot for a city whose residents are happy to use even a mundane office party as an excuse to wear a costume. Technically a sporting event, the Sevens is more like an annual event. There are parades, costume contests, and countless parties surrounding the games. I don't have much interest in sport, but it's easy to see what's so appealing about the Sevens. It is a simplified, slimmed-down version of Rugby, allowing for action-packed matches that only last fifteen minutes. An entire tournament is played through in just two days. This also means that all of the Rugby Sevens teams come through town all at once. A very big event for Rugby fans. As for me, tickets to the actual game are expensive and not worth it. We'll probably do what we did last year: Walk outside our door, turn the corner, and find ourselves in the midst of the Courtneay Place block party where we'll be able to catch the last couple of games on the big screen they've got set up in the street.

Waitangi Day (6th of February). While walking along the waterfront last night, I overheard a snippet of conversation: "Waitangi Day is our Thanksgiving." I thought, "no it's not, Waitangi Day is obviously more like the 4th of July!" It is, after all, the day to celebrate the founding of the country. It is the day a group of Maori tribes signed a treaty with the British Crown. Of course, now I think about it, that is a tiny bit like Thanksgiving, which does celebrate a day in which the native Americans and the colonists got together and formed a sort of friendship. Of course, we all know how that turned out for the native Americans. The Europeans made a number of treaties with the American natives, but we won't be celebrating those. That's because the Europeans would eventually violate every one of them.

Summer City (31st December to March 29th march). This is a Summer-long series of free events put on by the Wellington City Council. It's everything from outdoor concerts to circus performances, from New Years parties to volleyball games on the beach.

Wow! That's a lot of stuff. I am exhausted just writing about all of it. As you can see, a confluence of events this year places Sevens weekend and Waitangi Day weekend right on top of each other. As I walk the relatively calm streets of Courtenay Place this afternoon, inside I am bracing myself for a particularly crazy weekend in Wellington's pub/club/theatre district.

I leave you with this photo I snapped yesterday on Lambton Quay:

Even Wellington founding father John Plimmer is dressing up for the Rugby Sevens this year

Study in New Zealand

2009-02-03T15:52:00.000+13:00

Yes, I am "going back to school." I keep calling this my Mid-life Crisis, which is kind of a joke because it doesn't feel like a crisis, but also kind of fitting because I've had a real shift in my goals and perspective and it's starting to show. In the past month or two I've quit my job, got a tattoo, and enrolled in a Massage Certificate programme - a complete shift of focus for me.

Which brings us to today's topic.

This being my first venture in tertiary education here in my adoptive country, I have learned a little bit about how these things work in New Zealand.

I admit I still don't understand the complex testing system which high school students take and which somehow has specific consequences for what types of university programmes they can get into. But I can now tell you something about finances.

First, there's student loans. I applied for one last week. Just about anyone can get one, and here is how it works: You take out the loan, the special government agency that handles such things then pays your enrolment fees and can also pay you for course-related costs (in my case, that's mainly a massage table). Once you graduate, your loan account gets handed over to the IRD (it's like the IRS). This loan is completely interest free. And you don't have to pay it back 'til you start making over a certain amount of money (about $18,000 a year). THEN you just have to repay 10% of your current income until it's paid off. It doesn't matter how long it takes. Just 10% of your earnings taken right out of your pay check by the IRD. It's that easy.

Oh, but it does not, in fact, end there. Here's a brand new term: Student Allowances. How these work is a little simpler: the government gives you money. And you don't owe them anything ever. Yes, my friends, the government will actually PAY you to go to university! Now, how much you get depends on your income as well as your partner's. I my case I don't qualify for any because of Loren's income, and because of my age (partner's income doesn't count if you're under 23). But the average student just out of high school will get somewhere between $50 and $150 per week, depending on their parent's circumstances. Now that is pretty great.

For an adult student, the whole system is still pretty neat. But for a parent trying to send their kid to university, well, it's pretty damn amazing.

National Identity

2009-01-29T14:57:00.000+13:00

America's National Bird: Bald Eagle

(solitary, powerful, predatory)

New Zealand's National Bird: Kiwi

(flightless, rare, and.. uh.. stroppy?*)

* Stroppy: a fighter; easily provoked to anger; fiercely protective.

*

**

***

*****

Actually, a New Zealand national icon that I think fits a little better is: the Bee

(Industrious, hard-working, civic-minded)

"buzzy bee" a classic Kiwi child's toy

27th July, 2005: Waiting for the Fall

2009-01-15T17:09:00.000+13:00

I've had a request to re-post some of the stuff I wrote back when I first started working with animals and had a lot more to say about it. The following is one of my favourites.

****************

I wish I were a painter. So I could paint a picture for you. A clearing in dappled light, under the canopy of a large twisted old bay tree. In the center of the clearing is a deer, standing very still, its nose just touching the ground. At the edges of the clearing there are several women, all standing very still, all watching the deer. It is very quiet. The woman in the background is crouching, sturdy-looking, middle aged with short graying hair. The woman standing just to the deer's left is wearing the same sensible khaki as the others, but her hair is blonde and curly, she has ear rings, she looks almost glamorous, she is glancing down at her watch. The two women in profile in the foreground look almost peaceful, and a little bit weary, their eyes fixed on the deer, who is looking back at them. If I were a painter, I could paint this with perfect detail. I would call it "Waiting for the fall."

We stood there so still and so quiet for what seemed like a very long time. I saw the vet shoot the dart, and then we closed in, and then we waited. She should have gone down then, but she just wouldn't. Its not her fault - in the wild, you have to hide your weaknesses as long as possible, especially when you are a prey animal. The vet. got two more doses of ketamine in her before it was all over. Then we tried to just drive her into the holding area, but she bolted the other way, and I was the one to cut her off that time. I should have just froze, then, with my arms out, making myself as big as possible. She was too far to drive through the door now, but I didn't think of that, so I just reached out and touched her on the nose, and she took off again. We cornered her again, and then the keeper said "everyone hold!" and we stopped, and we closed in. The vet. inched in painfully slow and got a pillow case over her head, and we helped her to the ground and into the net and that was the end of it.

There's something I just love about this part of it. Whether its cornering a deer or handling a fractious cat or finding that sneaky way to get a shot into a scared dog with the minimum of restraint. It takes a certain kind of skill that's so far removed from the technical side of the job, and it takes a kind of animal sense which can't really be taught. There was something particularly exciting about being part of this group of women working together to take down a deer. Though we weren't out to kill it, of course. We just wanted to trim its hooves, give it some medicine, and clean its teeth.

Election Day/ Guy Fawkes Day

2009-01-08T11:17:00.000+13:00

Still trying to catch up on all that's happened in the last few months. Let's go back to November...

The first guests to arrive were my parents. The day they got here happened to be the day of the Presidential election in America. We choose to not get any television reception in our home, but I still wanted to know what was going on with the election. I heard JJ Murphy's - an Irish pub up on Cuba St. - was going to be showing election coverage all day. They probably weren't the only pub doing this, but the were the only pub hosting the American Democrat's election-watching party.

Patrons at JJ Murphy's watching the race

It was a warm cloudy day with misty rain on and off. We walked around the CBD alternately doing last-minute Celebration preparations and popping into JJ Murphy's to catch the tally. We were eating lunch at Offbeat Originals when we heard a cheer go up from JJ Murphy's down the street. When we went in to get an update, the place was packed. Obama had just won the presidency. Americans and Kiwis alike were celebrating. We watched McCain's concession speach, and Mom said how nice that the three of us were all together for this historic moment.

Parents looking hopeful as Obama takes the lead

It also happened to be Guy Fawkes Day, which is celebrated each year with a fireworks display over the harbour. As we walked the couple blocks from our apartment to the waterfront that evening, the fireworks were already going, and we could hear some kids nearby hollering "Obama!" It was an excellent display, with two launch points working in tandem from barges out in the harbour. It was easy to imagine the whole thing was a celebration of Obama's victory.

It is fair to say that mostly Kiwis are happy about Obama's victory. While American is not, in fact, the centre of the universe, most other countries do care about American politics, simply because they have to. American is still a powerful political and military force which likes to get all up in everyone else's business. And I think that if the world's population had voted in America's presidential election, Obama would have won by a landslide. Wellington will be celebrating his inauguration on the 21st with party featuring African and African-American music:

Kyoto

2009-01-06T23:10:00.000+13:00

So we're going to Japan. It is official. We bought tickets today. I am excited.

This all started when Loren went to an international Magic (the card game) tournament in Auckland. He got 16th place which won him some money and an invite to a international tournament in Japan. (no, not enough money to cover the trip, but enough to help). That was the end of November and the tournament is at the end of February. Not much time to decide whether to go and how to get there. Last week I finally got a Kyoto guide book (that's the city we will be visiting). And now I can't wait to go, it sounds like a really beautiful city, and completely different than anywhere I've ever been. Neither of us have been anywhere in Asia before.

So. I am just going to pretend this is our non-honeymoon following our non-wedding in December. And remind myself that some people spend more on a wedding dress than we'll be spending on all of our travel expenses combined.

not ready to talk about why I quit my job

2008-12-14T19:42:00.000+13:00

I think I'm finally getting over my 'seasonal jet lag' Because this Summer I am completely restless and in search of Something New.

Last Thursday, around 10-ish (translation: bed time) I turned to Loren and said "let's go do something!" So we walked out the door, intending to either jump on the first bus that came along, or just keep walking up Majoribanks to Mt. Vic.

Then we saw the Welsh Dragon Bar. Every time we walk by it, we say "We should really check that place out sometime," but we never do. So this time we did! This tiny pub is located in the island between two major thoroughfares, which always seemed like a bad idea. Also, the very unique-looking little building which houses the pub was originally a public restroom. Not to mention the only Welsh pub in town.

The place was half-empty on a Thursday, the staff were actually having a party for someone's last day. When we opened the door, there was no music playing, we almost didn't want to come in, then this guy said to us "It's ok, it's not a private party!" We got beers and proceeded to check the place out. The walls were covered in Welsh flags, photos of Welsh sports teams, and other Welsh-related items. There was a nice lounge area with faux-leather couches, and a little garden area in the back. A pair of circular rooms bookended the building, complete with domed ceilings covered in paintings. One of these was the pool room. We found the original schematics for the public restroom hanging in a dark corner.

In summary: funky and a little bit awesome.

Monteith's Black and a red-felted pool table

Then the live music started up, which explained the silence we experienced when we first came in. We kicked back on a couch with our beers, and listened to a damn good rendition of "No Woman, No Cry." And I thought: what better way to spend a Thursday night?

Looking through the lounge into the main bar. Those are Welsh (and Irish) flags hanging from the ceiling.

No, we're not moving back to America now that Obama won

2008-12-12T13:11:00.000+13:00

This post started as a response to a comment asking whether I am moving back to America now that Obama is the president-elect. It was not the first time I'd gotten this question.

