6,063 words (or its equivalent in photos)

My job thinning apples finished on Thursday, and now I'm spending Christmas weekend in Wanaka, a little resort town north of Queenstown. It remains to be seen what I'll be doing next, but it will probably involve harvesting cherries somewhere in Central Otago.

I feel as though I've been relying too much on verbal descriptions lately, so here's 6,000 words worth of photos.

Waiting for the bus to work at 7.30 in the morning.

My last row of apple trees to thin (on the left).

The view from the top of the ladder.

Wanaka.

Lake Wanaka.

The only snow I'll see this Christmas.

Kiwisms

This post seems a little overdue, what with me having been here since July, but the New Zealand accent has become so normal to me that I forget how rare it is elsewhere. Although distinct from the Australian accent, the relationship between the two is quite similar to the Canadian and American accents. That is, the close relationship between the two countries has reduced the differences between them to the point of making them generally indistinguishable, in my opinion. Another similarity to the American-Canadian situation, however, is the frequency with which Australians mock the Kiwi accent (much as Americans mock Canadians for "aboot" and "eh"). The following cartoon was written by Australian comedians and mocks the Kiwi habit of mixing up short vowel sounds; "this" sounds more like "thus," "bro" sounds more like "bru," etc.

N.B. Both Kiwis and Australians add "as" after adjectives to add emphasis, like an unfinished simile. So rather than say "I'm really hungry," they might say "I'm hungry as," leaving the question of "Hungry as what?" unanswered. In Kiwi English, of course, "as" sounds more like "is."

The beached whale video is obviously an exaggeration of the way most Kiwis talk. The next video was made by Kiwis and is not meant to address the accent; it's meant to address the issue of drunk driving in New Zealand. This country has a fairly extreme binge drinking problem, a large rural population, and fairly dangerous roads, which all mean drunk driving is a major issue, particularly among young men. The following ad gained some attention for its uniquely humorous approach to the issue. One could argue that drunk driving should be dealt with more seriously, but it's hard to deny the staying power of this ad. The people I talk with frequently quote Family Guy, for instance; now this drunk driving ad has joined that category of conversation. And it sounds very stereotypically Kiwi to boot.

Peon's Progress

Rain has kept me out of the orchard for the second time this week, so I thought a general update on life in Roxburgh might be in order. Apple thinning is going well. Although we get paid by the tree and I do not move particularly quickly, we are guaranteed minimum wage and we work plenty of hours per week, so I've made a tidy sum already. The first week was a challenge, but since then my body has adjusted to the schedule. Seasonal work has a reputation for being physically demanding, but apple thinning has to be among the least so. You're not required to carry anything apart from the ladder, and your speed depends more on hand-eye coordination and dexterity than on muscle strength. I was skeptical about my fitness for the first few days, but now I'm planning to stay in Central Otago through January for the cherry harvest, which is apparently quite lucrative.

Apart from the massive quantity of working holidaymakers I've met here, there is a group of workers from Vanuatu who come here annually for the same reason. Much like Caribbean workers in Niagara's vineyards, these guys have specific seasonal work visas that allow them to work from November to April. They work an exhausting schedule, but they joined in a big game of soccer last Sunday (everybody's day off). It was fun listening to them talk, as their language mixes in intelligible pieces of English, Spanish, and French. When they asked for a substitute, they would say something like, “Wanagum? Wanagumplay?” I also heard quite a few double syllables, a trait that Pacific languages seem to share (Maōri does it too). The sound “bilim bilim” came up frequently, though I'm not sure what it means. It was a nice treat to interact with them, because we working holidaymakers speak of the “Vanuatus” as the standard for excellence in seasonal labor. They work from 7-5:30 for 6 days, and rumors of their speed are always making their way around the hostel. Naturally this means we have little chance to talk with them, since they're always working, cooking, or sleeping – unless it's Sunday.

My current job ends next week, so the Christmas holidays will play host to my next little adventure – Wanaka. I had numerous ideas about my first Christmas away from my family, but Wanaka comes well-recommended from my coworkers. It's not as touristy or as busy as Queenstown, but it is gaining a reputation for its New Year's festivities. I'll be staying there for a while, but there's plenty to do in Wanaka – it's on the shores of Lake Wanaka, close to Mount Aspiring National Park, and developing a range of high-adrenaline activities in the shadow of New Zealand's adventure capital, Queenstown. This will also be my first time in the Southern Alps, the mountain range that runs the length of the South Island. Limiting myself to Wanaka rather than visiting Southland (my other idea) will also allow me to get back to Central Otago fairly quickly after the holidays, increasing my chances of landing a job harvesting cherries. 

Downtown Roxburgh. Don't blink.

Playing the gee-tar down by the Clutha river.

Workin' in the Fields 'til you get your back burned, workin' in the fields 'til you get your facts learned...

With one week of apple thinning behind me, many of my questions about seasonal work have been answered. And I can confidently say that this foray into farm labor has not been a mistake. I found a job almost by accident on my first day of searching in Alexandra, and began work the next day in Roxburgh. The ease of finding full-time work is one major benefit of seasonal employment – hospitality jobs in Wellington were almost always for part-time or casual employees.

