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.
Friday, 9 May 2008
Wednesday, 7 May 2008
number four
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."
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."
Friday, 2 May 2008
Top Three
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"
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
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.
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.
Thursday, 17 April 2008
Fun with statistics
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.
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.
Sunday, 6 April 2008
Things to do on the weekend
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.
(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.
Sunday, 30 March 2008
Rainy Sunday Morning
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.
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