The answer, without hesitation, is 'no.' Bush was only one reason to move, besides the supreme court justices he appointed remain, as well as the damage he's done to the checks and balances on which the federal government was founded. And furthermore, America is still a place where a person like Bush could get elected, be a spectacularly horrible president, and then get re-elected. Where he could - just to name a few - start unconscionable wars, alienate all of our international allies, and turn his back while Americans died in a flooded, hurricane-battered New Orleans. Where he could do all this and not evoke riots in the streets. These things still happened, and I can't change the fact that I lost faith in the American people, and became ashamed to be an American.

There's also the fact that I like it here in New Zealand, I love living in Wellington, and besides we made a decision to move here indefinitely regardless of the outcome of American elections. And I must also mention that I am so tired of moving, of uprooting, of saying good bye to people. I'm done. We're staying. We'll be signing up for citizenship in a few years, and a re-shuffling of American politicians isn't going to change that.

Yes, it was a great moment in American history when Obama won. Sure, it was a great moment to be an American. But I am an American only by heritage now. We did, of course, notice that Bush's term was almost up when we moved. We did know the next president could be a Democrat. But you know what? There are nine Green MPs in New Zealand's parliament right now, and we helped make that happen. And while the NZ government has just shifted to favour the more conservative party here in NZ (after nine years of a female-led Labour government), the 'conservative' National party is still more liberal than American Democrats. Including Mr. President-Elect Obama.

Turned out I had a lot to say on that subject. I guess I'm feeling a little defensive. I think a lot of people didn't really believe we'd move here, and a whole bunch more didn't think we'd stay. And what with me quitting my job, I'm realising a lot of my co-workers had similar assumptions. Since the word got out that I'm leaving, every co-worker I've talked to about it has in their own way asked if I'm leaving the country.

Oh yeah, quitting my job. I guess I should write a post about that one of these days.

Going Green - Part II

2008-10-24T20:01:00.000+13:00

And so, living in the capital, as we do, and being excited about New Zealand's system of government, we decided to get involved.

So I registered my interest in volunteering for the Green Party. Turns out, what with the campaign being only six weeks long, there's not a whole lot of volunteer work that needs doing. But I have participated in a couple of events.

The first was an event to announce the Green's platform on transportation. They got a bus parked in a big open space by the waterfront, next to it they had volunteers line up fifty cars. Next to that they had volunteers line up fifty bicycles. The idea was to get a visual on how much more space cars take up on the road. So we showed up with our bicycles and participated. After they did othe photo shoot, they had us do a couple laps around the parked bus and cars. Then Jeanette Fitzsimons, co-leader of the party, gave a speech outlining their new transportation policy. The Wellington wind was up to it's usual mischief, and poor Ms. Fitzsimons looked more than a little wind-blown by the end of it. But such things happen when you're a Wellington politician. Here's one of the photos from the event:

The event made 2nd page of the local paper. They used a photo of Ms. Fitzsimons with the bus and cars in the background.

Believe it or not I still have plenty to say on the topic of politics and New Zealand. More to come.. next time.

Going Green

2008-10-19T18:38:00.000+13:00

My goodness, I guess it's about time I talked about New Zealand politics a little. It is, after all, one of the things that attracted us to this country. There are a lot of things about the way government runs here that are very different from the States. I just want to highlight some points of interest.

New Zealand is a parliamentary democracy.
Kinda like England. Members of parliament (MPs) are elected. They are generally analogous to the the congress and house of representatives in the states. There's a Prime Minister (PM), who is usually the leader of the party holding the largest amount of seats in parliament. The PM then forms a government (Americans, we're now talking the equivalent of the "Executive Branch") and picks cabinet members, who are also MPs. That's the basics of what a parliamentary democracy looks like. I'm not going into details on this point.

New Zealand has a Mixed Member Proportional (MMP) Voting System
This is where things get interesting. New Zealanders get two national votes. One, they pick among the MPs who are running in their district. Two, they vote for a political party in general. The party votes are counted up, and they will determine the proportion of each party represented in parliament. I'm not going to go into all the weird details of how the hell you go about making this work, see this handy wikipedia article for details.

The point is, while there are two major political parties in New Zealand, any party that gets 5% or more of the party vote gets representation in parliament. (also, any party which gets even one MP elected in a district gets representation). Why does this matter? Well for starters, say you're an American, and you don't really like either the Democrats or the Republicans all that much. In fact, there's this third party - perhaps the Green Party - that most closely represents your views. But if you vote for the Green presidential candidate, you might as well throw away your vote. It won't mean a damn thing, will it? Say the Greens have the support of 7% of the voting public (the current situation in NZ). If that 7% vote Green, in the American system, it won't accomplish a damn thing. In fact, probably a lot of them will vote Republican or Democrat instead, just to feel like they've done something useful. In New Zealand, those 7% can go ahead and vote Green, it will mean that 7% of parliament's MPs will be Green.

What can the Greens accomplish with just 7% of parliament seats? A lot more than you'd think. There are currently 9 political parties represented in NZ's parliament. Neither of the major parties - Labour and National - have a majority of the seats. That means that neither of the major parties can accomplish a thing without forming coalitions with the minor parties. (Check out Parliament NZ's site for a run down of the current MPs).

I have for a while felt that the Green Party most closely represents my values. Not only are they advocates on environmental issues, but they take a strong stance on human rights as well. And what's the coolest, is that they are a global party. While each country's Green Party is autonamous, they are all part of the global greens network. Not only is this just cool, but it speaks to the universality of their principals. In case you were wondering what those principals are, take a look at the Global Green Charter.

The point I am slowly getting to, is that I am looking foreword to voting in New Zealand's national election this year. I can't wait to vote Green, and feel that my vote actually counts.

I am not nearly finished with this topic, but for now I'll leave you with this lovely image from The Green Party of New Zealand's campaign:

A day without a bus driver

2008-09-26T21:08:00.000+12:00

Wednesday the bus drivers went on strike during peak commuter time. Thursday the bus company retaliated by locking them out of their place of work. This basically slammed bus service to a complete halt for the entirety of the 25th of September.

Thursday was lovely. The weather was beautiful, warm, with a cloudless sky. I took the hint (as I had the day off) and went on a cycling expedition. I had it in my head I needed to get to Lyall Bay, which is to say, The Beach. The North wind was making its presence known, but at the moment it was at my back and it felt nice. I stopped half way through at a lovely little park, right next to the colourful boat houses. But my favourite part is the park benches, sculpted to double as lounge chairs.

When I got to the back of Evan's bay I took a detour to look at one of our city's many wind sculptures up close:

From there, it was on to new cycling territory. I followed the road signs to Lyall Bay. And coincidentally, my route took me right past the Go Wellington Bus headquarters, and a whole bunch of disgruntled bus drivers with signs:

Cars were honking their support when they drive by, and I waved as I cycled past. It was exciting. I'd never seen an actual Union protest before.

And finally, my destination.

Lyall Bay

It was strange, to have a day without bus service. All the commuters were forced to drive their cars into town, causing massive traffic. The parking situation in town was pretty dire. It became very clear how much Wellingtonians rely on public transport. Which is, to me, a positive sign. Lucky for me, the lock out was over Friday morning, and I was able to take the #3 into Karori Wildlife Sanctuary for my first volunteering day of the season.

Language

2008-09-18T15:01:00.000+12:00

Okay, I've resisted as long as I can. I think I have to do a post about Kiwi words and phrases. Actually, since New Zealand lingo borrows heavily from Great Briton, a place I've never been, I sometimes have no idea whether a word is uniquely Kiwi or not. So this is really going to be about "stuff they say differently here."

Starting with a couple of my favourite phrases:

"pear-shaped"

Doesn't mean: A reference to someone's body type.

Does mean: Used to describe something that's gone badly, such as "that's when things went pear-shaped."

Analogous to: Similar to "went south" or "went to hell."

In popular culture: Used in a couple episodes of Farscape (an Australian-made sci-fi tv series)

"You're a star" or (even better) "You're a legend"

Doesn't mean: that you are literally famous.

Does mean: That you did something really good and the person is praising you for it.

Analogous to: umm, possibly "way to go" though it's not really the same. (actually, I can't think of an American phrase
that isn't used just as frequently as a put-down)

In popular culture: "you're a legend" is used in the Flight of the Concords song "The most beautiful girl in the room."

Well, that's a good start anyway. Now I think I'll get to work on a more exhaustive list.

Conversations Overheard in the Sauna

2008-09-12T09:12:00.000+12:00

What's it like having a female Prime Minister?

I'm in the sauna on a 'mixed' day, which means the men outnumber the women roughly four to one. Which means mostly the talk in the sauna is about politics, sport, and business. They're discussing the latest political scandal - something about the foreign affairs minister and some shady campaign contributions. When one guy says, "She (Helen Clark) will burst into tears soon. Playing the sympathy card, that's what they do." To which a lady in the sauna replies "Ay! What do you mean 'they'?" Another guy adds "Well, she did cry over the ... (controversy over a parade of half-naked porn stars on motorcycles) She really didn't want that parade."

It is a simple fact of female physiology: women cry more than men. Have you ever seen a male political leader cry? Does any of this sound reminiscent of Hillary Clinton's recent presidential campaign? The difference is New Zealand elected Prime Minister Clark. Three times in a row.

PS: For those of you going "Wait. A parade of what??"
Yes I did say half-naked porn stars.

this evening's meal

2008-09-07T21:53:00.000+12:00

Today we walked to Newtown - a suburb just out of central Wellington. It only took us about twenty minutes. We were in search of a new place to eat. We saw a Mexican place and a Chilean place that both looked good, but we settled on a Nepalese place as we'd never been to one before.

The Restaurant: Jewel of Nepal

The food: We got two curry-like dishes with saffron rice and veggies. I got lamb, Loren got the fish. Both were very tender and tasty. And the chai had coconut milk in it, which was unique. Also, nearly everything on the menu could be made vegetarian on request.

The atmosphere:
Laid back, lots of bench seats with little pillows, but the lights were too bright (something that perhaps only I would complain about). The best part was the middle-aged Kiwi fellow sitting in the corner playing blues music on a beautiful steel guitar while his wife sat nearby keeping him company. Completely inexplicable, but all the more pleasurable for that.

Work: Pros and Cons

2008-08-24T12:02:00.000+12:00

Working with animals has its hazards...

I can't remember the last time my hands were scratch-free

On the other hand, I get to cuddle kittens

kitten season has officially started

... and on a good day, I might even get to cuddle a lizard!

the nice lady who owns this blue-tongued skink lets me have a cuddle whenever she sees me in the shop

Cuba

2008-08-21T22:46:00.000+12:00

Last week we went to a Cuban cafe near our house. It had a mural on one wall and a huge photograph of Havana on the other.