I began working within 24 hours of finding the job, after moving from Alexandra to Roxburgh and settling in for an early wakeup the next morning. We spent the first morning filling out pre-employment forms and signing a contract, then began thinning under the supervision of our foreman, a very friendly and understanding guy. Most of my coworkers are internationals like me, with a few Kiwi students there for the summer (I'm still getting used to December being the summer). The largest groups seem to be Germans, Czechs, and South Americans – primarily Argentinian, with a few Uruguayans and Chileans in the mix. The first thing our foreman said was, “how is everybody's English?”

Since then, it has been 40 hours of the most repetitive work I've ever done. Thinning simply means reducing the fruit on the trees to allow the remaining apples to grow to full size. It is amazing how many discussions can be had about various thinning techniques, but none of them seems to eliminate the problem of sore thumbs. Much like the callouses built by playing guitar, however, the thumbs eventually toughen up and now I hardly notice as I thin 60 small trees per day. My coworkers spend much of the day with headphones on, but I prefer to let my mind wander, which can hardly be avoided when doing such mundane work.

Once I overcame the initial hurdles of changing my routine and building a thumb callous, I've come to my own set of conclusions about seasonal farm work. Many people arrive with illusions of working hard and making tons of money, but the prices per tree are designed so that workers make minimum wage. My biggest frustration has been the lack of transparency about the prices, which is such that I may have done 50 trees before learning their price. I even worked a full day unaware that the price of the trees I was thinning had dropped because we were working too quickly. However, the law guarantees us minimum wage every day, and the long hours mean I will certainly be able to save some money no matter how fast I am (they also ensure that I have little energy to spend money elsewhere). I had also been concerned about the intensity of the job, something everyone mentions. It's lucky I'm doing thinning rather than harvesting, as it requires no lifting. While certainly physical labor, I return from work in a gratified state of fatigue, rather than in serious pain. Sleeping has never been so easy.

There's one more hurdle I've had to overcome – being surrounded by fellow travellers. Although I spent plenty of time with foreigners in Wellington, many of them were English speakers, and I spent at least 50% of my time with Kiwis. Seasonal farm labor, logically, seems to attract non-native speakers of English, as it doesn't require them to speak it. It has been quite a change to be in the minority as a native speaker of English, and to hear New Zealand spoken of as a place to visit rather than as a place to live. In the end, of course, I am just a visitor, but I've always preferred to live abroad, rather than just be abroad. I can dream, can't I?

This job lasts for another three weeks, and I'm still formulating plans for Christmas and New Year's. More than likely, they will not involve being anywhere with a tree and presents, and certainly not with snow. Regrettably, I have not taken any photos of my new job, but I can promise you, it looks much better than the inside of an office.

The Edinburgh of the South

This now week-long journey on the South Island was always meant to end in Central Otago for the fruit harvest, where I am now. I did remain in Dunedin for a few days, however, and it had plenty to offer. The presence of the University of Otago means Dunedin bears some resemblance to Kingston, ON (where I went to university) – many of the houses in the downtown area are undeniably student houses, and most cafés provide wireless internet for free. But while Kingston gets overshadowed by Ottawa and Toronto, Dunedin is one of the major cities in New Zealand and thus feels less exclusively like a university town. When I stopped by the tourist office to pick up a map, it was full to bursting with cruise ship passengers and Elton John fans (he performed on Friday). And although I did stop by the university, it was less a destination than a place to wander.

One thing I definitely wanted to see in Dunedin was the Speight's brewery. Being in a country so far from all others, most of the beer here is uniquely Kiwi, but Speight's is probably the most likely to be recognized overseas thanks to its long-running Southern Man ad campaign (for Neil Young fans, that's someone from southern New Zealand, not the U.S.). Being such an iconic brand – and such a tasty beer – I almost felt obligated to take the tour. The Speight's brewery is one of the few remaining gravity-operated breweries in the world, meaning its raw materials are delivered to the top floor and the finished product comes out at the bottom. They also still use wooden vats in the fermentation process, the only remaining brewery in the world to do so. Their location was chosen based on the presence of a spring, which not only makes the beer but is also diverted to a tap on the street and made available to the public. But of course the best part of any brewery tour is the tasting. Although Speight's limits its guests to 30 minutes, they do allow you to pour your own (in fact, they require you to), and they play the Southern Man ad campaign as you do so. If I was designing a brewery tour, I could hardly do better than they have – I believe I owe the folks at Speight's a “good on ya, mate.”

As I wandered around Dunedin, Central Otago was always in the back of my mind. I made sure to buy a new pair of shoes for outdoor work, as well as a rain cover for my pack. I haven't done any farm work yet, but I do know one thing – trying to plan for it in advance is immensely frustrating. Everybody I've spoken to has given me contradictory advice, and potential employers do not seem to hire in advance (for fairly logical reasons). I had long since decided that the solution was simply to be physically present in a region with jobs available, and I was right. I left Dunedin on Sunday afternoon and checked in at Alexandra Backpackers, which was luckily having its cherry season kickoff barbecue as I arrived. I heard even more conflicting reports from other travellers – some had work already, but the general consensus was that because the cherry harvest hasn't yet begun, jobs are hard to come by. Expecting a bit of a wait to find work in Alexandra, I made my way to a seasonal work agency this morning to hopefully make some sense of the situation. Typically of my experience with this job hunt, I was led to believe that there were very few jobs available, and that not having my own transportation would make it much more difficult to find work. I was ready to return to the hostel and settle in for a long stay when I was informed of a job opportunity in Roxburgh, just down the highway. I suppose it makes sense that such a frustrating job search would end so unexpectedly, but at least now I'm employed. And despite the confusion, I have once again managed to turn a vague shadow of a plan into reality, as I did in Wellington. The other foot has yet to drop in New Zealand. 