(detail from the mural)

Sitting in that cafe brought back memories of my visit to Cuba. We mostly stayed in Havana which is not what I'd call a relaxing vacation, but it was one of my most memorable experiences. We stayed with locals. We talked with artists and taxi drivers, with actresses and University professors. We met people who had devoted their lives to the revolution, and people on the street trying to make a dollar off tourists so they could get to America. It was amazing. It was a beautiful city. In the evenings we'd sit around and talk about politics and about our day, trying to process what we'd seen, trying to make sense of the strange world around us. There were five of us: myself, my parents, and two of my cousins. My younger cousin had just graduated high school and had never left the States before. My older cousin is a gay rights activist in Florida. My father was the centre point of our group; the one who devised the trip.

I took some fantastic pictures on my old 1950's era split screen point-and-shoot. I am now feeling inspired to dig them out of the closet, get them onto disc, and also get copies sent to those who were on the journey with me. It's way overdue.

Foreign Things

2008-08-20T19:03:00.000+12:00

Last week on the way to the pharmacy I noticed a little Asian market, so of course I had to check it out. It was pleasantly homely, with crowded shelves and, for some reason, an impossibly tiny driving range in one corner. Browsing the aisles of mysterious goods with undecipherable text it occurred to me that I am an immigrant living in a foreign land and yet I still have this impulse to put myself in strange and unfamiliar situations.

What does that say about me?

Stranger still, I encountered several familiar products among the exotic wares, items I hadn't been able to find New Zealand before. I found Dr. Pepper, and what must have been Gatoraide though it was only recognisable by the distinctive lightning bolt logo. And, most amazing of all, SPAM!

(only the most expensive SPAM I've ever seen)

In fact, I realized later I'd walked out of there with two comfortingly familiar items:
strawberry mochi (for me) and Dr Pepper (for Loren).

(the mochi was very tasty!)

Wellington goes to the Movies

2008-08-06T21:50:00.000+12:00

Written Friday, August 1st

Wellington is considered the Hollywood of New Zealand, and with this title comes a dizzying number of Film Festivals, the biggest being the NZ International Film Festival, which is in town right now. I am determined to make the most of the festival this year, and by the time it is finished I will probably have seen more movies on the Big Screen in two and a half weeks than I have seen previously since we moved here. So this seems an appropriate time to talk about the Wellington movie-going experience.

Wellington has 5 major movie theatres - four within a couple blocks of my apartment. They co-exist by filling different niches - the art house theatre, the cheap theatre, etc. - but the fact that they coexist at all in such tight quarters is a testament to the enthusiasm Wellingtonians have for cinema. There are two significant differences in the basic movie-going experience here vs. the States. The first is in the refreshments. There is usually the familiar concessions counter - here called a "candy bar." However, you may not find some of the basic items Americans associate with movies - popcorn and hot dogs. On the other hand, most "candy bars" will be happy to sell you a beer or a glass of wine. Many theatres are also associated with a full cafe, where you can get a beer or a cup of coffee, a muffin or a toasted sandwich, and either enjoy them at the tables (often on the 2nd floor and overlooking the street) or take them right into the movie with you.

The second difference is the hardest for me to get used to: assigned seating. When you purchase a ticket for a film, the ticket is for a particular seat, just like if you were going to a play or a concert. This means if you are going to a popular film you can't just rely on buying tickets right before the movie - you may get stuck with the worst seats. You need to plan ahead, and you need to know what the good seats are for that particular theatre. Mostly box offices will have a seating chart to help you with this. The plus side is that with a little planning and know-how you can get your favourite seats, and you don't need to show up early and wait in a long queue for a popular film on opening night.

The NZ Film Festival also uses a couple of less conventional theatres: the Film Archive, and Te Papa Muesum's Soundings Theatre.

2008-07-27T22:25:00.000+12:00

When Loren and I went to get tickets for a Film Festival movie the other day, the lady at the box office looked really familiar, but I couldn't figure out why. When I went to the same theatre today, the same lady was at the box office, and again she just looked so familiar. Hours later it hit me: I'm almost certain she's the lady that officiated at our civil union.

Something about that made me feel like a really belong here now.

Moments

2008-07-27T22:23:00.000+12:00

Written Friday, 25th July, 10:14 pm
Random moments from last weekend. Which was much more eventful than this weekend has been thus far. (by "weekend" I mean my days off which are Thurs. Fri. and Sun.)

Thursday.
I got a haircut for the first time in about two years. I got a recommend for this tiny place run by one woman. It was raining, and I sat on the couch flipping through hair design books. I pointed out a photo, and she got to it. Washing my hair, she asked me what I do for work. She said, "If it's true what some people believe that you come back as another animal, then I want to be a parrot." I asked "in the wild or someone's home?" She said "A pet parrot, because you can say whatever you want and no one will care." She got the haircut from the magazine dead on. I can't remember the last time I was this pleased with a haircut.

Friday.
I cycled to the Sheepskin Warehouse to buy a possum tail to send to my nephew for his birthday. There's American opossums where he lives, I thought it would amuse him. They were fresh out of tails, but the lady gave me pitch for buying a whole possum fur. She explained that if you loop the tail through one of the holes from where its eyes were, you can make a sort of furry scarf of it. Something about being a foreigner myself makes me feel more comfortable asking strangers where they're from if I notice an accent. She said she's from Malaysia, lived here 17 years, raised two children here and they both left for the UK where the job market's better. I told her about where I'm from, and about my parents, and how my nephew, whose birthday it is, is a dancer. I settled on wool and possum fur hat, tucked it into my windbreaker, and cycled back into town.

When I got home, I saw a friend online whose visiting Hawaii right now. I was giving him all kinds of advice about Hawaii, and then I got to really missing Hawaii. He said "enjoy the island you're on." Which was excellent advice.

Saturday.
After work I quickly set about following my Hawaii-visiting friend's advice. Loren and I went to a great little out of the way Malaysian restaurant. I got lamb roti chanai and a side of steamed veggies. We wandered around town for a while then met some friends at SF Bath House (which is a dance club) for Atomic - a weekly even where the DJ plays 80's. Not just pop 80's but everything - pop, punk, new wave, goth, everything. It was late getting going but once I got on the dance floor it was so much fun. I couldn't believe I'd been here over a year and hadn't once been out dancing. I mean, that is ridiculous.

Sunday.
Loren and I went to our 1st Wellington Film Festival film. Vexille - a CGI/Animae scifi/action movie. It was actually really good, really interesting plot, and a lot of fun to look at. I cannot believe we didn't make it to a single thing for last year's festival. I mean, 3 of the theatres are within 2 blocks of us. Clearly we have a lot to make up for this year.

Wellington Coffee

2008-07-13T10:49:00.000+12:00

Wellintonians love their coffee. This city has it's own coffee culture, and coffee is different here. For starters, coffee always means espresso drinks. There is only one place that serves drip coffee and that is Starbucks. Also, there are some standard items on a Kiwi menu that you won't see outside of NZ and Australia.

Flat White - very similar to a latte, but in theory the flat white has less foam.
Short Black - this is a shot of espresso
Long Black - a double shot of espresso with hot water. Similar to an Americano (as close as you're going to to get to something resembling drip coffee)

I was not much of a coffee drinker before we moved here, but now I order decaf mochas all the time. What makes them so great? For starters the milk is just better here. The coffee is also consistently good. Cafes get their beans from one of several local roasteries that source their beans from around the world and roast them on site. And since NZ has nothing against Cuba, some of them source beans from there, especially Havana Coffee Works.

Turns out Cuba makes some pretty tasty coffee. I also love that if you order a cappuccino or a mocha (also called a mochaccino here) it will always come with at least one marshmallow. Often the marshmallow is covered in chocolate.

(this mocha from Mister Bun's came with one regular and one chocolate marshmallow)

Despite, or maybe because of this, mochas aren't made very sweet unless you ask for sugar in them. Which is just the way I like it. Also coffee always and everywhere comes in the same lovely Italian ceramic mugs with brown glaze on the outside. Wellington coffee culture is not about a quick coffee to go. As my copy of "The Best of Wellington" puts it:

"The definitive coffee experience is best had sitting down, drinking from thick, pleasantly warm, tactile Italian crockery, with just the right amount of finely textured milk blended with a short strong shot or two of espresso."

Despite all this Starbucks does have a presence here, with its tall, vente, and grande, with its super-sweet double caramel latte to go. They are not completely clueless, though. They can't ignore the popularity of the flat white.

2008-07-11T13:17:00.000+12:00

So I'm at the Doctor's today: I'm finally getting my chronic neck pain dealt with now that I'm a resident and can participate in NZ's subsidised health care. For one thing, my GP's not afraid of alternative medicine. Last time I was there, she recommended an acupuncturist, this time she gave me the name of an osteopath "because acupuncture is more effective for short-term pain."

While I was there she did a pap smear as well, since I'm way overdue. Afterwards she asked me what birth control I'm using. Then she offered to give me a script for condoms.

Holy crap. Subsidised condoms!

I had no idea that was an option. They're not "my brand" but they were so cheap there was really no reason not to give 'em a try.

Total cost:
doctor's visit $48
pap smear lab test: free
One month supply of my neck pain meds: $3
Six 12-packs of condoms: $3

The Camera Collector

2008-06-29T20:25:00.000+12:00

I'm not obsessed or anything, but when I think about it, actually own a total of eight cameras.

Film cameras:
Pentax zoom90-WR (somewhat broken)
Pentax ME super (somewhat broken)
Pentax K1000 (crack in the prism but otherwise intact)
Ansco gaf (old split screen point-and-shoot)
Lomo Super Sampler **NEW ADDITION

Digital Cameras:
Olympus D-460 zoom
Pentax K100 (digital SLR)
Motorola KRZR-K1 (camera phone) **NEW ADDITION

With the exception of the K1000 (which was given to me by a friend of a relative) and the Super Sampler (which I only got last week), all of these cameras have been my primary camera at some point. They all have their particular strengths and weaknesses. The Ansco was the only camera I took with me to Cuba - it just felt right and my ME super had just started throwing tantrums - and it took lovely photos of crumbling Havana architecture. The Olympus was my 1st digital, and the fact it was so light for cameras of its time made it a perfect companion when backpacking for the Hawkesbill Turtle Project. I took some incredible shots on that thing, simply by being able to take it places my other cameras couldn't go.

SO. The obsession continues. I'm currently having a great time checking out the particular charms of my camera phone. The Super Sampler is a toy camera from the Lomographic Society that I've had my eye on for YEARS. It is essentially four near pinhole camera lenses that take four side by side exposures on one "picture" - each image taken 2 or .2 seconds apart. For this camera to really shine, you need bright sunlight and lots of action (a sporting event, perhaps?). But sunshine is scarce this time of year, so I haven't made it through the test roll yet. Here's a blurry photo of the gadget, taken on my camera phone:

AND, I was in the Metshop the other day, when I saw something I couldn't stop myself from buying: Sunprints. These are little blue squares of paper. You place an object on the square, stick it in the sun for a couple minutes, rinse in tap water, and an image appears. Magic! I can only assume these things are based on existing blueprint technology. My parents are in the land surveying business, this involves drawing maps, and originally my parents worked with my grandad and his ancient equipment. This included a blueprint machine: you take an existing drawing, stick it on some blue paper, run it through a machine that stinks of ammonia, and out comes a blue-and-white copy: the original meaning of "blue print." When I was a kid hanging out at my parent's office, I'd use the special blue paper to make images: find a leaf or something to stick on the paper in the sun, run through the stink machine, and you get a picture. I hadn't thought of this in years, but holding that tiny blue package in my hands, it all came back.

I was determined to test it first chance I got, but waited too late in the day and the sun was failing, so I went on a mad dash through the city looking for a spot of sun. Just as I was giving up, the sun broke through some clouds - it was on the verge of disappearing behind some mountains. So I just laid down my set up on an anonymous bit of side walk and tried not to look like a crazy person as I sat there staring at it and waiting for my five minutes to be up.

In the end I got a washed out image, due to the thin sunlight and long exposure time. And of course it has been raining ever since. Another new toy just waiting for a sunny day.

Windy Welly

2008-06-29T09:22:00.000+12:00

"Gusts of 130 km/h are likely in exposed parts of Wellington and coastal
Wairarapa through to about 6pm today"

Damn. So much for getting a bike ride in today.

2008-06-27T19:38:00.000+12:00

Can someone tell me why I keep taking photos in public bathroom mirrors? It's become a compulsion or something.

Honestly, I just love what the metal mirrors do with reflections. If only there was something more interesting to take photos of in a bathroom stall besides myself. I'm starting to feel a touch narcissistic.

And let me take this opportunity to say a few words about public restrooms in New Zealand. They are absolutely the best public restrooms of any country I've ever had the opportunity to take a piss in. Kiwis will look at you like you're some sort of toilet fetishist if you tell them this, but that's just because they don't know how good they've got it. Friends, there are at least FOUR public restrooms in the small space of down town Wellington, and they are all clean, devoid of graffiti, and on average smell better than my own bathroom. Some of them are even HEATED in the winter. There is no garbage or human waste on the floors of any kind, they have hot and cold running water, all of the fixtures and appliances are undamaged and in working order. I have even had the confidence to change my clothes in a bathroom stall without once shuddering or getting the urge to run home and take a hot bath. I think all this has to do with the sense of pride Kiwis have for their public facilities, right down to the toilets. Indeed, there is even an annual award for Best Loo. Not to mention the famous toilet in Kawakawa that was designed by a noteworthy German architect.

It's a little thing. But when I talk about quality of life, in reference to why I've moved to New Zealand, this is just on tiny piece of the puzzle. And probably I wouldn't spend so much time taking photos in restroom mirrors if the restrooms were unpleasant.

What the camera saw

2008-06-20T16:39:00.000+12:00

I took a rather leisurely stroll today, putting up fliers for Karori Wildlife Sanctuary and window shopping along the way. As I had my camera phone on me, I took a few covert photos along the way:

On a shelf above some science fiction/ fantasy books, some presumably fictitious postal packages. I've been in this use book store many times, but never noticed these before.

Down an easy-to-miss side street, I saw this mysterious building and had to snap a photo. Turns out the Theosophical Society is some kind of occult religion (according to Wikipedia). Still, I can't help but apreciate the motto above the door.

I simply love the fact that this little cafe exists. Between the Che logo and the Cuban coffee sold within, this place would be an impossibility in the States. The availability of Cuban coffee, cigars, and rum still amuses me, though I've been here over a year. And on the subject of alcoholic beverages, I still can't get over the fact that absinthe is widely available in liquor stores.

I have camera phone technology now

2008-06-19T17:33:00.000+12:00

It's tiny, I take it with me everywhere I go, and it performs well in low lighting situations. It's completely silent, there's no flash, and it just looks like I'm checking my text messages when I use it. It's the perfect stealth camera. And what of it's photo quality? I happen to like cameras with interesting limitations. They inspire certain kinds of creativity This is my favourite camera phone photo so far.

Taken in the brushed metal mirror in a public restroom stall the day I got my camera.

the greener grass (written Thurs. 12th)

2008-06-16T09:34:00.000+12:00

A universal part of the expat experience is longing for those little items, things you took for granted you could always find at the store, that are no longer available. It's different for everyone: pumpkin pie filling, Bounce dryer sheets, Fritos, doughnuts, graham crackers. One person I know gets American cooking chocolate shipped over once a year for making American-style brownies. I meet a lot of expats and they've all got something, and nearly every one of them has found some way to import some keenly missed item on at least a semi-regular basis. Loren and I have made a sort of unspoken vow to resist the urge to do the same. I don't begrudge my fellow expats, don't get me wrong: hey, whatever it takes to get you through the difficulties of living in a foreign culture on the other side of the world from your homeland. It's just a difference in philosophy, really: our strategy for adjusting to living here long term is to go cold turkey on American products as much as we possibly can.

That's not to say I don't get those cravings. Part of it, of course, is borne of homesickness, but some of it is just the allure of the unavailable. I was here months before I realised there's no doughnuts. Back in the States, I probably ate about one doughnut every six to twelve months, but the realisation they were gone made me crave a Duncan Doughnuts' chocolate glazed. Just the other day I had a dream about Pop Tarts. Now, I haven't had a Pop Tart in maybe four years, but still, I woke up thinking about my favourite flavour - brown sugar and cinnamon - and how nice and crunchy they are fresh out of the toaster. Until that dream, I hadn't even noticed the lack of Pop Tarts on the grocery shelves.

Which brings me to today. I'm at the grocery store, getting the usual basket full of tasty New Zealand items, when I spot a shelf of sale items. The sign reads "novelty bars: two for two dollars." What I'm looking at are a stack of Snickers, Twix, and Mars Bars. Now, I'm not a big junk food fan, I'm not really much of a candy eater. But faced with $1 snickers bars - an item I was just last week remarking on the sore lack of - I couldn't resist. Snickers are my favourite, even though the caramel hurts my teeth.

It was silly of me. I don't like junk food, and it seems like most of the American things there are to miss are junk food. On the other hand, the kind foods I really care about are almost universally better here. Just take the other items in my grocery basket:

Milk - SO much better in NZ, once you've had a latte here you'll never want to go back. I've gone off soy milk since we moved here.

Lamb - my favourite meat, fresh and readily available year round.

Carrots, onions, broccili, and mushrooms - All the local fruits and veggies are fantastic, you can mostly find anything you're used to if it's in season, plus some new and exotic stuff you can't get anywhere else.

Moneith's Doppelbock Winter Ale - Local beer here is just so much better. We have become regular beer drinkers!

(Still, I have to admit I'm a little excited about the Snicker's bars.)

Tools For Global Living

2008-05-28T19:31:00.001+12:00

aka, my favourite online resources that make an expat's life easier.

World Clock - get the local time anywhere in the world. Instantly. You can even make a "personal world clock" of just the places you care about. This is handy when you live in a country that's a day ahead of everybody half the time, when countries keep rearranging daylight savings time, plus the fact our seasons are backwards from most places. No more having to do complicated mathematics just to work out whether you can call the parents without waking them up in the middle of the night.

Online Conversions - Convert any unit of measurement into any other unit of measurement. Going from imperial to metric ain't easy. If you weigh 60kg, have you lost weight? If you're going 100 km/hour is that too fast? And don't even get me started on the number of calculations this little gadget has saved me with regards to cooking from American recipes. (And when I say ANY unit of measurement, I mean it. Every find yourself in a situation where you need to know how many avograms are in baht? I doubt it, but if you did, this site would make your life a lot easier.)

xe.com - Gives you current exchange rates between any two types of currency.

How to Call Abroad - This site will tell you how to call any country in the world from any other country in the world.

2008-05-28T19:31:00.000+12:00

Seasonal Jet Lag

2008-05-23T15:14:00.000+12:00

That's what I've got. I arrived here last year in time for a second winter, and that's just not natural. I get winter depression normally, but I floated blissfully through winter number two, possibly just too lighted up by the excitement of so many new things, the joy of having Made It after all. That bastard depression caught up with me in the New Zealand Summer, though. And not a single reason for it. Warm and sun and my parents visiting, life and love and everything going ok. But I couldn't sleep, my mind was too busy cannibalising itself, and I was perpetually tired.

"I awoke today and found the frost perched on the town
It hovered in a frozen sky, then it gobbled summer down
When the sun turns traitor cold
and all the trees are shivering in a naked row
I get the urge for going but I never seem to go"
- Joni Mitchell

I think of that song normally in Spring. Summer is imminent, and long-ago childhood summer vacations make me feel like wandering the world care-free. Winter usually makes me want to hunker down, curl up under the covers, get comfortable, settle in. Well. This winter all I can think of is travel. Adventure. I want to see the world. I want to see the rest of New Zealand. I want to jump on a motorbike (not that I know how to ride a motorbike) and just drive off down the road. This winter, I know just how Joni feels. But. Well. It's the wrong time of year for such things, isn't it? I guess I'll just have to wait it out.

"I'll ply the fire with kindling now, I'll pull the blankets up to my chin
I'll lock the vagrant winter out and bolt my wandering in
I'd like to call back summertime and have her stay for just another month or so
But she's got the urge for going and I guess she'll have to go"

mile stones

2008-05-16T17:15:00.000+12:00

I got my NZ driver's license in the mail last weekend. Holding in my hands an official photo ID with a New Zealand flag in one corner, it felt almost as big a step as getting those residency stamps in our passports. I don't have to remember my passport if I want to buy beer at the grocery store!

And today I registered to vote in two different countries. I will vote in two national elections this year! How cool is that?

How I Got Here

2008-05-09T17:01:00.000+12:00

I'm not done talking about our one-year anniversary. I want to talk a little bit about how I got here. About the very beginnings.

In the year 2000, I was a journalist for my college newspaper. The night of the election, they showed coverage on a big projector in the student union. I stayed up late that night drinking chai lattes and covering the election and the student's responses. When it became obvious nothing was going to be decided that night, I had to write three possible stories: the one where Gore wins, the one where Bush wins and the one where we still don't know what the hell's going on. We all know which one the paper ran the next morning. Weeks later we were all trying to get our heads around the presidential coup Bush had pulled off, and the editors were joking about running the headline "World Goes To Hell In Handbasket."