From the top of Baldwin St, steepest in the world.

In the Speight's brewery.

The tap from Speight's spring - free to everyone.

The Clutha River in Alexandra, where I stayed my first night in Central Otago.

Southbound

After the beauty of Picton and Marlborough Sound, I was reminded how visually stunning this country is and made a minor alteration to my schedule. Rather than take the bus to Christchurch, I took one of New Zealand's three passenger train routes. The price was markedly higher, but the thrill of taking a train never gets old for me. Furthermore, I saw the size of the hills around Picton and I wasn't sure I wanted to risk motion sickness for the second consecutive day after the ferry ride on Monday. So I awoke early enough to wander around Picton for a few hours – it's hard to get lost there – and booked a train ticket to Christchurch for the early afternoon.

The train ride, once again, forces me to use the word “beautiful” or “stunning.” I'm going to have to invent new words to describe New Zealand, because there are only so many adjectives in the English language that refer to natural beauty. In any case, the ride took us past the township of Blenheim (Blen-um, not Blen-heim) and along the Pacific coast to Kaikoura. All of these places are names I recognize from stories other travellers have told me, but nothing compares to seeing them in person. Kaikoura is known for its aquatic wildlife, so whale-watching and swimming with dolphins are both popular activities, and seal colonies line the train route just north of town. It also lies at the foot of panoramic, snow-capped hills that make it a live postcard.

But I was not staying in Kaikoura, and the remainder of the trip was no less enjoyable to watch fly by the window. This train even had an outdoor viewing car, something I'd never experienced before. A honeymooning American couple sat across from me after Kaikoura, and our conversation made me feel like a long-term New Zealand resident – not a bad feeling at all. Hopefully I made their vacation a little more enjoyable.

My stay in Christchurch was brief but pleasant. I did not manage to see the earthquake-damaged city center because I was busy enjoying the hospitality of my former flatmate Marcus and his family. His father took me on a quick tour of the University of Canterbury and the CBS arena, the only remaining large audience venue in the city. Christchurch is an extremely flat and well-landscaped city (it's nicknamed the Garden City), quite different from the hills and natural reserves of Wellington. I wasn't able to form a very detailed impression, however, because I was quickly hopping on a bus to Dunedin to take me closer to my destination of Central Otago's farms and vineyards.

The bus ride passed through Canterbury's southern plains, which are the only large flat areas in the entire country, I believe. There were always hills visible in the distance, however, and south of Timaru the route began to rise and fall gently (much more gently than the Interislander). All manner of livestock were munching away at the grass as we passed: sheep were the most prevalent, of course, but there were plenty of cows and quite a few deer. When I was young, seeing a deer by the side of the road was a cause for excitement because wild deer are known for being skittish. In New Zealand, the deer are all domesticated, and it continues to baffle me.

I arrived in Dunedin in the midst of a downpour, but my friend Bernie's dad met me rather quickly and before long I was at dinner with his entire family (except Bernie, who's in Wellington). As much as I like to avoid generalization, I think it's fair to say that Kiwis are a pretty hospitable bunch. I'm now planning to stay in Dunedin until the weekend and head out to Alexandra on Sunday, hopefully to find a job harvesting fruit.

Remember how I said I'd write more often once I left Wellington? 

At the railway station in Kaikoura.

The outdoor viewing car - I wanted to see this guy to drop his iPad over the edge so badly.

The most significant earthquake damage I saw in Christchurch.

But Wait, There's More!

Part of the reason I've been writing less recently is that I've been in the same place since I've been in New Zealand. I figured it was about time to see the rest of this country, so yesterday was my last in Wellington. My time in Wellington ended on a day of incredible wind gusts and a light sprinkling of rain, much like the day I arrived. That wouldn't be worth mentioning except I arrived in the dead of winter and left in late spring – the weather is one thing I will not miss about New Zealand's capital city. After a rough sleep on the couch in my apartment (having sold my mattress), I awoke to clean my room and do what remained of my packing. I've left two of my three pieces of luggage in Wellington with a friend, so everything I have is now in one bag. It's a camping backpack with a removable shoulder bag, but we'll call it one, even though it weighs almost 22 kilograms. I walked through town doing my remaining errands with the weight of a four-year-old on my back, getting used to stabilizing myself when Wellington's gale-force winds tried to knock me over. Four months in the same place has softened me a little, I'm sorry to say – another month and I probably wouldn't have been so keen to leave owing to the weight of my luggage.

The errands finished, I stopped in at work for a goodbye breakfast (really a second breakfast, but who's counting). My boss gave me a ride to the ferry terminal and before long I had checked in my massive bag and begun waiting for the Interislander to take me to the South Island. The weather began clearing as we lined up to board. It had been a while since I travelled by water and if Wellington's winds are any guide, the Cook Strait must be one of the roughest commercially travelled waters on Earth. For the portion of the voyage that was on open water, I rested on the upper viewing deck, mostly keeping my eyes closed and waiting for the knot in my stomach to loosen. Almost every wave was large enough to make the ship rise and fall noticeably, and my stomach did a lot of the noticing. Fortunately, my goodbye breakfast stayed where it belonged, and I was sitting in a great place to view the oncoming scenery of Marlborough Sound. That is, until everybody else realized where we were, and gave me a great view of human posteriors.