Meanwhile, I had boldly proclaimed to friends and family that if Bush won, I would move to Australia. I guess they all thought I was joking. Actually, I was one and a half years away from a Bachelor's degree, but after that I really did intend to leave the country, at least for a while. Why Australia? Well, partially it comes down to playing with the globe in my classroom in elementary school, searching for the farthest possible location from my hometown in the South Carolina low country. Partially it's because of a children's book called "Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day," in which a child has the sort of mundane very bad day that children sometimes do, and proclaims to his family that he's moving to Australia. (Also, they speak English in Australia, which is convenient).

Later that year I got assigned a feature story about a Russian man who worked at the registrar's office and also ran the college's chess club. He told me he left Russia not long before the collapse of the Soviet Union. He said he left because he could see it coming. And that just got me thinking: If that was about to happen to my country, would I see it coming? Would I have the wisdom to leave before it happened? And that notion stuck with me somehow.

Well, we all know I didn't leave the country upon graduation. I'd met Loren by then, and decided he was worth sticking around for. Years later we were sitting on the couch in our comfortable two-bedroom apartment in Berkeley, when Loren mentioned to me that Sweden had a viable political party that was Feminist. We started one of those despairing conversations about how pathetic the US is compared to other first-world nations when it comes to a lot of political and social issues. This was late 2005. The outcome of the '04 election was still fresh in our minds, not to mention the Hurricane Katrina disaster. I mentioned the fact that we didn't necessarily have to continue living in America. I'm sure I'd said it before, it was always a fact of life for me, I'd moved around so much in my childhood. But this time somehow it stuck. I told him about the Russian man I interviewed in college. He said something about not wanting to be around for the sacking of Rome. We started talking specifics about where we might want to move to and why. That conversation, that was the beginning of everything.

number four

2008-05-07T09:17:00.000+12:00

I remembered one more song having to do with moving to New Zealand. This one's a bit less obvious:

Andre Bird - Tables and Chairs

When you get down to it, part of the appeal of New Zealand is it seems uniquely poised to weather a number of post apocalyptic scenarios and come out pretty ok, peachy keen, even. It's not a popular thing to say you sometimes fantasise about these things, but this song voices it boldly. When I saw Andrew Bird live at the SF Bathhouse in Wellington, he said this story was inspired by a couple he knows who moved to New Zealand, and how they dreamed of a post apocalyptic future in which we have a chance to start again.

"i know we're going to meet some day
in the crumbled financial institutions of this land
there will be tables and chairs
there'll be pony rides and dancing bears
there'll even be a band
cause listen, after the fall there will be no more countries
no currencies at all, we're gonna live on our wits
we're gonna throw away survival kits,
trade butterfly-knives for adderal
and that's not all
ooh-ooh, there will be snacks there will
there will be snacks, there will be snacks."

Top Three

2008-05-02T10:16:00.000+12:00

I'm working on a Top Five of songs that have to do with our move here. But so far I only have three:

Dar Williams - O Canada Girls

(listening to this song on the bus back from a conference in Palmerston North, looking out the window at the rolling hills along the Kapiti coast)

"I guess it's got to feel like some exodus
And if I succeed, well there will be more of us
And if I don't well I don't really know

Girls
Who have found our unsung nation
Where we left so much land to itself
That everyone had her own mountain"

John Denver - Rocky Mountain High

(This song came into my head as I hiked into Karori Sanctuary one morning. When I got home and looked up the lyrics that I realised he says "twenty-seventh year" which is my age)

"He was born in the summer of his 27th year
Comin home to a place he'd never been before
He left yesterday behind him, you might say he was born again
You might say he found a key for every door"

Jimmy Buffett - Banana Republics

(A more cynical take on migration, kept thinking of this song as we were packing up to move here. )

"Down to the Banana Republics
Down to the tropical sun
Go the expatriated American
Hopin' to find some fun

Some of them go for the sailing
Brought by the lure of the sea
Tryin' to find what is ailing
Living in the land of the free
Some of them are running to lovers
Leaving no forward address
Some of them are running tons of ganja
Some are running from the IRS"

Migration

2008-05-02T09:45:00.000+12:00

Yesterday I took the theory test and got my NZ driver's licence. Two days previous was our one-year anniversary of arriving in this country. So. A couple of things I remember about moving here..

April 27th. The day we left. We loaded up the rental car, left our house keys on the counter. By previous arrangement, some young lady with dreads came by to pick up the futon we had slept on our last night in the apartment. We drove downtown and for some reason decided to grab a coffee at Royal Grounds on our way out. It was there, sitting in the coffee shop, looking across the table at Loren, that it really hit me what we were doing. I had been so busy packing, and selling our stuff on Craigslist, and making arrangements for our trip, that it all seemed like an intellectual exercise until that moment, when there was nothing left to do but get to the airport and step onto a plane.

April 29th. The day we arrived. The taxi dropped us and all six of our bags off in an empty parking lot, down an alley, allegedly near the address we'd given him for the apartment we would be staying in. Loren went off to find the place, and the lock box containing our keys, while I watched over the luggage. There I was, down an unfamiliar alley, in an empty parking lot, with not a single key in my possession, not knowing the location of the bed I would sleep in that night, and sitting watch over what were our only possessions for the next six weeks. Now, I have known in-between places, standing between what's to come and what's come before, with nothing to do with the present but wait it out. You get that any time you travel on an aeroplane, for instance. But this was the ultimate in-between place in my life, the moment of complete disorientation before this new chapter of my life could begin.

Fun with statistics

2008-04-17T11:21:00.000+12:00

Before I moved here, I spent a lot of time researching stats on New Zealand vs. America, Wellington vs. Berkeley, etc. Statistics may be cold and sterile, but my imagination can fill in the details, and the picture that emerged in my mind with reguards to New Zealand made me really excited. How could we NOT try to emigrate? I have lost the Word file I used to keep of such statistics, but in my internet wanderings on this rainy morning, curled up on the couch under a down comforter, I came up with a comparison of NZ vs USA murder rates, and I couldn't help but brag a little.

NZ Police statistics put the national murder rate at 1 offence per 100,000 people per year
Wikipedia puts the USA national murder rate at 5.6 offences per 100,000 people per year

That's a total of just forty-five murders annually in New Zealand, most of them in Auckalnd. So I feel just a little bit justified that I feel so safe walking through any part of Wellington by myself at night. I sometimes wonder if my inherent feeling of safety in this country is partially due to some naive notion that New Zealand is full of nothing but nice friendly people. But now I know that on a purely statistical level, I have less to fear. There's no constitutional right to carry a handgun around here, though the New Zealand bill of rights, drafted just eighteen years ago, is by my reckoning a more comprehensive document. But I digress...

The other day I was listening to NPR, as I do, and heard mention that US gas prices at the pump have risen 80% in the last year. It got me thinking how out of touch with those on-the-ground issues I really have become since I left America. I've been hearing about the financial crisis by little pieces here and there, my parents having to scale back their little business in Hawaii, a friend here and there trying to sell their home and finding it's gone down in value beyond anything they could have predicted. And here's another piece to add to the picture. When I left California last April, the average gas price was $3.25, today it is $3.85, which means in my little area of the San Francisco Bay, there are no doubt pumps selling gas at over $4.00. What does it all mean? We will have to wait and see. I recall us fancy liberal types asking ourselves how high the prices would have to get before folks sold their cars and started using public transit. four dollars? five? We may find out soon. This handy website has among other things, a historic gas price graph that you can fiddle with. I put in California, then I put in Hawaii, but what really gave me a shock is when I ticked the "add crude oil prices" box. I saw a third line soaring high above the other two, where historically it has kept pace with prices at the pump. I don't know where this is heading, but it sure as hell isn't sustainable.

Things to do on the weekend

2008-04-06T20:45:00.000+12:00

Sorry I haven't posted in a while. This post is mainly just for the photos. Two weekends ago, we went for a hike up Mt. Victoria with our friend Reed. Though we've done this hike plenty of times, this is the 1st time we've been brave enough to check out the tree swing.

(Above photo taken by Reed)

(not sure if I took this one or if Reed did)

In case you can't tell, this is a rope swing on the top of a very steep hill, overlooking a sharp drop-off to the city below. It was so much fun I can't believe we never tried it before.

Rainy Sunday Morning

2008-03-30T09:30:00.000+13:00

Finally, a proper rainy day. Woke up too early, though, feeling kinda crumby due to the two glasses of wine and the staying up a bit too late. May as well get up. First order of business was tasty baked goods from Pandoro, and a coffee for Loren. I'm obsessed with the blueberry muffins at the moment, they are perfect and not too sweet. Forgot to grab a free biscotti, though. Oh well. Back to the apartment, Loren still fast asleep of course. Now, the eternal Kiwi breakfast beverage question: tea, or Milo? I'm not sure what's more worrisome: the fact it seemed perfectly reasonable to me to buy a 1 kilo tin of Milo, or the fact we've finished it off already. Tea it is, then. I've currently been doing a combo of roast mate and vanilla red. I'm thinking how these are precisely the type of small luxuries I was afraid I wouldn't be able to find in New Zealand. It turns out mostly you can find just about any type of little shop I may have been missing from the Bay Area, it's just there's only one and it may take half a year to stumble upon it. Back to my computer, and I'm not surprised to hear the scavenger hunt has been postponed. Met Service is saying eighteen degrees and rainy; there's rain droplets on the webcam. I have to admit, part of me is relieved. After a long day at work and a late night out with the co-workers, I could really use a quiet day at home with my sweetie.

Update to A Strange Tale

2008-02-22T17:22:00.000+13:00

I went for a stroll just now to see if those things we saw last night were a still there. (and to take photos so I'd have proof I wasn't just making things up)

I found the strange statue was still there, and was indeed a statue. I was comforted to see I wasn't the only one startled by the new addition. I saw many a person pause to inspect it. There were some pier-diving kids nearby. Here, a boy demonstrates how well the thing is bolted down:

(I feel since the boy willingly jumped into my shot, and since you can't see his face, this photo is fair game here)

There were no dancing shadows, of course, as it was daytime, but I saw the boxes with the lights in them all locked up but still there, so maybe they will be back again tonight?

The circus tents were still set up in front of the New Zealand stock exchange:

Meanwhile the building that seems to have popped up over night in Frank Kitts Park, while still a bit mysterious, seems to be part of the Pacific Blue festival, which starts tomorrow. (and you can bet I'll be stopping by to check it out)

On the way back, the statue was still drawing plenty of attention. The crowd of kids in bathing suits had grown, and I saw one boy climb onto the thing's shoulders to get more height before jumping into the water.

A Strange Tale

2008-02-22T17:00:00.000+13:00

We went for a walk last night. It was a lovely warm night, with a huge full moon hanging over the Harbour. Dramatic streaks of high-altitude cloud lit up by moonlight, and the water was remarkably calm. We walked along the water behind Te Papa, and there was this statue we thought was a person at first because it wasn't there before, and because it looked real in the moonlight. What finally gave it away was how still it was and how the centre of gravity was wrong, the statue leaning impossibly foreword as if in the process of diving off the pier into the dark water.

Moving along, we saw some people gathered in front of Te Papa on the Mac's Brewery side of the giant building. The museum was closed, so what were they all doing? There was a couple dancing to nothing, but the crowd was just milling about, not really centred on them. Then we walked a bit further, and saw someone had set up two huge lights focused on the five-story-tall wall of Te Papa. The lights were projecting the dancing figures high upon the wall. There were other figures, too. Some seemed to be co-conspirators in this strange performance piece, some were just regular folks who walked in front of the lights and then started playing - doing "walk like an Egyptian" or shadow boxing each other, or just standing there fascinated by the mere fact of their shadow displayed at such a height. We watched for a time and the shadows danced across the façade of Te Papa, that dramatic full moon hovering above it all.

Further along we walked, curious now about the lights we saw down by Frank Kitts park - it seemed like all the park lights had turned to greens and blues and pinks, surely those weren't there before? Then we reached it - a park built in many levels, defined by ancient battlements along the harbour side, with little out-of-the-way garden nooks and terraced pathways. To our astonishment we came across a sizeable building which hadn't existed before. A large circular building, with a strange façade down one side made of pink triangular structures, and an open-air section in the back which looked like an ordinary cocktail lounge. Peering in, we saw a sign that said "private party" Private party indeed! Who builds a temporary night club in the middle of Frank Kitts park just to throw a party!? The place was empty, but there were enough security guards about that we didn't stay too long to snoop. (I'm going back today just to see if the thing is still there).

We headed back along the lagoon side of the Sea to City bridge. We could hear drumming coming from the park on the other end of the bridge. I'd noticed a drumming circle gathered there once before during a full moon - maybe it's a regular event? Looking over there, I could see it was a much larger group than before, some drumming, some just hanging out. I caught the glint of a baton twirling over there somewhere. The drumming sounds drifting over from the park sounded vaguely Tahitian.

Headed back towards Te Papa now, we notice something else new. Circus tents set up on the long stretch of cemented park land in front of the NZ stock exchange. Tents with brightly coloured lights running across the tops of them. A sign informs us the circus won't be doing shows until tomorrow, still all these lights are on and we hear odd sounds coming from within the tents - a bit of drumming or the tinkle of some kind of string instrument. They must be practising. Even from here we can see there are shadow figures still dancing across the wall of Te Papa. The folks at the tables outside Mac's Brewery are enjoying the show along with their beers. Someone has gotten so close to the lights that their shadow is five stories high. The shadow is trying to grab a little kid who is running around in front of him, darting out of his imaginary grasp.

Sometimes I feel like I'm living in the actualized potential of a city, the Platonic ideal of what a city can become. Sometimes it seems impossible that this place exists at all, and that I actually live here.

The Big News

2008-02-21T13:11:00.000+13:00

We're coming home from getting takaway, Loren's checked the mailbox, and is opening mail as we walk up the stairs... that's when he breaks the news: he has just opened a letter informing us that our residency applications have been accepted!

This is a huge deal to us. Here are the main big deal things that it will mean:

We are free to live, and to work, in New Zealand. Permanently. Our dealings with Immigration New Zealand are basically over, except for getting visas whenever we travel outside of the country.

We can become citizens, if we so choose, after we have been here for five years.

I can bring my parents in as residents after we have been here three years.

We may participate in the national subsidised healthcare system.

We can vote in the national NZ election, which will probably be held in November of this year. In fact, we will be required to register to vote once we are eligible, which will happen in May.

In short, we will have almost all of the rights of an actual New Zealand citizen. When we started this application process, we were quite confident we would succeed, but we didn't know it would happen this soon. We were told by Immigration to expect it to take 6 to 9 months. We were told by other immigrants that it often only takes four months. We weren't holding our breaths. In fact, we were in the process of applying for temporary work permits to make up the gap that might occur between our working holiday permits expiring and our residency application getting accepted. And thank goodness I hadn't gotten through that process yet or that would be an extra $400 wasted in application fees. In the end, it only took Immigration three months and two days to send us an acceptance letter!

Today I walked the two blocks down to the Immigration office to do the final step - turn in our 'migrant levy' (the final fee) and hand over our passports so that they can stamp them. We probably won't get them back for another week, and although I know that really the process is OVER, this bit is just tying up loose ends, it still feels a little disconcerting to be an immigrant and not in possession of your passport. I will feel immensely better when they are returned to us, all officially stamped with brand new residency permits.

Sevens

2008-02-04T10:14:00.000+13:00

Kiwis love rugby, and the biggest rugby event around here is the Sevens. What the hell's that, you ask? Not being sports fans of an type, I admit we didn't really have a clue until recently. I knew it involves rugby, and everyone seemed to be really excited about it. Well, basically it's like an entire season of international rugby competition condensed into two days. Each game is only fifteen minutes long! Well, if ever we were going to watch some rugby, this seemed like the time. So, the final night of the Sevens we wonder out our door to find a random sports bar to watch in, and we find that half of Courtenay Place is closed to motor traffic. Someone has erected at two-story high TV in the middle of the street and folks are just sitting in the sidewalk or the street or the nearby bars watching the game. Perfect! We find a free patch of side walk and settle in to watch the last two games of the Sevens.

First South Africa totally tramples Wales:

And then the final match: New Zealand vs. Samoa!

It's a very close game, but NZ manages a win with only minutes left on the clock! New Zealand has won the whole thing, and everyone is cheering!

Now the real party can being on Courtenay Place. (as for us, we just went for a walk along the waterfront and then called it a night)

The things that fill my mind when I'm day dreaming on the bus

2008-01-31T15:15:00.000+13:00

Albums currently in my CD player:

Andrew Bird - Fingerlings 3
Tom Waits - Asylum Years
Once Soundtrack

TV show I'm currently obsessed with:

(the new) Doctor Who

Superfluous Gadget I'm currently lusting after:

Supersampler camera by Lomography

What I miss about California today:

Heirloom tomatoes, 49er's sushi rolls, Osento, white-handed gibbons singing early morning duets at Oakland Zoo

Things I love about Wellington today:

Walking home from work in the warm summer twilight, Kaka parrots flying over the lake at Karori Sanctuary, bubble tea and crepes at the mall 1/2 block from our apartment

The New Year

2008-01-09T09:07:00.000+13:00

December 31st

We heard there was a free concert in Civic Square for New Years Eve. While I had no intention of staying up late enough to greet the new year, we decided to wander down the waterfront and check it out. The band was pretty good, though I never caught the name. It was ten o'clock before it got dark, and still fairly warm at that. That's when I realized how much sense it makes to have New Years in the Summer. Staying up past midnight sounds like a far better idea when the days are long and the nights are warm.

January 1st

We took a bus to Lyall Bay, just a short 10 minutes away. We bought ice creams and walked along the beach. Not much surf today, mostly just kids on boogie boards looking hopeful. Down where the beach ends was a rocky area with some pretty good tide pools. We found sea anemones, limpets, chitins, mussels, sea snails, hermit crabs, and one beautiful turquoise star fish. It was an absolutely beautiful day, sunny and warm. And the beach was full (make that half-full by California standards) of folks enjoying yet another statutory holiday. It occurred to me there's at least one more reason it makes sense to have New Years in Summer: New Years Day actually feels like the beginning of a bright, shiny new day, full of hope and promise.

Boxing Day

2008-01-08T08:39:00.000+13:00

December 26th

Since I had the 26th off, we decided to wait until this day to cook a big holiday dinner. Turkey was out, as you can only get it frozen and probably imported from Goodness knows where. And lamb's not exactly a special occasion meat when you live in New Zealand. So we went for a ham (manuka-smoked and on sale) scallop potatoes, green beans, and fruit salad (our one nod to the fact that it's Summer). Since Loren loves pumpkin pie, and I think its pretty nice too, I was determined to finally work out how to make one from scratch. A pumpkin pie from scratch is the only kind you can make in New Zealand. There's no such thing as canned pumpkin or frozen pie crusts. Fresh pumpkin can be procured year round, however, and cheaply. I used to agree with Garrison Keillor that the best pumpkin pie you've tasted is not that much better than the worst pumpkin pie you've tasted. I don't agree anymore. The pie was so tasty that I'm making another one today. And it was pretty simple to make too.

Mostly instigated by myself, we secured two Christmas items for the occasion that are traditional here (and in the UK) that are not popular in the States. The first was mincemeat pies, which turn out to be pretty tasty. They are basically little pies with apple, raisin, chopped nuts, and spices. What's not to like? We found them tasty but very sweet (except for Loren, who hates raisins).

Christmas Curiosity Number Two was Christmas Crackers. These look like a tube-shaped gift-wrapped package. You hold onto one end, get a friend to pull on the other end, it makes a tiny explosion, breaks apart, and some sort of toy/present comes flying out. You can buy these by the dozen in the grocery store, and they can contain anything from stickers to plastic toys to silly jewellery to those little things put on wine glasses so you don't get them mixed up at a party. We also got some nice ones from a chocolate and espresso shop that had 3 chocolates in each. Also they always contain a card with a joke on it, invariably a bad joke, usually a pun. Despite the painful jokes, these little things were so much fun, I feel I really missed out on something good as a child, and now have a lot of Christmas Cracker cracking to make up for!

We got a walk in that morning when the sun was out. Most stores were still closed up tight and the town was quiet. Boxing Day is a statutory holiday too. The rain was back by the time we started cooking. It was warm rain, but still, it made it feel a little more like the right time of year. In California rain always means Winter.

Christmas Day

2008-01-07T09:06:00.000+13:00

December 25th

The animal hospital where I work was closed, but I had to work anyway. Someone had to look after the animals that were spending the Holidays at our hospital and cattery. The night before, the rain had started, and that morning it was still going strong. Riding home afterward on the bus (which was running for free all day) it was a strangely peaceful sight to see the city so empty. The bus driver (a man wearing two sets of corrective glasses at once, presumably instead of bifocals) said it was unsettling to see the city so completely devoid of people and cars "a city's nothing without it's people." But I thought there was something nice about it, like the city was just sleeping comfortably with all the rain falling gently everywhere. It was December 25th two years ago I first saw my City, when we took the ferry up from Picton on vacation. The first time I met Wellington, it was sleeping.

The Day We Bought the Mincemeat Pies

2008-01-06T14:01:00.000+13:00

December 23rd

Loren and I wandered down to the park, in search of ice cream. It was a beautiful sunny summer day, and we needed an excuse to get outside. On the way we stopped by Pandoro, a fantastic little Italian bakery near our house, to buy mincemeat pies for Christmas day. (we didn't know much about these odd little British baked goods, but we figured our favourite local bakery would at least show us what good ones tasted like).