Feeling less fragile once the strait was behind us, I realized that I should take the opportunity to the see the famously beautiful Marlborough Sound for the first time (I've seen human posteriors before). It was pretty stunning. It was like a combination of Canada's west coast, the North Channel of Lake Huron, and Iceland's fjords – although it's probably just easier to say it was like Marlborough Sound. I guess I was expecting this ferry route to be fairly straightforward because people talk about it as if it's a highway between the two islands, but it is not a route for amateur navigators. Once in the Sound, the random scattering of islands makes finding one's bearings all but impossible without practice. It was like a larger version of the islands I used to navigate between in the North Channel of Lake Huron. After an easy first hour in the harbour and a difficult second hour in the strait, the sound was an excellent reward. The approach to Picton was magnificent.

I spent last night in Picton, which could hardly be more different from Wellington. Where Wellington's streets were packed with pedestrians and cars, Picton hardly even has crosswalks because it's so easy to cross safely owing to the lack of traffic. Where Wellington's supermarket is open until midnight seven days a week, Picton's supermarket is open until 8. And where Wellington's downtown is packed with bars, cafés and nightspots, Picton seemed to have shut by the time I arrived at 6. On the other hand, where Wellington's hills were covered with houses, Picton's are almost too steep to build on safely. Where the ferry leaves Wellington surrounded by cruise ships and industry, it arrives in Picton seeming a little out of place. If I thought I had a sense of New Zealand as a whole, I was wrong. I'm glad I left Wellington when I did. 

I was surprised to find that there is actually a train service from Picton to Christchurch (my next destination). It's more expensive than the bus, but it's one of only three intercity train services in New Zealand, so I almost felt obligated to take advantage. But before I leave Picton, here's a few photos from yesterday.

From the ferry, before departing Wellington.

Approaching the South Island.

The beginning of Marlborough Sound.

Approaching Picton.

From the shore in Picton, watching this morning's ferry depart.

Politics, Kiwi Style

There's an election coming up in New Zealand, and the campaign has picked up steam since the World Cup finished. Last night there was a meet-the-candidates event at the community center in my neighborhood, which I realize I haven't mentioned much. It's called Aro Valley, and is pretty well-known as an area full of free-thinking, alternative hippie types. A few people practice Falun Dafa (don't ask me what it is) in the park on my route to work, there are yoga classes in the community center, and the basketball court is more often used for bicycle polo, popular among the fixed-gear bicycle crowd (read: hipsters).

So it's no real surprise that Aro Valley hosted its own meet-the-candidates night. Thinking myself familiar with this sort of thing after hearing the late Jack Layton speak once at Queen's and attending multiple similar events throughout my life, I decided to attend a pub quiz rather than a political discussion. I was surprised to read about what I missed in the next days' paper - water guns! You can check out the whole story here.

The End of The Beginning

As I have written previously, I tend to write less the longer I stay in one place. That's the only excuse I can offer for the gap between this post and my last. Especially with the end of the World Cup, things have started to become fairly routine here, within a broad definition.

In my view, major sporting tournaments are more fun at the beginning than at the end. There's still so much to come, and surprises can happen at any time. Furthermore, there are so many games being played that a boring game doesn't remain long in the memory. As the tournament progresses and the games become more pivotal, the remaining teams inevitably sacrifice creativity for reliability. Thus we get tight and suspenseful, but objectively unexciting play.

All this is to say that my excitement over the World Cup waned a little in the knockout stages, which began immediately after my last post. With games only on weekends, rugby had a much smaller presence in my life. That's not to say I didn't enjoy the quarterfinal weekend, which saw Wellington packed beyond belief with supporters and players from South Africa, Australia, Ireland, and Wales. Nor is it to say that France's 9-8 semifinal win over Wales didn't drive me absolutely insane with frustration. But the All Blacks' win over France in the final was, for me, more depressing for what it ended than exciting for what it achieved. It didn't help that the amount of pressure heaped on the men in black meant the win was more a source of relief than of ecstasy for Kiwis - although anyone on Wellington's Courtenay Place after the game finished might disagree.  

So now the opening act of my time in New Zealand is coming to a close, as I plan to pack up and move down to the South Island. The weeks since the close of the World Cup have been a bit of a blur - there have been a few pub quiz victories, my flatmates' final recitals (clarinet and viola), and a busy and entertaining work schedule. You can expect more frequent posting from me in the near future, as I'm heading to central Otago for the cherry harvest and should find plenty of new and exciting things to write about. But for now, here's a few photos of the past five weeks.

In the Te Kopahou reserve.

A sea lion, right along the waterfront.

People lining up for the All Blacks' victory parade. I had to work.

Genius advertising.

In Island Bay...summer's coming!