Pies in hand, we walked toward the waterfront until we reached Movenpick, a new ice cream parlour with lots of tables outside. We sat near a big, grassy field which was being thoroughly utilized on this lovely warm Sunday. There were informal games of rugby, soccer, cricket, and lawn darts all going on at the same time. Past the grassy field, the skate park was also being put to good use, as well as the small basketball court next to it. A Pacific islander at a nearby table started up a lovely slack key version of "O Holy Night" on his guitar. And it crossed my mind how crazy it was to be eating ice cream in the park two days before Christmas.

Silly Season Road Trip - Day Two

2007-12-14T20:17:00.002+13:00

Day Two
Dad's turn to drive. Our first stop is Waipukurau, where Mom wanted to check out an art gallery. My parents bought some ceramic plates with a kiwi design done in blacks and blues, which seemed appropriate because kiwi are nocturnal - a point we had just been reminded of at our visit to Mt. Bruce the day before. I have seen many a kiwi in New Zealand, but always in the hushed artificial night of a kiwi house at a zoo or wildlife park.

We stopped for lunch in Hastings. Now we were in Art Deco country. We spent some time wandering around the town square and photographing things. Suddenly everything was art. The street lights, the bell tower, the movie theatre.

The other notable thing about Hastings is that they built the town square such that the railway runs right through the middle of the water fountain. I was hoping for a train to come by and really make a great photo, but no such luck.

We mapped a route from Hastings to Napier that would take us past a couple of wineries. We were now in the Hawke's Bay region. Know more for its Chardonnay and big reds like cabernet and merlot, this region has a lot in common with Northern California. Not a fan of big reds, we mostly stuck with Chardonnay.

Napier. This detail from a park bench says it all:

Both Hastings and Napier were devastated by an earth quake in 1931. Art deco was in high fashion at the time, so both cities rebuilt almost exclusively in this style. Only fitting since part of the mythos of art deco has to do with the dawning of a new era, a shinning future of industry and beauty. Napier has a huge advantage over Hastings, as far as I'm concerned, due to it being on the coast. A long, straight stretch of beach runs along Napier, and they have made excellent use of it, building a park along side most of it, with such features as botanic gardens, an aquarium, a skate park, and the "soundshell" - an open air sound stage:

The best feature, however, was Ocean Spa. Loren and I got a private spa bath. Kept at just barely above body temperature, the water seems not quite hot enough at first, but ten minutes in and I'm toasty warm and drowsy, looking up at the darkening sky out the window. At that moment I felt completely relaxed. And that's when I knew I was really on vacation.

Silly Season Road Trip - Day One

2007-12-13T16:32:00.000+13:00

Christmas and Summer Break all at once? There's a reason the Kiwis call it the Silly Season. With my parents in town, Loren and I both got a week off work to tour the countryside at the end of November. It was too early for folks to be on X-mas holiday, and it was mid-week as well, so had a laid-back time of it, with very few fellow tourists on the roads.

Day one:

My turn to drive. We stop at a two fruit stands and one winery. Fruit stand number one makes fresh fruit ice cream where they take plain ice cream and whatever kind of fruit you want, and stick them in an ancient-looking device that turns it into something tasty. At fruit stand number two Dad bought perfectly ripe black berries and insisted we eat them immediately. We mentioned we were on the look out for wine, and so the ladies at the fruit stand phoned the winery just down the road to make sure it would be open for tasting. The black berries were gone before we got there. We bought a pinot noir - one of the Wairarapa region's specialities, which is just fine with us since it's one of our favourites.

Next stop was Mt. Bruce - a wildlife reserve that has breeding programs for a native birds. We got up close with the kaka which are loose in the park:

And I got to show my family some hihi (the species I volunteer with here in Wellington). By the time we finished wandering through the park, we were all ready to find a place to spend the night. The next town was Etekahuna - a town too small to rate even one stop sign, but somehow managed to claim the national bird as it's own mascot:

There were exactly two restaurants open in Etekahuna. After a dinner of fish and chips wrapped in news paper, we decided to move along - the next dot on the map looked a little larger and therefore more promising.

At Pahiatua we followed a sign which simply said "quiet motel" and found a very pleasant B&B (acutally it was a 'bed' with an option for 'breakfast' for an additional fee). It was indeed quiet, with a pleasant garden as well:

There is no night life in Pahiatua. But the night was cool and clear, and I showed Mom what the Southern Cross looks like when it's up-side-down (not a sight you can see from the Northern Hemisphere, not even in Hawaii).

And that was just Day One!

More to come!

(photos from today's post were taken by my mother, except for the one of the kaka)

long overdue

2007-12-05T14:12:00.000+13:00

Wow! I haven't posted since the beginning of November. That's just awful! Well, I will sit down and write a proper post about our road trip to Napier soon. In the mean time, take a look at my photos of the trip on Flickr:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/bluejupider/sets/72157603354566242/

Top Fives

2007-11-05T20:27:00.000+13:00

I love to make mixed tapes. No one listens to tapes any more, so I no longer make them, but sometimes I still get an idea for a great mix, and a couple years back I found a new outlet for that special type of mix-tape creativity: Stealing an idea from the book & movie High Fidelity, I make "all-time top five" song lists. Then I subject you, the reader, to them. (what? you haven't seen them here on my blog before? that's because I had another blog before this one, which is where the Top Fives made their first appearances)

And so, a Top Five for Halloween....

Top Five Spooky Songs that Rock:

1)Bloodletting - Concrete Blonde
"There's a crack in the mirror and a blood stain on the bed
You were a vampire and baby I'm the walking dead"

2)Lullaby - The Cure
"be still be calm be quiet now my precious boy
don't struggle like that or i will only love you more"

3)The Dead of Night - Depeche Mode
"We are the Dead of Night
We're in the zombie room"

4) Living Dead Girl - Rob Zombie
"Who is this irresistible creature who has an insatiable love for the dead?"

5) Humming - Portishead
(for use of fantastic spooky-sounding instrument that I don't know the name of)

Halloween vs. Guy Fawkes

2007-11-02T21:33:00.000+13:00

Halloween isn't very popular here. However, we were lucky enough to know some American expats who were throwing a Halloween party. We knew a couple back in California who was really into it, we looked foreword to going to their parties every year. So, all dressed up and ready to go to the party the other night, I'm sitting on the couch saying to Loren "It won't be the same. I doubt anyone will end up tied up to anything. And there won't be any live tarantulas."

Well, despite the lack of bondage, it was still a great party. The guy works for Weta Studios (the special effects studio that worked on Lord of the Rings) and he went all out with the decorations. Although, when you convert your entire apartment into a Haunted House complete with sound effects, "decorations" becomes an understatement. We met some new people, and had fun trying to identify the ones we knew what with the spooky lighting and some pretty imaginative costumes. And I got my palm read by a Gypsy.

It struck all us Americans as strange that Wellington isn't into Halloween. Step out onto Courtenay Place on a Friday night and you'll see why. People around here like to dress up. Whether going to a club or a birthday party, they seem to take anything as an excuse to get in costume. In fact, Wellington supports at least four costume rental shops year round. I've gathered a few theories on why Kiwis don't get into Halloween around here, though I don't know how much weight to give any of them:

1) Halloween is seen as a uniquely American holiday, therefore Kiwis don't want anything to do with it.

2) Halloween is NOT Christian, therefore Christian Kiwis don't celebrate it.

3) Trick-or-treating teaches children poor morals (that you can get something for nothing) and that's counter to the Kiwi spirit.

4) It's only five days before Guy Fawkes day, and therefore gets overshadowed by this very British holiday. (this is my theory)

What's that? You've never heard of Guy Fawkes day? Well, basically, there were these guys that plotted to blow up Parliament with large amounts of gun powder. The plot was discovered, and various gruesome things were done to the treasonous perpetrators. This Guy Fawkes character was among them, and so people started making a straw Guy and burning him in effigy. The thing caught on, and is now more likely to be celebrated with fire works. So basically, it's a holiday celebrating the capture and execution of terrorists. Hmmm, why hasn't this one caught on in America? Kiwi expats must be scratching their heads over that one.

And lest you forget:

Remember, remember the Fifth of November,
The Gunpowder Treason and Plot,
I know of no reason
Why Gunpowder Treason
Should ever be forgot.

And now, our brilliant low-budget Halloween costumes:

For more, check our Flickr page:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/bluejupider/

Some reasons I think New Zealand is a fantastic place

2007-10-12T13:59:00.000+13:00

This is an excerpt from a response to someone who took me up on my offer from my last post. I got a little carried away... but, well, this is really how I feel about New Zealand. What, you think I just moved here on a whim or something?

**************************************************************

Imagine a country whose citizens do not have the constitutional right to carry a hand gun. I saw an article in the local paper the other day that said "Child terrorizes teachers with stick" Some 9-year-old threw a temper tantrum, somehow got hold of a stick, and started swinging it at teachers and students. And this made the papers. I just thought "Americans have got 9-year-old mass murderers shooting their class mates, and New Zealand's got an angry boy with a stick!"

Imagine a country where midwives are respected healthcare professionals, where pregnancy and birthing care are free, where all children are provided with free healthcare until the age of six, at which point healthcare will be highly subsidized throughout their lives. This is a place where the government has a very real stake in the health and welfare of its citizens. Every package of cigarettes here has a big label across the opening that simply says "Smoking Kills."

Imagine a country where it is expected that young adults will go on their OE (Overseas Experience) sometime after graduating high school, to go out and see what the rest of the world has to offer, and to bring this knowledge back home to enrich New Zealand's culture. Being a small country, and situated at the edge of the world, so to speak, New Zealand can't afford to insulate itself from the rest of the world.

Now think about this. This country holds about 4.4 million people and a quarter of them live in Auckland. In a country the size of Colorado, that leaves a lot of space for the rest of us. Wellington is one of the largest cities in New Zealand, and I live right in the middle of it, in the club/pub/theatre district. On a Saturday night I step outside and the streets are flooded with dressed-to-the-nines kiwis out for a night on the town. But I can walk for five blocks and be in the "town belt" a series of parks in the hills surrounding the city. Or I could walk five blocks another direction and be at the beach. If I had a car, it would take me about fifteen minutes to find a spot so remote I could hike around all day with no sign of civilization to distract me.

classic rock

2007-09-28T12:58:00.000+12:00

It seems the radio stations here have a slightly different idea of which classic rock songs have withstood the test of time. I have heard "The Final Countdown" while shopping more times than I can count at this point. It always makes me think of Arrested Development... and a certain cousin of mine, of course. I've also heard an unreasonable number of Poison and Guns & Roses songs.... along with a wide assortment of other songs I used to know well but haven't heard since the 80's. Loren theorized its to be expected in a country that sill thinks Crowded House is pretty fantastic (and totally a Kiwi band despite the Australians trying to claim them).