How I Spent My 24th Birthday (There's Rugby Involved)

As many of you were already aware, Sunday, October 2nd was my 24th birthday. You may remember what I did on my last one. This time, I was not in the process of moving my life overseas and already had a fairly solid group of friends with which to enjoy the day. It made it a little more exciting that this was probably the busiest weekend in Wellington since I've been here, owing to the two World Cup matches on at the stadium. Even better, one of those matches was New Zealand's final pool match against Canada. It just so happened that the game was on my birthday, and I had been keeping an eye on ticket possibilities since July. The tickets for sale were far too expensive, but my flatmate Marcus pulled off another miracle and happened to be entitled to one free ticket. Remember when I said this time in New Zealand was working out almost exactly as I wished? My expectations have been exceeded again.

I had previously told my boss that I'd like to finish work early enough to watch the game, and it just so happens that the café is right next to the stadium. So I walked to work through central Wellington with the Canadian flag wrapped around me like a cape, worked for four hours, and had a coworker stencil maple leaves onto my cheeks with a red marker. I sprinted to meet Marcus and was seated in time for the national anthems and the haka, the Māori war dance that the All Blacks do to intimidate their opponents. If you've never seen it, I suggest you check out this video.

Although Canada were soundly trounced by the All Blacks, as expected, I had a good time chatting with my neighbors in the stands, who were mostly Kiwis. I was struck by how personally they treat the All Blacks. I've mentioned before how New Zealand is a small country, and watching the game reminded me. People referred to all the players by their first names, and when they made mistakes the fans were quick to yell encouragement. Even against a comparatively weak team like Canada, the fans wanted to see their boys play well. It was particularly notable in their treatment of Colin Slade, the poor man with the responsibility of filling star #10 Dan Carter's shoes now that he's out for the tournament. Everyone in the stands treated Slade like he was their own child. (For the rugby fans reading this, I think the All Blacks should go with Piri Weepu at #10).

After Canada had been defeated and their most iconic player concussed, I stuck around for the presentation of participation medals and the lap of appreciation, in which both teams passed along the stands greeting supporters. Only three All Blacks came out - if the whole team had, people would still be there now getting autographs - but the entire Canadian team walked by. Many of them were effectively ignored, not being major stars, but I did manage to high-five one of them and congratulate Nathan Hirayama, who I think was surprised anyone knew his name. Meanwhile, the crowd was obsessed with Victor Vito, Brad Thorn, and Sam Whitelock, the All Blacks who came out to press the flesh. I must say, they carry themselves much more humbly than most professional athletes you see in the news. With the massive popularity of rugby here and the club system that supports the All Blacks, the connection between the national team and their fans is much stronger than that of at any of the North American teams I support. I think I actually saw Victor Vito talking to a friend he happened to see in the stands as he walked by.

Still buzzing over the fantastic experience of seeing the All Blacks up close, I spent the rest of the evening watching the day's other games and hanging out with friends. After the game, I passed by the ice rink that has been temporarily set up on Queen's Wharf. I noted with a small amount of pride that there were several people wrapped in the Canadian flag skating circles around groups of timid Kiwis learning how to skate for the first time. Later in the evening, a Kiwi saw the maple leaves on my face and said, "I think Canada played very well today." Always keen to keep the balance, I replied, "Thanks. I think the All Blacks played very well too." (They won 79-15)

Outside a bar on the way to work.

The haka.

I've now seen Ma'a Nonu up close twice in one year, if you're keeping track.

Victor Vito.

Adam Kleeberger, "concussion as, bro."

Brad Thorn and an admirer.

Sam Whitelock.

Go Confidently in the Direction of Your Dreams...You'll Get to Watch Rugby!

The World Cup began a little less than two weeks ago, and things have been going just as swimmingly as they were before it began. Except now there's rugby to be watched - all the time. Some of you may recall that my vague plan for my first few months in New Zealand was to be in one of the larger cities hosting World Cup matches and find work to support myself during the tournament, perhaps in a bar or café that showed rugby, and maybe, through luck or hard work, I'd be able to see a match or two. I am absolutely astounded at how close to reality that vague dream has become. Being in Wellington has allowed me to not only watch rugby on television and live at the stadium, but I've also seen the Welsh, South African, and American rugby teams around town. The Australians are here as well, but keeping a low profile (with good reason). My job does not show rugby, and indeed many of my coworkers aren't the least bit interested in it, but my schedule allows me the time to watch almost all of the matches. In my numerous overseas experiences, my expectations have never been so closely matched by my actual experience.

Being slightly superstitious as any Red Sox fan is bound to be, I can't help fearing that I'm tempting fate by having such a good time. I was recently brought down by a fairly serious cold - after my bout with pneumonia earlier this year, any illness is worrisome - which has put a bit of a damper on things, but it hasn't kept me from finding my way to a television at the start of almost every World Cup match. Although I was excited just to watch rugby's biggest tournament, I have been even more impressed with the quality of play. This version of the World Cup tends to be much more predictable than its more famous (football/soccer) cousin, but the minnow nations have been much stronger this time around. I was absolutely thrilled with Canada's 25-20 win over Tonga, a team of almost entirely amateur players beating a team of professional Pacific Islanders. Teams like Japan and Romania have also been giving the typical superpowers a run for their money, a fantastic demonstration of the spread of rugby union. Every time I watch a game, I seem to see even more of the strategy and planning behind this sport that I've really only been following for a little over two years. Even more satisfying is when my mental analysis gets repeated by commentators or newspaper columnists, which has happened several times.

I've been told many times since I began wandering that I'm living a very "exciting" period of my life. It's always been true and I've always agreed, but this is the first time I've felt it almost constantly. I have already begun planning to head to the South Island when I leave Wellington, and I recently found out that two of my new friends here are heading in the same direction at the same time. If things keep falling into place like this, I might just have to buy a lottery ticket.

Wales and South Africa line up for their national anthems.

Not the best seats, but we did get to see François Hougaard's game-winning try right in front of us.

New Zealand's version of the "God's on our side" argument.

Outside the same church...and in Māori to boot!

The Giddy Good Week That Was

Those of you who read this blog regularly may have noticed that I tend to publish less frequently after I've been in one place for a while. Things that were new and exciting become normal, and it becomes difficult to discern what is and is not interesting to people back home. I've gone over a week without writing anything, but this time it's not because of the onset of normalcy - in fact, it's exactly the opposite. The past week has been so full of new and exciting events that I haven't had time to tell you about them.

Last Monday was my day off, and I used it to go for a hike in some of the further reaches of Wellington's Town Belt, a series of nature reserves that surround the original city of Wellington. I walked south from my flat in Aro Valley to the suburb of Brooklyn along Ohiro and Happy Valley Roads. At Landfill Road - guess where it got its name - I turned off the road and took a footpath up to Hawkins Hill, one of the highest points in the area. The walk took me back to my time on the West Highland Way and the Kerry Way, and I kept marveling at the fact that this was all effectively in my backyard. At one point I looked east and realized that the next significant land mass in that direction was South America (apologies to the Pacific Islands). But none of the early parts of the walk prepared me for the sudden appearance of an ostrich less than ten feet from me. Fortunately, it was behind a fence (the path followed the boundary between the reserve and a private farm), but it was quite a shock. Ostriches don't look friendly, and they're gigantic. This one kept following me along the fence until it ran out of space, and then made the oddest call I've ever heard a bird make - some sort of barking sound in its throat. Needless to say, I was shaken out of the almost meditative state I'd been in as I walked by myself. The rest of my route took me past the Brooklyn wind turbine and down through some really dense forest before almost dropping me on my doorstep.

The rest of the week included some extra hours at work and my first trivia night victory after four tries. But the real highlight was Sunday night, when I happened to be in the same bar as the Welsh rugby team. While chatting with a group of friends, I looked up to see Andy Powell - one of my favorite rugby players - getting a tour of the pub, the only Welsh bar in the southern hemisphere. As with my sighting of Orlando Bloom, it took me a minute to convince myself that seeing Andy Powell was even a possibility. I knew that the Welsh had arrived in Wellington, and that their first match is here on Sunday, and when Powell's teammate Mike Phillips came in to join him, I was absolutely certain. I was starstruck, but the rest of the patrons hardly seemed to notice until the players left, when they received a hearty goodbye and best wishes. It was just another reminder of the fact that Wellington is the largest city I've ever lived in - not only was I in the same bar as the Welsh rugby team, but no one made a big deal out of it. It's a good thing I managed to recognize them, or this small-town boy would have missed out on quite a thrill!

Now that I've calmed down from that encounter, I can look forward to six weeks of world-class rugby. The world cup begins on Friday, and I've managed to obtain tickets via my flatmate Marcus - so when my fellow bar patrons take on South Africa on Sunday at Westpac Stadium, I'll be there. I'll try to keep you updated, but if I don't, you'll know why.

P.S. My camera battery died as I tried to take a picture of the ostrich, and I didn't have it when I saw Andy Powell, so...sorry.

The Beehive, New Zealand's Parliament Building. I walk past it every day.

In the hills above Wellington - the city is behind me, but you might not guess that.

Looking South over Cook Strait.

I'm pretty sure the next landmass in that direction is South America. You can't quite see it, but it's cloudy.

Bicycle polo in Aro Valley. Or hipsters on fixies, if you're jaded.

Welly, Welly Good in Wellywood

It has now been four weeks, almost to the minute, since I arrived in Wellington. I can look back on a successful month: I'm in my third week of work at a job that gets more comfortable by the day, my apartment and flatmates are a major improvement over the hostels I spent my first two weeks in, and I have slowly but surely developed a pretty solid core of friends here. Even the weather has improved dramatically after last week's historically bad storm. So now that I'm getting comfortable, I figure it's about time I made some broad cultural observations about the differences I find between life in North America and New Zealand. Bear in mind, these are just things I notice and certain to be over-simplifications.


One thing I constantly notice is that New Zealand is a small country in many senses of the term. It only takes an occasional glance at a newspaper (which I get free at work) to be reminded that this country's population is a only a little over 4 million people. I remember moving from the US to Canada and finding that Canadian casualties in Afghanistan received far more attention from the Canadian press than American ones did in the US. It makes some sense when you compare the population sizes and military commitments of the two countries. The same trend holds here. With less than a quarter of Canada's population, the recent death of a Kiwi soldier in Afghanistan - one soldier - was above-the-fold headline news for a few days here in New Zealand.