I can't help thinking that a certain other cousin of mine (who is still in love with Bon Jovi) would feel right at home here. Still, I feel that way about every single person I miss. It seems I can think of some way each of them would fit right in. Perhaps it is wishful thinking, or that I'd like to share what this place has to offer. But it is also that this place has a lot going for it, and being tucked away at the edge of the earth as it were, I feel like no one back in the states really realizes this.

Would you - yes you there, reading this post - would you like to know why you'd feel right at home here? Send me an email or post a reply and I'll be happy to tell you.

pizza box surprise

2007-09-06T15:33:00.000+12:00

I was cleaning up the pizza boxes from Loren's birthday party today, when I noticed something....

A cut-out in the pizza box...

Which I assembled...

To make a left-overs coffin!

If I didn't already think Hell Pizza was fantastic..

Red Moon

2007-08-30T14:25:00.000+12:00

I had a plan. Loren meets me at the cable car station after work. We have dinner at the Hari Krishna buffet-style place a block away. We take the cable car back up to the botanic gardens and wander around watching the eclipse.

Well, I woke up that morning and checked the weather report. Clouds all day, rain in the evening. Well crap. I figured that pretty much ruled out eclipse-watching but we could still have a nice dinner out on the town.

Eight PM is when I get off work, and also the when the eclipse is due to start. It's not raining. It's a bit misty but I can see the full moon just fine. I pause to inspect the moon for signs of the impending eclipse. I can't tell if it's starting yet, or if it's just my imagination. Loren meets me at the cable car station, we head to the restaurant but it's closed. So we wander down Lambton Quay - this is Wellington CBD, the central business district, and most shops are closed at this hour. We make our way toward Cuba Street, and then we spot Hell Pizza: perfect! One double chicken-camenbert-cranberry pizza please, and a Greek salad. It's Tuesday night. The dinning/bar area is nearly empty, we snag a comfy leather couch by the fire no problem. I take a look at the ad campaign posters on the wall. One has an evil-looking red devil with horns and says "better the devil you know...." Another has a picture of a condom wrapper that's ripped open to reveal a pizza inside. The logo on the wrapper says "lust." It's for their meat-lovers pizza. I ask Loren if he thinks this place would work in the states. He thinks not. Even a few New Zealanders thought the Hitler ad was taking things too far.

By the time we finish dinner and get back out onto the street the eclipse is well under way. The shadow has crept more than halfway up the moon, and a red tinge is starting to set in. We wander towards the water and find ourselves in civic square. We weren't the only ones with this idea. Groups of twos and threes and wandering along the Sea to City Bridge, or just finding a nice spot to sit and settle in to watch the show. We can hear drumming coming from somewhere... it's a drum circle that's formed at a grassy spot near the bridge. Its cold and the wind is blowing the chill right through our clothes... we decide to keep walking along the waterfront. We pause outside Mac's Brewery. The place isn't very busy, but there's a decent number of folks hanging out at the tables outside, having a pint and keeping an eye on the moon. Someone's set up a telescope on one of the tables and they're taking turns having a look. That's when I remember I brought my binoculars. The moon is definitely red now, and getting close to fully shadowed. We both take a look and then continue on home: we weren't prepared for a night this cold.

We get back home and quickly bundle up and head back out. There's just a tiny sliver of bright moon left. We make it to the end of the block and then the clouds roll in. Before we know it the moon has vanished and the sky is filling up with dark clouds. It's probably for the best because it's my bed time. I just feel lucky to have seen as much of the the eclipse as I did. And in the way that we did - walking around Wellington, every one we pass sharing in this amazing experience. It is impossible not to feel a sense of wonder on a night like this.

No, I didn't take any pictures.But the folks at Wellington Night Shots on Flickr took some

the thing about a city

2007-08-23T19:51:00.000+12:00

It's funny how you get to know a city like you get to know a good friend or a lover. You walk its streets, inch by inch you get to know its idiosyncrasies, its rhythms, the patterns of its street lights and the best place to go for a coffee after midnight. You learn its secret places and its mysteries. And if you're lucky, you fall in love. You come to love the way the city can still surprise you even after all this time. How you can turn a corner and uncover something new. An ancient and crumbling graveyard hiding between a parking lot and one corner of the university. It wasn't on your map, there is no sign marking its existence, and you must have walked past this place hundreds of times. But you also love the things about the city know you can count on, those unchanging details that make up a city's character. That you can order a mocha anywhere and it will come in an Italian ceramic mug with two marshmallows or a chocolate fish and it shall be three-dollars-fifty-thanks.

People talk about falling in love with a city, but can you really? I wasn't so certain before now. Wellington is special to me because I picked it. Unlike every other place I've ever lived. I never understood when someone would tell me how lucky they felt to live a particular place, like it was the only place they'd ever wanted to be. But walking home yesterday, up through Victoria University, discovering unexpected views of the city and harbour beyond glittering in the afternoon light, I felt very lucky. Very lucky indeed.

I got glasses!

2007-08-16T12:21:00.000+12:00

Yes, I can see better with them on. But I couldn't tell you why. I thought everything looked clear enough before. But now it looks much better.

(low-res. photo from my laptop camera because I am lazy)

Ski Trip to Tongariro

2007-08-06T17:06:00.000+12:00

Last weekend Loren's work had a ski trip, and even though neither of us have any interest in skiing, we decided to go along, mostly just to get out and see another part of the country. We didn't really know what to expect, but then we didn't really have any expectations beyond a little adventure.

No, it doesn't snow in Wellington. The North Island is relatively warm, but there are a lot of volcanic mountains, particularly in the middle of the island, which reach high enough altitude to get snow in the winter. The particular ski slope we were headed for was in Tongariro National park, a large forest reserve.

We caught a ride with one of Loren's co-workers and his girlfriend. They are a young British couple who moved here nearly a year ago. In fact, over the course of the trip I met very few native New Zealanders - the IT industry recruits overseas quite a lot. Our accommodation was somewhere between a lodge and a B&B - dorm style bedrooms with a large common room with comfy couches and a warm fireplace, where breakfast was provided and the owners would also cook you dinner for a fee.

We got in late (it was a four-hour drive up after work) but we were woken up rather early by the sound of movements in the halls. I could hear the distinct sound of plastic ski pants rubbing together... no one told me skiing was one of those Early Bird sports. As I dragged myself to breakfast, I was sorely tempted to settle into a couch in the common room and skip the slopes all together. I was one-third through the last Harry Potter book, which made this option all the more appealing.

We barely had time to finish our breakfasts when we realized our ride was in danger of departing without us... we decided to hurry up and get going. On our ride to the lodge the night before, we were wondering where the snow was. The little town we were staying in was snow-free and not even all that cold. As we headed towards the slopes, we still weren't seeing any snow and we were starting to get worried. The snow started at the parking lot at the bottom of the slopes. This was snow by virtue of altitude alone; In an otherwise temperate climate, North Islanders flocked to this oasis of a snowy peak. The maintained ski slopes were quite extensive, and the ski park was totally packed. We knew we should be getting in line to buy some ski lessons, but the long line didn't look very appealing at nine in the morning....

We went inside for a coffee instead, and ended up missing the morning lesson, but we didn't much care. We hiked around, played in the snow, found a beautiful little waterfall down behind the parking lot below the snow line, and eventually bought "sightseers" lift passes to take the lift up without skis and tramp around checking out the scenery:

The second day the ski conditions were bad, so instead we went for a hike through the national park to a lovely waterfall. We found some smaller falls along the way:

The climate and ecology reminded me a lot of Volcanoes National Park in Hawaii - cold, misty, never raining hard, just very humid. And that combination of plenty of water but nutrient-poor volcanic earth leads to certain kinds of vegetation: lots of bright green moss, and grey lichen, all over everything, and ferns in all shapes and sizes. Some woody shrubs and trees, scrappy-looking things with tiny leaves. We actually came across a sort of wetlands area, seeming out of place high on the mountain slope, complete with emergent vegetation and a long wooden walkway so visitors could cross. We headed back home in the early afternoon. No skiing for the two of us, but we still had fun. For the rest of the ski trip photos:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/bluejupider/sets/72157601105601770/

Kumara

2007-08-03T12:49:00.000+12:00

Most places in the states, your potato options are pretty narrow. You've got the ubiquitous and completely uninspiring russet, and if you're lucky, you can find some red-skinned "new potatoes" as well. And, of course, during the holidays you've got yams. I think its fair to say that New Zealanders have it much better when it comes to potatoes. I count about ten different varieties at my local grocery store, in a range of shapes and colours. So I figured it's time I dive in and give some of them a try. I started with the kumara - a popular New Zealand root vegetable.

They come in three main types: red kumara (red skin, white flesh with red flecks), orange kumara (orange skin, orange flesh), and gold kumara (yellow skin, yellow flesh with apricot-coloured flecks)

While they may look like yams, kumara are not nearly as sweet, though the orange variety is sweeter than the other two. They have a very particular flavour which reminds me of breadfruit. The red kumara has the strongest flavour, in my opinion, followed by the gold, with the orange being the most mild ands also the softest in texture. In order to get a full appreciation of the qualities of each, I prepared them very simply, by pan-frying them with some rice bran oil.

The recipe:

Kumara Chips

kumara sliced 1/4 to 1/8 inch thick
1-2 Tablespoons vegetable oil
salt
pepper
nutmeg

Run the kumara slices quickly under cold water to rinse off some of the starch. In a frying pan, heat oil on medium-high heat. Place kumara in pan in a single layer. Pan-fry until chips start to turn golden brown (this takes maybe 3-5 min.) Gently turn chips over and brown the other side as well (this only takes about 2 min). Remove from pan and pat off excess oils with a paper towel. Sprinkle with salt, fresh ground pepper, and a little nutmeg. Serve immediately.

Both Loren and myself enjoyed these immensely and probably ate more than we should have. The red kumara, with the strongest breadfruit-like flavour and the firmest texture, was my favourite.

On where to - and whether to - begin

2007-08-01T10:00:00.000+12:00

It seems that suddenly I know a lot of folks on Blogger. I was already considering checking it out when I realized that via Gmail I already had an account, so I figured I may as well give it a shot. I am hoping this blog might solve a problem. The problem of keeping in touch with a long list of friends and family. I technically have two blogs already. The problem is this:

1) Live Journal, while technically a blog, is something I use as my personal journal, somewhere I can write whatever I feel like, and therefore I'm cautious about who I give the URL to.

2) I joined My Space because everyone and their mother is on it, so its useful for keeping in touch. But it's awful for blogging.

My intent is for this blog to be about me, and Loren, and our adventures in New Zealand. Something the people that know us might find interesting. Something to help answer the impossible question of how to keep in touch with everyone we know who now live so far away.