I noticed something similar when I met my friend Bernie, who is a Kiwi from Dunedin. We sat next to each other watching one of the Tri-Nations rugby matches. Soon after finding out he was a Kiwi, I found out he had a second cousin on the New Zealand team! Nor was the player in question, Andrew Hore, completely unknown to me - he had recently left his club team and said something in an interview about how returning to his farm didn't seem like such a bad thing. I thought, "typical Kiwi." Little did I realize I'd be meeting a member of his extended family within a few months.

Being such a small country, I can live in its capital and not feel overwhelmed by it, this being the largest city and first national capital I have ever lived in. Sometimes I'm surprised to find the grocery store crowded and need to remind myself that this is a city of over 400,000 people. But living in a "big city" has its advantages: one of my coworkers was able to tell me about being at the world premiere of "The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King," and yesterday I walked right past Orlando Bloom and his wife on my way home. I didn't realize what I'd seen because I was too busy convincing myself that it wasn't possible. By the time I realized it was possible, he'd disappeared. I think I was so surprised at the idea of having a celebrity encounter - you don't have too many of those in North Bay, ON - that I didn't even consider that it actually could be someone famous.


My Kiwi flatmate Marcus has told me New Zealand is one big community, and I can see what he means. At my level, I find that work has a very communal attitude, where no one is really more valuable than anyone else except by virtue of experience. People here tend to be fairly relaxed and friendly, although not unnecessarily talkative, which I appreciate. But general statements only describe so much, so here's one very specific thing I've noticed: I have heard more Kiwi women talk about flatulence than Kiwi men. At work the other day, I overheard a conversation two women were having about foods they enjoyed, and one of them dismissed something because "it smells like farts." Without batting an eye, another woman jumped in and added, "you know what really smells like farts? Pea and ham soup." In North America, the word "fart" alone is enough to cause giggling and even uproarious laughter, and I can count on one hand the number of times a woman has brought it up with me in conversation. But here it is apparently not an issue. It's a good thing they were talking in Kiwi accents - "smells like farts" becomes "smills like fahts" - or I might have just burst out laughing on the spot.

But as usual, it is the natural environment that intrigues me most. I have recently begun to work the Wellington waterfront into my daily routes around town, as it affords nice views of the harbor and the Wairarapa hills across the water. And today Marcus and I hiked to the top of Mount Victoria, east of the center but still very much in Wellington. The views were astounding, and allowed me a much better sense of where I am on a map.

Part of my street. Those two houses must have very fit residents.

Oriental Bay from the waterfront.

Sun in Wellington? Nah... This is looking over the harbor and downtown.

Looking east (I think) from Mount Vic towards Wairarapa.

Work, Winning, and Weather

My second full week in Wellington saw as many changes as the first. It was my first week of work at the café, which allowed for some regularity. Settling in has been pretty easy, partly because of the number of hours I worked from the start, but also because I've worked in a similar place before. My coworkers are generally motivated to get the job done well, but are very relaxed when business slows down. That being said, things were rarely slow this week. Chris, the owner, says the place was bankrupt about two years ago when he bought it, and it is now starting to turn a profit. Of the six days I worked this week, five were consistently busy. It is normal for Chris to be working alongside us, and it's a nice motivating factor to have the owner so close to the action.

I'm not working full-time, however, and Wednesday saw my first pub trivia night in Wellington. In a strong debut performance, my team took second place and I personally won a little keychain (with a TV on it that makes noises like the one in the movie Poltergeist). The bar in question was fairly alternative - in between the rounds of questions, the quiz master gave away "spot prizes" to the person who could identify which song he was playing on his trumpet, and the team with the best name won a prize, which ended up being Whoopee cushions.

This week also saw my housing situation resolved. One of the apartments I had looked at contacted me to say I had first choice if I wanted it. When I explained my financial situation, they were still eager to have me. We've worked out a deal that will allow me to move in and pay later, which is a huge load off my shoulders. I moved in this weekend after my two longest shifts at the café. The new place is not centrally heated, which presents some interesting challenges, but I have a large room to myself and three friendly flatmates in a nice location.

There's a certain amount of irony in my move from a centrally heated hostel to a barely heated apartment this weekend, as New Zealand is currently being blanketed with snow. Wellington's climate doesn't really allow for the snow to settle in the city itself, but the cars coming down to the city from the nearby hills tell a different story. The precipitation can't seem to decide if it wants to be snow or rain, which makes for pretty nasty conditions. My reaction has not been entirely negative, however. When I arrived, people told me it was winter and it really didn't feel like it. Now that it finally feels like it, I have put on my mental snow tires and long underwear and actually quite enjoy it. However, it is odd to think that a little less than a month ago, I was barely able to move due to the heat in Chicago. From one of North America's worst heat waves to one of New Zealand's worst winter storms in less than a month...sounds like a book.

If you want to read more about the weather - which I believe is historic - check here:

http://www.stuff.co.nz/dominion-post/news/5442971/Wellingtons-once-in-a-lifetime-polar-blast

http://tvnz.co.nz/national-news/snow-reaches-auckland-winter-blast-bites-4351436

The Non-Routine Routine

My first week in Wellington saw plenty of positive progress. My job search yielded an interview within two days, and two more within five. Unlike my previous job hunts in Kingston and North Bay, I was able to stop handing out resumes within a week. I have accepted two positions - one as a casual employee of the retail services at Westpac Stadium (where Wellington's Rugby World Cup matches will be held), and one as a dishwasher at a café much like the one I worked at in my last year of university. Despite the pressure I felt to find work (see previous post), this job hunt was less stressful than any others I've undertaken. I think my previous experience prepared me for the number of rejections I was bound to hear, but the intimidation factor of unknown bosses is much lower here. In two of my interviews, the interviewers almost seemed apologetic that they couldn't pay me more or give me more hours. Maybe it's because I'm overqualified; maybe it's a Kiwi thing. Either way, finding a job was much less stressful than it has been in the past.

My search for housing has been less straightforward. Many people in Wellington live in the suburbs (which are more like neighborhoods separated by the mountains around town). Although many people still walk, it can be quite an adventure to find these places for the first time. While walking to the suburb of Hataitai, I found myself halfway up Mount Victoria when the road ended. Some friendly groundskeepers confirmed that I was headed the right direction geographically, but needed to walk through the Mount Victoria tunnel to get there. Another apartment in Wadestown literally required a hike. Many of the streets were pedestrian-only and consisted entirely of switchbacks. Needless to say, these kind of experiences have helped me focus my search on the nearer suburbs while allowing me some fantastic views of the area (see below). Although it would be quite a statement if I had to climb over a mountain - literally - to get home, I think I'd rather spare my legs a little. One of the rooms I recently looked at was in a house with a woman from (flat) Christchurch, who said she hadn't developed her "Wellington legs" yet.

Meanwhile, living at the hostel isn't the purgatory I might have assumed it to be. Many people are in my situation, which makes networking much easier than it was in my early days in Logroño, and ensures that there will always be people to talk to after dinner. Although wireless internet is not included, there is a nice TV which has allowed me to watch my beloved Boston Red Sox on two occasions. So while my housing search has not been as instantly successful as my job search, it is also far less urgent.

Looking east over Hataitai from Mount Victoria.

Wadestown.

Wellington harbour, viewed coming back from Wadestown.

Black and New

In my experience, the first few days in a new place always feel very long. As there is no established routine and even basic things are new and different, it is that much more interesting and challenging to navigate through a full day. So, naturally, I have spent my first few days doing the things that will allow me to establish a routine and become familiar with my new surroundings.

After arriving in Auckland early on Thursday morning, I spent the day riding the bus from Auckland airport to Wellington. Although I was worn out, I was excited to take the opportunity to see the North Island from the ground. The ride passed by plenty of green hillsides, the absolute beauty of Lake Taupo, and sheep. Lots of sheep. I passed the time by reading, enjoying the bus driver's accent, and talking to the Samoan-Maori woman sitting next to me about all things New Zealand.

Friday was my first full day in this country, and I quickly set about making myself at home in Wellington, where I plan to spend the next few months. After successfully setting up a cell phone (say that with a lisp), I started a bank account with ANZ bank. The good news is the staff were as friendly as Kiwis are famous for being and I now have a bank account here; the bad news is that my money order is not going to be accessible for a month while my check clears. That obviously puts severe constraints on my activity, and the teller was considerate enough to ask me if I'd be able to last that long without it. I was being completely serious when I told her yes. I was already planning to look for a job here; now it's just a little more urgent.

One major difficulty was spending a weekend here so soon after arriving, as job hunting is better done during the business week. But thanks to the free internet connection at McDonald's – the only place that has one here – I was able to do plenty of research on housing and jobs in Wellington. I've since moved into a hostel that rents by the week to avoid the extra costs of deposit and bills that would come with renting a room in an apartment, and sent in numerous job applications via the internet. Monday was my first day of job hunting in earnest, and it was certainly more encouraging than similar hunts I've done in North America.

But I didn't just come to New Zealand for its friendly job market. The challenges of being in a new place are what make it interesting, and although I've been kept busy making myself at home here, I have been able to notice the things that make this place different from Canada and the United States. One unavoidable topic of interest here is the Rugby World Cup, which begins on September 9^th. Rugby in general is always in the news, as I expected. Here's a brief anecdote to help explain just how rugby-mad this country is:

Prior to the World Cup, New Zealand's rugby team is competing in the Tri-Nations, an annual competition between the three major rugby nations of the southern hemisphere (South Africa, Australia, and New Zealand). They played their first match of that tournament here in Wellington on Saturday night, but that wasn't the only first on Saturday. As stores all over town had been advertising, the team revealed their highly-anticipated World Cup jersey in that match. The new design was the subject of a major ad campaign and much speculation. That amount of fanfare for a jersey is common in sports, but the nickname of the New Zealand rugby team is the All Blacks. I wondered to myself how much one could modify a jersey that fit the specifications “all” and “black”. The major topic of discussion in Sunday's newspapers? The white collar on the new jersey.

Landfall

I have arrived in Wellington, New Zealand after a long journey involving a thirteen-hour flight and a 12-hour bus ride. Every time I leave for a new place, I have last-minute doubts and wonder why I'm leaving behind everything I know. This time, any such worries were quickly dispelled when I watched the Air New Zealand safety video. I was nearly laughing out loud in my seat, and only realized afterwards that I had just enjoyed an airline safety video.

I was further bolstered by the flight attendant who asked me to "give 'er a nudge" when the woman next to me was too preoccupied with her meal to give him a drink order.

There will be more detail to come, but for now, I'm just happy to have arrived somewhere I can put down my bags and sleep in a bed.